cryingmechanically
:
“
Isn’t
it
wonderful
—
who
would
dare
to
put
those
two
strong
colours
together
—
”
Then
Hermione’s
maid
entered
silently
and
Ursula
,
overcome
with
dread
,
escaped
,
carried
away
by
powerful
impulse
.
Birkin
went
straight
to
bed
.
He
was
feeling
happy
,
and
sleepy
.
Since
he
had
danced
he
was
happy
.
But
Gerald
would
talk
to
him
.
Gerald
,
in
evening
dress
,
sat
on
Birkin’s
bed
when
the
other
lay
down
,
and
must
talk
.
“
Who
are
those
two
Brangwens
?
”
Gerald
asked
.
“
They
live
in
Beldover
.
”
“
In
Beldover
!
Who
are
they
then
?
”
“
Teachers
in
the
Grammar
School
.
”
There
was
a
pause
.
“
They
are
!
”
exclaimed
Gerald
at
length
.
“
I
thought
I
had
seen
them
before
.
”
“
It
disappoints
you
?
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Disappoints
me
!
No
—
but
how
is
it
Hermione
has
them
here
?
”
“
She
knew
Gudrun
in
London
—
that’s
the
younger
one
,
the
one
with
the
darker
hair
—
she’s
an
artist
—
does
sculpture
and
modelling
.
”
“
She’s
not
a
teacher
in
the
Grammar
School
,
then
—
only
the
other
?
”
“
Both
—
Gudrun
art
mistress
,
Ursula
a
class
mistress
.
”
“
And
what’s
the
father
?
”
“
Handicraft
instructor
in
the
schools
.
”
“
Really
!
”
“
Class-barriers
are
breaking
down
!
”
Gerald
was
always
uneasy
under
the
slightly
jeering
tone
of
the
other
.
“
That
their
father
is
handicraft
instructor
in
a
school
!
What
does
it
matter
to
me
?
”
Birkin
laughed
.
Gerald
looked
at
his
face
,
as
it
lay
there
laughing
and
bitter
and
indifferent
on
the
pillow
,
and
he
could
not
go
away
.
“
I
don’t
suppose
you
will
see
very
much
more
of
Gudrun
,
at
least
.
She
is
a
restless
bird
,
she’ll
be
gone
in
a
week
or
two
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Where
will
she
go
?
”
“
London
,
Paris
,
Rome
—
heaven
knows
.
I
always
expect
her
to
sheer
off
to
Damascus
or
San
Francisco
;
she’s
a
bird
of
paradise
.
God
knows
what
she’s
got
to
do
with
Beldover
.
It
goes
by
contraries
,
like
dreams
.
”
Gerald
pondered
for
a
few
moments
.
“
How
do
you
know
her
so
well
?
”
he
asked
.
“
I
knew
her
in
London
,
”
he
replied
,
“
in
the
Algernon
Strange
set
.
She’ll
know
about
Pussum
and
Libidnikov
and
the
rest
—
even
if
she
doesn’t
know
them
personally
.
She
was
never
quite
that
set
—
more
conventional
,
in
a
way
.
I’ve
known
her
for
two
years
,
I
suppose
.
”
“
And
she
makes
money
,
apart
from
her
teaching
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
Some
—
irregularly
.
She
can
sell
her
models
.
She
has
a
certain
réclame
.
”
“
How
much
for
?
”
“
A
guinea
,
ten
guineas
.
”
“
And
are
they
good
?
What
are
they
?
”
“
I
think
sometimes
they
are
marvellously
good
.
That
is
hers
,
those
two
wagtails
in
Hermione’s
boudoir
—
you’ve
seen
them
—
they
are
carved
in
wood
and
painted
.
”
“
I
thought
it
was
savage
carving
again
.
”
“
No
,
hers
.
That’s
what
they
are
—
animals
and
birds
,
sometimes
odd
small
people
in
everyday
dress
,
really
rather
wonderful
when
they
come
off
.
They
have
a
sort
of
funniness
that
is
quite
unconscious
and
subtle
.
”
“
She
might
be
a
well-known
artist
one
day
?
”
mused
Gerald
.
“
She
might
.
But
I
think
she
won’t
.
She
drops
her
art
if
anything
else
catches
her
.
Her
contrariness
prevents
her
taking
it
seriously
—
she
must
never
be
too
serious
,
she
feels
she
might
give
herself
away
.
And
she
won’t
give
herself
away
—
she’s
always
on
the
defensive
.
That’s
what
I
can’t
stand
about
her
type
.
By
the
way
,
how
did
things
go
off
with
Pussum
after
I
left
you
?
I
haven’t
heard
anything
.
”
“
Oh
,
rather
disgusting
.
Halliday
turned
objectionable
,
and
I
only
just
saved
myself
from
jumping
in
his
stomach
,
in
a
real
old-fashioned
row
.
”
Birkin
was
silent
.
“
Of
course
,
”
he
said
,
“
Julius
is
somewhat
insane
.
On
the
one
hand
he’s
had
religious
mania
,
and
on
the
other
,
he
is
fascinated
by
obscenity
.
Either
he
is
a
pure
servant
,
washing
the
feet
of
Christ
,
or
else
he
is
making
obscene
drawings
of
Jesus
—
action
and
reaction
—
and
between
the
two
,
nothing
.
He
is
really
insane
.
He
wants
a
pure
lily
,
another
girl
,
with
a
baby
face
,
on
the
one
hand
,
and
on
the
other
,
he
must
have
the
Pussum
,
just
to
defile
himself
with
her
.
”
“
That’s
what
I
can’t
make
out
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Does
he
love
her
,
the
Pussum
,
or
doesn’t
he
?
”
“
He
neither
does
nor
doesn’t
.
She
is
the
harlot
,
the
actual
harlot
of
adultery
to
him
.
And
he’s
got
a
craving
to
throw
himself
into
the
filth
of
her
.
Then
he
gets
up
and
calls
on
the
name
of
the
lily
of
purity
,
the
baby-faced
girl
,
and
so
enjoys
himself
all
round
.
It’s
the
old
story
—
action
and
reaction
,
and
nothing
between
.
”
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
said
Gerald
,
after
a
pause
,
“
that
he
does
insult
the
Pussum
so
very
much
.
She
strikes
me
as
being
rather
foul
.
”
“
But
I
thought
you
liked
her
,
”
exclaimed
Birkin
.
“
I
always
felt
fond
of
her
.
I
never
had
anything
to
do
with
her
,
personally
,
that’s
true
.
”
“
I
liked
her
all
right
,
for
a
couple
of
days
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
But
a
week
of
her
would
have
turned
me
over
.
There’s
a
certain
smell
about
the
skin
of
those
women
,
that
in
the
end
is
sickening
beyond
words
—
even
if
you
like
it
at
first
.
”
“
I
know
,
”
said
Birkin
.
Then
he
added
,
rather
fretfully
,
“
But
go
to
bed
,
Gerald
.
God
knows
what
time
it
is
.
”
Gerald
looked
at
his
watch
,
and
at
length
rose
off
the
bed
,
and
went
to
his
room
.
But
he
returned
in
a
few
minutes
,
in
his
shirt
.
“
One
thing
,
”
he
said
,
seating
himself
on
the
bed
again
.
“
We
finished
up
rather
stormily
,
and
I
never
had
time
to
give
her
anything
.
”
“
Money
?
”
said
Birkin
.
“
She’ll
get
what
she
wants
from
Halliday
or
from
one
of
her
acquaintances
.
”
“
But
then
,
”
said
Gerald
,
“
I’d
rather
give
her
her
dues
and
settle
the
account
.
”
“
She
doesn’t
care
.
”
“
No
,
perhaps
not
.
But
one
feels
the
account
is
left
open
,
and
one
would
rather
it
were
closed
.
”
“
Would
you
?
