Connie arrived home to an ordeal1 of cross-questioning. Clifford had been out at tea-time, had come in just before the storm, and where was her ladyship? Nobody knew, only Mrs Bolton suggested she had gone for a walk into the wood. Into the wood, in such a storm! Clifford for once let himself get into a state of nervous frenzy3. He started at every flash of lightning, and blenched4 at every roll of thunder. He looked at the icy thunder-rain as if it dare the end of the world. He got more and more worked up.
Mrs Bolton tried to soothe5 him.
`She'll be sheltering in the hut, till it's over. Don't worry, her Ladyship is all right.'
`I don't like her being in the wood in a storm like this! I don't like her being in the wood at all! She's been gone now more than two hours. When did she go out?'
`A little while before you came in.'
`I didn't see her in the park. God knows where she is and what has happened to her.'
`Oh, nothing's happened to her. You'll see, she'll be home directly after the rain stops. It's just the rain that's keeping her.'
But her ladyship did not come home directly the rain stopped. In fact time went by, the sun came out for his last yellow glimpse, and there still was no sign of her. The sun was set, it was growing dark, and the first dinner-gong had rung.
`It's no good!' said Clifford in a frenzy. `I'm going to send out Field and Betts to find her.'
`Oh don't do that!' cried Mrs Bolton. `They'll think there's a suicide or something. Oh don't start a lot of talk going. Let me slip over to the hut and see if she's not there. I'll find her all right.'
So, after some persuasion6, Clifford allowed her to go.
And so Connie had come upon her in the drive, alone and palely loitering.
`You mustn't mind me coming to look for you, my Lady! But Sir Clifford worked himself up into such a state. He made sure you were struck by lightning, or killed by a falling tree. And he was determined7 to send Field and Betts to the wood to find the body. So I thought I'd better come, rather than set all the servants agog8.
She spoke9 nervously10. She could still see on Connie's face the smoothness and the half-dream of passion, and she could feel the irritation11 against herself.
`Quite!' said Connie. And she could say no more.
The two women plodded12 on through the wet world, in silence, while great drops splashed like explosions in the wood. Ben they came to the park, Connie strode ahead, and Mrs Bolton panted a little. She was getting plumper.
`How foolish of Clifford to make a fuss!' said Connie at length, angrily, really speaking to herself.
`Oh, you know what men are! They like working themselves up. But he'll be all right as soon as he sees your Ladyship.'
Connie was very angry that Mrs Bolton knew her secret: for certainly she knew it.
Suddenly Constance stood still on the path.
`It's monstrous13 that I should have to be followed!' she said, her eyes flashing.
`Oh! your Ladyship, don't say that! He'd certainly have sent the two men, and they'd have come straight to the hut. I didn't know where it was, really.'
Connie flushed darker with rage, at the suggestion. Yet, while her passion was on her, she could not lie. She could not even pretend there was nothing between herself and the keeper. She looked at the other woman, who stood so sly, with her head dropped: yet somehow, in her femaleness, an ally.
`Oh well!' she said. `I fit is so it is so. I don't mind!'
`Why, you're all right, my Lady! You've only been sheltering in the hut. It's absolutely nothing.'
They went on to the house. Connie marched in to Clifford's room, furious with him, furious with his pale, over-wrought fee and prominent eyes.
`I must say, I don't think you need send the servants after me,' she burst out.
`My God!' he exploded. `Where have you been, woman, You've been gone hours, hours, and in a storm like this! What the hell do you go to that-bloody wood for? What have you been up to? It's hours even since the rain stopped, hours! Do you know what time it is? You're enough to drive anybody mad. Where have you been? What in the name of hell have you been doing?'
`And what if I don't choose to tell you?' She pulled her hat from her head and shook her hair.
He lied at her with his eyes bulging14, and yellow coming into the whites. It was very bad for him to get into these rages: Mrs Bolton had a weary time with him, for days after. Connie felt a sudden qualm.
But really!' she said, milder. `Anyone would think I'd been I don't know where! I just sat in the hut during all the storm, and made myself a little fire, and was happy.'
She spoke now easily. After all, why work him up any more!
He looked at her suspiciously.
And look at your hair!' he said; `look at yourself!'
`Yes!' she replied calmly. `I ran out in the rain with no clothes on.'
He stared at her speechless.
`You must be mad!' he said.
`Why? To like a shower bath from the rain?'
`And how did you dry yourself?'
`On an old towel and at the fire.'
He still stared at her in a dumbfounded way.
`And supposing anybody came,' he said.
`Who would come?'
`Who? Why, anybody! And Mellors. Does he come? He must come in the evenings.'
`Yes, he came later, when it had cleared up, to feed the pheasants with corn.'
She spoke with amazing nonchalance15. Mrs Bolton, who was listening in the next room, heard in sheer admiration16. To think a woman could carry it off so naturally!
`And suppose he'd come while you were running about in the rain with nothing on, like a maniac17?'
`I suppose he'd have had the fright of his life, and cleared out as fast as he could.'
Clifford still stared at her transfixed. What he thought in his under-consciousness he would never know. And he was too much taken aback to form one clear thought in his upper consciousness. He just simply accepted what she said, in a sort of blank. And he admired her. He could not help admiring her. She looked so flushed and handsome and smooth: love smooth.
`At least,' he said, subsiding19, `you'll be lucky if you've got off without a severe cold.'
`Oh, I haven't got a cold,' she replied. She was thinking to herself of the other man's words: Tha's got the nicest woman's arse of anybody! She wished, she dearly wished she could tell Clifford that this had been said her, during the famous thunderstorm. However! She bore herself rather like an offended queen, and went upstairs to change.
That evening, Clifford wanted to be nice to her. He was reading one of the latest scientific-religious books: he had a streak20 of a spurious sort of religion in him, and was egocentrically concerned with the future of his own ego21. It was like his habit to make conversation to Connie about some book, since the conversation between them had to be made, almost chemically. They had almost chemically to concoct22 it in their heads.
`What do you think of this, by the way?' he said, reaching for his book. `You'd have no need to cool your ardent23 body by running out in the rain, if only we have a few more aeons of evolution behind us. Ah, here it is!---"The universe shows us two aspects: on one side it is physically24 wasting, on the other it is spiritually ascending25."'
Connie listened, expecting more. But Clifford was waiting. She looked at him in surprise.
`And if it spiritually ascends,' she said, `what does it leave down below, in the place where its tail used to be?'
`Ah!' he said. `Take the man for what he means. Ascending is the opposite of his wasting, I presume.'
`Spiritually blown out, so to speak!'
`No, but seriously, without joking: do you think there is anything in it?'
She looked at him again.
`Physically wasting?' she said. `I see you getting fatter, and I'm sot wasting myself. Do you think the sun is smaller than he used to be? He's not to me. And I suppose the apple Adam offered Eve wasn't really much bigger, if any, than one of our orange pippins. Do you think it was?'
`Well, hear how he goes on: "It is thus slowly passing, with a slowness inconceivable in our measures of time, to new creative conditions, amid which the physical world, as we at present know it, will he represented by a ripple28 barely to be distinguished29 from nonentity30."'
She listened with a glisten31 of amusement. All sorts of improper32 things suggested themselves. But she only said:
`What silly hocus-pocus! As if his little conceited33 consciousness could know what was happening as slowly as all that! It only means he's a physical failure on the earth, so he wants to make the whole universe a physical failure. Priggish little impertinence!'
`Oh, but listen! Don't interrupt the great man's solemn words!---"The present type of order in the world has risen from an unimaginable part, and will find its grave in an unimaginable future. There remains34 the inexhaustive realm of abstract forms, and creativity with its shifting character ever determined afresh by its own creatures, and God, upon whose wisdom all forms of order depend."---There, that's how he winds up!'
Connie sat listening contemptuously.
`He's spiritually blown out,' she said. `What a lot of stuff! Unnimaginables, and types of order in graves, and realms of abstract forms, and creativity with a shifty character, and God mixed up with forms of order! Why, it's idiotic35!'
`I must say, it is a little vaguely36 conglomerate37, a mixture of gases, so to speak,' said Clifford. `Still, I think there is something in the idea that the universe is physically wasting and spiritually ascending.'
`Do you? Then let it ascend26, so long as it leaves me safely and solidly physically here below.'
`Do you like your physique?' he asked.
`I love it!' And through her mind went the words: It's the nicest, nicest woman's arse as is!
`But that is really rather extraordinary, because there's no denying it's an encumbrance38. But then I suppose a woman doesn't take a supreme39 pleasure in the life of the mind.'
`Supreme pleasure?' she said, looking up at him. `Is that sort of idiocy40 the supreme pleasure of the life of the mind? No thank you! Give me the body. I believe the life of the body is a greater reality than the life of the mind: when the body is really wakened to life. But so many people, like your famous wind-machine, have only got minds tacked41 on to their physical corpses42.'
He looked at her in wonder.
`The life of the body,' he said, `is just the life of the animals.'
`And that's better than the life of professional corpses. But it's not true! the human body is only just coming to real life. With the Greeks it gave a lovely flicker43, then Plato and Aristotle killed it, and Jesus finished it off. But now the body is coming really to life, it is really rising from the tomb. And It will be a lovely, lovely life in the lovely universe, the life of the human body.'
`My dear, you speak as if you were ushering44 it all in! True, you am going away on a holiday: but don't please be quite so indecently elated about it. Believe me, whatever God there is is slowly eliminating the guts45 and alimentary46 system from the human being, to evolve a higher, more spiritual being.'
`Why should I believe you, Clifford, when I feel that whatever God there is has at last wakened up in my guts, as you call them, and is rippling47 so happily there, like dawn. Why should I believe you, when I feel so very much the contrary?'
`Oh, exactly! And what has caused this extraordinary change in you? running out stark48 naked in the rain, and playing Bacchante? desire for sensation, or the anticipation49 of going to Venice?'
`Both! Do you think it is horrid50 of me to be so thrilled at going off?' she said.
`Rather horrid to show it so plainly.'
`Then I'll hide it.'
`Oh, don't trouble! You almost communicate a thrill to me. I almost feel that it is I who am going off.'
`Well, why don't you come?'
`We've gone over all that. And as a matter of fact, I suppose your greatest thrill comes from being able to say a temporary farewell to all this. Nothing so thrilling, for the moment, as Good-bye-to-all!---But every parting means a meeting elsewhere. And every meeting is a new bondage51.'
`I'm not going to enter any new bondages.'
`Don't boast, while the gods are listening,' he said.
She pulled up short.
`No! I won't boast!' she said.
But she was thrilled, none the less, to be going off: to feel bonds snap. She couldn't help it.
Clifford, who couldn't sleep, gambled all night with Mrs Bolton, till she was too sleepy almost to live.
And the day came round for Hilda to arrive. Connie had arranged with Mellors that if everything promised well for their night together, she would hang a green shawl out of the window. If there were frustration52, a red one.
Mrs Bolton helped Connie to pack.
`It will be so good for your Ladyship to have a change.'
`I think it will. You don't mind having Sir Clifford on your hands alone for a time, do you?'
`Oh no! I can manage him quite all right. I mean, I can do all he needs me to do. Don't you think he's better than he used to be?'
`Oh much! You do wonders with him.'
`Do I though! But men are all alike: just babies, and you have to flatter them and wheedle53 them and let them think they're having their own way. Don't you find it so, my Lady?'
`I'm afraid I haven't much experience.'
Connie paused in her occupation.
`Even your husband, did you have to manage him, and wheedle him like a baby?' she asked, looking at the other woman.
Mrs Bolton paused too.
`Well!' she said. `I had to do a good bit of coaxing54, with him too. But he always knew what I was after, I must say that. But he generally gave in to me.'
`He was never the lord and master thing?'
`No! At least there'd be a look in his eyes sometimes, and then I knew I'd got to give in. But usually he gave in to me. No, he was never lord and master. But neither was I. I knew when I could go no further with him, and then I gave in: though it cost me a good bit, sometimes.'
`And what if you had held out against him?'
`Oh, I don't know, I never did. Even when he was in the wrong, if he was fixed18, I gave in. You see, I never wanted to break what was between us. And if you really set your will against a man, that finishes it. If you care for a man, you have to give in to him once he's really determined; whether you're in the right or not, you have to give in. Else you break something. But I must say, Ted2 'ud give in to me sometimes, when I was set on a thing, and in the wrong. So I suppose it cuts both ways.'
`And that's how you are with all your patients?' asked Connie.
`Oh, That's different. I don't care at all, in the same way. I know what's good for them, or I try to, and then I just contrive55 to manage them for their own good. It's not like anybody as you're really fond of. It's quite different. Once you've been really fond of a man, you can be affectionate to almost any man, if he needs you at all. But it's not the same thing. You don't really care. I doubt, once you've really cared, if you can ever really care again.'
These words frightened Connie.
`Do you think one can only care once?' she asked.
`Or never. Most women never care, never begin to. They don't know what it means. Nor men either. But when I see a woman as cares, my heart stands still for her.'
`And do you think men easily take offence?'
`Yes! If you wound them on their pride. But aren't women the same? Only our two prides are a bit different.'
Connie pondered this. She began again to have some misgiving56 about her gag away. After all, was she not giving her man the go-by, if only for a short time? And he knew it. That's why he was so queer and sarcastic57.
Still! the human existence is a good deal controlled by the machine of external circumstance. She was in the power of this machine. She couldn't extricate58 herself all in five minutes. She didn't even want to.
Hilda arrived in good time on Thursday morning, in a nimble two-seater car, with her suit-case strapped59 firmly behind. She looked as demure60 and maidenly61 as ever, but she had the same will of her own. She had the very hell of a will of her own, as her husband had found out. But the husband was now divorcing her.
Yes, she even made it easy for him to do that, though she had no lover. For the time being, she was `off' men. She was very well content to be quite her own mistress: and mistress of her two children, whom she was going to bring up `properly', whatever that may mean.
Connie was only allowed a suit-case, also. But she had sent on a trunk to her father, who was going by train. No use taking a car to Venice. And Italy much too hot to motor in, in July. He was going comfortably by train. He had just come down from Scotland.
So, like a demure arcadian field-marshal, Hilda arranged the material part of the journey. She and Connie sat in the upstairs room, chatting.
`But Hilda!' said Connie, a little frightened. `I want to stay near here tonight. Not here: near here!'
Hilda fixed her sister with grey, inscrutable eyes. She seemed so calm: and she was so often furious.
`Where, near here?' she asked softly.
`Well, you know I love somebody, don't you?'
`I gathered there was something.'
`Well he lives near here, and I want to spend this last night with him must! I've promised.'
Connie became insistent62.
Hilda bent63 her Minerva-like head in silence. Then she looked up.
`Do you want to tell me who he is?' she said.
`He's our game-keeper,' faltered64 Connie, and she flushed vividly65, like a shamed child.
`Connie!' said Hilda, lifting her nose slightly with disgust: a she had from her mother.
`I know: but he's lovely really. He really understands tenderness,' said Connie, trying to apologize for him.
