dooragain
.
That
would
be
the
mother’s
room
.
He
could
hear
her
moving
about
in
the
candlelight
.
She
would
be
expecting
her
husband
to
come
up
.
He
looked
along
the
dark
landing
.
Then
,
silently
,
on
infinitely
careful
feet
,
he
went
along
the
passage
,
feeling
the
wall
with
the
extreme
tips
of
his
fingers
.
There
was
a
door
.
He
stood
and
listened
.
He
could
hear
two
people’s
breathing
.
It
was
not
that
.
He
went
stealthily
forward
.
There
was
another
door
,
slightly
open
.
The
room
was
in
darkness
.
Empty
.
Then
there
was
the
bathroom
,
he
could
smell
the
soap
and
the
heat
.
Then
at
the
end
another
bedroom
—
one
soft
breathing
.
This
was
she
.
With
an
almost
occult
carefulness
he
turned
the
door
handle
,
and
opened
the
door
an
inch
.
It
creaked
slightly
.
Then
he
opened
it
another
inch
—
then
another
.
His
heart
did
not
beat
,
he
seemed
to
create
a
silence
about
himself
,
an
obliviousness
.
He
was
in
the
room
.
Still
the
sleeper
breathed
softly
.
It
was
very
dark
.
He
felt
his
way
forward
inch
by
inch
,
with
his
feet
and
hands
.
He
touched
the
bed
,
he
could
hear
the
sleeper
.
He
drew
nearer
,
bending
close
as
if
his
eyes
would
disclose
whatever
there
was
.
And
then
,
very
near
to
his
face
,
to
his
fear
,
he
saw
the
round
,
dark
head
of
a
boy
.
He
recovered
,
turned
round
,
saw
the
door
ajar
,
a
faint
light
revealed
.
And
he
retreated
swiftly
,
drew
the
door
to
without
fastening
it
,
and
passed
rapidly
down
the
passage
.
At
the
head
of
the
stairs
he
hesitated
.
There
was
still
time
to
flee
.
But
it
was
unthinkable
.
He
would
maintain
his
will
.
He
turned
past
the
door
of
the
parental
bedroom
like
a
shadow
,
and
was
climbing
the
second
flight
of
stairs
.
They
creaked
under
his
weight
—
it
was
exasperating
.
Ah
what
disaster
,
if
the
mother’s
door
opened
just
beneath
him
,
and
she
saw
him
!
It
would
have
to
be
,
if
it
were
so
.
He
held
the
control
still
.
He
was
not
quite
up
these
stairs
when
he
heard
a
quick
running
of
feet
below
,
the
outer
door
was
closed
and
locked
,
he
heard
Ursula’s
voice
,
then
the
father’s
sleepy
exclamation
.
He
pressed
on
swiftly
to
the
upper
landing
.
Again
a
door
was
ajar
,
a
room
was
empty
.
Feeling
his
way
forward
,
with
the
tips
of
his
fingers
,
travelling
rapidly
,
like
a
blind
man
,
anxious
lest
Ursula
should
come
upstairs
,
he
found
another
door
.
There
,
with
his
preternaturally
fine
sense
alert
,
he
listened
.
He
heard
someone
moving
in
bed
.
This
would
be
she
.
Softly
now
,
like
one
who
has
only
one
sense
,
the
tactile
sense
,
he
turned
the
latch
.
It
clicked
.
He
held
still
.
The
bed-clothes
rustled
.
His
heart
did
not
beat
.
Then
again
he
drew
the
latch
back
,
and
very
gently
pushed
the
door
.
It
made
a
sticking
noise
as
it
gave
.
“
Ursula
?
”
said
Gudrun’s
voice
,
frightened
.
He
quickly
opened
the
door
and
pushed
it
behind
him
.
“
Is
it
you
,
Ursula
?
”
came
Gudrun’s
frightened
voice
.
He
heard
her
sitting
up
in
bed
.
In
another
moment
she
would
scream
.
“
No
,
it’s
me
,
”
he
said
,
feeling
his
way
towards
her
.
“
It
is
I
,
Gerald
.
”
She
sat
motionless
in
her
bed
in
sheer
astonishment
.
She
was
too
astonished
,
too
much
taken
by
surprise
,
even
to
be
afraid
.
“
Gerald
!
”
she
echoed
,
in
blank
amazement
.
He
had
found
his
way
to
the
bed
,
and
his
outstretched
hand
touched
her
warm
breast
blindly
.
She
shrank
away
.
“
Let
me
make
a
light
,
”
she
said
,
springing
out
.
He
stood
perfectly
motionless
.
He
heard
her
touch
the
match-box
,
he
heard
her
fingers
in
their
movement
.
Then
he
saw
her
in
the
light
of
a
match
,
which
she
held
to
the
candle
.
The
light
rose
in
the
room
,
then
sank
to
a
small
dimness
,
as
the
flame
sank
down
on
the
candle
,
before
it
mounted
again
.
She
looked
at
him
,
as
he
stood
near
the
other
side
of
the
bed
.
His
cap
was
pulled
low
over
his
brow
,
his
black
overcoat
was
buttoned
close
up
to
his
chin
.
His
face
was
strange
and
luminous
.
He
was
inevitable
as
a
supernatural
being
.
When
she
had
seen
him
,
she
knew
.
She
knew
there
was
something
fatal
in
the
situation
,
and
she
must
accept
it
.
Yet
she
must
challenge
him
.
“
How
did
you
come
up
?
”
she
asked
.
“
I
walked
up
the
stairs
—
the
door
was
open
.
”
She
looked
at
him
.
“
I
haven’t
closed
this
door
,
either
,
”
he
said
.
She
walked
swiftly
across
the
room
,
and
closed
her
door
,
softly
,
and
locked
it
.
Then
she
came
back
.
She
was
wonderful
,
with
startled
eyes
and
flushed
cheeks
,
and
her
plait
of
hair
rather
short
and
thick
down
her
back
,
and
her
long
,
fine
white
night-dress
falling
to
her
feet
.
She
saw
that
his
boots
were
all
clayey
,
even
his
trousers
were
plastered
with
clay
.
And
she
wondered
if
he
had
made
footprints
all
the
way
up
.
He
was
a
very
strange
figure
,
standing
in
her
bedroom
,
near
the
tossed
bed
.
“
Why
have
you
come
?
”
she
asked
,
almost
querulous
.
“
I
wanted
to
,
”
he
replied
.
And
this
she
could
see
from
his
face
.
It
was
fate
.
“
You
are
so
muddy
,
”
she
said
,
in
distaste
,
but
gently
.
He
looked
down
at
his
feet
.
“
I
was
walking
in
the
dark
,
”
he
replied
.
But
he
felt
vividly
elated
.
There
was
a
pause
.
He
stood
on
one
side
of
the
tumbled
bed
,
she
on
the
other
.
He
did
not
even
take
his
cap
from
his
brows
.
“
And
what
do
you
want
of
me
,
”
she
challenged
.
He
looked
aside
,
and
did
not
answer
.
Save
for
the
extreme
beauty
and
mystic
attractiveness
of
this
distinct
,
strange
face
,
she
would
have
sent
him
away
.
But
his
face
was
too
wonderful
and
undiscovered
to
her
.
It
fascinated
her
with
the
fascination
of
pure
beauty
,
cast
a
spell
on
her
,
like
nostalgia
,
an
ache
.
“
What
do
you
want
of
me
?
”
she
repeated
in
an
estranged
voice
.
He
pulled
off
his
cap
,
in
a
movement
of
dream-liberation
,
and
went
across
to
her
.
But
he
could
not
touch
her
,
because
she
stood
barefoot
in
her
night-dress
,
and
he
was
muddy
and
damp
.