”
said
Birkin
.
He
was
looking
at
the
white
legs
of
Gerald
,
as
the
latter
sat
on
the
side
of
the
bed
in
his
shirt
.
They
were
white-skinned
,
full
,
muscular
legs
,
handsome
and
decided
.
Yet
they
moved
Birkin
with
a
sort
of
pathos
,
tenderness
,
as
if
they
were
childish
.
“
I
think
I’d
rather
close
the
account
,
”
said
Gerald
,
repeating
himself
vaguely
.
“
It
doesn’t
matter
one
way
or
another
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
You
always
say
it
doesn’t
matter
,
”
said
Gerald
,
a
little
puzzled
,
looking
down
at
the
face
of
the
other
man
affectionately
.
“
Neither
does
it
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
But
she
was
a
decent
sort
,
really
—
”
“
Render
unto
Cæsarina
the
things
that
are
Cæsarina’s
,
”
said
Birkin
,
turning
aside
.
It
seemed
to
him
Gerald
was
talking
for
the
sake
of
talking
.
“
Go
away
,
it
wearies
me
—
it’s
too
late
at
night
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
wish
you’d
tell
me
something
that
did
matter
,
”
said
Gerald
,
looking
down
all
the
time
at
the
face
of
the
other
man
,
waiting
for
something
.
But
Birkin
turned
his
face
aside
.
“
All
right
then
,
go
to
sleep
,
”
said
Gerald
,
and
he
laid
his
hand
affectionately
on
the
other
man’s
shoulder
,
and
went
away
.
In
the
morning
when
Gerald
awoke
and
heard
Birkin
move
,
he
called
out
:
“
I
still
think
I
ought
to
give
the
Pussum
ten
pounds
.
”
“
Oh
God
!
”
said
Birkin
,
“
don’t
be
so
matter-of-fact
.
Close
the
account
in
your
own
soul
,
if
you
like
.
It
is
there
you
can’t
close
it
.
”
“
How
do
you
know
I
can’t
?
”
“
Knowing
you
.
”
Gerald
meditated
for
some
moments
.
“
It
seems
to
me
the
right
thing
to
do
,
you
know
,
with
the
Pussums
,
is
to
pay
them
.
”
“
And
the
right
thing
for
mistresses
:
keep
them
.
And
the
right
thing
for
wives
:
live
under
the
same
roof
with
them
.
Integer
vitae
scelerisque
purus
—
”
said
Birkin
.
“
There’s
no
need
to
be
nasty
about
it
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
It
bores
me
.
I’m
not
interested
in
your
peccadilloes
.
”
“
And
I
don’t
care
whether
you
are
or
not
—
I
am
.
”
The
morning
was
again
sunny
.
The
maid
had
been
in
and
brought
the
water
,
and
had
drawn
the
curtains
.
Birkin
,
sitting
up
in
bed
,
looked
lazily
and
pleasantly
out
on
the
park
,
that
was
so
green
and
deserted
,
romantic
,
belonging
to
the
past
.
He
was
thinking
how
lovely
,
how
sure
,
how
formed
,
how
final
all
the
things
of
the
past
were
—
the
lovely
accomplished
past
—
this
house
,
so
still
and
golden
,
the
park
slumbering
its
centuries
of
peace
.
And
then
,
what
a
snare
and
a
delusion
,
this
beauty
of
static
things
—
what
a
horrible
,
dead
prison
Breadalby
really
was
,
what
an
intolerable
confinement
,
the
peace
!
Yet
it
was
better
than
the
sordid
scrambling
conflict
of
the
present
.
If
only
one
might
create
the
future
after
one’s
own
heart
—
for
a
little
pure
truth
,
a
little
unflinching
application
of
simple
truth
to
life
,
the
heart
cried
out
ceaselessly
.
“
I
can’t
see
what
you
will
leave
me
at
all
,
to
be
interested
in
,
”
came
Gerald’s
voice
from
the
lower
room
.
“
Neither
the
Pussums
,
nor
the
mines
,
nor
anything
else
.
”
“
You
be
interested
in
what
you
can
,
Gerald
.
Only
I’m
not
interested
myself
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
What
am
I
to
do
at
all
,
then
?
”
came
Gerald’s
voice
.
“
What
you
like
.
What
am
I
to
do
myself
?
”
In
the
silence
Birkin
could
feel
Gerald
musing
this
fact
.
“
I’m
blest
if
I
know
,
”
came
the
good-humoured
answer
.
“
You
see
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
part
of
you
wants
the
Pussum
,
and
nothing
but
the
Pussum
,
part
of
you
wants
the
mines
,
the
business
,
and
nothing
but
the
business
—
and
there
you
are
—
all
in
bits
—
”
“
And
part
of
me
wants
something
else
,
”
said
Gerald
,
in
a
queer
,
quiet
,
real
voice
.
“
What
?
”
said
Birkin
,
rather
surprised
.
“
That’s
what
I
hoped
you
could
tell
me
,
”
said
Gerald
.
There
was
a
silence
for
some
time
.
“
I
can’t
tell
you
—
I
can’t
find
my
own
way
,
let
alone
yours
.
You
might
marry
,
”
Birkin
replied
.
“
Who
—
the
Pussum
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
Perhaps
,
”
said
Birkin
.
And
he
rose
and
went
to
the
window
.
“
That
is
your
panacea
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
But
you
haven’t
even
tried
it
on
yourself
yet
,
and
you
are
sick
enough
.
”
“
I
am
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Still
,
I
shall
come
right
.
”
“
Through
marriage
?
”
“
Yes
,
”
Birkin
answered
obstinately
.
“
And
no
,
”
added
Gerald
.
“
No
,
no
,
no
,
my
boy
.
”
There
was
a
silence
between
them
,
and
a
strange
tension
of
hostility
.
They
always
kept
a
gap
,
a
distance
between
them
,
they
wanted
always
to
be
free
each
of
the
other
.
Yet
there
was
a
curious
heart-straining
towards
each
other
.
“
Salvator
femininus
,
”
said
Gerald
,
satirically
.
“
Why
not
?
”
said
Birkin
.
“
No
reason
at
all
,
”
said
Gerald
,
“
if
it
really
works
.
But
whom
will
you
marry
?
”
“
A
woman
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Good
,
”
said
Gerald
.
Birkin
and
Gerald
were
the
last
to
come
down
to
breakfast
.
Hermione
liked
everybody
to
be
early
.
She
suffered
when
she
felt
her
day
was
diminished
,
she
felt
she
had
missed
her
life
.
She
seemed
to
grip
the
hours
by
the
throat
,
to
force
her
life
from
them
.
She
was
rather
pale
and
ghastly
,
as
if
left
behind
,
in
the
morning
.
Yet
she
had
her
power
,
her
will
was
strangely
pervasive
.
With
the
entrance
of
the
two
young
men
a
sudden
tension
was
felt
.
She
lifted
her
face
,
and
said
,
in
her
amused
sing-song
:
“
Good
morning
!
Did
you
sleep
well
?
I’m
so
glad
.
”
And
she
turned
away
,
ignoring
them
.
Birkin
,
who
knew
her
well
,
saw
that
she
intended
to
discount
his
existence
.
“
Will
you
take
what
you
want
from
the
sideboard
?
”
said
Alexander
,
in
a
voice
slightly
suggesting
disapprobation
.
“
I
hope
the
things
aren’t
cold
.
Oh
no
!
Do
you
mind
putting
out
the
flame
under
the
chafing-dish
,
Rupert
?
Thank
you
.
”
Even
Alexander
was
rather
authoritative
where
Hermione
was
cool
.
He
took
his
tone
from
her
,
inevitably
.
Birkin
sat
down
and
looked
at
the
table
.