Hilda, like a ruddy, rich-coloured Athena, bowed her head and pondered She was really violently angry. But she dared not show it, because Connie, taking after her father, would straight away become obstreperous66 and unmanageable.
It was true, Hilda did not like Clifford: his cool assurance that he was somebody! She thought he made use of Connie shamefully67 and impudently69. She had hoped her sister would leave him. But, being solid Scotch70 middle class, she loathed71 any `lowering' of oneself or the family. She looked up at last.
`You'll regret it,' she said,
`I shan't,' cried Connie, flushed red. `He's quite the exception. I really love him. He's lovely as a lover.'
Hilda still pondered.
`You'll get over him quite soon,' she said, `and live to be ashamed of yourself because of him.'
`I shan't! I hope I'm going to have a child of his.'
`Connie!' said Hilda, hard as a hammer-stroke, and pale with anger.
`I shall if I possibly can. I should be fearfully proud if I had a child by him.'
It was no use talking to her. Hilda pondered.
`And doesn't Clifford suspect?' she said.
`Oh no! Why should he?'
`I've no doubt you've given him plenty of occasion for suspicion,' said Hilda.
`Not it all.'
`And tonight's business seems quite gratuitous72 folly73. Where does the man live?'
`In the cottage at the other end of the wood.'
`Is he a bachelor?'
`No! His wife left him.'
`How old?'
`I don't know. Older than me.'
Hilda became more angry at every reply, angry as her mother used to be, in a kind of paroxysm. But still she hid it.
`I would give up tonight's escapade if I were you,' she advised calmly.
`I can't! I must stay with him tonight, or I can't go to Venice at all. I just can't.'
Hilda heard her father over again, and she gave way, out of mere74 diplomacy75. And she consented to drive to Mansfield, both of them, to dinner, to bring Connie back to the lane-end after dark, and to fetch her from the lane-end the next morning, herself sleeping in Mansfield, only half an hour away, good going.
But she was furious. She stored it up against her sister, this balk76 in her plans.
Connie flung an emerald-green shawl over her window-sill.
On the strength of her anger, Hilda warmed toward Clifford.
After all, he had a mind. And if he had no sex, functionally77, all the better: so much the less to quarrel about! Hilda wanted no more of that sex business, where men became nasty, selfish little horrors. Connie really had less to put up with than many women if she did but know it.
And Clifford decided78 that Hilda, after all, was a decidedly intelligent woman, and would make a man a first-rate helpmate, if he were going in for politics for example. Yes, she had none of Connie's silliness, Connie was more a child: you had to make excuses for her, because she was not altogether dependable.
There was an early cup of tea in the hall, where doors were open to let in the sun. Everybody seemed to be panting a little.
`Good-bye, Connie girl! Come back to me safely.'
`Good-bye, Clifford! Yes, I shan't be long.' Connie was almost tender.
`Good-bye, Hilda! You will keep an eye on her, won't you?'
`I'll even keep two!' said Hilda. `She shan't go very far astray.'
`It's a promise!'
`Good-bye, Mrs Bolton! I know you'll look after Sir Clifford nobly.'
`I'll do what I can, your Ladyship.'
`And write to me if there is any news, and tell me about Sir Clifford, how he is.'
`Very good, your Ladyship, I will. And have a good time, and come back and cheer us up.'
Everybody waved. The car went off Connie looked back and saw Clifford, sitting at the top of the steps in his house-chair. After all, he was her husband: Wragby was her home: circumstance had done it.
Mrs Chambers79 held the gate and wished her ladyship a happy holiday. The car slipped out of the dark spinney that masked the park, on to the highroad where the colliers were trailing home. Hilda turned to the Crosshill Road, that was not a main road, but ran to Mansfield. Connie put on goggles80. They ran beside the railway, which was in a cutting below them. Then they crossed the cutting on a bridge.
`That's the lane to the cottage!' said Connie.
Hilda glanced at it impatiently.
`It's a frightful81 pity we can't go straight off!' she said. We could have been in Pall82 Mall by nine o'clock.'
`I'm sorry for your sake,' said Connie, from behind her goggles.
They were soon at Mansfield, that once-romantic, now utterly83 disheartening colliery town. Hilda stopped at the hotel named in the motor-car book, and took a room. The whole thing was utterly uninteresting, and she was almost too angry to talk. However, Connie had to tell her something of the man's history.
`He! He! What name do you call him by? You only say he,' said Hilda.
`I've never called him by any name: nor he me: which is curious, when you come to think of it. Unless we say Lady Jane and John Thomas. But his name is Oliver Mellors.'
`And how would you like to be Mrs Oliver Mellors, instead of Lady Chatterley?'
`I'd love it.'
There was nothing to be done with Connie. And anyhow, if the man had been a lieutenant84 in the army in India for four or five years, he must be more or less presentable. Apparently85 he had character. Hilda began to relent a little.
`But you'll be through with him in awhile,' she said, `and then you'll be ashamed of having been connected with him. One can't mix up with the working people.'
`But you are such a socialist86! you're always on the side of the working classes.'
`I may be on their side in a political crisis, but being on their side makes me know how impossible it is to mix one's life with theirs. Not out of snobbery87, but just because the whole rhythm is different.'
Hilda had lived among the real political intellectuals, so she was disastrously88 unanswerable.
The nondescript evening in the hotel dragged out, and at last they had a nondescript dinner. Then Connie slipped a few things into a little silk bag, and combed her hair once more.
`After all, Hilda,' she said, `love can be wonderful: when you feel you live, and are in the very middle of creation.' It was almost like bragging89 on her part.
`I suppose every mosquito feels the same,' said Hilda. `Do you think it does? How nice for it!'
The evening was wonderfully clear and long-lingering, even in the small town. It would be half-light all night. With a face like a mask, from resentment90, Hilda started her car again, and the two sped back on their traces, taking the other road, through Bolsover.
Connie wore her goggles and disguising cap, and she sat in silence. Because of Hilda's Opposition91, she was fiercely on the sidle of the man, she would stand by him through thick and thin.
They had their head-lights on, by the time they passed Crosshill, and the small lit-up train that chuffed past in the cutting made it seem like real night. Hilda had calculated the turn into the lane at the bridge-end. She slowed up rather suddenly and swerved92 off the road, the lights glaring white into the grassy93, overgrown lane. Connie looked out. She saw a shadowy figure, and she opened the door.
`Here we are!' she said softly.
But Hilda had switched off the lights, and was absorbed backing, making the turn.
`Nothing on the bridge?' she asked shortly. `You're all right,' said the mall's voice. She backed on to the bridge, reversed, let the car run forwards a few yards along the road, then backed into the lane, under a wych-elm tree, crushing the grass and bracken. Then all the lights went out. Connie stepped down. The man stood under the trees.
`Did you wait long?' Connie asked.
`Not so very,' he replied.
They both waited for Hilda to get out. But Hilda shut the door of the car and sat tight.
`This is my sister Hilda. Won't you come and speak to her? Hilda! This is Mr Mellors.'
The keeper lifted his hat, but went no nearer.
`Do walk down to the cottage with us, Hilda,' Connie pleaded. `It's not far.'
`What about the car?'
`People do leave them on the lanes. You have the key.'
Hilda was silent, deliberating. Then she looked backwards94 down the lane.
`Can I back round the bush?' she said.
`Oh yes!' said the keeper.
She backed slowly round the curve, out of sight of the road, locked the car, and got down. It was night, but luminous95 dark. The hedges rose high and wild, by the unused lane, and very dark seeming. There was a fresh sweet scent96 on the air. The keeper went ahead, then came Connie, then Hilda, and in silence. He lit up the difficult places with a flash-light torch, and they went on again, while an owl27 softly hooted98 over the oaks, and Flossie padded silently around. Nobody could speak. There was nothing to say.
At length Connie saw the yellow light of the house, and her heart beat fast. She was a little frightened. They trailed on, still in Indian file.
He unlocked the door and preceded them into the warm but bare little room. The fire burned low and red in the grate. The table was set with two plates and two glasses on a proper white table-cloth for Once. Hilda shook her hair and looked round the bare, cheerless room. Then she summoned her courage and looked at the man.
He was moderately tall, and thin, and she thought him good-looking. He kept a quiet distance of his own, and seemed absolutely unwilling99 to speak.
`Do sit down, Hilda,' said Connie.
`Do!' he said. `Can I make you tea or anything, or will you drink a glass of beer? It's moderately cool.'
`Beer!' said Connie.
`Beer for me, please!' said Hilda, with a mock sort of shyness. He looked at her and blinked.
He took a blue jug100 and tramped to the scullery. When he came back with the beer, his face had changed again.
Connie sat down by the door, and Hilda sat in his seat, with the back to the wall, against the window corner.
`That is his chair,' said Connie softly.' And Hilda rose as if it had burnt her.
`Sit yer still, sit yer still! Ta'e ony cheer as yo'n a mind to, none of us is th' big bear,' he said, with complete equanimity101.
And he brought Hilda a glass, and poured her beer first from the blue jug.
`As for cigarettes,' he said, `I've got none, but 'appen you've got your own. I dunna smoke, mysen. Shall y' eat summat?' He turned direct to Connie. `Shall t'eat a smite102 o' summat, if I bring it thee? Tha can usually do wi' a bite.' He spoke the vernacular103 with a curious calm assurance, as if he were the landlord of the Inn.
`What is there?' asked Connie, flushing.
`Boiled ham, cheese, pickled wa'nuts, if yer like.---Nowt much.'
`Yes,' said Connie. `Won't you, Hilda?'
Hilda looked up at him.
`Why do you speak Yorkshire?' she said softly.
`That! That's non Yorkshire, that's Derby.'
He looked back at her with that faint, distant grin.
`Derby, then! Why do you speak Derby? You spoke natural English at first.'
`Did Ah though? An' canna Ah change if Ah'm a mind to 't? Nay104, nay, let me talk Derby if it suits me. If yo'n nowt against it.'
`It sounds a little affected105,' said Hilda.
`Ay, 'appen so! An' up i' Tevershall yo'd sound affected.' He looked again at her, with a queer calculating distance, along his cheek-bone: as if to say: Yi, an' who are you?
He tramped away to the pantry for the food.
The sisters sat in silence. He brought another plate, and knife and fork. The he said:
`An' if it's the same to you, I s'll ta'e my coat off like I allers do.'
And he took off his coat, and hung it on the peg106, then sat down to table in his shirt-sleeves: a shirt of thin, cream-coloured flannel107.
`'Elp yerselves!' he said. `'Elp yerselves! Dunna wait f'r axin'!' He cut the bread, then sat motionless. Hilda felt, as Connie once used to, his power of silence and distance. She saw his smallish, sensitive, loose hand on the table. He was no simple working man, not he: he was acting108! acting!
`Still!' she said, as she took a little cheese. `It would be more natural if you spoke to us in normal English, not in vernacular.'
He looked at her, feeling her devil of a will.
`Would it?' he said in the normal English. `Would it? Would anything that was said between you and me be quite natural, unless you said you wished me to hell before your sister ever saw me again: and unless I said something almost as unpleasant back again? Would anything else be natural?'
`Oh yes!' said Hilda. `Just good manners would be quite natural.'
`Second nature, so to speak!' he said: then he began to laugh. `Nay,' he said. `I'm weary o' manners. Let me be!'
Hilda was frankly109 baffled and furiously annoyed. After all, he might show that he realized he was being honoured. Instead of which, with his play-acting and lordly airs, he seemed to think it was he who was conferring the honour. Just impudence110! Poor misguided Connie, in the man's clutches!
The three ate in silence. Hilda looked to see what his table-manners were like. She could not help realizing that he was instinctively111 much more delicate and well-bred than herself. She had a certain Scottish clumsiness. And moreover, he had all the quiet self-contained assurance of the English, no loose edges. It would be very difficult to get the better of him.
But neither would he get the better of her.
`And do you really think,' she said, a little more humanly, `it's worth the risk.'
`Is what worth what risk?'
`This escapade with my sister.'
He flickered112 his irritating grin.
`Yo' maun ax 'er!' Then he looked at Connie.
`Tha comes o' thine own accord, lass, doesn't ter? It's non me as forces thee?'
Connie looked at Hilda.
`I wish you wouldn't cavil113, Hilda.'
`Naturally I don't want to. But someone has to think about things. You've got to have some sort of continuity in your life. You can't just go making a mess.'
There was a moment's pause.
`Eh, continuity!' he said. `An' what by that? What continuity ave yer got i' your life? I thought you was gettin' divorced. What continuity's that? Continuity o' yer own stubbornness. I can see that much. An' what good's it goin' to do yer? You'll be sick o' yer continuity afore yer a fat sight older. A stubborn woman an er own self-will: ay, they make a fast continuity, they do. Thank heaven, it isn't me as `as got th' 'andlin' of yer!'
`What right have you to speak like that to me?' said Hilda.
`Right! What right ha' yo' ter start harnessin' other folks i' your continuity? Leave folks to their own continuities.'
`My dear man, do you think I am concerned with you?' said Hilda softly.
`Ay,' he said. `Yo' are. For it's a force-put. Yo' more or less my sister-in-law.'
`Still far from it, I assure you.
`Not a' that far, I assure you. I've got my own sort o' continuity, back your life! Good as yours, any day. An' if your sister there comes ter me for a bit o' cunt an' tenderness, she knows what she's after. She's been in my bed afore: which you 'aven't, thank the Lord, with your continuity.' There was a dead pause, before he added: `---Eh, I don't wear me breeches arse-forrards. An' if I get a windfall, I thank my stars. A man gets a lot of enjoyment114 out o' that lass theer, which is more than anybody gets out o' th' likes o' you. Which is a pity, for you might appen a' bin115 a good apple, 'stead of a handsome crab116. Women like you needs proper graftin'.'
He was looking at her with an odd, flickering117 smile, faintly sensual and appreciative118.
`And men like you,' she said, `ought to be segregated119: justifying120 their own vulgarity and selfish lust121.'
`Ay, ma'am! It's a mercy there's a few men left like me. But you deserve what you get: to be left severely122 alone.'
Hilda had risen and gone to the door. He rose and took his coat from the peg.
`I can find my way quite well alone,' she said.
`I doubt you can't,' he replied easily.
They tramped in ridiculous file down the lane again, in silence. An owl still hooted. He knew he ought to shoot it.
The car stood untouched, a little dewy. Hilda got in and started the engine. The other two waited.
`All I mean,' she said from her entrenchment123, `is that I doubt if you'll find it's been worth it, either of you!'
`One man's meat is another man's poison,' he said, out of the darkness. `But it's meat an' drink to me.
The lights flared124 out.
`Don't make me wait in the morning,'
`No, I won't. Goodnight!'
The car rose slowly on to the highroad, then slid swiftly away, leaving the night silent.
Connie timidly took his arm, and they went down the lane. He did not speak. At length she drew him to a standstill.
`Kiss me!' she murmured.
`Nay, wait a bit! Let me simmer down,' he said.