Her
eyes
,
wide
and
large
and
wondering
,
watched
him
,
and
asked
him
the
ultimate
question
.
“
I
came
—
because
I
must
,
”
he
said
.
“
Why
do
you
ask
?
”
She
looked
at
him
in
doubt
and
wonder
.
“
I
must
ask
,
”
she
said
.
He
shook
his
head
slightly
.
“
There
is
no
answer
,
”
he
replied
,
with
strange
vacancy
.
There
was
about
him
a
curious
,
and
almost
godlike
air
of
simplicity
and
native
directness
.
He
reminded
her
of
an
apparition
,
the
young
Hermes
.
“
But
why
did
you
come
to
me
?
”
she
persisted
.
“
Because
—
it
has
to
be
so
.
If
there
weren’t
you
in
the
world
,
then
I
shouldn’t
be
in
the
world
,
either
.
”
She
stood
looking
at
him
,
with
large
,
wide
,
wondering
,
stricken
eyes
.
His
eyes
were
looking
steadily
into
hers
all
the
time
,
and
he
seemed
fixed
in
an
odd
supernatural
steadfastness
.
She
sighed
.
She
was
lost
now
.
She
had
no
choice
.
“
Won’t
you
take
off
your
boots
,
”
she
said
.
“
They
must
be
wet
.
”
He
dropped
his
cap
on
a
chair
,
unbuttoned
his
overcoat
,
lifting
up
his
chin
to
unfasten
the
throat
buttons
.
His
short
,
keen
hair
was
ruffled
.
He
was
so
beautifully
blond
,
like
wheat
.
He
pulled
off
his
overcoat
.
Quickly
he
pulled
off
his
jacket
,
pulled
loose
his
black
tie
,
and
was
unfastening
his
studs
,
which
were
headed
each
with
a
pearl
.
She
listened
,
watching
,
hoping
no
one
would
hear
the
starched
linen
crackle
.
It
seemed
to
snap
like
pistol
shots
.
He
had
come
for
vindication
.
She
let
him
hold
her
in
his
arms
,
clasp
her
close
against
him
.
He
found
in
her
an
infinite
relief
.
Into
her
he
poured
all
his
pent-up
darkness
and
corrosive
death
,
and
he
was
whole
again
.
It
was
wonderful
,
marvellous
,
it
was
a
miracle
.
This
was
the
ever-recurrent
miracle
of
his
life
,
at
the
knowledge
of
which
he
was
lost
in
an
ecstasy
of
relief
and
wonder
.
And
she
,
subject
,
received
him
as
a
vessel
filled
with
his
bitter
potion
of
death
.
She
had
no
power
at
this
crisis
to
resist
.
The
terrible
frictional
violence
of
death
filled
her
,
and
she
received
it
in
an
ecstasy
of
subjection
,
in
throes
of
acute
,
violent
sensation
.
As
he
drew
nearer
to
her
,
he
plunged
deeper
into
her
enveloping
soft
warmth
,
a
wonderful
creative
heat
that
penetrated
his
veins
and
gave
him
life
again
.
He
felt
himself
dissolving
and
sinking
to
rest
in
the
bath
of
her
living
strength
.
It
seemed
as
if
her
heart
in
her
breast
were
a
second
unconquerable
sun
,
into
the
glow
and
creative
strength
of
which
he
plunged
further
and
further
.
All
his
veins
,
that
were
murdered
and
lacerated
,
healed
softly
as
life
came
pulsing
in
,
stealing
invisibly
in
to
him
as
if
it
were
the
all-powerful
effluence
of
the
sun
.
His
blood
,
which
seemed
to
have
been
drawn
back
into
death
,
came
ebbing
on
the
return
,
surely
,
beautifully
,
powerfully
.
He
felt
his
limbs
growing
fuller
and
flexible
with
life
,
his
body
gained
an
unknown
strength
.
He
was
a
man
again
,
strong
and
rounded
.
And
he
was
a
child
,
so
soothed
and
restored
and
full
of
gratitude
.
And
she
,
she
was
the
great
bath
of
life
,
he
worshipped
her
.
Mother
and
substance
of
all
life
she
was
.
And
he
,
child
and
man
,
received
of
her
and
was
made
whole
.
His
pure
body
was
almost
killed
.
But
the
miraculous
,
soft
effluence
of
her
breast
suffused
over
him
,
over
his
seared
,
damaged
brain
,
like
a
healing
lymph
,
like
a
soft
,
soothing
flow
of
life
itself
,
perfect
as
if
he
were
bathed
in
the
womb
again
.
His
brain
was
hurt
,
seared
,
the
tissue
was
as
if
destroyed
.
He
had
not
known
how
hurt
he
was
,
how
his
tissue
,
the
very
tissue
of
his
brain
was
damaged
by
the
corrosive
flood
of
death
.
Now
,
as
the
healing
lymph
of
her
effluence
flowed
through
him
,
he
knew
how
destroyed
he
was
,
like
a
plant
whose
tissue
is
burst
from
inwards
by
a
frost
.
He
buried
his
small
,
hard
head
between
her
breasts
,
and
pressed
her
breasts
against
him
with
his
hands
.
And
she
with
quivering
hands
pressed
his
head
against
her
,
as
he
lay
suffused
out
,
and
she
lay
fully
conscious
.
The
lovely
creative
warmth
flooded
through
him
like
a
sleep
of
fecundity
within
the
womb
.
Ah
,
if
only
she
would
grant
him
the
flow
of
this
living
effluence
,
he
would
be
restored
,
he
would
be
complete
again
.
He
was
afraid
she
would
deny
him
before
it
was
finished
.
Like
a
child
at
the
breast
,
he
cleaved
intensely
to
her
,
and
she
could
not
put
him
away
.
And
his
seared
,
ruined
membrane
relaxed
,
softened
,
that
which
was
seared
and
stiff
and
blasted
yielded
again
,
became
soft
and
flexible
,
palpitating
with
new
life
.
He
was
infinitely
grateful
,
as
to
God
,
or
as
an
infant
is
at
its
mother’s
breast
.
He
was
glad
and
grateful
like
a
delirium
,
as
he
felt
his
own
wholeness
come
over
him
again
,
as
he
felt
the
full
,
unutterable
sleep
coming
over
him
,
the
sleep
of
complete
exhaustion
and
restoration
.
But
Gudrun
lay
wide
awake
,
destroyed
into
perfect
consciousness
.
She
lay
motionless
,
with
wide
eyes
staring
motionless
into
the
darkness
,
whilst
he
was
sunk
away
in
sleep
,
his
arms
round
her
.
She
seemed
to
be
hearing
waves
break
on
a
hidden
shore
,
long
,
slow
,
gloomy
waves
,
breaking
with
the
rhythm
of
fate
,
so
monotonously
that
it
seemed
eternal
.
This
endless
breaking
of
slow
,
sullen
waves
of
fate
held
her
life
a
possession
,
whilst
she
lay
with
dark
,
wide
eyes
looking
into
the
darkness
.
She
could
see
so
far
,
as
far
as
eternity
—
yet
she
saw
nothing
.
She
was
suspended
in
perfect
consciousness
—
and
of
what
was
she
conscious
?
This
mood
of
extremity
,
when
she
lay
staring
into
eternity
,
utterly
suspended
,
and
conscious
of
everything
,
to
the
last
limits
,
passed
and
left
her
uneasy
.
She
had
lain
so
long
motionless
.
She
moved
,
she
became
self-conscious
.
She
wanted
to
look
at
him
,
to
see
him
.
But
she
dared
not
make
a
light
,
because
she
knew
he
would
wake
,
and
she
did
not
want
to
break
his
perfect
sleep
,
that
she
knew
he
had
got
of
her
.