He
was
so
used
to
this
house
,
to
this
room
,
to
this
atmosphere
,
through
years
of
intimacy
,
and
now
he
felt
in
complete
opposition
to
it
all
,
it
had
nothing
to
do
with
him
.
How
well
he
knew
Hermione
,
as
she
sat
there
,
erect
and
silent
and
somewhat
bemused
,
and
yet
so
potent
,
so
powerful
!
He
knew
her
statically
,
so
finally
,
that
it
was
almost
like
a
madness
.
It
was
difficult
to
believe
one
was
not
mad
,
that
one
was
not
a
figure
in
the
hall
of
kings
in
some
Egyptian
tomb
,
where
the
dead
all
sat
immemorial
and
tremendous
.
How
utterly
he
knew
Joshua
Mattheson
,
who
was
talking
in
his
harsh
,
yet
rather
mincing
voice
,
endlessly
,
endlessly
,
always
with
a
strong
mentality
working
,
always
interesting
,
and
yet
always
known
,
everything
he
said
known
beforehand
,
however
novel
it
was
,
and
clever
.
Alexander
the
up-to-date
host
,
so
bloodlessly
free-and-easy
,
Fräulein
so
prettily
chiming
in
just
as
she
should
,
the
little
Italian
Countess
taking
notice
of
everybody
,
only
playing
her
little
game
,
objective
and
cold
,
like
a
weasel
watching
everything
,
and
extracting
her
own
amusement
,
never
giving
herself
in
the
slightest
;
then
Miss
Bradley
,
heavy
and
rather
subservient
,
treated
with
cool
,
almost
amused
contempt
by
Hermione
,
and
therefore
slighted
by
everybody
—
how
known
it
all
was
,
like
a
game
with
the
figures
set
out
,
the
same
figures
,
the
Queen
of
chess
,
the
knights
,
the
pawns
,
the
same
now
as
they
were
hundreds
of
years
ago
,
the
same
figures
moving
round
in
one
of
the
innumerable
permutations
that
make
up
the
game
.
But
the
game
is
known
,
its
going
on
is
like
a
madness
,
it
is
so
exhausted
.
There
was
Gerald
,
an
amused
look
on
his
face
;
the
game
pleased
him
.
There
was
Gudrun
,
watching
with
steady
,
large
,
hostile
eyes
;
the
game
fascinated
her
,
and
she
loathed
it
.
There
was
Ursula
,
with
a
slightly
startled
look
on
her
face
,
as
if
she
were
hurt
,
and
the
pain
were
just
outside
her
consciousness
.
Suddenly
Birkin
got
up
and
went
out
.
“
That’s
enough
,
”
he
said
to
himself
involuntarily
.
Hermione
knew
his
motion
,
though
not
in
her
consciousness
.
She
lifted
her
heavy
eyes
and
saw
him
lapse
suddenly
away
,
on
a
sudden
,
unknown
tide
,
and
the
waves
broke
over
her
.
Only
her
indomitable
will
remained
static
and
mechanical
,
she
sat
at
the
table
making
her
musing
,
stray
remarks
.
But
the
darkness
had
covered
her
,
she
was
like
a
ship
that
has
gone
down
.
It
was
finished
for
her
too
,
she
was
wrecked
in
the
darkness
.
Yet
the
unfailing
mechanism
of
her
will
worked
on
,
she
had
that
activity
.
“
Shall
we
bathe
this
morning
?
”
she
said
,
suddenly
looking
at
them
all
.
“
Splendid
,
”
said
Joshua
.
“
It
is
a
perfect
morning
.
”
“
Oh
,
it
is
beautiful
,
”
said
Fräulein
.
“
Yes
,
let
us
bathe
,
”
said
the
Italian
woman
.
“
We
have
no
bathing
suits
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Have
mine
,
”
said
Alexander
.
“
I
must
go
to
church
and
read
the
lessons
.
They
expect
me
.
”
“
Are
you
a
Christian
?
”
asked
the
Italian
Countess
,
with
sudden
interest
.
“
No
,
”
said
Alexander
.
“
I’m
not
.
But
I
believe
in
keeping
up
the
old
institutions
.
”
“
They
are
so
beautiful
,
”
said
Fräulein
daintily
.
“
Oh
,
they
are
,
”
cried
Miss
Bradley
.
They
all
trailed
out
on
to
the
lawn
.
It
was
a
sunny
,
soft
morning
in
early
summer
,
when
life
ran
in
the
world
subtly
,
like
a
reminiscence
.
The
church
bells
were
ringing
a
little
way
off
,
not
a
cloud
was
in
the
sky
,
the
swans
were
like
lilies
on
the
water
below
,
the
peacocks
walked
with
long
,
prancing
steps
across
the
shadow
and
into
the
sunshine
of
the
grass
.
One
wanted
to
swoon
into
the
by-gone
perfection
of
it
all
.
“
Good-bye
,
”
called
Alexander
,
waving
his
gloves
cheerily
,
and
he
disappeared
behind
the
bushes
,
on
his
way
to
church
.
“
Now
,
”
said
Hermione
,
“
shall
we
all
bathe
?
”
“
I
won’t
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
You
don’t
want
to
?
”
said
Hermione
,
looking
at
her
slowly
.
“
No.
I
don’t
want
to
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Nor
I
,
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
What
about
my
suit
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
laughed
Hermione
,
with
an
odd
,
amused
intonation
.
“
Will
a
handkerchief
do
—
a
large
handkerchief
?
”
“
That
will
do
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Come
along
then
,
”
sang
Hermione
.
The
first
to
run
across
the
lawn
was
the
little
Italian
,
small
and
like
a
cat
,
her
white
legs
twinkling
as
she
went
,
ducking
slightly
her
head
,
that
was
tied
in
a
gold
silk
kerchief
.
She
tripped
through
the
gate
and
down
the
grass
,
and
stood
,
like
a
tiny
figure
of
ivory
and
bronze
,
at
the
water’s
edge
,
having
dropped
off
her
towelling
,
watching
the
swans
,
which
came
up
in
surprise
.
Then
out
ran
Miss
Bradley
,
like
a
large
,
soft
plum
in
her
dark-blue
suit
.
Then
Gerald
came
,
a
scarlet
silk
kerchief
round
his
loins
,
his
towels
over
his
arms
.
He
seemed
to
flaunt
himself
a
little
in
the
sun
,
lingering
and
laughing
,
strolling
easily
,
looking
white
but
natural
in
his
nakedness
.
Then
came
Sir
Joshua
,
in
an
overcoat
,
and
lastly
Hermione
,
striding
with
stiff
grace
from
out
of
a
great
mantle
of
purple
silk
,
her
head
tied
up
in
purple
and
gold
.
Handsome
was
her
stiff
,
long
body
,
her
straight-stepping
white
legs
,
there
was
a
static
magnificence
about
her
as
she
let
the
cloak
float
loosely
away
from
her
striding
.
She
crossed
the
lawn
like
some
strange
memory
,
and
passed
slowly
and
statelily
towards
the
water
.
There
were
three
ponds
,
in
terraces
descending
the
valley
,
large
and
smooth
and
beautiful
,
lying
in
the
sun
.
The
water
ran
over
a
little
stone
wall
,
over
small
rocks
,
splashing
down
from
one
pond
to
the
level
below
.
The
swans
had
gone
out
on
to
the
opposite
bank
,
the
reeds
smelled
sweet
,
a
faint
breeze
touched
the
skin
.
Gerald
had
dived
in
,
after
Sir
Joshua
,
and
had
swum
to
the
end
of
the
pond
.
There
he
climbed
out
and
sat
on
the
wall
.
There
was
a
dive
,
and
the
little
Countess
was
swimming
like
a
rat
,
to
join
him
.
They
both
sat
in
the
sun
,
laughing
and
crossing
their
arms
on
their
breasts
.
Sir
Joshua
swam
up
to
them
,
and
stood
near
them
,
up
to
his
arm-pits
in
the
water
.