That amused her. She still kept hold of his arm, and they went quickly down the lane, in silence. She was so glad to be with him, just now. She shivered, knowing that Hilda might have snatched her away. He was inscrutably silent.
When they were in the cottage again, she almost jumped with pleasure, that she should be free of her sister.
`But you were horrid to Hilda,' she said to him.
`She should ha' been slapped in time.'
`But why? and she's so nice.'
He didn't answer, went round doing the evening chores, with a quiet, inevitable125 sort of motion. He was outwardly angry, but not with her. So Connie felt. And his anger gave him a peculiar126 handsomeness, an inwardness and glisten that thrilled her and made her limbs go molten.
Still he took no notice of her.
Till he sat down and began to unlace his boots. Then he looked up at her from under his brows, on which the anger still sat firm.
`Shan't you go up?' he said. `There's a candle!'
He jerked his head swiftly to indicate the candle burning on the table. She took it obediently, and he watched the full curve of her hips127 as she went up the first stairs.
It was a night of sensual passion, in which she was a little startled and almost unwilling: yet pierced again with piercing thrills of sensuality, different, sharper, more terrible than the thrills of tenderness, but, at the moment, more desirable. Though a little frightened, she let him have his way, and the reckless, shameless sensuality shook her to her foundations, stripped her to the very last, and made a different woman of her. It was not really love. It was not voluptuousness129. It was sensuality sharp and searing as fire, burning the soul to tinder.
Burning out the shames, the deepest, oldest shames, in the most secret places. It cost her an effort to let him have his way and his will of her. She had to be a passive, consenting thing, like a slave, a physical slave. Yet the passion licked round her, consuming, and when the sensual flame of it pressed through her bowels130 and breast, she really thought she was dying: yet a poignant131, marvellous death.
She had often wondered what Abélard meant, when he said that in their year of love he and Hélo?se had passed through all the stages and refinements132 of passion. The same thing, a thousand years ago: ten thousand years ago! The same on the Greek vases, everywhere! The refinements of passion, the extravagances of sensuality! And necessary, forever necessary, to burn out false shames and smelt133 out the heaviest ore of the body into purity. With the fire of sheer sensuality.
In the short summer night she learnt so much. She would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died. Shame, which is fear: the deep Organic shame, the old, old physical fear which crouches134 in the bodily roots of us, and can only be chased away by the sensual fire, at last it was roused up and routed by the phallic hunt of the man, and she came to the very heart of the jungle of herself. She felt, now, she had come to the real bed-rock of her nature, and was essentially135 shameless. She was her sensual self, naked and unashamed. She felt a triumph, almost a vainglory. So! That was how it was! That was life! That was how oneself really was! There was nothing left to disguise or be ashamed of. She shared her ultimate nakedness with a man, another being.
And what a reckless devil the man was! really like a devil! One had to be strong to bear him. But it took some getting at, the core of the physical jungle, the last and deepest recess136 of organic shame. The phallos alone could explore it. And how he had pressed in on her!
And how, in fear, she had hated it. But how she had really wanted it! She knew now. At the bottom of her soul, fundamentally, she had needed this phallic hunting Out, she had secretly wanted it, and she had believed that she would never get it. Now suddenly there it was, and a man was sharing her last and final nakedness, she was shameless.
What liars137 poets and everybody were! They made one think one wanted sentiment. When what one supremely138 wanted was this piercing, consuming, rather awful sensuality. To find a man who dared do it, without shame or sin or final misgiving! If he had been ashamed afterwards, and made one feel ashamed, how awful! What a pity most men are so doggy, a bit shameful68, like Clifford! Like Michaelis even! Both sensually a bit doggy and humiliating. The supreme pleasure of the mind! And what is that to a woman? What is it, really, to the man either! He becomes merely messy and doggy, even in his mind. It needs sheer sensuality even to purify and quicken the mind. Sheer fiery139 sensuality, not messiness.
Ah, God, how rare a thing a man is! They are all dogs that trot140 and sniff141 and copulate. To have found a man who was not afraid and not ashamed! She looked at him now, sleeping so like a wild animal asleep, gone, gone in the remoteness of it. She nestled down, not to be away from him.
Till his rousing waked her completely. He was sitting up in bed, looking down at her. She saw her own nakedness in his eyes, immediate142 knowledge of her. And the fluid, male knowledge of herself seemed to flow to her from his eyes and wrap her voluptuously143. Oh, how voluptuous128 and lovely it was to have limbs and body half-asleep, heavy and suffused144 with passion.
`Is it time to wake up?' she said.
`Half past six.'
She had to be at the lane-end at eight. Always, always, always this compulsion on one!
`I might make the breakfast and bring it up here; should I?' he said.
`Oh yes!'
Flossie whimpered gently below. He got up and threw off his pyjamas145, and rubbed himself with a towel. When the human being is full of courage and full of life, how beautiful it is! So she thought, as she watched him in silence.
`Draw the curtain, will you?'
The sun was shining already on the tender green leaves of morning, and the wood stood bluey-fresh, in the nearness. She sat up in bed, looking dreamily out through the dormer window, her naked arms pushing her naked breasts together. He was dressing146 himself. She was half-dreaming of life, a life together with him: just a life.
He was going, fleeing from her dangerous, crouching147 nakedness.
`Have I lost my nightie altogether?' she said.
He pushed his hand down in the bed, and pulled out the bit of flimsy silk.
`I knowed I felt silk at my ankles,' he said.
But the night-dress was slit148 almost in two.
`Never mind!' she said. `It belongs here, really. I'll leave it.'
`Ay, leave it, I can put it between my legs at night, for company. There's no name nor mark on it, is there?'
She slipped on the torn thing, and sat dreamily looking out of the window. The window was Open, the air of morning drifted in, and the sound of birds. Birds flew continuously past. Then she saw Flossie roaming out. It was morning.
Downstairs she heard him making the fire, pumping water, going out at the back door. By and by came the smell of bacon, and at length he came upstairs with a huge black tray that would only just go through the door. He set the tray on the bed, and poured out the tea. Connie squatted149 in her torn nightdress, and fell on her food hungrily. He sat on the one chair, with his plate on his knees.
`How good it is!' she said. `How nice to have breakfast together.'
He ate in silence, his mind on the time that was quickly passing. That made her remember.
`Oh, how I wish I could stay here with you, and Wragby were a million miles away! It's Wragby I'm going away from really. You know that, don't you?'
`Ay!'
`And you promise we will live together and have a life together, you and me! You promise me, don't you?'
`Ay! When we can.'
`Yes! And we will! we will, won't we?' she leaned over, making the tea spill, catching150 his wrist.
`Ay!' he said, tidying up the tea.
`We can't possibly not live together now, can we?' she said appealingly.
He looked up at her with his flickering grin.
`No!' he said. `Only you've got to start in twenty-five minutes.'
`Have I?' she cried. Suddenly he held up a warning finger, and rose to his feet.