She
disengaged
herself
,
softly
,
and
rose
up
a
little
to
look
at
him
.
There
was
a
faint
light
,
it
seemed
to
her
,
in
the
room
.
She
could
just
distinguish
his
features
,
as
he
slept
the
perfect
sleep
.
In
this
darkness
,
she
seemed
to
see
him
so
distinctly
.
But
he
was
far
off
,
in
another
world
.
Ah
,
she
could
shriek
with
torment
,
he
was
so
far
off
,
and
perfected
,
in
another
world
.
She
seemed
to
look
at
him
as
at
a
pebble
far
away
under
clear
dark
water
.
And
here
was
she
,
left
with
all
the
anguish
of
consciousness
,
whilst
he
was
sunk
deep
into
the
other
element
of
mindless
,
remote
,
living
shadow-gleam
.
He
was
beautiful
,
far-off
,
and
perfected
.
They
would
never
be
together
.
Ah
,
this
awful
,
inhuman
distance
which
would
always
be
interposed
between
her
and
the
other
being
!
There
was
nothing
to
do
but
to
lie
still
and
endure
.
She
felt
an
overwhelming
tenderness
for
him
,
and
a
dark
,
under-stirring
of
jealous
hatred
,
that
he
should
lie
so
perfect
and
immune
,
in
an
other-world
,
whilst
she
was
tormented
with
violent
wakefulness
,
cast
out
in
the
outer
darkness
.
She
lay
in
intense
and
vivid
consciousness
,
an
exhausting
superconsciousness
.
The
church
clock
struck
the
hours
,
it
seemed
to
her
,
in
quick
succession
.
She
heard
them
distinctly
in
the
tension
of
her
vivid
consciousness
.
And
he
slept
as
if
time
were
one
moment
,
unchanging
and
unmoving
.
She
was
exhausted
,
wearied
.
Yet
she
must
continue
in
this
state
of
violent
active
superconsciousness
.
She
was
conscious
of
everything
—
her
childhood
,
her
girlhood
,
all
the
forgotten
incidents
,
all
the
unrealised
influences
and
all
the
happenings
she
had
not
understood
,
pertaining
to
herself
,
to
her
family
,
to
her
friends
,
her
lovers
,
her
acquaintances
,
everybody
.
It
was
as
if
she
drew
a
glittering
rope
of
knowledge
out
of
the
sea
of
darkness
,
drew
and
drew
and
drew
it
out
of
the
fathomless
depths
of
the
past
,
and
still
it
did
not
come
to
an
end
,
there
was
no
end
to
it
,
she
must
haul
and
haul
at
the
rope
of
glittering
consciousness
,
pull
it
out
phosphorescent
from
the
endless
depths
of
the
unconsciousness
,
till
she
was
weary
,
aching
,
exhausted
,
and
fit
to
break
,
and
yet
she
had
not
done
.
Ah
,
if
only
she
might
wake
him
!
She
turned
uneasily
.
When
could
she
rouse
him
and
send
him
away
?
When
could
she
disturb
him
?
And
she
relapsed
into
her
activity
of
automatic
consciousness
,
that
would
never
end
.
But
the
time
was
drawing
near
when
she
could
wake
him
.
It
was
like
a
release
.
The
clock
had
struck
four
,
outside
in
the
night
.
Thank
God
the
night
had
passed
almost
away
.
At
five
he
must
go
,
and
she
would
be
released
.
Then
she
could
relax
and
fill
her
own
place
.
Now
she
was
driven
up
against
his
perfect
sleeping
motion
like
a
knife
white-hot
on
a
grindstone
.
There
was
something
monstrous
about
him
,
about
his
juxtaposition
against
her
.
The
last
hour
was
the
longest
.
And
yet
,
at
last
it
passed
.
Her
heart
leapt
with
relief
—
yes
,
there
was
the
slow
,
strong
stroke
of
the
church
clock
—
at
last
,
after
this
night
of
eternity
.
She
waited
to
catch
each
slow
,
fatal
reverberation
.
“
Three
—
four
—
five
!
”
There
,
it
was
finished
.
A
weight
rolled
off
her
.
She
raised
herself
,
leaned
over
him
tenderly
,
and
kissed
him
.
She
was
sad
to
wake
him
.
After
a
few
moments
,
she
kissed
him
again
.
But
he
did
not
stir
.
The
darling
,
he
was
so
deep
in
sleep
!
What
a
shame
to
take
him
out
of
it
.
She
let
him
lie
a
little
longer
.
But
he
must
go
—
he
must
really
go
.
With
full
over-tenderness
she
took
his
face
between
her
hands
,
and
kissed
his
eyes
.
The
eyes
opened
,
he
remained
motionless
,
looking
at
her
.
Her
heart
stood
still
.
To
hide
her
face
from
his
dreadful
opened
eyes
,
in
the
darkness
,
she
bent
down
and
kissed
him
,
whispering
:
“
You
must
go
,
my
love
.
”
But
she
was
sick
with
terror
,
sick
.
He
put
his
arms
round
her
.
Her
heart
sank
.
“
But
you
must
go
,
my
love
.
It’s
late
.
”
“
What
time
is
it
?
”
he
said
.
Strange
,
his
man’s
voice
.
She
quivered
.
It
was
an
intolerable
oppression
to
her
.
“
Past
five
o’clock
,
”
she
said
.
But
he
only
closed
his
arms
round
her
again
.
Her
heart
cried
within
her
in
torture
.
She
disengaged
herself
firmly
.
“
You
really
must
go
,
”
she
said
.
“
Not
for
a
minute
,
”
he
said
.
She
lay
still
,
nestling
against
him
,
but
unyielding
.
“
Not
for
a
minute
,
”
he
repeated
,
clasping
her
closer
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
,
unyielding
,
“
I’m
afraid
if
you
stay
any
longer
.
”
There
was
a
certain
coldness
in
her
voice
that
made
him
release
her
,
and
she
broke
away
,
rose
and
lit
the
candle
.
That
then
was
the
end
.
He
got
up
.
He
was
warm
and
full
of
life
and
desire
.
Yet
he
felt
a
little
bit
ashamed
,
humiliated
,
putting
on
his
clothes
before
her
,
in
the
candle-light
.
For
he
felt
revealed
,
exposed
to
her
,
at
a
time
when
she
was
in
some
way
against
him
.
It
was
all
very
difficult
to
understand
.
He
dressed
himself
quickly
,
without
collar
or
tie
.
Still
he
felt
full
and
complete
,
perfected
.
She
thought
it
humiliating
to
see
a
man
dressing
:
the
ridiculous
shirt
,
the
ridiculous
trousers
and
braces
.
But
again
an
idea
saved
her
.
“
It
is
like
a
workman
getting
up
to
go
to
work
,
”
thought
Gudrun
.
“
And
I
am
like
a
workman’s
wife
.
”
But
an
ache
like
nausea
was
upon
her
:
a
nausea
of
him
.
He
pushed
his
collar
and
tie
into
his
overcoat
pocket
.
Then
he
sat
down
and
pulled
on
his
boots
.
They
were
sodden
,
as
were
his
socks
and
trouser-bottoms
.
But
he
himself
was
quick
and
warm
.
“
Perhaps
you
ought
to
have
put
your
boots
on
downstairs
,
”
she
said
.
At
once
,
without
answering
,
he
pulled
them
off
again
,
and
stood
holding
them
in
his
hand
.
She
had
thrust
her
feet
into
slippers
,
and
flung
a
loose
robe
round
her
.
She
was
ready
.
She
looked
at
him
as
he
stood
waiting
,
his
black
coat
buttoned
to
the
chin
,
his
cap
pulled
down
,
his
boots
in
his
hand
.