Then
Hermione
and
Miss
Bradley
swam
over
,
and
they
sat
in
a
row
on
the
embankment
.
“
Aren’t
they
terrifying
?
Aren’t
they
really
terrifying
?
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
Don’t
they
look
saurian
?
They
are
just
like
great
lizards
.
Did
you
ever
see
anything
like
Sir
Joshua
?
But
really
,
Ursula
,
he
belongs
to
the
primeval
world
,
when
great
lizards
crawled
about
.
”
Gudrun
looked
in
dismay
on
Sir
Joshua
,
who
stood
up
to
the
breast
in
the
water
,
his
long
,
greyish
hair
washed
down
into
his
eyes
,
his
neck
set
into
thick
,
crude
shoulders
.
He
was
talking
to
Miss
Bradley
,
who
,
seated
on
the
bank
above
,
plump
and
big
and
wet
,
looked
as
if
she
might
roll
and
slither
in
the
water
almost
like
one
of
the
slithering
sealions
in
the
Zoo
.
Ursula
watched
in
silence
.
Gerald
was
laughing
happily
,
between
Hermione
and
the
Italian
.
He
reminded
her
of
Dionysos
,
because
his
hair
was
really
yellow
,
his
figure
so
full
and
laughing
.
Hermione
,
in
her
large
,
stiff
,
sinister
grace
,
leaned
near
him
,
frightening
,
as
if
she
were
not
responsible
for
what
she
might
do
.
He
knew
a
certain
danger
in
her
,
a
convulsive
madness
.
But
he
only
laughed
the
more
,
turning
often
to
the
little
Countess
,
who
was
flashing
up
her
face
at
him
.
They
all
dropped
into
the
water
,
and
were
swimming
together
like
a
shoal
of
seals
.
Hermione
was
powerful
and
unconscious
in
the
water
,
large
and
slow
and
powerful
.
Palestra
was
quick
and
silent
as
a
water
rat
,
Gerald
wavered
and
flickered
,
a
white
natural
shadow
.
Then
,
one
after
the
other
,
they
waded
out
,
and
went
up
to
the
house
.
But
Gerald
lingered
a
moment
to
speak
to
Gudrun
.
“
You
don’t
like
the
water
?
”
he
said
.
She
looked
at
him
with
a
long
,
slow
inscrutable
look
,
as
he
stood
before
her
negligently
,
the
water
standing
in
beads
all
over
his
skin
.
“
I
like
it
very
much
,
”
she
replied
.
He
paused
,
expecting
some
sort
of
explanation
.
“
And
you
swim
?
”
“
Yes
,
I
swim
.
”
Still
he
would
not
ask
her
why
she
would
not
go
in
then
.
He
could
feel
something
ironic
in
her
.
He
walked
away
,
piqued
for
the
first
time
.
“
Why
wouldn’t
you
bathe
?
”
he
asked
her
again
,
later
,
when
he
was
once
more
the
properly-dressed
young
Englishman
.
She
hesitated
a
moment
before
answering
,
opposing
his
persistence
.
“
Because
I
didn’t
like
the
crowd
,
”
she
replied
.
He
laughed
,
her
phrase
seemed
to
re-echo
in
his
consciousness
.
The
flavour
of
her
slang
was
piquant
to
him
.
Whether
he
would
or
not
,
she
signified
the
real
world
to
him
.
He
wanted
to
come
up
to
her
standards
,
fulfil
her
expectations
.
He
knew
that
her
criterion
was
the
only
one
that
mattered
.
The
others
were
all
outsiders
,
instinctively
,
whatever
they
might
be
socially
.
And
Gerald
could
not
help
it
,
he
was
bound
to
strive
to
come
up
to
her
criterion
,
fulfil
her
idea
of
a
man
and
a
human-being
.
After
lunch
,
when
all
the
others
had
withdrawn
,
Hermione
and
Gerald
and
Birkin
lingered
,
finishing
their
talk
.
There
had
been
some
discussion
,
on
the
whole
quite
intellectual
and
artificial
,
about
a
new
state
,
a
new
world
of
man
.
Supposing
this
old
social
state
were
broken
and
destroyed
,
then
,
out
of
the
chaos
,
what
then
?
The
great
social
idea
,
said
Sir
Joshua
,
was
the
social
equality
of
man
.
No
,
said
Gerald
,
the
idea
was
,
that
every
man
was
fit
for
his
own
little
bit
of
a
task
—
let
him
do
that
,
and
then
please
himself
.
The
unifying
principle
was
the
work
in
hand
.
Only
work
,
the
business
of
production
,
held
men
together
.
It
was
mechanical
,
but
then
society
was
a
mechanism
.
Apart
from
work
they
were
isolated
,
free
to
do
as
they
liked
.
“
Oh
!
”
cried
Gudrun
.
“
Then
we
shan’t
have
names
any
more
—
we
shall
be
like
the
Germans
,
nothing
but
Herr
Obermeister
and
Herr
Untermeister
.
I
can
imagine
it
—
‘I
am
Mrs
Colliery-Manager
Crich
—
I
am
Mrs
Member-of-Parliament
Roddice
.
I
am
Miss
Art-Teacher
Brangwen.’
Very
pretty
that
.
”
“
Things
would
work
very
much
better
,
Miss
Art-Teacher
Brangwen
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
What
things
,
Mr
Colliery-Manager
Crich
?
The
relation
between
you
and
me
,
par
exemple
?
”
“
Yes
,
for
example
,
”
cried
the
Italian
.
“
That
which
is
between
men
and
women
—
!
”
“
That
is
non-social
,
”
said
Birkin
,
sarcastically
.
“
Exactly
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Between
me
and
a
woman
,
the
social
question
does
not
enter
.
It
is
my
own
affair
.
”
“
A
ten-pound
note
on
it
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
You
don’t
admit
that
a
woman
is
a
social
being
?
”
asked
Ursula
of
Gerald
.
“
She
is
both
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
She
is
a
social
being
,
as
far
as
society
is
concerned
.
But
for
her
own
private
self
,
she
is
a
free
agent
,
it
is
her
own
affair
,
what
she
does
.
”
“
But
won’t
it
be
rather
difficult
to
arrange
the
two
halves
?
”
asked
Ursula
.
“
Oh
no
,
”
replied
Gerald
.
“
They
arrange
themselves
naturally
—
we
see
it
now
,
everywhere
.
”
“
Don’t
you
laugh
so
pleasantly
till
you’re
out
of
the
wood
,
”
said
Birkin
.
Gerald
knitted
his
brows
in
momentary
irritation
.
“
Was
I
laughing
?
”
he
said
.
“
If
,
”
said
Hermione
at
last
,
“
we
could
only
realise
,
that
in
the
spirit
we
are
all
one
,
all
equal
in
the
spirit
,
all
brothers
there
—
the
rest
wouldn’t
matter
,
there
would
be
no
more
of
this
carping
and
envy
and
this
struggle
for
power
,
which
destroys
,
only
destroys
.
”
This
speech
was
received
in
silence
,
and
almost
immediately
the
party
rose
from
the
table
.
But
when
the
others
had
gone
,
Birkin
turned
round
in
bitter
declamation
,
saying
:
“
It
is
just
the
opposite
,
just
the
contrary
,
Hermione
.
We
are
all
different
and
unequal
in
spirit
—
it
is
only
the
social
differences
that
are
based
on
accidental
material
conditions
.
We
are
all
abstractly
or
mathematically
equal
,
if
you
like
.
Every
man
has
hunger
and
thirst
,
two
eyes
,
one
nose
and
two
legs
.
We’re
all
the
same
in
point
of
number
.
But
spiritually
,
there
is
pure
difference
and
neither
equality
nor
inequality
counts
.