Flossie had given a short bark, then three loud sharp yaps of warning.
Silent, he put his plate on the tray and went downstairs. Constance heard him go down the garden path. A bicycle bell tinkled151 outside there.
`Morning, Mr Mellors! Registered letter!'
`Oh ay! Got a pencil?'
`Here y'are!'
There was a pause.
`Canada!' said the stranger's voice.
`Ay! That's a mate o' mine out there in British Columbia. Dunno what he's got to register.'
`'Appen sent y'a fortune, like.'
`More like wants summat.'
Pause.
`Well! Lovely day again!'
`Ay!'
`Morning!'
`Morning!'
After a time he came upstairs again, looking a little angry.
`Postman,' he said.
`Very early!' she replied.
`Rural round; he's mostly here by seven, when he does come.
`Did your mate send you a fortune?'
`No! Only some photographs and papers about a place out there in British Columbia.'
`Would you go there?'
`I thought perhaps we might.'
`Oh yes! I believe it's lovely!' But he was put out by the postman's coming.
`Them damn bikes, they're on you afore you know where you are. I hope he twigged152 nothing.'
`After all, what could he twig153!'
`You must get up now, and get ready. I'm just goin' ter look round outside.'
She saw him go reconnoitring into the lane, with dog and gun. She went downstairs and washed, and was ready by the time he came back, with the few things in the little silk bag.
He locked up, and they set off, but through the wood, not down the lane. He was being wary154.
`Don't you think one lives for times like last night?' she said to him.
`Ay! But there's the rest o'times to think on,' he replied, rather short.
They plodded on down the overgrown path, he in front, in silence.
`And we will live together and make a life together, won't we?' she pleaded.
`Ay!' he replied, striding on without looking round. `When t' time comes! Just now you're off to Venice or somewhere.'
She followed him dumbly, with sinking heart. Oh, now she was wae to go!
At last he stopped.
`I'll just strike across here,' he said, pointing to the right.
But she flung her arms round his neck, and clung to him.
`But you'll keep the tenderness for me, won't you?' she whispered. `I loved last night. But you'll keep the tenderness for me, won't you?'
He kissed her and held her close for a moment. Then he sighed, and kissed her again.
`I must go an' look if th' car's there.'
He strode over the low brambles and bracken, leaving a trail through the fern. For a minute or two he was gone. Then he came striding back.
`Car's not there yet,' he said. `But there's the baker's cart on t' road.'
He seemed anxious and troubled.
`Hark!'
They heard a car softly hoot97 as it came nearer. It slowed up on the bridge.
She plunged155 with utter mournfulness in his track through the fern, and came to a huge holly156 hedge. He was just behind her.
`Here! Go through there!' he said, pointing to a gap. `I shan't come out.
She looked at him in despair. But he kissed her and made her go. She crept in sheer misery157 through the holly and through the wooden fence, stumbled down the little ditch and up into the lane, where Hilda was just getting out of the car in vexation.
`Why you're there!' said Hilda. `Where's he?'
`He's not coming.'
Connie's face was running with tears as she got into the car with her little bag. Hilda snatched up the motoring helmet with the disfiguring goggles.
`Put it on!' she said. And Connie pulled on the disguise, then the long motoring coat, and she sat down, a goggling158 inhuman159, unrecognizable creature. Hilda started the car with a businesslike motion. They heaved out of the lane, and were away down the road. Connie had looked round, but there was no sight of him. Away! Away! She sat in bitter tears. The parting had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly. It was like death.
`Thank goodness you'll be away from him for some time!' said Hilda, turning to avoid Crosshill village.
康妮到家后，忍受了一番盘洁。午茶时候出去了的克利福，到暴风雨开始时才回去，夫人哪儿去了？谁也不知道。只有主太想出她是到林中散步去了。在这暴风雨里到林中去！……这一次，克利福却神经兴奋地狂乱起来了。电光闪一下，他惊跳一下，雷声轰一下，他失神一下。他望着冰冷的大雷雨。仿佛世界的末日到了，他愈来愈狂躁起来。
波太太试着去安慰他。
“她会躲避在林中的小屋里的。放心罢。夫人不会有什么的。”
“在这种雷雨里，我不喜欢她待在林中！我压根儿不喜欢她到林中去！现在她已经出去两个多小时了，好是什么时候出去的？”
“你回家以前不久出去的。”
“我没有看见她在花园里。上帝知道她在哪儿和发生了什么事！”
“啊，不会发生什么事的。你看罢。等雨一停了她马上就会回来的。只是雨把她阻住罢了。”
但是雨已停了，夫人却没有马上回来，时间过着，夕阳出来发着最后的黄光了，依旧没有夫人的影子，夕阳沉下去了，昏色渐渐地深了，晚餐的第一次也敲了。
“再等也没有用了！”克利福在狂躁中说，“我要打发非尔德或白蒂斯找她去。”
“啊，不要这样！”波太太喊道，“他们将瞎想发生了自杀或什么大事。网，不要让人讲闲话……让我到小屋那边去看看她在万：在。我找得着她。”
这样劝了一会，克利福准她去了。
这样，康妮在马路上碰见了，脸色苍白，迟疑地不敢前进。
“不要怪我来找你，夫人！克利福男爵狂躁得那神样儿！他以为你一定是给雷打死了，或给一株树倒下来压死了。他决意要订发非尔德和白蒂斯来林中找尸首呢，这一宋，我想还是我来好，别惊动了所有的仆人。
她不安地说着，她看得见康妮的脸上还带着热情的光润和梦影，并且她觉得她是对她发怒的。
“很对！”康妮说，她再也找不着什么话说了。
两个妇人在那湿世界里缓缓地前进。两个人都不t兑话。一些大水滴唤亮地在林中滴着。当他们到了大花园里时，康妮在前边越是着。波太大有点喘不过气来，她日见肥胖了。
“克利福这种大惊小怪，真是愚蠢！”康妮最后恼怒地说，其实她只是对自己说着。
“唉！你知道男子们是怎样的！他们是喜欢狂躁。但是一见了夫人就会好的。”
康妮很恼怒波太大知道了她的秘密：因为她无疑是知道的。
突然地，康妮在小径上站着了。
“真是岂有此理，人们竟敢来追的踪！”她说，睛眼发着光。
“啊！夫人哟，别这么说！巍”
他惊愕地望着她。
“肉体的生命。”他说，不过是禽兽的生命。”
“甚至这样也好过煞有介事的死尸的生命。不过你的话是不对的！人类的肉体现在不过才开始生活。在古代希腊民族里，肉体生命曾焕发过，不久便给柏拉图和亚里斯多德毁灭了，从坟墓中地站在那儿，低着头，毕竟呢，她也是个妇人，她是个同盟者。
“啊，好罢！”她说，“既然如此—，我也就没有什么了！”
“但是夫人，你放心罢！你只是在小屋里避雨，那是毫无所谓的。”
她他到了家里。康妮直进克利福的房里去，她对他，对他的苍白紧张的脸孔和突出的两眼，狂怒起来。
“我得告诉你，我想你无需叫仆人来跟踪我的！”她劈头便说。
“我的上帝！”他也暴怒起来，“你这女人上那儿去来？你离去了整整几个钟头，而且在这样的暴风雨里！你到那瘟树林里去弄什么鬼？直到理在你干吗来？雨已停了几个钟头了！几个钟头了！你知道是什么时候了不？你真够使任何人发疯！你上那儿去了？你干吗去了？”
“我要是不愿告诉你又怎么样呢？她拔去了她的帽子，摇着她的头发。
他望着她，他的睛眼突着，白睛膜上起着黄色，这种暴怒一他的害处是很大的：结果是波太太在以后的几天里，没有好过的时间，康妮突然地内疚起来。
“的确！”她说，温和些了，“谁都会奇怪我究竟到哪儿去了！暴风雨到来的时候，我只是坐在小屋里罢了，而且生了一点火，怪快活的。”
她现在安闲地说话了。毕竟，为什么要上添油使他难过呢！我狐疑地望着她。
“瞧瞧你的头发！”他说，“瞧瞧你自己！”
“是的。”她泰然地答道，“我脱光了衣服在雨中奔了一阵。”
他惊愕地望着她。
“你一定是发疯了！”他说。
“为什么？喜欢雨水浴有什么好发疯了地方？”
“你用什么擦干你自己的？
“用一条旧毛巾和火烘干的。”
他老是目瞪口呆地望着她。
“假如有人来了？”
“谁会来？”
“谁？无论谁啊！梅乐士呢？他没有来吗？餐上他是一定到那儿去的。”
“是的，他在雨停了后才来，他是来喂短雉鸡。”
她说话时的从容的态度，是令人惊愕的。在隔房听着的波太太，叹服得五体投地。想想吧，一个妇人竟能这样自然地图旋应变！”
“假如他在你赤裸棵地、疯妇似地在雨中奔窜着的时候来到了？”
“那么我想他定要吓得魂不附体，逃之唯恐不速呢。”
克利福屹然不动地老是望着她。他的下意识里究竟在想什么，他是决不知道的。他太惶无措了，因而他的上意识里也不能构成什么明确的思想，他不能自己的佩服她。她的样子是这么红润，这么美丽，这么光泽：爱的光泽。
“总之，”他说，渐渐平静下来，“假如你没有受惊，得了个大伤风，便算你的幸运了。”
“啊，我没有受惊！”她答道。她心里正在想着那个男子的话：“您有的是最美丽的妇人的臀儿！”她希望，她真上希望她能告诉克利福，在那雷雨交加的时候，有人曾对她这么说过。然而！她却摆了个被件逆了的王后的样儿，到楼上换衣服去了。
那天晚上，克利福想向她讨好起来，他正读着一本最新出的关于科学的宗教的书：他身体里有着一种无诚意的宗教的血脉。他是自私地关心着他的自我的将来的。那象他和康妮间的文学上的谈话一样。因为他们之间的谈话差不多是化学制作出来的。他们差不多在头脑里用化学方法调制他们的谈话。
“喂，你觉得这个怎样？”他说着，把书拿了过来，“假如我们的宇宙里再进化多少时代，你便用不着走到雨中去冷却你的热烈的肉体了。啊，你听罢！——宇宙预示着我们两种光景：一方面，它是物质地耗损着；另一方面，它是精神地上升着。”
康妮等着下文。但是克利福并不读下去。她惊异地望着他。
“假如它是精神地上升着，”她说，“那么下面剩下什么东西呢，下面那个从前的尾巴所在的地方？”
“嗳！”他说，“得留心著者的意思。我想他所谓，‘上升’但是‘耗损’的相反。”
“那么可以说，精神出了毛病，出壳了！”
“唔，正经点，别说笑，你觉得怎样？”
她重新望着他。
“物质地耗损？”她说，“我看你却日见肥胖起来，而我也不见得耗损着我自己。你相信太阳比从前小了些么？我却不。我想亚当献给夏娃的苹果，不见得会比我们的橙子核大，你以为怎样？”
“好罢，听听下文罢：‘宇宙便这样慢馒地过去，电得非我们所能思议，而到了一种新的创造的情境，在这种情境里，我们今日所见的物质世界，将变成一种飘渺的波纹，这种波纹与虚无是无甚分别的。”
她觉得怪可笑地徨着，她心里涌着种种不便说出的话；但是她仅仅说：
“多么愚笨的骗人的鬼话！仿佛他可怜的小小的知觉能知道在那么悠久缓慢的时间里会有什么发生似的！那只是说，他自己是个物质的失败者，所以他想使全宇宙也为一个物质的失败者罢了！胡说乱道的假道学！”
啊，且徨罢！别中断了这伟大的庄重之词：‘目前世界的这种情境，系从一个不能想象的过去中生出来的，并且将在一个不能想象的将来中消灭。剩下的是抽象的无穷尽的王国，自新不息、变化万端的创造力，和主宰大干的聪明上帝。’那，那便是结论！”
康妮轻蔑地听着。
“他是精神出了毛病，出完了。”她说，“多么荒唐！什么‘不可想象。’什么‘世界的消灭’，什么‘万变的创造力’，甚至上帝也凑在一块！这真是白痴说的话！”
“我承认他说得有点模糊，有点象烟幕，”克利福说，”可是，说到宇宙是在物质地耗损，精神地上升，我倒相信是存几分真理的。”
“是么！那么让它上升吧，只要它让我在这下界物质地安全而坚实。”
“你喜欢你的体格么？”他问道。
“我爱我的体格呢！”同时她的心涌起了这句话：“这是世上最美丽的，最美丽的妇人臀儿！”
“但是你这话使我有点惊异。因为格格无疑地是个多余累赘的东西。在我想来，女子在精神生活上是不能享受最高乐趣自勺。”
“最高乐趣？”她望着他说，“难道那种白痴的想法便是精神生活的最高乐趣么！谢谢你罢！我不要这种最高乐趣！我只要肉体，我相信肉体的生命比精神的生命更真实一只要这肉体的确有生命。但是世间许多的人，都和你的著名的风力机器一样，他们的精神仅仅依附在他们的尸首上！”
他惊愕地望着她。
“肉体的生命。”他说，不过是禽兽的生命。”
“甚至这样也好过煞有介事的死尸的生命。不过你的话是不对的！人类的肉体现在不过才开始生活。在古代希腊民族里，肉体生命曾焕发过，不久便给柏拉图和亚里斯多德毁灭了，从坟墓中复活起来了。这人类肉体的生命，将是这美丽的宇宙间的美丽的、美丽的生命！”
“亲爱的，你说得仿佛你正引领着这肉体生命到世界上来了！不错，你要旅行去了，但是请你不要高兴得这样没有分寸，相信你吧，如有个上帝在，管他是什么上帝，他会把人类肉体里的肠胃淘汰了。而使人类变成一个更高尚、更神圣的东西的。”
“为什么我要相信你，克利福？我倒觉得假如有个什么上帝在，他将在我的肠胃里醒觉转来，并且在那里曙光似地幸福的荡漾着。为什么要相信你的话？我所相信的恰恰与你相反！”
“呀！真的？什么使你变得这么异样？是不是因为赤裸裸地在雨中奔了一阵，学了一回古代的烂醉的酒神的女祭司？或者是因为某种感官的欲望？或者是因为要到威尼斯去了？”
“者是原因；为了旅行觉得满腔兴头，难道是可惊怪的么？”她说。
“表现得这么露骨，就未免可怪了。”
“那么我隐藏着就是了。”
“啊，用不着！你兴奋得差不多从事多也兴奋起来了。我差不多觉得是我自己要旅行去了。”
“那么，为什么你不和我一起去呢。”
“理由我们已经说过。不过，我想你的原因，是因为你可以暂时告别这一切了。此刻再也没有比‘告别这一切’更令你兴奋的事了。……但是，凡是出行便必有避返，而且凡是避返便是一种新的关系。”
“我并不想有什么新的关系。”
“不要大言，上帝听着呢。”他说。
“不！我并不大言；”她爽脆地说。
但是她对于出行一把旧的关系截断一的兴奋并不减少。这是她无可如何的事。
不能人官的克利福，整夜里和波太太打牌赌钱，直至她磕睡得欲想死了。
希尔达要来的日子来到了，康妮和梅乐士已经商议好了、假如他们的爱情之夜，没有什么阻碍的话，她便在她的窗上接一条绿色围巾：否则，便挂一条红色巾。