And
the
passionate
almost
hateful
fascination
revived
in
her
for
a
moment
.
It
was
not
exhausted
.
His
face
was
so
warm-looking
,
wide-eyed
and
full
of
newness
,
so
perfect
.
She
felt
old
,
old
.
She
went
to
him
heavily
,
to
be
kissed
.
He
kissed
her
quickly
.
She
wished
his
warm
,
expressionless
beauty
did
not
so
fatally
put
a
spell
on
her
,
compel
her
and
subjugate
her
.
It
was
a
burden
upon
her
,
that
she
resented
,
but
could
not
escape
.
Yet
when
she
looked
at
his
straight
man’s
brows
,
and
at
his
rather
small
,
well-shaped
nose
,
and
at
his
blue
,
indifferent
eyes
,
she
knew
her
passion
for
him
was
not
yet
satisfied
,
perhaps
never
could
be
satisfied
.
Only
now
she
was
weary
,
with
an
ache
like
nausea
.
She
wanted
him
gone
.
They
went
downstairs
quickly
.
It
seemed
they
made
a
prodigious
noise
.
He
followed
her
as
,
wrapped
in
her
vivid
green
wrap
,
she
preceded
him
with
the
light
.
She
suffered
badly
with
fear
,
lest
her
people
should
be
roused
.
He
hardly
cared
.
He
did
not
care
now
who
knew
.
And
she
hated
this
in
him
.
One
must
be
cautious
.
One
must
preserve
oneself
.
She
led
the
way
to
the
kitchen
.
It
was
neat
and
tidy
,
as
the
woman
had
left
it
.
He
looked
up
at
the
clock
—
twenty
minutes
past
five
Then
he
sat
down
on
a
chair
to
put
on
his
boots
.
She
waited
,
watching
his
every
movement
.
She
wanted
it
to
be
over
,
it
was
a
great
nervous
strain
on
her
.
He
stood
up
—
she
unbolted
the
back
door
,
and
looked
out
.
A
cold
,
raw
night
,
not
yet
dawn
,
with
a
piece
of
a
moon
in
the
vague
sky
.
She
was
glad
she
need
not
go
out
.
“
Good-bye
then
,
”
he
murmured
.
“
I’ll
come
to
the
gate
,
”
she
said
.
And
again
she
hurried
on
in
front
,
to
warn
him
of
the
steps
.
And
at
the
gate
,
once
more
she
stood
on
the
step
whilst
he
stood
below
her
.
“
Good-bye
,
”
she
whispered
.
He
kissed
her
dutifully
,
and
turned
away
.
She
suffered
torments
hearing
his
firm
tread
going
so
distinctly
down
the
road
.
Ah
,
the
insensitiveness
of
that
firm
tread
!
She
closed
the
gate
,
and
crept
quickly
and
noiselessly
back
to
bed
.
When
she
was
in
her
room
,
and
the
door
closed
,
and
all
safe
,
she
breathed
freely
,
and
a
great
weight
fell
off
her
.
She
nestled
down
in
bed
,
in
the
groove
his
body
had
made
,
in
the
warmth
he
had
left
.
And
excited
,
worn-out
,
yet
still
satisfied
,
she
fell
soon
into
a
deep
,
heavy
sleep
.
Gerald
walked
quickly
through
the
raw
darkness
of
the
coming
dawn
.
He
met
nobody
.
His
mind
was
beautifully
still
and
thoughtless
,
like
a
still
pool
,
and
his
body
full
and
warm
and
rich
.
He
went
quickly
along
towards
Shortlands
,
in
a
grateful
self-sufficiency
.
CHAPTER
XXV
.
MARRIAGE
OR
NOT
The
Brangwen
family
was
going
to
move
from
Beldover
.
It
was
necessary
now
for
the
father
to
be
in
town
.
Birkin
had
taken
out
a
marriage
licence
,
yet
Ursula
deferred
from
day
to
day
.
She
would
not
fix
any
definite
time
—
she
still
wavered
.
Her
month’s
notice
to
leave
the
Grammar
School
was
in
its
third
week
.
Christmas
was
not
far
off
.
Gerald
waited
for
the
Ursula-Birkin
marriage
.
It
was
something
crucial
to
him
.
“
Shall
we
make
it
a
double-barrelled
affair
?
”
he
said
to
Birkin
one
day
.
“
Who
for
the
second
shot
?
”
asked
Birkin
.
“
Gudrun
and
me
,
”
said
Gerald
,
the
venturesome
twinkle
in
his
eyes
.
Birkin
looked
at
him
steadily
,
as
if
somewhat
taken
aback
.
“
Serious
—
or
joking
?
”
he
asked
.
“
Oh
,
serious
.
Shall
I
?
Shall
Gudrun
and
I
rush
in
along
with
you
?
”
“
Do
by
all
means
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
I
didn’t
know
you’d
got
that
length
.
”
“
What
length
?
”
said
Gerald
,
looking
at
the
other
man
,
and
laughing
.
“
Oh
yes
,
we’ve
gone
all
the
lengths
.
”
“
There
remains
to
put
it
on
a
broad
social
basis
,
and
to
achieve
a
high
moral
purpose
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Something
like
that
:
the
length
and
breadth
and
height
of
it
,
”
replied
Gerald
,
smiling
.
“
Oh
well
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
it’s
a
very
admirable
step
to
take
,
I
should
say
.
”
Gerald
looked
at
him
closely
.
“
Why
aren’t
you
enthusiastic
?
”
he
asked
.
“
I
thought
you
were
such
dead
nuts
on
marriage
.
”
Birkin
lifted
his
shoulders
.
“
One
might
as
well
be
dead
nuts
on
noses
.
There
are
all
sorts
of
noses
,
snub
and
otherwise
—
”
Gerald
laughed
.
“
And
all
sorts
of
marriage
,
also
snub
and
otherwise
?
”
he
said
.
“
That’s
it
.
”
“
And
you
think
if
I
marry
,
it
will
be
snub
?
”
asked
Gerald
quizzically
,
his
head
a
little
on
one
side
.
Birkin
laughed
quickly
.
“
How
do
I
know
what
it
will
be
!
”
he
said
.
“
Don’t
lambaste
me
with
my
own
parallels
—
”
Gerald
pondered
a
while
.
“
But
I
should
like
to
know
your
opinion
,
exactly
,
”
he
said
.
“
On
your
marriage
?
—
or
marrying
?
Why
should
you
want
my
opinion
?
I’ve
got
no
opinions
.
I’m
not
interested
in
legal
marriage
,
one
way
or
another
.
It’s
a
mere
question
of
convenience
.
”
Still
Gerald
watched
him
closely
.
“
More
than
that
,
I
think
,
”
he
said
seriously
.
“
However
you
may
be
bored
by
the
ethics
of
marriage
,
yet
really
to
marry
,
in
one’s
own
personal
case
,
is
something
critical
,
final
—
”
“
You
mean
there
is
something
final
in
going
to
the
registrar
with
a
woman
?
”
“
If
you’re
coming
back
with
her
,
I
do
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
It
is
in
some
way
irrevocable
.
”
“
Yes
,
I
agree
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
No
matter
how
one
regards
legal
marriage
,
yet
to
enter
into
the
married
state
,
in
one’s
own
personal
instance
,
is
final
—
”
“
I
believe
it
is
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
somewhere
.
”
“
The
question
remains
then
,
should
one
do
it
,
”
said
Gerald
.
Birkin
watched
him
narrowly
,
with
amused
eyes
.
“
You
are
like
Lord
Bacon
,
Gerald
,
”
he
said
.
“
You
argue
it
like
a
lawyer
—
or
like
Hamlet’s
to-be-or-not-to-be
.