It
is
upon
these
two
bits
of
knowledge
that
you
must
found
a
state
.
Your
democracy
is
an
absolute
lie
—
your
brotherhood
of
man
is
a
pure
falsity
,
if
you
apply
it
further
than
the
mathematical
abstraction
.
We
all
drank
milk
first
,
we
all
eat
bread
and
meat
,
we
all
want
to
ride
in
motor-cars
—
therein
lies
the
beginning
and
the
end
of
the
brotherhood
of
man
.
But
no
equality
.
“
But
I
,
myself
,
who
am
myself
,
what
have
I
to
do
with
equality
with
any
other
man
or
woman
?
In
the
spirit
,
I
am
as
separate
as
one
star
is
from
another
,
as
different
in
quality
and
quantity
.
Establish
a
state
on
that
.
One
man
isn’t
any
better
than
another
,
not
because
they
are
equal
,
but
because
they
are
intrinsically
other
,
that
there
is
no
term
of
comparison
.
The
minute
you
begin
to
compare
,
one
man
is
seen
to
be
far
better
than
another
,
all
the
inequality
you
can
imagine
is
there
by
nature
.
I
want
every
man
to
have
his
share
in
the
world’s
goods
,
so
that
I
am
rid
of
his
importunity
,
so
that
I
can
tell
him
:
‘Now
you’ve
got
what
you
want
—
you’ve
got
your
fair
share
of
the
world’s
gear
.
Now
,
you
one-mouthed
fool
,
mind
yourself
and
don’t
obstruct
me.’
”
Hermione
was
looking
at
him
with
leering
eyes
,
along
her
cheeks
.
He
could
feel
violent
waves
of
hatred
and
loathing
of
all
he
said
,
coming
out
of
her
.
It
was
dynamic
hatred
and
loathing
,
coming
strong
and
black
out
of
the
unconsciousness
.
She
heard
his
words
in
her
unconscious
self
,
consciously
she
was
as
if
deafened
,
she
paid
no
heed
to
them
.
“
It
sounds
like
megalomania
,
Rupert
,
”
said
Gerald
,
genially
.
Hermione
gave
a
queer
,
grunting
sound
.
Birkin
stood
back
.
“
Yes
,
let
it
,
”
he
said
suddenly
,
the
whole
tone
gone
out
of
his
voice
,
that
had
been
so
insistent
,
bearing
everybody
down
.
And
he
went
away
.
But
he
felt
,
later
,
a
little
compunction
.
He
had
been
violent
,
cruel
with
poor
Hermione
.
He
wanted
to
recompense
her
,
to
make
it
up
.
He
had
hurt
her
,
he
had
been
vindictive
.
He
wanted
to
be
on
good
terms
with
her
again
.
He
went
into
her
boudoir
,
a
remote
and
very
cushiony
place
.
She
was
sitting
at
her
table
writing
letters
.
She
lifted
her
face
abstractedly
when
he
entered
,
watched
him
go
to
the
sofa
,
and
sit
down
.
Then
she
looked
down
at
her
paper
again
.
He
took
up
a
large
volume
which
he
had
been
reading
before
,
and
became
minutely
attentive
to
his
author
.
His
back
was
towards
Hermione
.
She
could
not
go
on
with
her
writing
.
Her
whole
mind
was
a
chaos
,
darkness
breaking
in
upon
it
,
and
herself
struggling
to
gain
control
with
her
will
,
as
a
swimmer
struggles
with
the
swirling
water
.
But
in
spite
of
her
efforts
she
was
borne
down
,
darkness
seemed
to
break
over
her
,
she
felt
as
if
her
heart
was
bursting
.
The
terrible
tension
grew
stronger
and
stronger
,
it
was
most
fearful
agony
,
like
being
walled
up
.
And
then
she
realised
that
his
presence
was
the
wall
,
his
presence
was
destroying
her
.
Unless
she
could
break
out
,
she
must
die
most
fearfully
,
walled
up
in
horror
.
And
he
was
the
wall
.
She
must
break
down
the
wall
—
she
must
break
him
down
before
her
,
the
awful
obstruction
of
him
who
obstructed
her
life
to
the
last
.
It
must
be
done
,
or
she
must
perish
most
horribly
.
Terrible
shocks
ran
over
her
body
,
like
shocks
of
electricity
,
as
if
many
volts
of
electricity
suddenly
struck
her
down
.
She
was
aware
of
him
sitting
silently
there
,
an
unthinkable
evil
obstruction
.
Only
this
blotted
out
her
mind
,
pressed
out
her
very
breathing
,
his
silent
,
stooping
back
,
the
back
of
his
head
.
A
terrible
voluptuous
thrill
ran
down
her
arms
—
she
was
going
to
know
her
voluptuous
consummation
.
Her
arms
quivered
and
were
strong
,
immeasurably
and
irresistibly
strong
.
What
delight
,
what
delight
in
strength
,
what
delirium
of
pleasure
!
She
was
going
to
have
her
consummation
of
voluptuous
ecstasy
at
last
.
It
was
coming
!
In
utmost
terror
and
agony
,
she
knew
it
was
upon
her
now
,
in
extremity
of
bliss
.
Her
hand
closed
on
a
blue
,
beautiful
ball
of
lapis
lazuli
that
stood
on
her
desk
for
a
paper-weight
.
She
rolled
it
round
in
her
hand
as
she
rose
silently
.
Her
heart
was
a
pure
flame
in
her
breast
,
she
was
purely
unconscious
in
ecstasy
.
She
moved
towards
him
and
stood
behind
him
for
a
moment
in
ecstasy
.
He
,
closed
within
the
spell
,
remained
motionless
and
unconscious
.
Then
swiftly
,
in
a
flame
that
drenched
down
her
body
like
fluid
lightning
and
gave
her
a
perfect
,
unutterable
consummation
,
unutterable
satisfaction
,
she
brought
down
the
ball
of
jewel
stone
with
all
her
force
,
crash
on
his
head
.
But
her
fingers
were
in
the
way
and
deadened
the
blow
.
Nevertheless
,
down
went
his
head
on
the
table
on
which
his
book
lay
,
the
stone
slid
aside
and
over
his
ear
,
it
was
one
convulsion
of
pure
bliss
for
her
,
lit
up
by
the
crushed
pain
of
her
fingers
.
But
it
was
not
somehow
complete
.
She
lifted
her
arm
high
to
aim
once
more
,
straight
down
on
the
head
that
lay
dazed
on
the
table
.
She
must
smash
it
,
it
must
be
smashed
before
her
ecstasy
was
consummated
,
fulfilled
for
ever
.
A
thousand
lives
,
a
thousand
deaths
mattered
nothing
now
,
only
the
fulfilment
of
this
perfect
ecstasy
.
She
was
not
swift
,
she
could
only
move
slowly
.
A
strong
spirit
in
him
woke
him
and
made
him
lift
his
face
and
twist
to
look
at
her
.
Her
arm
was
raised
,
the
hand
clasping
the
ball
of
lapis
lazuli
.
It
was
her
left
hand
,
he
realised
again
with
horror
that
she
was
left-handed
.
Hurriedly
,
with
a
burrowing
motion
,
he
covered
his
head
under
the
thick
volume
of
Thucydides
,
and
the
blow
came
down
,
almost
breaking
his
neck
,
and
shattering
his
heart
.
He
was
shattered
,
but
he
was
not
afraid
.
Twisting
round
to
face
her
he
pushed
the
table
over
and
got
away
from
her
.
He
was
like
a
flask
that
is
smashed
to
atoms
,
he
seemed
to
himself
that
he
was
all
fragments
,
smashed
to
bits
.
Yet
his
movements
were
perfectly
coherent
and
clear
,
his
soul
was
entire
and
unsurprised
.
“
No
you
don’t
,
Hermione
,
”
he
said
in
a
low
voice
.