波太太帮着康妮打棼行李。
“换换空气，对于夫人是很有益处的。”
是的，我也这样想，克利福男爵的事，都得你一个人料理一些时日了，你不介意吧？”
“啊，不！他的事我都可以处理。我是说，他所需要我做的事，我都做得了，你觉和比以前好了些吗？”
“啊，好得多了，你替他做了些惊人的事呢！”
唉，哪里啊！不过男子们都是一样的；他们只是一些婴孩你得诌媚他们，拿甜言去诱骗他们，让他们相信他们是事事随心所欲的，你觉得对不对？夫人。”
“这种事情我恐怕没有太多经验呢。”
康妮停止了收拾东西。
“甚至你的丈夫，你也得象婴孩似的去诌媚他，用甜言诱骗他么？”她一边说，一边望着波太太。
波太太也停了下来。
“说到他”。她说，“是的，我也得好好地去奉承他的。但是他常常知道我所永的是什么，这是我不得不说的。不过他普通总是让步的。”
“他从来不摆老爷先生的架子么？”
“不！不过，有时当我看见了神色不同的时候，我便知道非让步不可了，但是普通总是他让步的。不，他从不摆老爷先生的架子，而我也不，我知道可以跟他强硬到哪一步，使得退让；虽然这种退让有时是很吃亏的。”
“假如你强硬下去会怎么样呢？”
“啊，我可不知道，我从来就没有强硬下去过，甚至他错了，假如他固执，我也退让。你知道，我决不愿使我们间的东西被破坏，假如你固执着对付一个男子，那便完了。假如你爱上了一个男子，当他真是决了意的时候，你便得退让；管你有理没有理。都得退让，否则什么东西便要破坏了。但是，我不得不说，德底有时看见我决了意的时候，甚至我没有理，他也退让的，我想这是双方一样的。”
“你对付你所有的病人也这样么？”康妮问道。
“啊，那是不同的。我对他们不是这样的。我知道什么是对于他们有益的，或者我努力去知道，然后我设法为他们的好处帮去。那和自己真正所爱的人是不相同的，大不相同的，假如你真正地爱过丁一个人，你使差不多能对任何人表示亲爱，甚至他不太需要你，但那是不同的，你不是真正爱他的，一个人真正地爱过了一回，如果还能真正地再爱一回，那是可疑的。”
这话把康妮吓着丁。
“你以为一个人只能爱一次么？”她问道。
“爱一次，或永远不爱，大多数的女子是从来不爱，从来不开始爱的，她们不知爱是什么东西。男子也不例外。我呢，当我看见了一个女子在恋爱的时候，我对他是满腔同情的。”
“你觉得男子是易动怒的么？”
“是的，假如你伤了他们的虚荣心。但是女子还不是一样？不过男子的虚荣心和女子的有点不同罢了。”
康妮把这些话思量着，她对于她到威尼斯去的事，又开始有点疑惧起来，实在说来，她不是故意要躲避她的爱人么？一虽然是短时间，他是知道的，所以他的神气是那么怪异和讥。
虽然！人生常是受环境的机械所支配的，康妮便是这机械的栖牲者。她不能在五分钟内摆脱出来，她甚至边摆脱的心也没有了。
星期四的早晨，希尔达按照预定的时间来到，驶着她的两座轻便汽车，她的衣箱用皮带牢牢地缚在后边，和平家一样，她的样子是端庄的，处女的；但是也和平至少一样，她有着一种倔强的气概，她有一种魔鬼似的倔强的自我意志，这是她的丈夫发觉的。但是现在，这位丈夫正在要求和始离婚了。她呢，她虽然没有情人，但她却给了他许多方便，好去提他的要求。目下。她和男子们疏远了。她倒觉得很满意自己做了自己的主人，和她的两个孩子的主人，她打算把这两个孩子“好好地”教养成人，不管这个词的意义怎样解释。
在小汽车上，康妮也只准带一口衣箱。但是她已经把一日大箱子寄绘她的父亲，由火车带去了。她的父亲刚由苏格兰到伦。他认为到威尼斯何必坐汽车去？在七月天，在意大利用汽车旅行是太热了，所以他还是舒舒服服地乘火车去。
这样，希尔达俨然大元帅似的，严肃地把旅丢失重要事件计划好了。她和康妮在楼上的房子里闸谈着。
“但是，希尔达，”康妮说，心里有点惊惧着她要说下去的话．“今晚我要在这我和附近过夜；不是这儿；是这儿附近。”
希尔达的灰色的、不可思议的跟随，注视着她的妹妹。她的样子似乎非常镇静，但是她却常常盛怒起来。
“传播对方，这儿购近？”她柔和地问道。
“希尔达，你知道我爱上了一个人吧，是不是？”
“是的，我是知道有了什么事情的。”
“那么，他住在这儿附近。我要和他共度过最后的一夜，我得去！我已经答应了。”
康妮固执起来了。
希尔达静默地低着她的象密涅瓦一样的头，然后望着她。
“你愿意告诉我他是谁么？她说。
“他是我们的守猎人，”康妮支吾着说，她的脸孔鲜红起来，好象有个做了坏事的孩子一样。
“康妮！”希尔达说，厌恶地道挺着她的鼻子一这是她母亲传下的姿势。
“我明白，但是他的确是可爱的人，他的的确是了解温情的人。”康妮企图为她的爱人辩护。
希尔达，象脸色鲜艳的雅典娜似的低头沉思着。产际上她正在暴怒着．但是她不敢露了出来，因为酷肖父亲的康妮，努势将立刻放肆争抗起来。
无疑地，希尔达不喜欢克利福和他以大人物自居的冷静的神气，她觉得他无耻地利用着康妮。她曾希望她的妹妹会离开他。但是，她是属于苏格兰的坚固的中等阶级的人，她深恶任何贬抑自己身分。或贬抑家声的事情。
“你将要懊悔的！”她说。”
“不！我决不懊悔！”康妮红着脸喊道，“他是个罕有的例外，我的确爱他，他是个美妙的情人！
希尔达依旧沉思着。
“你转瞬使我要厌倦他的。”她说，“然后你一生便要惭愧你的这种行为。”“不，决不！我希望我不久便要有个他的孩子呢。”
“怎么！康妮！”希尔达说，严厉务象一声铁锤气愤得脸色苍白起来。
“假如你我可以的话，便将有个孩子，假如我有个他的孩子，我将发狂似的骄傲。”
希尔达明白和她争论是无用的，她沉思着。
“克利福没有猜什么吗？”她问道。
“啊，不！猜疑什么呢？”
“我深信你一定给了他不少猜疑的机会。”希年达说。
“不，一点都没有。”
“我觉得今晚的勾当是纯粹的癫狂，那个人住在哪儿？”
“在树林那一端的村舍里。”
“他没有结婚么？”
“结了！但是他的女人离弃了他。”
“什么年纪？”
“我可不知道，比我大些。”
康妮的每句回答，都使希尔达越发愤怒起来，愤怒得和她母亲在生之日一样，愤怒到无可复加的境地，但是她还是隐忍着。
“假如我是你，我决不干今晚的勾当。”她安静地劝道。
“我不能！今晚我定要在他那儿过夜，否则我便不能去威尼斯，我决不能。”
希尔达从康妮的这话里，听出她父亲的声音，她只得让步，但这不过是外交手腕，她同意了和康妮到曼斯非德晚餐，天黑后把她带回到村舍去的山路尽头，早上再到那里去找她。她自己将在曼斯非德过夜，那不过是半点钟的汽车路程，假如汽车开得快的话，但是她对她的妹妹的破坏她的计划，是非常愤怒的，她在心里隐忍着。
康妮在她的窗槛上挂上了一条鲜绿的围巾。
在对于康妮的愤怒里，希尔达不觉对克利福宽大起来，他毕竟是个有智慧的人。说他没有性能，这更好；可以少了一件争吵的理由！希尔达再也不想要肉体的爱了，这东西把男子都变成自私可恶的小鬼子。康妮的生活，实在比多数的女人的生活都安适，不过她不她的神气罢了。
而克利福也断定希尔达毕竟是个无疑的聪明女子，假如一个男子想在政治上活动的话，这种女子是再好不过的助手和伴侣。是的，她不象康妮那么孩子气，那么不可依靠。
在大厅里，大家提早用了午后的茶点，大厅门开着，让太射了进来。大家都仿佛有点气喘。
“再见，康妮，女孩子！平安地回来！”
“再见，克利福！是的，我不久便会回来的！”康妮差不多温柔起来了。
“再见，希尔达！请你用只眼睛看护她。”
“我将用只眼睛呢。”希尔达说，“她决不会怎样迷途的。”
“这就是保证！”
“再见，波太太！我知道你会好好地侍候克利福男爵的。”
“我将尽我的能力，夫人。”
“有付’么消息的时候，给我写信，并且告诉我克利福男爵的种种情形，”
“是的，夫人，我不会忘记，祝你快活，并且早日回来我们的闷！”
大家挥着手巾，车开行了，康妮回转头来，看见克利福在台阶上坐在轮椅里，毕竟是他的丈夫，勒格贝是她近有，这是环境所决定的。
铁伯斯太太把大门打开着，祝了声夫人一路平安，汽车悄悄地出了小树丛幽黑遍布着的大花园，上了大道，那儿矿工们正曳着沉重的步伐归家。希尔达朝着克罗斯山的路驶去，这并不是条大路，但也是到曼斯非德的路，康妮戴上了避尘镜。她们沿着铁道驶去，这铁道在她们下边这一条壕道里。然后她们在壕道上的桥上横过。
“这儿便是到村舍去的小路！”康妮说。
希尔达愤愤地望了望那条小路。
“我们不能一直往前去，真是万分可惜！”她说，“否则我们九点钟使可到帕尔摩了。”
“我真替你抱赚。”戴着眼睛的康妮说。
她们不久便到了曼斯非德。从前这儿是绝妙的一个城市。现在却是个令人气丧的矿工城市了。希尔达在一本旅行指南书中介绍的旅店前停下了，开了一间房子，这一番事于她是毫无意思的，她差不多气愤到了不能说话。但是康妮却忍不住要告诉她一关于那男子的事情。
“他！他！他叫什么名字？你尽是说：他！希尔达说。”
“我从来就没有用名字叫过他，他也没有用名字叫过我。想起来也是奇怪的。我们有时只是用珍奴夫人，和约翰.多马士的名字，但是他的名字是奥利佛.梅乐士。”
“你觉得做奥利佛.梅乐士太太比做查太莱男爵夫人怎么佯？”
“可爱得多了！”
康妮是令人失望的了！虽然，那男子已经在军队里当过了四五年军官，他定然有多少相当的仪表。他似乎是个有身份的，希尔达有点温和起来了。
“但是你不久便要厌倦他的。”她说，“那时你便要因和他发生了关系而感到羞耻呢。我们是不能和工人阶级相混的。”
“但是你自己却是个热心的社会主义者！你常常是站在工人阶级方面的。”
“在政治的危机中，我可以站在他们的方面；但是正因为我站在他们的方面，我知道在生活上和他们相混是多么不可能的事，这并不是势利，实在是因为我们和他们的节奏全不能相谐。”
希尔达曾经在道地的政治界和知识分子中生活过，所以她的话是令人无可答辩的。
在旅馆里，慢慢地度过了嗳昧的黄昏，最后来了个嗳昧的晚餐。晚餐后，康妮捡了些东西放在一个小绸袋里，再梳了一次头发。
“希尔达，”她说，“毕竟爱情是美的，那使你觉得你是生活着，你是在造化的中心。”她仿佛在自夸。
“我想每个景子都有这同样的感觉。”希尔达说。
“是么？以我要替它高兴呢！”
黄昏是奇妙地睛朗，甚至在这个城市里，黄昏也留恋不去，今夜一定是个半透明的夜。希尔达气愤着的脸孔，象是个假面具似的冷酷她把汽车开行了，姊妹俩向原处回去，但走的是经过波梭接的另一条路。
康妮戴着她的避尘眼镜和掩饰面孔的帽子，静默地坐着，希尔达的反对，使她更决绝地站在她的爱人的方面，纵令海拓石烂她也要依附他。
当她们经过克罗斯山时，她们的车灯亮着，在壕道里驶过的光亮的小火车，使人觉和是在夜间了。希尔教研室打算在桥的尽头处转入小路里去。她把速度有点突然地放慢了下来，汽车离开了大路，车灯明亮地照着那蔓草丛生的小咱，康妮往外望着，看见了一个暗影，她把车门打开了。
“我们来了！”她低声地说。
但是希尔达已经把灯光熄了，正专心地把车子退后，想转过头来。
“桥上没有东西吗？”她简略地问道。
“没有，你退罢。”男子的声音说。
她把车子退到桥上，转了方向，在大路上前进了几步，然后再退人小路里，在一株榆树下面，压倒着草丛和藏躲藏康妮步下车来。男子在树下站着。
“你等了珍久了么？”康妮问道。
“不很久。”他答道。
他们俩等丰希尔达下来，但是希尔达却把车门关上了，坐着不动。
“那是我的姊姊希尔达，你愿意来和她说说话么？希尔达！这是梅乐士先生。”
守猎人脱了脱他的帽子，便是没有走上前去。
“希尔达，请你和我们到村舍里去罢。”康妮恳求道：“离这儿不远了。”“但是汽车呢？”
“放在小路去，不要紧的，你有钥匙。”
希尔达不说什么，她犹豫着，然后她望着后面的小路。
“我可以绕过这树丛退了进去么？”她说。
“啊，可以的！”守猎人说。
她慢慢地退着，绕过了树丛后面把汽车锁好了，走下来，已经是夜里了。但是夜色是明亮的，荒凉的小咱两旁，起着高高的野生的篱笆，样子是很黑的，空气中散布着一种新鲜的香留。守猎人在前，康妮跟在他后面，最后是希尔达，大家都静默着，在难走的地方，他把电筒照着，然后又继续。一支猫头鹰在橡树上轻轻地叫着，大家都不能说话；没有什么好说的话。
最后，康妮看见丁屋里的黄色灯光，她的心剧跳起来，她有点害怕起来，他们继续着色贯前进。
他把锁着的门打开了，领他们进到好温暖的、但是空洞的小屋于里。炉火低低地红热地燃着。桌子上摆好了两份子和玻璃杯，这一次，桌布是洁白。希尔达摇了摇她的头发，济览着那空洞而忧郁的屋子。然后她鼓着勇气望着那男子。
他的身材是中等，纤瘦的，她觉得他样子还好看，他默默地守着一种冷淡的态度，仿佛他决不愿开口似的。
坐下罢，希尔达。”康妮说。
“请！”他说，“我给你们什么好呢，茶呢还是旁的东西？或者一杯啤酒！啤酒是够冷的。”
“啤酒吧！”康妮说。
“是的，请你也给我啤酒吧！”希尔达用一种做作的羞怯态度说，他冷眼望着她。
他拿了一个蓝色壶子到厨房间里，带着啤酒回来时，他脸上的表情又变了。
康妮坐在门边，希尔达背着墙坐在他常坐的椅子上，正对着窗角。
“那是他的子。”康妮说，希尔达站了起来，仿佛那子烧了她似的。
“别起来，别起来！随便坐，我们这儿并没有谁是熊。”他很泰然地用土话说道。
他给希尔达一只玻璃杯，替她先斟了啤酒。
“香酒我这儿是没有的。”他说，“但是也许你们自己有罢，我自己是不舞烟的，您要吃什么东西么？”他回转头去对康妮说，“您要吃点什么东西么？您普通是不推辞的。”他怪自若地说他的土话，仿佛是个乡间旅舍的主人。”
“有什么好吃的？”康妮脸红着问道。
“煮熟的火腿和干酷核桃，随你们喜欢。并没有什么好东西。”
“好的！”康妮说，“你吃一点么；希尔达？”
希尔达举目望着他。
“为什么你说约克郡的土话？”她温和地说。
“那不是约克郡话，那是德比话，”他望着她，模棱地冷笑着说。
“德比话，好罢！为什么你说德比话？你开始的时候不是说大家所；兑的英语么？”
“是么！但是假如我高兴的话；难道我不能换换么？唔，唔，让我说德比话，如果我觉得合适。我想您不反对罢！”
“那仿佛有点矫揉做作了。”希不达说。
“嗳，也许！但是达娃斯哈，倒是您才象矮做作呢。”他用一种怪疏远的态度，偏着脸打量着她，仿佛说：“你，你是谁呵？”
他到伙食间里去取食物。
姊妹俩沉默着坐着。他带了另一份碟子和刀刃回来，然后他说：
“假如你们不介意，我要象平常一样把外衣除了。”
他把他的外衣脱了挂在衣钩上，穿着一件薄薄的，淡黄色的法兰绒衬衣，在桌边坐下。
“随意罢！”他说，“随意罢！别等人来请！”
他把面包切了，静坐着，希迎达象康妮前些时一样，感到了他的静默和冷淡的力量。她看见的不大的、锐敏的手，不经意地放在桌上。无疑地他不是个不简单的工作！不！他是做作的！做作的！
“不过，”她一边拿了一小零部件干酷一边说，“假如你对我们说普通的英语，一定比说土话来得自然些。”
但望着她，感觉到她的魔般的坚强的意志。
“是么？”他用普通的英语说，是么？不过我与您之间有什么很自然的话可说？除非您告诉我，您愿我坠人地狱，好让您的妹妹不再见我；于是我回答些一样难堪的话，此外还有什么是自然的？”
“啊，有的！”希尔达说，“讲点礼貌便是很自然的。”
“那便是第二天性，可以这么说罢！”他说着笑了起来。“不，我是厌恶礼貌了，别管我罢！，”
希尔达分明地无话可说了。赚得满腔的愤怒，哼，他应该知道人家休面了他，而他却摆着重要角色的威风神气，仿佛以为是他给了人家体面似的，多么鲁薷！可怜的康妮，迷失在这么一个人的爪掌里！
三个人静默地吃着，希尔达留心看着他在餐桌上的仪态怎样，她不得不承认他是本能地比她自己优雅高尚得多的。她有着某种苏样兰人的笨重态度，而他呢，他有着英国人所有的缄默的、自制的安泰一无聊可剩的安泰，他是不易屈服于人的。
但是她也是决不力他所报导服的。她说：
“你真以为这件事值得冒险吗？”她有点温和下来了。
“什么事值得什么冒险？”
“和我妹妹的这件事。”
他脸上露着不快的苦笑，用土话说：
“那你得去问她！”
然后他望着康妮。
“那是您甘心情愿的，是不是，女孩和？我没有强迫您罢？”
康妮望着希尔达。
“我希望你不要拔是非罢，希尔达。”她说。
“我决不想挑拔什么是非。但是总得有个人去想想是非。在生活中，不得不有点某种永久性。你不能一味胡闹的。”
他们静默了一会。
“咳，永久性！”他说，“那是什么意思？您自己的生命里可有什么永久性？我相信您正在离婚罢，不知道这里头的永久性是什么？这不过是您自己的执锄性的永久性罢，我看很明白，那永久性于您有什么好处？您不久便要厌恶这永久性。一个执锄的女人和她的自我意志！咳，这两种东西合起来便成个好漂亮的永久性，的确！谢谢天，幸得您的事与我无涉！”
“你有什么权利对我说这种话？”希尔达说。
“什么权利？你又有什么权利把您的永久性来厌烦他人？不要管他人的永久性罢。”
“我的好汉哟，你以为你和我有什么关系么？”希迎达温和地说。
“是的！”他说，“有的，愿他罢，不愿也罢，你多少总是我的阿姨了。”
“还差得远呢，我确实告诉你。”
“并不如您想象的远，我确实告诉您。我有我自己的永久性，我的水久性决不输您的永久性！假如您的妹妹到我这儿来找点性爱和温情，她自己知道她打的是什么主意。她在我的床上睡过，这是非您的永久性所能有后，谢谢上帝！”他停下一会，然后继续说，“嗳，我不是个呆子，假如一块天鹅肉落在我嘴边我只好多谢天，有这么一个美人儿，一个男子不知能够享受多少的乐趣，不象您一类的女了那么难说，说起来也是可惜的，您本来是可以象一只好苹果的，而你却是个好看不好吃的野苹果，象你这样的女子是需要接种的。
他带了一种鉴赏家的有点肉感的怪笑望着她。
“而象你这样的男子。”她说，“是应该了起来，这是他们的极鄙与自私欲所应得的惩罚。”
“是的，太太！世上还有我这种人已经是幸福了。至于您呢，没有人睬您，喧是您所活该的。”
希尔达已经向边走去，他也站了起来，在衣钩上取了他的外衣。
“我一个人很可以找到我的路。”她说。
“我恐怕你不能呢。”他从容地答道。
在静默中，他们重重新在那可笑地鱼贯面蚝，那只猫头鹰还在叫着，他恨不得把它杀掉。
汽车还是好好地停在那儿，有点给露水沾湿了。希尔达上了车，把机器开动了，剩下的两个人在等待着。
“总之，我的意思是，她在汽车里面说，“我诚恐你们两个都要觉得悔不当初！”
“一个人的佳肴是另一个人的毒物，他在黑暗里说，“但是在我，这既是佳肴又是美酒。”
车灯亮了起来。
“康妮，早上别让我等。”
“是的，我不会你等的。晚安！”
汽车慢慢地出到了大路上，然后飞逝了，寂静的夜又笼罩了一切。
康妮羞怯地挽着他的手臂他们向着村舍归去，他一句话也不说，过了一会她使他站住了。
“吻一吻我吧！”她喃喃地说。
“不、等一会吧。等我的气消了。”他说。
这话使她觉得好笑起来，她依旧挽着他的手臂他们静默地，匆匆地回去，她现在和他在一起了。她是怪高兴的，当她想到希尔达差不多把他们拆散了时候，她寒战了一下，他在不可思议地静默的。
当他们回到村舍里去时，她觉得脱离了她的姊姊了。她高兴得差不多跳跃起来。
“但是你使希尔达太难为情了。”她对他说。
“她实在是该吃耳光的。”
“为什么呢？她是怪好的人！”
他并不回答，只是沉静地、安泰地忙着晚上的工作，他在外表上是愤怒的，可不是对她愤怒，康妮觉得出来。在愤怒中的他，有一种深刻、光泽的、特殊的美，使她心醉，使她的四脚酥软。
他老是不注意她。
最后，他坐下去解鞋带。然后他仰望着她，那眉端依旧蕴藏！着怒气。
“你要上楼去么？”他说，“那边有一枝蜡烛！”
他迅疾地把多倾了一倾，指示着桌上点着的蜡烛。她驯服地把蜡烛拿在手里，当她上楼的时候，他注视着她的饱满的臀部的曲线。