If
I
were
you
I
would
not
marry
:
but
ask
Gudrun
,
not
me
.
You’re
not
marrying
me
,
are
you
?
”
Gerald
did
not
heed
the
latter
part
of
this
speech
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
said
,
“
one
must
consider
it
coldly
.
It
is
something
critical
.
One
comes
to
the
point
where
one
must
take
a
step
in
one
direction
or
another
.
And
marriage
is
one
direction
—
”
“
And
what
is
the
other
?
”
asked
Birkin
quickly
.
Gerald
looked
up
at
him
with
hot
,
strangely-conscious
eyes
,
that
the
other
man
could
not
understand
.
“
I
can’t
say
,
”
he
replied
.
“
If
I
knew
that
—
”
He
moved
uneasily
on
his
feet
,
and
did
not
finish
.
“
You
mean
if
you
knew
the
alternative
?
”
asked
Birkin
.
“
And
since
you
don’t
know
it
,
marriage
is
a
pis
aller
.
”
Gerald
looked
up
at
Birkin
with
the
same
hot
,
constrained
eyes
.
“
One
does
have
the
feeling
that
marriage
is
a
pis
aller
,
”
he
admitted
.
“
Then
don’t
do
it
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
I
tell
you
,
”
he
went
on
,
“
the
same
as
I’ve
said
before
,
marriage
in
the
old
sense
seems
to
me
repulsive
.
Égoïsme
à
deux
is
nothing
to
it
.
It’s
a
sort
of
tacit
hunting
in
couples
:
the
world
all
in
couples
,
each
couple
in
its
own
little
house
,
watching
its
own
little
interests
,
and
stewing
in
its
own
little
privacy
—
it’s
the
most
repulsive
thing
on
earth
.
”
“
I
quite
agree
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
There’s
something
inferior
about
it
.
But
as
I
say
,
what’s
the
alternative
.
”
“
One
should
avoid
this
home
instinct
.
It’s
not
an
instinct
,
it’s
a
habit
of
cowardliness
.
One
should
never
have
a
home
.
”
“
I
agree
really
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
But
there’s
no
alternative
.
”
“
We’ve
got
to
find
one
.
I
do
believe
in
a
permanent
union
between
a
man
and
a
woman
.
Chopping
about
is
merely
an
exhaustive
process
.
But
a
permanent
relation
between
a
man
and
a
woman
isn’t
the
last
word
—
it
certainly
isn’t
.
”
“
Quite
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
In
fact
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
because
the
relation
between
man
and
woman
is
made
the
supreme
and
exclusive
relationship
,
that’s
where
all
the
tightness
and
meanness
and
insufficiency
comes
in
.
”
“
Yes
,
I
believe
you
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
You’ve
got
to
take
down
the
love-and-marriage
ideal
from
its
pedestal
.
We
want
something
broader
.
I
believe
in
the
additional
perfect
relationship
between
man
and
man
—
additional
to
marriage
.
”
“
I
can
never
see
how
they
can
be
the
same
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Not
the
same
—
but
equally
important
,
equally
creative
,
equally
sacred
,
if
you
like
.
”
“
I
know
,
”
said
Gerald
,
“
you
believe
something
like
that
.
Only
I
can’t
feel
it
,
you
see
.
”
He
put
his
hand
on
Birkin’s
arm
,
with
a
sort
of
deprecating
affection
.
And
he
smiled
as
if
triumphantly
.
He
was
ready
to
be
doomed
.
Marriage
was
like
a
doom
to
him
.
He
was
willing
to
condemn
himself
in
marriage
,
to
become
like
a
convict
condemned
to
the
mines
of
the
underworld
,
living
no
life
in
the
sun
,
but
having
a
dreadful
subterranean
activity
.
He
was
willing
to
accept
this
.
And
marriage
was
the
seal
of
his
condemnation
.
He
was
willing
to
be
sealed
thus
in
the
underworld
,
like
a
soul
damned
but
living
forever
in
damnation
.
But
he
would
not
make
any
pure
relationship
with
any
other
soul
.
He
could
not
.
Marriage
was
not
the
committing
of
himself
into
a
relationship
with
Gudrun
.
It
was
a
committing
of
himself
in
acceptance
of
the
established
world
,
he
would
accept
the
established
order
,
in
which
he
did
not
livingly
believe
,
and
then
he
would
retreat
to
the
underworld
for
his
life
.
This
he
would
do
.
The
other
way
was
to
accept
Rupert’s
offer
of
alliance
,
to
enter
into
the
bond
of
pure
trust
and
love
with
the
other
man
,
and
then
subsequently
with
the
woman
.
If
he
pledged
himself
with
the
man
he
would
later
be
able
to
pledge
himself
with
the
woman
:
not
merely
in
legal
marriage
,
but
in
absolute
,
mystic
marriage
.
Yet
he
could
not
accept
the
offer
.
There
was
a
numbness
upon
him
,
a
numbness
either
of
unborn
,
absent
volition
,
or
of
atrophy
.
Perhaps
it
was
the
absence
of
volition
.
For
he
was
strangely
elated
at
Rupert’s
offer
.
Yet
he
was
still
more
glad
to
reject
it
,
not
to
be
committed
.
CHAPTER
XXVI
.
A
CHAIR
There
was
a
jumble
market
every
Monday
afternoon
in
the
old
market-place
in
town
.
Ursula
and
Birkin
strayed
down
there
one
afternoon
.
They
had
been
talking
of
furniture
,
and
they
wanted
to
see
if
there
was
any
fragment
they
would
like
to
buy
,
amid
the
heaps
of
rubbish
collected
on
the
cobble-stones
.
The
old
market-square
was
not
very
large
,
a
mere
bare
patch
of
granite
setts
,
usually
with
a
few
fruit-stalls
under
a
wall
.
It
was
in
a
poor
quarter
of
the
town
.
Meagre
houses
stood
down
one
side
,
there
was
a
hosiery
factory
,
a
great
blank
with
myriad
oblong
windows
,
at
the
end
,
a
street
of
little
shops
with
flagstone
pavement
down
the
other
side
,
and
,
for
a
crowning
monument
,
the
public
baths
,
of
new
red
brick
,
with
a
clock-tower
.
The
people
who
moved
about
seemed
stumpy
and
sordid
,
the
air
seemed
to
smell
rather
dirty
,
there
was
a
sense
of
many
mean
streets
ramifying
off
into
warrens
of
meanness
.
Now
and
again
a
great
chocolate-and-yellow
tramcar
ground
round
a
difficult
bend
under
the
hosiery
factory
.
Ursula
was
superficially
thrilled
when
she
found
herself
out
among
the
common
people
,
in
the
jumbled
place
piled
with
old
bedding
,
heaps
of
old
iron
,
shabby
crockery
in
pale
lots
,
muffled
lots
of
unthinkable
clothing
.
She
and
Birkin
went
unwillingly
down
the
narrow
aisle
between
the
rusty
wares
.
He
was
looking
at
the
goods
,
she
at
the
people
.
She
excitedly
watched
a
young
woman
,
who
was
going
to
have
a
baby
,
and
who
was
turning
over
a
mattress
and
making
a
young
man
,
down-at-heel
and
dejected
,
feel
it
also
.
So
secretive
and
active
and
anxious
the
young
woman
seemed
,
so
reluctant
,
slinking
,
the
young
man
.
He
was
going
to
marry
her
because
she
was
having
a
child
.
When
they
had
felt
the
mattress
,
the
young
woman
asked
the
old
man
seated
on
a
stool
among
his
wares
,
how
much
it
was
.
He
told
her
,
and
she
turned
to
the
young
man
.
The
latter
was
ashamed
,
and
selfconscious
.