“
I
don’t
let
you
.
”
He
saw
her
standing
tall
and
livid
and
attentive
,
the
stone
clenched
tense
in
her
hand
.
“
Stand
away
and
let
me
go
,
”
he
said
,
drawing
near
to
her
.
As
if
pressed
back
by
some
hand
,
she
stood
away
,
watching
him
all
the
time
without
changing
,
like
a
neutralised
angel
confronting
him
.
“
It
is
not
good
,
”
he
said
,
when
he
had
gone
past
her
.
“
It
isn’t
I
who
will
die
.
You
hear
?
”
He
kept
his
face
to
her
as
he
went
out
,
lest
she
should
strike
again
.
While
he
was
on
his
guard
,
she
dared
not
move
.
And
he
was
on
his
guard
,
she
was
powerless
.
So
he
had
gone
,
and
left
her
standing
.
She
remained
perfectly
rigid
,
standing
as
she
was
for
a
long
time
.
Then
she
staggered
to
the
couch
and
lay
down
,
and
went
heavily
to
sleep
.
When
she
awoke
,
she
remembered
what
she
had
done
,
but
it
seemed
to
her
,
she
had
only
hit
him
,
as
any
woman
might
do
,
because
he
tortured
her
.
She
was
perfectly
right
.
She
knew
that
,
spiritually
,
she
was
right
.
In
her
own
infallible
purity
,
she
had
done
what
must
be
done
.
She
was
right
,
she
was
pure
.
A
drugged
,
almost
sinister
religious
expression
became
permanent
on
her
face
.
Birkin
,
barely
conscious
,
and
yet
perfectly
direct
in
his
motion
,
went
out
of
the
house
and
straight
across
the
park
,
to
the
open
country
,
to
the
hills
.
The
brilliant
day
had
become
overcast
,
spots
of
rain
were
falling
.
He
wandered
on
to
a
wild
valley-side
,
where
were
thickets
of
hazel
,
many
flowers
,
tufts
of
heather
,
and
little
clumps
of
young
fir-trees
,
budding
with
soft
paws
.
It
was
rather
wet
everywhere
,
there
was
a
stream
running
down
at
the
bottom
of
the
valley
,
which
was
gloomy
,
or
seemed
gloomy
.
He
was
aware
that
he
could
not
regain
his
consciousness
,
that
he
was
moving
in
a
sort
of
darkness
.
Yet
he
wanted
something
.
He
was
happy
in
the
wet
hillside
,
that
was
overgrown
and
obscure
with
bushes
and
flowers
.
He
wanted
to
touch
them
all
,
to
saturate
himself
with
the
touch
of
them
all
.
He
took
off
his
clothes
,
and
sat
down
naked
among
the
primroses
,
moving
his
feet
softly
among
the
primroses
,
his
legs
,
his
knees
,
his
arms
right
up
to
the
arm-pits
,
lying
down
and
letting
them
touch
his
belly
,
his
breasts
.
It
was
such
a
fine
,
cool
,
subtle
touch
all
over
him
,
he
seemed
to
saturate
himself
with
their
contact
.
But
they
were
too
soft
.
He
went
through
the
long
grass
to
a
clump
of
young
fir-trees
,
that
were
no
higher
than
a
man
.
The
soft
sharp
boughs
beat
upon
him
,
as
he
moved
in
keen
pangs
against
them
,
threw
little
cold
showers
of
drops
on
his
belly
,
and
beat
his
loins
with
their
clusters
of
soft-sharp
needles
.
There
was
a
thistle
which
pricked
him
vividly
,
but
not
too
much
,
because
all
his
movements
were
too
discriminate
and
soft
.
To
lie
down
and
roll
in
the
sticky
,
cool
young
hyacinths
,
to
lie
on
one’s
belly
and
cover
one’s
back
with
handfuls
of
fine
wet
grass
,
soft
as
a
breath
,
soft
and
more
delicate
and
more
beautiful
than
the
touch
of
any
woman
;
and
then
to
sting
one’s
thigh
against
the
living
dark
bristles
of
the
fir-boughs
;
and
then
to
feel
the
light
whip
of
the
hazel
on
one’s
shoulders
,
stinging
,
and
then
to
clasp
the
silvery
birch-trunk
against
one’s
breast
,
its
smoothness
,
its
hardness
,
its
vital
knots
and
ridges
—
this
was
good
,
this
was
all
very
good
,
very
satisfying
.
Nothing
else
would
do
,
nothing
else
would
satisfy
,
except
this
coolness
and
subtlety
of
vegetation
travelling
into
one’s
blood
.
How
fortunate
he
was
,
that
there
was
this
lovely
,
subtle
,
responsive
vegetation
,
waiting
for
him
,
as
he
waited
for
it
;
how
fulfilled
he
was
,
how
happy
!
As
he
dried
himself
a
little
with
his
handkerchief
,
he
thought
about
Hermione
and
the
blow
.
He
could
feel
a
pain
on
the
side
of
his
head
.
But
after
all
,
what
did
it
matter
?
What
did
Hermione
matter
,
what
did
people
matter
altogether
?
There
was
this
perfect
cool
loneliness
,
so
lovely
and
fresh
and
unexplored
.
Really
,
what
a
mistake
he
had
made
,
thinking
he
wanted
people
,
thinking
he
wanted
a
woman
.
He
did
not
want
a
woman
—
not
in
the
least
.
The
leaves
and
the
primroses
and
the
trees
,
they
were
really
lovely
and
cool
and
desirable
,
they
really
came
into
the
blood
and
were
added
on
to
him
.
He
was
enrichened
now
immeasurably
,
and
so
glad
.
It
was
quite
right
of
Hermione
to
want
to
kill
him
.
What
had
he
to
do
with
her
?
Why
should
he
pretend
to
have
anything
to
do
with
human
beings
at
all
?
Here
was
his
world
,
he
wanted
nobody
and
nothing
but
the
lovely
,
subtle
,
responsive
vegetation
,
and
himself
,
his
own
living
self
.
It
was
necessary
to
go
back
into
the
world
.
That
was
true
.
But
that
did
not
matter
,
so
one
knew
where
one
belonged
.
He
knew
now
where
he
belonged
.
This
was
his
place
,
his
marriage
place
.
The
world
was
extraneous
.
He
climbed
out
of
the
valley
,
wondering
if
he
were
mad
.
But
if
so
,
he
preferred
his
own
madness
,
to
the
regular
sanity
.
He
rejoiced
in
his
own
madness
,
he
was
free
.
He
did
not
want
that
old
sanity
of
the
world
,
which
was
become
so
repulsive
.
He
rejoiced
in
the
new-found
world
of
his
madness
.
It
was
so
fresh
and
delicate
and
so
satisfying
.
As
for
the
certain
grief
he
felt
at
the
same
time
,
in
his
soul
,
that
was
only
the
remains
of
an
old
ethic
,
that
bade
a
human
being
adhere
to
humanity
.
But
he
was
weary
of
the
old
ethic
,
of
the
human
being
,
and
of
humanity
.
He
loved
now
the
soft
,
delicate
vegetation
,
that
was
so
cool
and
perfect
.
He
would
overlook
the
old
grief
,
he
would
put
away
the
old
ethic
,
he
would
be
free
in
his
new
state
.
He
was
aware
of
the
pain
in
his
head
becoming
more
and
more
difficult
every
minute
.
He
was
walking
now
along
the
road
to
the
nearest
station
.
It
was
raining
and
he
had
no
hat
.
But
then
plenty
of
cranks
went
out
nowadays
without
hats
,
in
the
rain
.
He
wondered
again
how
much
of
his
heaviness
of
heart
,
a
certain
depression
,
was
due
to
fear
,
fear
lest
anybody
should
have
seen
him
naked
lying
against
the
vegetation
.
What
a
dread
he
had
of
mankind
,
of
other
people
!