那是个惊人的情欲之夜。在这夜里，她有点吃惊而且差不多觉得无可奈何起来，然而在那最恰人意的关头，一种比温情战栗更不同、更尖锐、更可怖的刺人的战栗，把她钻穿了。虽然是有点怕，她却毫不推却地让他瓷情任性，一种无因而不羞怯的肉感，摇撼着她，摇撼到她的骨髓，把她脱到一丝不挂，使她成了一个新的妇人。实在那并不是爱。那并不是淫欲。那是一种火似的烧人的尖锐的内感，把灵魂烧成火绒一样。
这种火似的肉感，在那最秘密的地方，把最古老而最深刻的羞耻心焚毁了。结果是使康妮地卖力让她的爱人您情任性的享受她。她是个无抵抗的、逢迎迁就的东西。好象一个奴录，一个肉体的奴录，情欲的毁灭的火，却舐着她的周身，当这欲焰紧束地经过她的心怀与脏腑的时候，她真是觉得她是互着了。可是好一个痛快而神奇的死哟！
她曾常常地奇怪过，亚培拉所谓他与海萝伊斯相爱之时，所有情欲的微妙花样都尝过了，是什么意思，原来同样的东西，在千年以前，甚至在万年以前就有过了，同样的东西在希腊的土瓶上，随处都有！情欲的种种微妙、肉感的种种放肆，那是必需，绝对地必需的。用纯粹的肉感的火，去把虚焦的羞耻心焚毁了，把人体的沉浊的杂质溶解了，使它成为纯洁。
在这一个短短的夏夜里，她不知懂得了多少的事情！在这夜以前，她差不多相信了一个妇人是会因羞耻而死的；然而现在，死的却是羞耻，羞耻不过是恐惧罢了，在我们的肉体的根蒂里深伏着那种官能的羞耻，那种古老的，古老的肉体的恐惧，只有肉感的火才能把它赶走。最后，它是给男子的“地乐士”的追击所惊醒而溃散，于是她便来到她的生命的莽原之中心了。
现在，她觉得已经来到了她的天性的真正的原如处所，并且觉得她原本就是无羞惧的了。她是她的原来的、有肉感的自我，赤裸裸的、毫无羞惧的自我。她觉得胜利，差不多光荣起来！原来如此！生命原来是如此的！一个人的本来面目原来是如此的！世上是没有需要掩茂怕东西，没有需要害羞的东西的！她和一个男子一另一个人，共享着她的终极的赤裸。
而且是个多么肆无忌惮的恶魔似的男了！真象个恶魔！一个不坚强的人是承受不了他的。但是要达到那肉体的莽原一中心，要达到那官能的羞惧心的最后最深的伏处，是不容易的。只有“法乐士”有这窥探的本领。啊！他把她压得多么紧！
啊！在惊怖中，她曾多么恨它，但是实际上，她多么需要它！现在她明白了，在她的灵魂的根基处，深深地，她是需要而且秘密地希望这“法乐士”的追击的，不过她相信她不会得到罢了。现在，突然地，它来到了，一个男子在共享着她最终最后的赤裸，她一点儿羞惧都没有了。
诗人和世人真是一些骗子！他们使你相信你需要感，其实你所最需要的是这尖锐的、消蚀的、有点可怖的肉感。找个无羞惧、无罪过、无心疚的大胆从事的男子！假如他事后觉得羞惧，而且令人觉得羞惧，那就令人寒心了！多么可惜，多数的男人都这么怯懦，害羞，如克利福！甚至如蔑克里斯！这两个／、在肉感上都是有点儿象狗，有点儿奴颜卑膝的。所谓“精神的无上快乐！”这对于一个女人有什么价值？而且事实上，对于一个男子又有什么价值！那不过把精神弄得一塌糊湖糊涂而卑鄙罢了，甚至想把精神纯洁化、灵敏化起来，也得要这唯一的肉感才能成功，唯一的火假的肉感，而不是混沌一团的幻想。
啊！上帝啊，一个真正的男子是多可珍贵的东西！男人们大都是些只知东跑西窜，只知东闻西嗅，只知苟且交尾的狗。找到了一个无畏宿、无羞惧的男子！多可珍贵！她望着他在酣睡着，好象一个睡着的野兽似的，深深地迷失在睡官中。她鸟儿似地栖依在他的身边，诚恐脱离了他。
他醒来的时候，她的睡意也全失了。他坐了起来，俯望着她，好从他的里，看出了她自己的赤裸，直接的她的自我。那男性对她的认识，好象流液似地从他的眼眼里传到了她身上，把她春怠融融地包了起来，啊，这半睡的、饱和着热烈情欲的、沉重的肢体，是多么撩人肉欲，多么可爱！
“是起身的时候了么？”她说。
“六点半了。”
八点钟她便得到小咱的尽头去，老是，老是，老是这不容人的世事！
“我可以去弄早餐，弄好了带上这儿来，好吗？”
“啊，好的！”
佛萝茜在楼下轻轻的呜咽着。她起身把睡衣除了，用一条毛巾擦着他的身体，当一个人充满着勇气与生命的时候，是多么美丽！她一边静默地望着他，一边心里这么想着。
“把窗商拉开，好不好？”
太阳已经在早晨的嫩绿的树叶上照耀着了。近边的树林，显得蔚蓝而新鲜的颜色。她坐在床上，梦一般地望着楼窗外面，她的赤裸裸的两臂把她赤裸的两只乳房挤得凑合拢来。他在穿着衣服。她在梦幻着生活，与他共同的生活：这才叫生活！
他正在走开，避开她的危险的媚人的赤裸。
“难道我把睡衣都失去了么？”她说。
他伸手在床下边摇出一条薄薄的绸衣。
“在夜里我就觉得脚踝上有着什么绸的东西。”他说。
但是那睡衣已经差不多裂成两片了。
“不要紧！”她说，“它是属于这间房子的；我把它留在这儿罢。”
“是的，留在这儿罢，夜里我可以把它放在两腿间陪伴我。上面没有什么史字或标记么？”
她穿上了那撕破的睡衣，梦一般地望着窗外。窗门开着，清晨的空气和乌声透专进来，乌儿不住地飞过，然后她看见佛萝茜徘徊着走出门外，这是早晨了。
她听见他在楼下生火，舞水，从后门出去，她渐渐地闻着了煎肉的气味。最后，他端了一个大得刚能通过门框的黑色大托盘，走上楼来，他把找盘放在床上，斟着茶，康妮穿着那撕破了的睡衣，蹲伏着狼吞虎咽起来。他从城那唯一椅子上，他的碟子放在膝上。
“多么好！”她说，“在一起吃早餐是多么美妙！”
他静默地吃着，心里想着那在飞逝的时光，那使她想起来了。
“啊，我真希望我可以留在这儿和你一块，并且勒格贝在一百万里以外！但是事实上我正脱离着勒格贝呢，你知道吧，是不是？”
“是的！”“你答应我们将住在一起，将在一起生活，你和我！你答应吧，是不是？”
“是的，当我们能够的时候。”
“是啊！这不会久了，不会久了，是不是？”她向他斜依着，握着他的手腕，她把茶杯里的茶倾溢了出来。
“是的！”他一边说，一边整理着溢在托盘的茶。
“此后，我们再也不能在一起生活了，是不是？”她恳求地说。他苦笑了一笑，仰望着她。
“不氏蝗！不过在二二分钟内你便得走了。”
“只有二十五分钟了么？”她叫道。突然地，他举着手指，叫她不要出声，他站了起来，佛萝茜猛然吠了一声，跟着又高声地吠着几声，仿佛告警似的。
默默地，他把碟子放在托盘上，走下楼来，康妮听见他向园里的小径出去，一个脚踏车铃声在那外边响着。
“早安，梅乐士先生！一封挂号信！”
“啊，喂！你有铅笔么？”
“有的！，！
停顿了一会。
“加拿大！”那生人的声音说。
“是的！这是我从前一位朋友，他在在英属哥化比亚。不知道什么事用得着挂号信。”
“也许他寄你一笔大钱呢。”
“或者是来要点什么东西吧，这倒更象。”
静了一会。
“喂！又是个睛朗的日子！”
“是的！”
“早安广
“早安！”
过了一会，他回到楼上，脸上带点怒容。
“邮差。”他说。
“他来得好早啊！”她答道。
“这是乡间的邮递；他来的时候，多数总是七点左右来的。”
“是不是你的朋友寄绘你一笔大钱？”
“不，只是几张关于那边的一个产业的像片和文件罢了。”
“你想到那边去么？”
“我想或者我们是可以支的。”
“啊，是的！我相信那是个可有可爱的地方！”
但是，这邮差的来到，使他扫兴了。
“这些该死的脚踏车，不等到你留神它们便来到了。我希望他没有听见什么。”
“毕竟他听见佬呢！”
“现在你得起来，作好准备。我到外面看看就来。”
她看见他带着他的狗儿和枪，到那小咱上巡察，她下楼去梳洗，等到他回来时，她已经准备好了，把几件零的东西也收拾在她的小绸裹里。
他把门上了锁，他们向着林中下去，却不走那条小咱。他小心着。
“你认为人一生中可以有几个好时期过着象昨夜那种生活么？”她对他说。
“是的！不过也得想想其余的时期呢。”他有点简短地答道。
他们在林中草径上缓缓地瞳着；他默默地瞳到前面。
“我们不久便将在一起共同生活，是不是？”她恳求道。
“是的！”他答一道，头也不回，只顾前进。“当时机到了的时候！但是此刻你正要到威尼斯或什么地方去。”
她无言地跟着他，心里抑郁着。啊，多么难舍难离！
最后他站住了。
“我要打这边过去了。”他指着右边说。
但是她举着两臂环抱着他的颈项，紧紧地侵依着他。
“但是你对我的温情不会变吧，会不会？”她细声说，“我爱昨夜！但是你对我的温情不会变，会不会？”
他吻了吻她，把她紧紧地拥抱了一会。然后他又叹息着，重新了吻了吻她。
“我得看汽车来了没有。”
他踏过了那低低的荆刺和羊齿草丛，经过处留晒了一条痕迹。他去了几分钟，回来说：
“汽车还没有来．但是大路上停着一部送面包的货车。”
他显得焦虑不安的样子。
“听！”
他们听见一部汽车轻轻地响着呈懈驶近了，这汽车在桥上慢了下来，她无限悲伤地踏进了荆刺丛中，沿着他留下的脚痕走去，到了一排庞大的冬青树篱笆面前，他正在她的后面。
“那边！打那边过去！”他指着一个空隙说，“我不过去了。”
她失望地望着他，但是他吻了吻她，叫她出去，她满腔悲伤地爬过了冬青树丛和木栅，颠踬地走下小壕堑，颠踬地走上那小坡上去，希尔达不见康妮，正在那儿恼怒着走下车来。
“啊！你来了！”希尔达说，“他在哪儿呢？”
“他不来了。”
当康妮拿着她的小手囊上车去的时候，她的脸上流着眼泪，希尔达把风帽和眼镜交给她。
“戴上罢广她说。
康妮把掩饰的东西戴上了。然后再穿了一件乘汽车用的外套，变成了一个不能的不象人的东西了。希尔达匆匆地把汽车开动了。她们出了小路，向着大路驶去，康妮回转头去望了望，但是没有目的地见他的影迹。她走了！走了！她苦楚地流着眼泪，这离别来得这样骤然，这样意外！好象是死别似的；
“谢谢天，你要离开这人一些时日了！”希尔达一边说；一边把车子转着方，免得打克罗斯山的山村落经过。
Mrs Bolton tried to soothe5 him.
`She'll be sheltering in the hut, till it's over. Don't worry, her Ladyship is all right.'
`I don't like her being in the wood in a storm like this! I don't like her being in the wood at all! She's been gone now more than two hours. When did she go out?'
`A little while before you came in.'
`I didn't see her in the park. God knows where she is and what has happened to her.'
`Oh, nothing's happened to her. You'll see, she'll be home directly after the rain stops. It's just the rain that's keeping her.'
But her ladyship did not come home directly the rain stopped. In fact time went by, the sun came out for his last yellow glimpse, and there still was no sign of her. The sun was set, it was growing dark, and the first dinner-gong had rung.
`It's no good!' said Clifford in a frenzy. `I'm going to send out Field and Betts to find her.'
`Oh don't do that!' cried Mrs Bolton. `They'll think there's a suicide or something. Oh don't start a lot of talk going. Let me slip over to the hut and see if she's not there. I'll find her all right.'
So, after some persuasion6, Clifford allowed her to go.
And so Connie had come upon her in the drive, alone and palely loitering.
`You mustn't mind me coming to look for you, my Lady! But Sir Clifford worked himself up into such a state. He made sure you were struck by lightning, or killed by a falling tree. And he was determined7 to send Field and Betts to the wood to find the body. So I thought I'd better come, rather than set all the servants agog8.
She spoke9 nervously10. She could still see on Connie's face the smoothness and the half-dream of passion, and she could feel the irritation11 against herself.
`Quite!' said Connie. And she could say no more.
The two women plodded12 on through the wet world, in silence, while great drops splashed like explosions in the wood. Ben they came to the park, Connie strode ahead, and Mrs Bolton panted a little. She was getting plumper.
`How foolish of Clifford to make a fuss!' said Connie at length, angrily, really speaking to herself.
`Oh, you know what men are! They like working themselves up. But he'll be all right as soon as he sees your Ladyship.'
Connie was very angry that Mrs Bolton knew her secret: for certainly she knew it.
Suddenly Constance stood still on the path.
`It's monstrous13 that I should have to be followed!' she said, her eyes flashing.
`Oh! your Ladyship, don't say that! He'd certainly have sent the two men, and they'd have come straight to the hut. I didn't know where it was, really.'
Connie flushed darker with rage, at the suggestion. Yet, while her passion was on her, she could not lie. She could not even pretend there was nothing between herself and the keeper. She looked at the other woman, who stood so sly, with her head dropped: yet somehow, in her femaleness, an ally.
`Oh well!' she said. `I fit is so it is so. I don't mind!'
`Why, you're all right, my Lady! You've only been sheltering in the hut. It's absolutely nothing.'
They went on to the house. Connie marched in to Clifford's room, furious with him, furious with his pale, over-wrought fee and prominent eyes.
`I must say, I don't think you need send the servants after me,' she burst out.
`My God!' he exploded. `Where have you been, woman, You've been gone hours, hours, and in a storm like this! What the hell do you go to that-bloody wood for? What have you been up to? It's hours even since the rain stopped, hours! Do you know what time it is? You're enough to drive anybody mad. Where have you been? What in the name of hell have you been doing?'
`And what if I don't choose to tell you?' She pulled her hat from her head and shook her hair.
He lied at her with his eyes bulging14, and yellow coming into the whites. It was very bad for him to get into these rages: Mrs Bolton had a weary time with him, for days after. Connie felt a sudden qualm.
But really!' she said, milder. `Anyone would think I'd been I don't know where! I just sat in the hut during all the storm, and made myself a little fire, and was happy.'