He
turned
his
face
away
,
though
he
left
his
body
standing
there
,
and
muttered
aside
.
And
again
the
woman
anxiously
and
actively
fingered
the
mattress
and
added
up
in
her
mind
and
bargained
with
the
old
,
unclean
man
.
All
the
while
,
the
young
man
stood
by
,
shamefaced
and
down-at-heel
,
submitting
.
“
Look
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
there
is
a
pretty
chair
.
”
“
Charming
!
”
cried
Ursula
.
“
Oh
,
charming
.
”
It
was
an
arm-chair
of
simple
wood
,
probably
birch
,
but
of
such
fine
delicacy
of
grace
,
standing
there
on
the
sordid
stones
,
it
almost
brought
tears
to
the
eyes
.
It
was
square
in
shape
,
of
the
purest
,
slender
lines
,
and
four
short
lines
of
wood
in
the
back
,
that
reminded
Ursula
of
harpstrings
.
“
It
was
once
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
gilded
—
and
it
had
a
cane
seat
.
Somebody
has
nailed
this
wooden
seat
in
.
Look
,
here
is
a
trifle
of
the
red
that
underlay
the
gilt
.
The
rest
is
all
black
,
except
where
the
wood
is
worn
pure
and
glossy
.
It
is
the
fine
unity
of
the
lines
that
is
so
attractive
.
Look
,
how
they
run
and
meet
and
counteract
.
But
of
course
the
wooden
seat
is
wrong
—
it
destroys
the
perfect
lightness
and
unity
in
tension
the
cane
gave
.
I
like
it
though
—
”
“
Ah
yes
,
”
said
Ursula
,
“
so
do
I
.
”
“
How
much
is
it
?
”
Birkin
asked
the
man
.
“
Ten
shillings
.
”
“
And
you
will
send
it
—
?
”
It
was
bought
.
“
So
beautiful
,
so
pure
!
”
Birkin
said
.
“
It
almost
breaks
my
heart
.
”
They
walked
along
between
the
heaps
of
rubbish
.
“
My
beloved
country
—
it
had
something
to
express
even
when
it
made
that
chair
.
”
“
And
hasn’t
it
now
?
”
asked
Ursula
.
She
was
always
angry
when
he
took
this
tone
.
“
No
,
it
hasn’t
.
When
I
see
that
clear
,
beautiful
chair
,
and
I
think
of
England
,
even
Jane
Austen’s
England
—
it
had
living
thoughts
to
unfold
even
then
,
and
pure
happiness
in
unfolding
them
.
And
now
,
we
can
only
fish
among
the
rubbish
heaps
for
the
remnants
of
their
old
expression
.
There
is
no
production
in
us
now
,
only
sordid
and
foul
mechanicalness
.
”
“
It
isn’t
true
,
”
cried
Ursula
.
“
Why
must
you
always
praise
the
past
,
at
the
expense
of
the
present
?
Really
,
I
don’t
think
so
much
of
Jane
Austen’s
England
.
It
was
materialistic
enough
,
if
you
like
—
”
“
It
could
afford
to
be
materialistic
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
because
it
had
the
power
to
be
something
other
—
which
we
haven’t
.
We
are
materialistic
because
we
haven’t
the
power
to
be
anything
else
—
try
as
we
may
,
we
can’t
bring
off
anything
but
materialism
:
mechanism
,
the
very
soul
of
materialism
.
”
Ursula
was
subdued
into
angry
silence
.
She
did
not
heed
what
he
said
.
She
was
rebelling
against
something
else
.
“
And
I
hate
your
past
.
I’m
sick
of
it
,
”
she
cried
.
“
I
believe
I
even
hate
that
old
chair
,
though
it
is
beautiful
.
It
isn’t
my
sort
of
beauty
.
I
wish
it
had
been
smashed
up
when
its
day
was
over
,
not
left
to
preach
the
beloved
past
to
us
.
I’m
sick
of
the
beloved
past
.
”
“
Not
so
sick
as
I
am
of
the
accursed
present
,
”
he
said
.
“
Yes
,
just
the
same
.
I
hate
the
present
—
but
I
don’t
want
the
past
to
take
its
place
—
I
don’t
want
that
old
chair
.
”
He
was
rather
angry
for
a
moment
.
Then
he
looked
at
the
sky
shining
beyond
the
tower
of
the
public
baths
,
and
he
seemed
to
get
over
it
all
.
He
laughed
.
“
All
right
,
”
he
said
,
“
then
let
us
not
have
it
.
I’m
sick
of
it
all
,
too
.
At
any
rate
one
can’t
go
on
living
on
the
old
bones
of
beauty
.
”
“
One
can’t
,
”
she
cried
.
“
I
don’t
want
old
things
.
”
“
The
truth
is
,
we
don’t
want
things
at
all
,
”
he
replied
.
“
The
thought
of
a
house
and
furniture
of
my
own
is
hateful
to
me
.
”
This
startled
her
for
a
moment
.
Then
she
replied
:
“
So
it
is
to
me
.
But
one
must
live
somewhere
.
”
“
Not
somewhere
—
anywhere
,
”
he
said
.
“
One
should
just
live
anywhere
—
not
have
a
definite
place
.
I
don’t
want
a
definite
place
.
As
soon
as
you
get
a
room
,
and
it
is
complete
,
you
want
to
run
from
it
.
Now
my
rooms
at
the
Mill
are
quite
complete
,
I
want
them
at
the
bottom
of
the
sea
.
It
is
a
horrible
tyranny
of
a
fixed
milieu
,
where
each
piece
of
furniture
is
a
commandment-stone
.
”
She
clung
to
his
arm
as
they
walked
away
from
the
market
.
“
But
what
are
we
going
to
do
?
”
she
said
.
“
We
must
live
somehow
.
And
I
do
want
some
beauty
in
my
surroundings
.
I
want
a
sort
of
natural
grandeur
even
,
splendour
.
”
“
You’ll
never
get
it
in
houses
and
furniture
—
or
even
clothes
.
Houses
and
furniture
and
clothes
,
they
are
all
terms
of
an
old
base
world
,
a
detestable
society
of
man
.
And
if
you
have
a
Tudor
house
and
old
,
beautiful
furniture
,
it
is
only
the
past
perpetuated
on
top
of
you
,
horrible
.
And
if
you
have
a
perfect
modern
house
done
for
you
by
Poiret
,
it
is
something
else
perpetuated
on
top
of
you
.
It
is
all
horrible
.
It
is
all
possessions
,
possessions
,
bullying
you
and
turning
you
into
a
generalisation
.
You
have
to
be
like
Rodin
,
Michelangelo
,
and
leave
a
piece
of
raw
rock
unfinished
to
your
figure
.
You
must
leave
your
surroundings
sketchy
,
unfinished
,
so
that
you
are
never
contained
,
never
confined
,
never
dominated
from
the
outside
.
”
She
stood
in
the
street
contemplating
.
“
And
we
are
never
to
have
a
complete
place
of
our
own
—
never
a
home
?
”
she
said
.
“
Pray
God
,
in
this
world
,
no
,
”
he
answered
.
“
But
there’s
only
this
world
,
”
she
objected
.
He
spread
out
his
hands
with
a
gesture
of
indifference
.
“
Meanwhile
,
then
,
we’ll
avoid
having
things
of
our
own
,
”
he
said
.
“
But
you’ve
just
bought
a
chair
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
can
tell
the
man
I
don’t
want
it
,
”
he
replied
.
She
pondered
again
.
Then
a
queer
little
movement
twitched
her
face
.
“
No
,
”
she
said
,
“
we
don’t
want
it
.
I’m
sick
of
old
things
.
”
“
New
ones
as
well
,
”
he
said
.