It
amounted
almost
to
horror
,
to
a
sort
of
dream
terror
—
his
horror
of
being
observed
by
some
other
people
.
If
he
were
on
an
island
,
like
Alexander
Selkirk
,
with
only
the
creatures
and
the
trees
,
he
would
be
free
and
glad
,
there
would
be
none
of
this
heaviness
,
this
misgiving
.
He
could
love
the
vegetation
and
be
quite
happy
and
unquestioned
,
by
himself
.
He
had
better
send
a
note
to
Hermione
:
she
might
trouble
about
him
,
and
he
did
not
want
the
onus
of
this
.
So
at
the
station
,
he
wrote
saying
:
I
will
go
on
to
town
—
I
don’t
want
to
come
back
to
Breadalby
for
the
present
.
But
it
is
quite
all
right
—
I
don’t
want
you
to
mind
having
biffed
me
,
in
the
least
.
Tell
the
others
it
is
just
one
of
my
moods
.
You
were
quite
right
,
to
biff
me
—
because
I
know
you
wanted
to
.
So
there’s
the
end
of
it
.
In
the
train
,
however
,
he
felt
ill.
Every
motion
was
insufferable
pain
,
and
he
was
sick
.
He
dragged
himself
from
the
station
into
a
cab
,
feeling
his
way
step
by
step
,
like
a
blind
man
,
and
held
up
only
by
a
dim
will
.
For
a
week
or
two
he
was
ill
,
but
he
did
not
let
Hermione
know
,
and
she
thought
he
was
sulking
;
there
was
a
complete
estrangement
between
them
.
She
became
rapt
,
abstracted
in
her
conviction
of
exclusive
righteousness
.
She
lived
in
and
by
her
own
self-esteem
,
conviction
of
her
own
rightness
of
spirit
.
CHAPTER
IX
.
COAL-DUST
Going
home
from
school
in
the
afternoon
,
the
Brangwen
girls
descended
the
hill
between
the
picturesque
cottages
of
Willey
Green
till
they
came
to
the
railway
crossing
.
There
they
found
the
gate
shut
,
because
the
colliery
train
was
rumbling
nearer
.
They
could
hear
the
small
locomotive
panting
hoarsely
as
it
advanced
with
caution
between
the
embankments
.
The
one-legged
man
in
the
little
signal-hut
by
the
road
stared
out
from
his
security
,
like
a
crab
from
a
snail-shell
.
Whilst
the
two
girls
waited
,
Gerald
Crich
trotted
up
on
a
red
Arab
mare
.
He
rode
well
and
softly
,
pleased
with
the
delicate
quivering
of
the
creature
between
his
knees
.
And
he
was
very
picturesque
,
at
least
in
Gudrun’s
eyes
,
sitting
soft
and
close
on
the
slender
red
mare
,
whose
long
tail
flowed
on
the
air
.
He
saluted
the
two
girls
,
and
drew
up
at
the
crossing
to
wait
for
the
gate
,
looking
down
the
railway
for
the
approaching
train
.
In
spite
of
her
ironic
smile
at
his
picturesqueness
,
Gudrun
liked
to
look
at
him
.
He
was
well-set
and
easy
,
his
face
with
its
warm
tan
showed
up
his
whitish
,
coarse
moustache
,
and
his
blue
eyes
were
full
of
sharp
light
as
he
watched
the
distance
.
The
locomotive
chuffed
slowly
between
the
banks
,
hidden
.
The
mare
did
not
like
it
.
She
began
to
wince
away
,
as
if
hurt
by
the
unknown
noise
.
But
Gerald
pulled
her
back
and
held
her
head
to
the
gate
.
The
sharp
blasts
of
the
chuffing
engine
broke
with
more
and
more
force
on
her
.
The
repeated
sharp
blows
of
unknown
,
terrifying
noise
struck
through
her
till
she
was
rocking
with
terror
.
She
recoiled
like
a
spring
let
go
.
But
a
glistening
,
half-smiling
look
came
into
Gerald’s
face
.
He
brought
her
back
again
,
inevitably
.
The
noise
was
released
,
the
little
locomotive
with
her
clanking
steel
connecting-rod
emerged
on
the
highroad
,
clanking
sharply
.
The
mare
rebounded
like
a
drop
of
water
from
hot
iron
.
Ursula
and
Gudrun
pressed
back
into
the
hedge
,
in
fear
.
But
Gerald
was
heavy
on
the
mare
,
and
forced
her
back
.
It
seemed
as
if
he
sank
into
her
magnetically
,
and
could
thrust
her
back
against
herself
.
“
The
fool
!
”
cried
Ursula
loudly
.
“
Why
doesn’t
he
ride
away
till
it’s
gone
by
?
”
Gudrun
was
looking
at
him
with
black-dilated
,
spellbound
eyes
.
But
he
sat
glistening
and
obstinate
,
forcing
the
wheeling
mare
,
which
spun
and
swerved
like
a
wind
,
and
yet
could
not
get
out
of
the
grasp
of
his
will
,
nor
escape
from
the
mad
clamour
of
terror
that
resounded
through
her
,
as
the
trucks
thumped
slowly
,
heavily
,
horrifying
,
one
after
the
other
,
one
pursuing
the
other
,
over
the
rails
of
the
crossing
.
The
locomotive
,
as
if
wanting
to
see
what
could
be
done
,
put
on
the
brakes
,
and
back
came
the
trucks
rebounding
on
the
iron
buffers
,
striking
like
horrible
cymbals
,
clashing
nearer
and
nearer
in
frightful
strident
concussions
.
The
mare
opened
her
mouth
and
rose
slowly
,
as
if
lifted
up
on
a
wind
of
terror
.
Then
suddenly
her
fore
feet
struck
out
,
as
she
convulsed
herself
utterly
away
from
the
horror
.
Back
she
went
,
and
the
two
girls
clung
to
each
other
,
feeling
she
must
fall
backwards
on
top
of
him
.
But
he
leaned
forward
,
his
face
shining
with
fixed
amusement
,
and
at
last
he
brought
her
down
,
sank
her
down
,
and
was
bearing
her
back
to
the
mark
.
But
as
strong
as
the
pressure
of
his
compulsion
was
the
repulsion
of
her
utter
terror
,
throwing
her
back
away
from
the
railway
,
so
that
she
spun
round
and
round
,
on
two
legs
,
as
if
she
were
in
the
centre
of
some
whirlwind
.
It
made
Gudrun
faint
with
poignant
dizziness
,
which
seemed
to
penetrate
to
her
heart
.
“
No
—
!
No
—
!
Let
her
go
!
Let
her
go
,
you
fool
,
you
fool
—
!
”
cried
Ursula
at
the
top
of
her
voice
,
completely
outside
herself
.
And
Gudrun
hated
her
bitterly
for
being
outside
herself
.
It
was
unendurable
that
Ursula’s
voice
was
so
powerful
and
naked
.
A
sharpened
look
came
on
Gerald’s
face
.
He
bit
himself
down
on
the
mare
like
a
keen
edge
biting
home
,
and
forced
her
round
.
She
roared
as
she
breathed
,
her
nostrils
were
two
wide
,
hot
holes
,
her
mouth
was
apart
,
her
eyes
frenzied
.
It
was
a
repulsive
sight
.
But
he
held
on
her
unrelaxed
,
with
an
almost
mechanical
relentlessness
,
keen
as
a
sword
pressing
in
to
her
.
Both
man
and
horse
were
sweating
with
violence
.
Yet
he
seemed
calm
as
a
ray
of
cold
sunshine
.
Meanwhile
the
eternal
trucks
were
rumbling
on
,
very
slowly
,
treading
one
after
the
other
,
one
after
the
other
,
like
a
disgusting
dream
that
has
no
end
.