She spoke now easily. After all, why work him up any more!
He looked at her suspiciously.
And look at your hair!' he said; `look at yourself!'
`Yes!' she replied calmly. `I ran out in the rain with no clothes on.'
He stared at her speechless.
`You must be mad!' he said.
`Why? To like a shower bath from the rain?'
`And how did you dry yourself?'
`On an old towel and at the fire.'
He still stared at her in a dumbfounded way.
`And supposing anybody came,' he said.
`Who would come?'
`Who? Why, anybody! And Mellors. Does he come? He must come in the evenings.'
`Yes, he came later, when it had cleared up, to feed the pheasants with corn.'
She spoke with amazing nonchalance15. Mrs Bolton, who was listening in the next room, heard in sheer admiration16. To think a woman could carry it off so naturally!
`And suppose he'd come while you were running about in the rain with nothing on, like a maniac17?'
`I suppose he'd have had the fright of his life, and cleared out as fast as he could.'
Clifford still stared at her transfixed. What he thought in his under-consciousness he would never know. And he was too much taken aback to form one clear thought in his upper consciousness. He just simply accepted what she said, in a sort of blank. And he admired her. He could not help admiring her. She looked so flushed and handsome and smooth: love smooth.
`At least,' he said, subsiding19, `you'll be lucky if you've got off without a severe cold.'
`Oh, I haven't got a cold,' she replied. She was thinking to herself of the other man's words: Tha's got the nicest woman's arse of anybody! She wished, she dearly wished she could tell Clifford that this had been said her, during the famous thunderstorm. However! She bore herself rather like an offended queen, and went upstairs to change.
That evening, Clifford wanted to be nice to her. He was reading one of the latest scientific-religious books: he had a streak20 of a spurious sort of religion in him, and was egocentrically concerned with the future of his own ego21. It was like his habit to make conversation to Connie about some book, since the conversation between them had to be made, almost chemically. They had almost chemically to concoct22 it in their heads.
`What do you think of this, by the way?' he said, reaching for his book. `You'd have no need to cool your ardent23 body by running out in the rain, if only we have a few more aeons of evolution behind us. Ah, here it is!---"The universe shows us two aspects: on one side it is physically24 wasting, on the other it is spiritually ascending25."'
Connie listened, expecting more. But Clifford was waiting. She looked at him in surprise.
`And if it spiritually ascends,' she said, `what does it leave down below, in the place where its tail used to be?'
`Ah!' he said. `Take the man for what he means. Ascending is the opposite of his wasting, I presume.'
`Spiritually blown out, so to speak!'
`No, but seriously, without joking: do you think there is anything in it?'
She looked at him again.
`Physically wasting?' she said. `I see you getting fatter, and I'm sot wasting myself. Do you think the sun is smaller than he used to be? He's not to me. And I suppose the apple Adam offered Eve wasn't really much bigger, if any, than one of our orange pippins. Do you think it was?'
`Well, hear how he goes on: "It is thus slowly passing, with a slowness inconceivable in our measures of time, to new creative conditions, amid which the physical world, as we at present know it, will he represented by a ripple28 barely to be distinguished29 from nonentity30."'
She listened with a glisten31 of amusement. All sorts of improper32 things suggested themselves. But she only said:
`What silly hocus-pocus! As if his little conceited33 consciousness could know what was happening as slowly as all that! It only means he's a physical failure on the earth, so he wants to make the whole universe a physical failure. Priggish little impertinence!'
`Oh, but listen! Don't interrupt the great man's solemn words!---"The present type of order in the world has risen from an unimaginable part, and will find its grave in an unimaginable future. There remains34 the inexhaustive realm of abstract forms, and creativity with its shifting character ever determined afresh by its own creatures, and God, upon whose wisdom all forms of order depend."---There, that's how he winds up!'
Connie sat listening contemptuously.
`He's spiritually blown out,' she said. `What a lot of stuff! Unnimaginables, and types of order in graves, and realms of abstract forms, and creativity with a shifty character, and God mixed up with forms of order! Why, it's idiotic35!'
`I must say, it is a little vaguely36 conglomerate37, a mixture of gases, so to speak,' said Clifford. `Still, I think there is something in the idea that the universe is physically wasting and spiritually ascending.'
`Do you? Then let it ascend26, so long as it leaves me safely and solidly physically here below.'
`Do you like your physique?' he asked.
`I love it!' And through her mind went the words: It's the nicest, nicest woman's arse as is!
`But that is really rather extraordinary, because there's no denying it's an encumbrance38. But then I suppose a woman doesn't take a supreme39 pleasure in the life of the mind.'
`Supreme pleasure?' she said, looking up at him. `Is that sort of idiocy40 the supreme pleasure of the life of the mind? No thank you! Give me the body. I believe the life of the body is a greater reality than the life of the mind: when the body is really wakened to life. But so many people, like your famous wind-machine, have only got minds tacked41 on to their physical corpses42.'
He looked at her in wonder.
`The life of the body,' he said, `is just the life of the animals.'
`And that's better than the life of professional corpses. But it's not true! the human body is only just coming to real life. With the Greeks it gave a lovely flicker43, then Plato and Aristotle killed it, and Jesus finished it off. But now the body is coming really to life, it is really rising from the tomb. And It will be a lovely, lovely life in the lovely universe, the life of the human body.'
`My dear, you speak as if you were ushering44 it all in! True, you am going away on a holiday: but don't please be quite so indecently elated about it. Believe me, whatever God there is is slowly eliminating the guts45 and alimentary46 system from the human being, to evolve a higher, more spiritual being.'
`Why should I believe you, Clifford, when I feel that whatever God there is has at last wakened up in my guts, as you call them, and is rippling47 so happily there, like dawn. Why should I believe you, when I feel so very much the contrary?'
`Oh, exactly! And what has caused this extraordinary change in you? running out stark48 naked in the rain, and playing Bacchante? desire for sensation, or the anticipation49 of going to Venice?'
`Both! Do you think it is horrid50 of me to be so thrilled at going off?' she said.
`Rather horrid to show it so plainly.'
`Then I'll hide it.'
`Oh, don't trouble! You almost communicate a thrill to me. I almost feel that it is I who am going off.'
`Well, why don't you come?'
`We've gone over all that. And as a matter of fact, I suppose your greatest thrill comes from being able to say a temporary farewell to all this. Nothing so thrilling, for the moment, as Good-bye-to-all!---But every parting means a meeting elsewhere. And every meeting is a new bondage51.'
`I'm not going to enter any new bondages.'
`Don't boast, while the gods are listening,' he said.
She pulled up short.
`No! I won't boast!' she said.
But she was thrilled, none the less, to be going off: to feel bonds snap. She couldn't help it.
Clifford, who couldn't sleep, gambled all night with Mrs Bolton, till she was too sleepy almost to live.
And the day came round for Hilda to arrive. Connie had arranged with Mellors that if everything promised well for their night together, she would hang a green shawl out of the window. If there were frustration52, a red one.
Mrs Bolton helped Connie to pack.
`It will be so good for your Ladyship to have a change.'
`I think it will. You don't mind having Sir Clifford on your hands alone for a time, do you?'
`Oh no! I can manage him quite all right. I mean, I can do all he needs me to do. Don't you think he's better than he used to be?'
`Oh much! You do wonders with him.'
`Do I though! But men are all alike: just babies, and you have to flatter them and wheedle53 them and let them think they're having their own way. Don't you find it so, my Lady?'
`I'm afraid I haven't much experience.'
Connie paused in her occupation.
`Even your husband, did you have to manage him, and wheedle him like a baby?' she asked, looking at the other woman.
Mrs Bolton paused too.
`Well!' she said. `I had to do a good bit of coaxing54, with him too. But he always knew what I was after, I must say that. But he generally gave in to me.'
`He was never the lord and master thing?'
`No! At least there'd be a look in his eyes sometimes, and then I knew I'd got to give in. But usually he gave in to me. No, he was never lord and master. But neither was I. I knew when I could go no further with him, and then I gave in: though it cost me a good bit, sometimes.'
`And what if you had held out against him?'
`Oh, I don't know, I never did. Even when he was in the wrong, if he was fixed18, I gave in. You see, I never wanted to break what was between us. And if you really set your will against a man, that finishes it. If you care for a man, you have to give in to him once he's really determined; whether you're in the right or not, you have to give in. Else you break something. But I must say, Ted2 'ud give in to me sometimes, when I was set on a thing, and in the wrong. So I suppose it cuts both ways.'
`And that's how you are with all your patients?' asked Connie.
`Oh, That's different. I don't care at all, in the same way. I know what's good for them, or I try to, and then I just contrive55 to manage them for their own good. It's not like anybody as you're really fond of. It's quite different. Once you've been really fond of a man, you can be affectionate to almost any man, if he needs you at all. But it's not the same thing. You don't really care. I doubt, once you've really cared, if you can ever really care again.'
These words frightened Connie.
`Do you think one can only care once?' she asked.
`Or never. Most women never care, never begin to. They don't know what it means. Nor men either. But when I see a woman as cares, my heart stands still for her.'
`And do you think men easily take offence?'
`Yes! If you wound them on their pride. But aren't women the same? Only our two prides are a bit different.'
Connie pondered this. She began again to have some misgiving56 about her gag away. After all, was she not giving her man the go-by, if only for a short time? And he knew it. That's why he was so queer and sarcastic57.
Still! the human existence is a good deal controlled by the machine of external circumstance. She was in the power of this machine. She couldn't extricate58 herself all in five minutes. She didn't even want to.
Hilda arrived in good time on Thursday morning, in a nimble two-seater car, with her suit-case strapped59 firmly behind. She looked as demure60 and maidenly61 as ever, but she had the same will of her own. She had the very hell of a will of her own, as her husband had found out. But the husband was now divorcing her.
Yes, she even made it easy for him to do that, though she had no lover. For the time being, she was `off' men. She was very well content to be quite her own mistress: and mistress of her two children, whom she was going to bring up `properly', whatever that may mean.
Connie was only allowed a suit-case, also. But she had sent on a trunk to her father, who was going by train. No use taking a car to Venice. And Italy much too hot to motor in, in July. He was going comfortably by train. He had just come down from Scotland.
So, like a demure arcadian field-marshal, Hilda arranged the material part of the journey. She and Connie sat in the upstairs room, chatting.
`But Hilda!' said Connie, a little frightened. `I want to stay near here tonight. Not here: near here!'
Hilda fixed her sister with grey, inscrutable eyes. She seemed so calm: and she was so often furious.
`Where, near here?' she asked softly.
`Well, you know I love somebody, don't you?'
`I gathered there was something.'
`Well he lives near here, and I want to spend this last night with him must! I've promised.'
Connie became insistent62.
Hilda bent63 her Minerva-like head in silence. Then she looked up.
`Do you want to tell me who he is?' she said.
`He's our game-keeper,' faltered64 Connie, and she flushed vividly65, like a shamed child.
`Connie!' said Hilda, lifting her nose slightly with disgust: a she had from her mother.
`I know: but he's lovely really. He really understands tenderness,' said Connie, trying to apologize for him.
Hilda, like a ruddy, rich-coloured Athena, bowed her head and pondered She was really violently angry. But she dared not show it, because Connie, taking after her father, would straight away become obstreperous66 and unmanageable.
It was true, Hilda did not like Clifford: his cool assurance that he was somebody! She thought he made use of Connie shamefully67 and impudently69. She had hoped her sister would leave him. But, being solid Scotch70 middle class, she loathed71 any `lowering' of oneself or the family. She looked up at last.
`You'll regret it,' she said,
`I shan't,' cried Connie, flushed red. `He's quite the exception. I really love him. He's lovely as a lover.'
Hilda still pondered.
`You'll get over him quite soon,' she said, `and live to be ashamed of yourself because of him.'
`I shan't! I hope I'm going to have a child of his.'
`Connie!' said Hilda, hard as a hammer-stroke, and pale with anger.
`I shall if I possibly can. I should be fearfully proud if I had a child by him.'
It was no use talking to her. Hilda pondered.
`And doesn't Clifford suspect?' she said.
`Oh no! Why should he?'
`I've no doubt you've given him plenty of occasion for suspicion,' said Hilda.
`Not it all.'
`And tonight's business seems quite gratuitous72 folly73. Where does the man live?'
`In the cottage at the other end of the wood.'
`Is he a bachelor?'
`No! His wife left him.'
`How old?'
`I don't know. Older than me.'
Hilda became more angry at every reply, angry as her mother used to be, in a kind of paroxysm. But still she hid it.
`I would give up tonight's escapade if I were you,' she advised calmly.
`I can't! I must stay with him tonight, or I can't go to Venice at all. I just can't.'
Hilda heard her father over again, and she gave way, out of mere74 diplomacy75. And she consented to drive to Mansfield, both of them, to dinner, to bring Connie back to the lane-end after dark, and to fetch her from the lane-end the next morning, herself sleeping in Mansfield, only half an hour away, good going.
But she was furious. She stored it up against her sister, this balk76 in her plans.
Connie flung an emerald-green shawl over her window-sill.
On the strength of her anger, Hilda warmed toward Clifford.
After all, he had a mind. And if he had no sex, functionally77, all the better: so much the less to quarrel about! Hilda wanted no more of that sex business, where men became nasty, selfish little horrors. Connie really had less to put up with than many women if she did but know it.
And Clifford decided78 that Hilda, after all, was a decidedly intelligent woman, and would make a man a first-rate helpmate, if he were going in for politics for example. Yes, she had none of Connie's silliness, Connie was more a child: you had to make excuses for her, because she was not altogether dependable.
There was an early cup of tea in the hall, where doors were open to let in the sun. Everybody seemed to be panting a little.
`Good-bye, Connie girl! Come back to me safely.'
`Good-bye, Clifford! Yes, I shan't be long.' Connie was almost tender.
`Good-bye, Hilda! You will keep an eye on her, won't you?'
`I'll even keep two!' said Hilda. `She shan't go very far astray.'
`It's a promise!'
`Good-bye, Mrs Bolton! I know you'll look after Sir Clifford nobly.'
`I'll do what I can, your Ladyship.'
`And write to me if there is any news, and tell me about Sir Clifford, how he is.'
`Very good, your Ladyship, I will. And have a good time, and come back and cheer us up.'
Everybody waved. The car went off Connie looked back and saw Clifford, sitting at the top of the steps in his house-chair. After all, he was her husband: Wragby was her home: circumstance had done it.
Mrs Chambers79 held the gate and wished her ladyship a happy holiday. The car slipped out of the dark spinney that masked the park, on to the highroad where the colliers were trailing home. Hilda turned to the Crosshill Road, that was not a main road, but ran to Mansfield. Connie put on goggles80. They ran beside the railway, which was in a cutting below them. Then they crossed the cutting on a bridge.
`That's the lane to the cottage!' said Connie.
Hilda glanced at it impatiently.
`It's a frightful81 pity we can't go straight off!' she said. We could have been in Pall82 Mall by nine o'clock.'