They
retraced
their
steps
.
There
—
in
front
of
some
furniture
,
stood
the
young
couple
,
the
woman
who
was
going
to
have
a
baby
,
and
the
narrow-faced
youth
.
She
was
fair
,
rather
short
,
stout
.
He
was
of
medium
height
,
attractively
built
.
His
dark
hair
fell
sideways
over
his
brow
,
from
under
his
cap
,
he
stood
strangely
aloof
,
like
one
of
the
damned
.
“
Let
us
give
it
to
them
,
”
whispered
Ursula
.
“
Look
they
are
getting
a
home
together
.
”
“
I
won’t
aid
abet
them
in
it
,
”
he
said
petulantly
,
instantly
sympathising
with
the
aloof
,
furtive
youth
,
against
the
active
,
procreant
female
.
“
Oh
yes
,
”
cried
Ursula
.
“
It’s
right
for
them
—
there’s
nothing
else
for
them
.
”
“
Very
well
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
you
offer
it
to
them
.
I’ll
watch
.
”
Ursula
went
rather
nervously
to
the
young
couple
,
who
were
discussing
an
iron
washstand
—
or
rather
,
the
man
was
glancing
furtively
and
wonderingly
,
like
a
prisoner
,
at
the
abominable
article
,
whilst
the
woman
was
arguing
.
“
We
bought
a
chair
,
”
said
Ursula
,
“
and
we
don’t
want
it
.
Would
you
have
it
?
We
should
be
glad
if
you
would
.
”
The
young
couple
looked
round
at
her
,
not
believing
that
she
could
be
addressing
them
.
“
Would
you
care
for
it
?
”
repeated
Ursula
.
“
It’s
really
very
pretty
—
but
—
but
—
”
she
smiled
rather
dazzlingly
.
The
young
couple
only
stared
at
her
,
and
looked
significantly
at
each
other
,
to
know
what
to
do
.
And
the
man
curiously
obliterated
himself
,
as
if
he
could
make
himself
invisible
,
as
a
rat
can
.
“
We
wanted
to
give
it
to
you
,
”
explained
Ursula
,
now
overcome
with
confusion
and
dread
of
them
.
She
was
attracted
by
the
young
man
.
He
was
a
still
,
mindless
creature
,
hardly
a
man
at
all
,
a
creature
that
the
towns
have
produced
,
strangely
pure-bred
and
fine
in
one
sense
,
furtive
,
quick
,
subtle
.
His
lashes
were
dark
and
long
and
fine
over
his
eyes
,
that
had
no
mind
in
them
,
only
a
dreadful
kind
of
subject
,
inward
consciousness
,
glazed
and
dark
.
His
dark
brows
and
all
his
lines
,
were
finely
drawn
.
He
would
be
a
dreadful
,
but
wonderful
lover
to
a
woman
,
so
marvellously
contributed
.
His
legs
would
be
marvellously
subtle
and
alive
,
under
the
shapeless
,
trousers
,
he
had
some
of
the
fineness
and
stillness
and
silkiness
of
a
dark-eyed
,
silent
rat
.
Ursula
had
apprehended
him
with
a
fine
frisson
of
attraction
.
The
full-built
woman
was
staring
offensively
.
Again
Ursula
forgot
him
.
“
Won’t
you
have
the
chair
?
”
she
said
.
The
man
looked
at
her
with
a
sideways
look
of
appreciation
,
yet
far-off
,
almost
insolent
.
The
woman
drew
herself
up
.
There
was
a
certain
costermonger
richness
about
her
.
She
did
not
know
what
Ursula
was
after
,
she
was
on
her
guard
,
hostile
.
Birkin
approached
,
smiling
wickedly
at
seeing
Ursula
so
nonplussed
and
frightened
.
“
What’s
the
matter
?
”
he
said
,
smiling
.
His
eyelids
had
dropped
slightly
,
there
was
about
him
the
same
suggestive
,
mocking
secrecy
that
was
in
the
bearing
of
the
two
city
creatures
.
The
man
jerked
his
head
a
little
on
one
side
,
indicating
Ursula
,
and
said
,
with
curious
amiable
,
jeering
warmth
:
“
What
she
warnt
?
—
eh
?
”
An
odd
smile
writhed
his
lips
.
Birkin
looked
at
him
from
under
his
slack
,
ironical
eyelids
.
“
To
give
you
a
chair
—
that
—
with
the
label
on
it
,
”
he
said
,
pointing
.
The
man
looked
at
the
object
indicated
.
There
was
a
curious
hostility
in
male
,
outlawed
understanding
between
the
two
men
.
“
What’s
she
warnt
to
give
it
us
for
,
guvnor
,
”
he
replied
,
in
a
tone
of
free
intimacy
that
insulted
Ursula
.
“
Thought
you’d
like
it
—
it’s
a
pretty
chair
.
We
bought
it
and
don’t
want
it
.
No
need
for
you
to
have
it
,
don’t
be
frightened
,
”
said
Birkin
,
with
a
wry
smile
.
The
man
glanced
up
at
him
,
half
inimical
,
half
recognising
.
“
Why
don’t
you
want
it
for
yourselves
,
if
you’ve
just
bought
it
?
”
asked
the
woman
coolly
.
“
’Taint
good
enough
for
you
,
now
you’ve
had
a
look
at
it
.
Frightened
it’s
got
something
in
it
,
eh
?
”
She
was
looking
at
Ursula
,
admiringly
,
but
with
some
resentment
.
“
I’d
never
thought
of
that
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
But
no
,
the
wood’s
too
thin
everywhere
.
”
“
You
see
,
”
said
Ursula
,
her
face
luminous
and
pleased
.
“
We
are
just
going
to
get
married
,
and
we
thought
we’d
buy
things
.
Then
we
decided
,
just
now
,
that
we
wouldn’t
have
furniture
,
we’d
go
abroad
.
”
The
full-built
,
slightly
blowsy
city
girl
looked
at
the
fine
face
of
the
other
woman
,
with
appreciation
.
They
appreciated
each
other
.
The
youth
stood
aside
,
his
face
expressionless
and
timeless
,
the
thin
line
of
the
black
moustache
drawn
strangely
suggestive
over
his
rather
wide
,
closed
mouth
.
He
was
impassive
,
abstract
,
like
some
dark
suggestive
presence
,
a
gutter-presence
.
“
It’s
all
right
to
be
some
folks
,
”
said
the
city
girl
,
turning
to
her
own
young
man
.
He
did
not
look
at
her
,
but
he
smiled
with
the
lower
part
of
his
face
,
putting
his
head
aside
in
an
odd
gesture
of
assent
.
His
eyes
were
unchanging
,
glazed
with
darkness
.
“
Cawsts
something
to
chynge
your
mind
,
”
he
said
,
in
an
incredibly
low
accent
.
“
Only
ten
shillings
this
time
,
”
said
Birkin
.
The
man
looked
up
at
him
with
a
grimace
of
a
smile
,
furtive
,
unsure
.
“
Cheap
at
’arf
a
quid
,
guvnor
,
”
he
said
.
“
Not
like
getting
divawced
.
”
“
We’re
not
married
yet
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
No
,
no
more
aren’t
we
,
”
said
the
young
woman
loudly
.
“
But
we
shall
be
,
a
Saturday
.
”
Again
she
looked
at
the
young
man
with
a
determined
,
protective
look
,
at
once
overbearing
and
very
gentle
.
He
grinned
sicklily
,
turning
away
his
head
.
She
had
got
his
manhood
,
but
Lord
,
what
did
he
care
!
He
had
a
strange
furtive
pride
and
slinking
singleness
.
“
Good
luck
to
you
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Same
to
you
,
”
said
the
young
woman
.