The
connecting
chains
were
grinding
and
squeaking
as
the
tension
varied
,
the
mare
pawed
and
struck
away
mechanically
now
,
her
terror
fulfilled
in
her
,
for
now
the
man
encompassed
her
;
her
paws
were
blind
and
pathetic
as
she
beat
the
air
,
the
man
closed
round
her
,
and
brought
her
down
,
almost
as
if
she
were
part
of
his
own
physique
.
“
And
she’s
bleeding
!
She’s
bleeding
!
”
cried
Ursula
,
frantic
with
opposition
and
hatred
of
Gerald
.
She
alone
understood
him
perfectly
,
in
pure
opposition
.
Gudrun
looked
and
saw
the
trickles
of
blood
on
the
sides
of
the
mare
,
and
she
turned
white
.
And
then
on
the
very
wound
the
bright
spurs
came
down
,
pressing
relentlessly
.
The
world
reeled
and
passed
into
nothingness
for
Gudrun
,
she
could
not
know
any
more
.
When
she
recovered
,
her
soul
was
calm
and
cold
,
without
feeling
.
The
trucks
were
still
rumbling
by
,
and
the
man
and
the
mare
were
still
fighting
.
But
she
herself
was
cold
and
separate
,
she
had
no
more
feeling
for
them
.
She
was
quite
hard
and
cold
and
indifferent
.
They
could
see
the
top
of
the
hooded
guard’s-van
approaching
,
the
sound
of
the
trucks
was
diminishing
,
there
was
hope
of
relief
from
the
intolerable
noise
.
The
heavy
panting
of
the
half-stunned
mare
sounded
automatically
,
the
man
seemed
to
be
relaxing
confidently
,
his
will
bright
and
unstained
.
The
guard’s-van
came
up
,
and
passed
slowly
,
the
guard
staring
out
in
his
transition
on
the
spectacle
in
the
road
.
And
,
through
the
man
in
the
closed
wagon
,
Gudrun
could
see
the
whole
scene
spectacularly
,
isolated
and
momentary
,
like
a
vision
isolated
in
eternity
.
Lovely
,
grateful
silence
seemed
to
trail
behind
the
receding
train
.
How
sweet
the
silence
is
!
Ursula
looked
with
hatred
on
the
buffers
of
the
diminishing
wagon
.
The
gatekeeper
stood
ready
at
the
door
of
his
hut
,
to
proceed
to
open
the
gate
.
But
Gudrun
sprang
suddenly
forward
,
in
front
of
the
struggling
horse
,
threw
off
the
latch
and
flung
the
gates
asunder
,
throwing
one-half
to
the
keeper
,
and
running
with
the
other
half
,
forwards
.
Gerald
suddenly
let
go
the
horse
and
leaped
forwards
,
almost
on
to
Gudrun
.
She
was
not
afraid
.
As
he
jerked
aside
the
mare’s
head
,
Gudrun
cried
,
in
a
strange
,
high
voice
,
like
a
gull
,
or
like
a
witch
screaming
out
from
the
side
of
the
road
:
“
I
should
think
you’re
proud
.
”
The
words
were
distinct
and
formed
.
The
man
,
twisting
aside
on
his
dancing
horse
,
looked
at
her
in
some
surprise
,
some
wondering
interest
.
Then
the
mare’s
hoofs
had
danced
three
times
on
the
drum-like
sleepers
of
the
crossing
,
and
man
and
horse
were
bounding
springily
,
unequally
up
the
road
.
The
two
girls
watched
them
go
.
The
gate-keeper
hobbled
thudding
over
the
logs
of
the
crossing
,
with
his
wooden
leg
.
He
had
fastened
the
gate
.
Then
he
also
turned
,
and
called
to
the
girls
:
“
A
masterful
young
jockey
,
that
;
’ll
have
his
own
road
,
if
ever
anybody
would
.
”
“
Yes
,
”
cried
Ursula
,
in
her
hot
,
overbearing
voice
.
“
Why
couldn’t
he
take
the
horse
away
,
till
the
trucks
had
gone
by
?
He’s
a
fool
,
and
a
bully
.
Does
he
think
it’s
manly
,
to
torture
a
horse
?
It’s
a
living
thing
,
why
should
he
bully
it
and
torture
it
?
”
There
was
a
pause
,
then
the
gate-keeper
shook
his
head
,
and
replied
:
“
Yes
,
it’s
as
nice
a
little
mare
as
you
could
set
eyes
on
—
beautiful
little
thing
,
beautiful
.
Now
you
couldn’t
see
his
father
treat
any
animal
like
that
—
not
you
.
They’re
as
different
as
they
welly
can
be
,
Gerald
Crich
and
his
father
—
two
different
men
,
different
made
.
”
Then
there
was
a
pause
.
“
But
why
does
he
do
it
?
”
cried
Ursula
,
“
why
does
he
?
Does
he
think
he’s
grand
,
when
he’s
bullied
a
sensitive
creature
,
ten
times
as
sensitive
as
himself
?
”
Again
there
was
a
cautious
pause
.
Then
again
the
man
shook
his
head
,
as
if
he
would
say
nothing
,
but
would
think
the
more
.
“
I
expect
he’s
got
to
train
the
mare
to
stand
to
anything
,
”
he
replied
.
“
A
pure-bred
Harab
—
not
the
sort
of
breed
as
is
used
to
round
here
—
different
sort
from
our
sort
altogether
.
They
say
as
he
got
her
from
Constantinople
.
”
“
He
would
!
”
said
Ursula
.
“
He’d
better
have
left
her
to
the
Turks
,
I’m
sure
they
would
have
had
more
decency
towards
her
.
”
The
man
went
in
to
drink
his
can
of
tea
,
the
girls
went
on
down
the
lane
,
that
was
deep
in
soft
black
dust
.
Gudrun
was
as
if
numbed
in
her
mind
by
the
sense
of
indomitable
soft
weight
of
the
man
,
bearing
down
into
the
living
body
of
the
horse
:
the
strong
,
indomitable
thighs
of
the
blond
man
clenching
the
palpitating
body
of
the
mare
into
pure
control
;
a
sort
of
soft
white
magnetic
domination
from
the
loins
and
thighs
and
calves
,
enclosing
and
encompassing
the
mare
heavily
into
unutterable
subordination
,
soft
blood-subordination
,
terrible
.
On
the
left
,
as
the
girls
walked
silently
,
the
coal-mine
lifted
its
great
mounds
and
its
patterned
head-stocks
,
the
black
railway
with
the
trucks
at
rest
looked
like
a
harbour
just
below
,
a
large
bay
of
railroad
with
anchored
wagons
.
Near
the
second
level-crossing
,
that
went
over
many
bright
rails
,
was
a
farm
belonging
to
the
collieries
,
and
a
great
round
globe
of
iron
,
a
disused
boiler
,
huge
and
rusty
and
perfectly
round
,
stood
silently
in
a
paddock
by
the
road
.
The
hens
were
pecking
round
it
,
some
chickens
were
balanced
on
the
drinking
trough
,
wagtails
flew
away
in
among
trucks
,
from
the
water
.
On
the
other
side
of
the
wide
crossing
,
by
the
road-side
,
was
a
heap
of
pale-grey
stones
for
mending
the
roads
,
and
a
cart
standing
,
and
a
middle-aged
man
with
whiskers
round
his
face
was
leaning
on
his
shovel
,
talking
to
a
young
man
in
gaiters
,
who
stood
by
the
horse’s
head
.
Both
men
were
facing
the
crossing
.
They
saw
the
two
girls
appear
,
small
,
brilliant
figures
in
the
near
distance
,
in
the
strong
light
of
the
late
afternoon
.
Both
wore
light
,
gay
summer
dresses
,
Ursula
had
an
orange-coloured
knitted
coat
,
Gudrun
a
pale
yellow
,
Ursula