Then
,
rather
tentatively
:
“
When’s
yours
coming
off
,
then
?
”
Birkin
looked
round
at
Ursula
.
“
It’s
for
the
lady
to
say
,
”
he
replied
.
“
We
go
to
the
registrar
the
moment
she’s
ready
.
”
Ursula
laughed
,
covered
with
confusion
and
bewilderment
.
“
No
’urry
,
”
said
the
young
man
,
grinning
suggestive
.
“
Oh
,
don’t
break
your
neck
to
get
there
,
”
said
the
young
woman
.
“
’Slike
when
you’re
dead
—
you’re
long
time
married
.
”
The
young
man
turned
aside
as
if
this
hit
him
.
“
The
longer
the
better
,
let
us
hope
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
That’s
it
,
guvnor
,
”
said
the
young
man
admiringly
.
“
Enjoy
it
while
it
larsts
—
niver
whip
a
dead
donkey
.
”
“
Only
when
he’s
shamming
dead
,
”
said
the
young
woman
,
looking
at
her
young
man
with
caressive
tenderness
of
authority
.
“
Aw
,
there’s
a
difference
,
”
he
said
satirically
.
“
What
about
the
chair
?
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Yes
,
all
right
,
”
said
the
woman
.
They
trailed
off
to
the
dealer
,
the
handsome
but
abject
young
fellow
hanging
a
little
aside
.
“
That’s
it
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Will
you
take
it
with
you
,
or
have
the
address
altered
.
”
“
Oh
,
Fred
can
carry
it
.
Make
him
do
what
he
can
for
the
dear
old
’ome
.
”
“
Mike
use
of
’im
,
”
said
Fred
,
grimly
humorous
,
as
he
took
the
chair
from
the
dealer
.
His
movements
were
graceful
,
yet
curiously
abject
,
slinking
.
“
’Ere’s
mother’s
cosy
chair
,
”
he
said
.
“
Warnts
a
cushion
.
”
And
he
stood
it
down
on
the
market
stones
.
“
Don’t
you
think
it’s
pretty
?
”
laughed
Ursula
.
“
Oh
,
I
do
,
”
said
the
young
woman
.
“
’Ave
a
sit
in
it
,
you’ll
wish
you’d
kept
it
,
”
said
the
young
man
.
Ursula
promptly
sat
down
in
the
middle
of
the
market-place
.
“
Awfully
comfortable
,
”
she
said
.
“
But
rather
hard
.
You
try
it
.
”
She
invited
the
young
man
to
a
seat
.
But
he
turned
uncouthly
,
awkwardly
aside
,
glancing
up
at
her
with
quick
bright
eyes
,
oddly
suggestive
,
like
a
quick
,
live
rat
.
“
Don’t
spoil
him
,
”
said
the
young
woman
.
“
He’s
not
used
to
arm-chairs
,
’e
isn’t
.
”
The
young
man
turned
away
,
and
said
,
with
averted
grin
:
“
Only
warnts
legs
on
’is
.
”
The
four
parted
.
The
young
woman
thanked
them
.
“
Thank
you
for
the
chair
—
it’ll
last
till
it
gives
way
.
”
“
Keep
it
for
an
ornyment
,
”
said
the
young
man
.
“
Good
afternoon
—
good
afternoon
,
”
said
Ursula
and
Birkin
.
“
Goo’-luck
to
you
,
”
said
the
young
man
,
glancing
and
avoiding
Birkin’s
eyes
,
as
he
turned
aside
his
head
.
The
two
couples
went
asunder
,
Ursula
clinging
to
Birkin’s
arm
.
When
they
had
gone
some
distance
,
she
glanced
back
and
saw
the
young
man
going
beside
the
full
,
easy
young
woman
.
His
trousers
sank
over
his
heels
,
he
moved
with
a
sort
of
slinking
evasion
,
more
crushed
with
odd
self-consciousness
now
he
had
the
slim
old
arm-chair
to
carry
,
his
arm
over
the
back
,
the
four
fine
,
square
tapering
legs
swaying
perilously
near
the
granite
setts
of
the
pavement
.
And
yet
he
was
somewhere
indomitable
and
separate
,
like
a
quick
,
vital
rat
.
He
had
a
queer
,
subterranean
beauty
,
repulsive
too
.
“
How
strange
they
are
!
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Children
of
men
,
”
he
said
.
“
They
remind
me
of
Jesus
:
‘The
meek
shall
inherit
the
earth.’
”
“
But
they
aren’t
the
meek
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Yes
,
I
don’t
know
why
,
but
they
are
,
”
he
replied
.
They
waited
for
the
tramcar
.
Ursula
sat
on
top
and
looked
out
on
the
town
.
The
dusk
was
just
dimming
the
hollows
of
crowded
houses
.
“
And
are
they
going
to
inherit
the
earth
?
”
she
said
.
“
Yes
—
they
.
”
“
Then
what
are
we
going
to
do
?
”
she
asked
.
“
We’re
not
like
them
—
are
we
?
We’re
not
the
meek
?
”
“
No.
We’ve
got
to
live
in
the
chinks
they
leave
us
.
”
“
How
horrible
!
”
cried
Ursula
.
“
I
don’t
want
to
live
in
chinks
.
”
“
Don’t
worry
,
”
he
said
.
“
They
are
the
children
of
men
,
they
like
market-places
and
street-corners
best
.
That
leaves
plenty
of
chinks
.
”
“
All
the
world
,
”
she
said
.
“
Ah
no
—
but
some
room
.
”
The
tramcar
mounted
slowly
up
the
hill
,
where
the
ugly
winter-grey
masses
of
houses
looked
like
a
vision
of
hell
that
is
cold
and
angular
.
They
sat
and
looked
.
Away
in
the
distance
was
an
angry
redness
of
sunset
.
It
was
all
cold
,
somehow
small
,
crowded
,
and
like
the
end
of
the
world
.
“
I
don’t
mind
it
even
then
,
”
said
Ursula
,
looking
at
the
repulsiveness
of
it
all
.
“
It
doesn’t
concern
me
.
”
“
No
more
it
does
,
”
he
replied
,
holding
her
hand
.
“
One
needn’t
see
.
One
goes
one’s
way
.
In
my
world
it
is
sunny
and
spacious
—
”
“
It
is
,
my
love
,
isn’t
it
?
”
she
cried
,
hugging
near
to
him
on
the
top
of
the
tramcar
,
so
that
the
other
passengers
stared
at
them
.
“
And
we
will
wander
about
on
the
face
of
the
earth
,
”
he
said
,
“
and
we’ll
look
at
the
world
beyond
just
this
bit
.
”
There
was
a
long
silence
.
Her
face
was
radiant
like
gold
,
as
she
sat
thinking
.
“
I
don’t
want
to
inherit
the
earth
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
don’t
want
to
inherit
anything
.
”
He
closed
his
hand
over
hers
.
“
Neither
do
I
.
I
want
to
be
disinherited
.
”
She
clasped
his
fingers
closely
.
“
We
won’t
care
about
anything
,
”
she
said
.
He
sat
still
,
and
laughed
.
“
And
we’ll
be
married
,
and
have
done
with
them
,
”
she
added
.
Again
he
laughed
.
“
It’s
one
way
of
getting
rid
of
everything
,
”
she
said
,
“
to
get
married
.
”
“
And
one
way
of
accepting
the
whole
world
,
”
he
added
.
“
A
whole
other
world
,
yes
,
”
she
said
happily
.
“
Perhaps
there’s
Gerald
—
and
Gudrun
—
”
he
said
.
“
If
there
is
there
is
,
you
see
,
”
she
said
.
“
It’s
no
good
our
worrying
.
We
can’t
really
alter
them
,
can