`I'm sorry for your sake,' said Connie, from behind her goggles.
They were soon at Mansfield, that once-romantic, now utterly83 disheartening colliery town. Hilda stopped at the hotel named in the motor-car book, and took a room. The whole thing was utterly uninteresting, and she was almost too angry to talk. However, Connie had to tell her something of the man's history.
`He! He! What name do you call him by? You only say he,' said Hilda.
`I've never called him by any name: nor he me: which is curious, when you come to think of it. Unless we say Lady Jane and John Thomas. But his name is Oliver Mellors.'
`And how would you like to be Mrs Oliver Mellors, instead of Lady Chatterley?'
`I'd love it.'
There was nothing to be done with Connie. And anyhow, if the man had been a lieutenant84 in the army in India for four or five years, he must be more or less presentable. Apparently85 he had character. Hilda began to relent a little.
`But you'll be through with him in awhile,' she said, `and then you'll be ashamed of having been connected with him. One can't mix up with the working people.'
`But you are such a socialist86! you're always on the side of the working classes.'
`I may be on their side in a political crisis, but being on their side makes me know how impossible it is to mix one's life with theirs. Not out of snobbery87, but just because the whole rhythm is different.'
Hilda had lived among the real political intellectuals, so she was disastrously88 unanswerable.
The nondescript evening in the hotel dragged out, and at last they had a nondescript dinner. Then Connie slipped a few things into a little silk bag, and combed her hair once more.
`After all, Hilda,' she said, `love can be wonderful: when you feel you live, and are in the very middle of creation.' It was almost like bragging89 on her part.
`I suppose every mosquito feels the same,' said Hilda. `Do you think it does? How nice for it!'
The evening was wonderfully clear and long-lingering, even in the small town. It would be half-light all night. With a face like a mask, from resentment90, Hilda started her car again, and the two sped back on their traces, taking the other road, through Bolsover.
Connie wore her goggles and disguising cap, and she sat in silence. Because of Hilda's Opposition91, she was fiercely on the sidle of the man, she would stand by him through thick and thin.
They had their head-lights on, by the time they passed Crosshill, and the small lit-up train that chuffed past in the cutting made it seem like real night. Hilda had calculated the turn into the lane at the bridge-end. She slowed up rather suddenly and swerved92 off the road, the lights glaring white into the grassy93, overgrown lane. Connie looked out. She saw a shadowy figure, and she opened the door.
`Here we are!' she said softly.
But Hilda had switched off the lights, and was absorbed backing, making the turn.
`Nothing on the bridge?' she asked shortly. `You're all right,' said the mall's voice. She backed on to the bridge, reversed, let the car run forwards a few yards along the road, then backed into the lane, under a wych-elm tree, crushing the grass and bracken. Then all the lights went out. Connie stepped down. The man stood under the trees.
`Did you wait long?' Connie asked.
`Not so very,' he replied.
They both waited for Hilda to get out. But Hilda shut the door of the car and sat tight.
`This is my sister Hilda. Won't you come and speak to her? Hilda! This is Mr Mellors.'
The keeper lifted his hat, but went no nearer.
`Do walk down to the cottage with us, Hilda,' Connie pleaded. `It's not far.'
`What about the car?'
`People do leave them on the lanes. You have the key.'
Hilda was silent, deliberating. Then she looked backwards94 down the lane.
`Can I back round the bush?' she said.
`Oh yes!' said the keeper.
She backed slowly round the curve, out of sight of the road, locked the car, and got down. It was night, but luminous95 dark. The hedges rose high and wild, by the unused lane, and very dark seeming. There was a fresh sweet scent96 on the air. The keeper went ahead, then came Connie, then Hilda, and in silence. He lit up the difficult places with a flash-light torch, and they went on again, while an owl27 softly hooted98 over the oaks, and Flossie padded silently around. Nobody could speak. There was nothing to say.
At length Connie saw the yellow light of the house, and her heart beat fast. She was a little frightened. They trailed on, still in Indian file.
He unlocked the door and preceded them into the warm but bare little room. The fire burned low and red in the grate. The table was set with two plates and two glasses on a proper white table-cloth for Once. Hilda shook her hair and looked round the bare, cheerless room. Then she summoned her courage and looked at the man.
He was moderately tall, and thin, and she thought him good-looking. He kept a quiet distance of his own, and seemed absolutely unwilling99 to speak.
`Do sit down, Hilda,' said Connie.
`Do!' he said. `Can I make you tea or anything, or will you drink a glass of beer? It's moderately cool.'
`Beer!' said Connie.
`Beer for me, please!' said Hilda, with a mock sort of shyness. He looked at her and blinked.
He took a blue jug100 and tramped to the scullery. When he came back with the beer, his face had changed again.
Connie sat down by the door, and Hilda sat in his seat, with the back to the wall, against the window corner.
`That is his chair,' said Connie softly.' And Hilda rose as if it had burnt her.
`Sit yer still, sit yer still! Ta'e ony cheer as yo'n a mind to, none of us is th' big bear,' he said, with complete equanimity101.
And he brought Hilda a glass, and poured her beer first from the blue jug.
`As for cigarettes,' he said, `I've got none, but 'appen you've got your own. I dunna smoke, mysen. Shall y' eat summat?' He turned direct to Connie. `Shall t'eat a smite102 o' summat, if I bring it thee? Tha can usually do wi' a bite.' He spoke the vernacular103 with a curious calm assurance, as if he were the landlord of the Inn.
`What is there?' asked Connie, flushing.
`Boiled ham, cheese, pickled wa'nuts, if yer like.---Nowt much.'
`Yes,' said Connie. `Won't you, Hilda?'
Hilda looked up at him.
`Why do you speak Yorkshire?' she said softly.
`That! That's non Yorkshire, that's Derby.'
He looked back at her with that faint, distant grin.
`Derby, then! Why do you speak Derby? You spoke natural English at first.'
`Did Ah though? An' canna Ah change if Ah'm a mind to 't? Nay104, nay, let me talk Derby if it suits me. If yo'n nowt against it.'
`It sounds a little affected105,' said Hilda.
`Ay, 'appen so! An' up i' Tevershall yo'd sound affected.' He looked again at her, with a queer calculating distance, along his cheek-bone: as if to say: Yi, an' who are you?
He tramped away to the pantry for the food.
The sisters sat in silence. He brought another plate, and knife and fork. The he said:
`An' if it's the same to you, I s'll ta'e my coat off like I allers do.'
And he took off his coat, and hung it on the peg106, then sat down to table in his shirt-sleeves: a shirt of thin, cream-coloured flannel107.
`'Elp yerselves!' he said. `'Elp yerselves! Dunna wait f'r axin'!' He cut the bread, then sat motionless. Hilda felt, as Connie once used to, his power of silence and distance. She saw his smallish, sensitive, loose hand on the table. He was no simple working man, not he: he was acting108! acting!
`Still!' she said, as she took a little cheese. `It would be more natural if you spoke to us in normal English, not in vernacular.'
He looked at her, feeling her devil of a will.
`Would it?' he said in the normal English. `Would it? Would anything that was said between you and me be quite natural, unless you said you wished me to hell before your sister ever saw me again: and unless I said something almost as unpleasant back again? Would anything else be natural?'
`Oh yes!' said Hilda. `Just good manners would be quite natural.'
`Second nature, so to speak!' he said: then he began to laugh. `Nay,' he said. `I'm weary o' manners. Let me be!'
Hilda was frankly109 baffled and furiously annoyed. After all, he might show that he realized he was being honoured. Instead of which, with his play-acting and lordly airs, he seemed to think it was he who was conferring the honour. Just impudence110! Poor misguided Connie, in the man's clutches!
The three ate in silence. Hilda looked to see what his table-manners were like. She could not help realizing that he was instinctively111 much more delicate and well-bred than herself. She had a certain Scottish clumsiness. And moreover, he had all the quiet self-contained assurance of the English, no loose edges. It would be very difficult to get the better of him.
But neither would he get the better of her.
`And do you really think,' she said, a little more humanly, `it's worth the risk.'
`Is what worth what risk?'
`This escapade with my sister.'
He flickered112 his irritating grin.
`Yo' maun ax 'er!' Then he looked at Connie.
`Tha comes o' thine own accord, lass, doesn't ter? It's non me as forces thee?'
Connie looked at Hilda.
`I wish you wouldn't cavil113, Hilda.'
`Naturally I don't want to. But someone has to think about things. You've got to have some sort of continuity in your life. You can't just go making a mess.'
There was a moment's pause.
`Eh, continuity!' he said. `An' what by that? What continuity ave yer got i' your life? I thought you was gettin' divorced. What continuity's that? Continuity o' yer own stubbornness. I can see that much. An' what good's it goin' to do yer? You'll be sick o' yer continuity afore yer a fat sight older. A stubborn woman an er own self-will: ay, they make a fast continuity, they do. Thank heaven, it isn't me as `as got th' 'andlin' of yer!'
`What right have you to speak like that to me?' said Hilda.
`Right! What right ha' yo' ter start harnessin' other folks i' your continuity? Leave folks to their own continuities.'
`My dear man, do you think I am concerned with you?' said Hilda softly.
`Ay,' he said. `Yo' are. For it's a force-put. Yo' more or less my sister-in-law.'
`Still far from it, I assure you.
`Not a' that far, I assure you. I've got my own sort o' continuity, back your life! Good as yours, any day. An' if your sister there comes ter me for a bit o' cunt an' tenderness, she knows what she's after. She's been in my bed afore: which you 'aven't, thank the Lord, with your continuity.' There was a dead pause, before he added: `---Eh, I don't wear me breeches arse-forrards. An' if I get a windfall, I thank my stars. A man gets a lot of enjoyment114 out o' that lass theer, which is more than anybody gets out o' th' likes o' you. Which is a pity, for you might appen a' bin115 a good apple, 'stead of a handsome crab116. Women like you needs proper graftin'.'
He was looking at her with an odd, flickering117 smile, faintly sensual and appreciative118.
`And men like you,' she said, `ought to be segregated119: justifying120 their own vulgarity and selfish lust121.'
`Ay, ma'am! It's a mercy there's a few men left like me. But you deserve what you get: to be left severely122 alone.'
Hilda had risen and gone to the door. He rose and took his coat from the peg.
`I can find my way quite well alone,' she said.
`I doubt you can't,' he replied easily.
They tramped in ridiculous file down the lane again, in silence. An owl still hooted. He knew he ought to shoot it.
The car stood untouched, a little dewy. Hilda got in and started the engine. The other two waited.
`All I mean,' she said from her entrenchment123, `is that I doubt if you'll find it's been worth it, either of you!'
`One man's meat is another man's poison,' he said, out of the darkness. `But it's meat an' drink to me.
The lights flared124 out.
`Don't make me wait in the morning,'
`No, I won't. Goodnight!'
The car rose slowly on to the highroad, then slid swiftly away, leaving the night silent.
Connie timidly took his arm, and they went down the lane. He did not speak. At length she drew him to a standstill.
`Kiss me!' she murmured.
`Nay, wait a bit! Let me simmer down,' he said.
That amused her. She still kept hold of his arm, and they went quickly down the lane, in silence. She was so glad to be with him, just now. She shivered, knowing that Hilda might have snatched her away. He was inscrutably silent.
When they were in the cottage again, she almost jumped with pleasure, that she should be free of her sister.
`But you were horrid to Hilda,' she said to him.
`She should ha' been slapped in time.'
`But why? and she's so nice.'
He didn't answer, went round doing the evening chores, with a quiet, inevitable125 sort of motion. He was outwardly angry, but not with her. So Connie felt. And his anger gave him a peculiar126 handsomeness, an inwardness and glisten that thrilled her and made her limbs go molten.
Still he took no notice of her.
Till he sat down and began to unlace his boots. Then he looked up at her from under his brows, on which the anger still sat firm.
`Shan't you go up?' he said. `There's a candle!'
He jerked his head swiftly to indicate the candle burning on the table. She took it obediently, and he watched the full curve of her hips127 as she went up the first stairs.
It was a night of sensual passion, in which she was a little startled and almost unwilling: yet pierced again with piercing thrills of sensuality, different, sharper, more terrible than the thrills of tenderness, but, at the moment, more desirable. Though a little frightened, she let him have his way, and the reckless, shameless sensuality shook her to her foundations, stripped her to the very last, and made a different woman of her. It was not really love. It was not voluptuousness129. It was sensuality sharp and searing as fire, burning the soul to tinder.
Burning out the shames, the deepest, oldest shames, in the most secret places. It cost her an effort to let him have his way and his will of her. She had to be a passive, consenting thing, like a slave, a physical slave. Yet the passion licked round her, consuming, and when the sensual flame of it pressed through her bowels130 and breast, she really thought she was dying: yet a poignant131, marvellous death.
She had often wondered what Abélard meant, when he said that in their year of love he and Hélo?se had passed through all the stages and refinements132 of passion. The same thing, a thousand years ago: ten thousand years ago! The same on the Greek vases, everywhere! The refinements of passion, the extravagances of sensuality! And necessary, forever necessary, to burn out false shames and smelt133 out the heaviest ore of the body into purity. With the fire of sheer sensuality.
In the short summer night she learnt so much. She would have thought a woman would have died of shame. Instead of which, the shame died. Shame, which is fear: the deep Organic shame, the old, old physical fear which crouches134 in the bodily roots of us, and can only be chased away by the sensual fire, at last it was roused up and routed by the phallic hunt of the man, and she came to the very heart of the jungle of herself. She felt, now, she had come to the real bed-rock of her nature, and was essentially135 shameless. She was her sensual self, naked and unashamed. She felt a triumph, almost a vainglory. So! That was how it was! That was life! That was how oneself really was! There was nothing left to disguise or be ashamed of. She shared her ultimate nakedness with a man, another being.
And what a reckless devil the man was! really like a devil! One had to be strong to bear him. But it took some getting at, the core of the physical jungle, the last and deepest recess136 of organic shame. The phallos alone could explore it. And how he had pressed in on her!
And how, in fear, she had hated it. But how she had really wanted it! She knew now. At the bottom of her soul, fundamentally, she had needed this phallic hunting Out, she had secretly wanted it, and she had believed that she would never get it. Now suddenly there it was, and a man was sharing her last and final nakedness, she was shameless.
What liars137 poets and everybody were! They made one think one wanted sentiment. When what one supremely138 wanted was this piercing, consuming, rather awful sensuality. To find a man who dared do it, without shame or sin or final misgiving! If he had been ashamed afterwards, and made one feel ashamed, how awful! What a pity most men are so doggy, a bit shameful68, like Clifford! Like Michaelis even! Both sensually a bit doggy and humiliating. The supreme pleasure of the mind! And what is that to a woman? What is it, really, to the man either! He becomes merely messy and doggy, even in his mind. It needs sheer sensuality even to purify and quicken the mind. Sheer fiery139 sensuality, not messiness.
Ah, God, how rare a thing a man is! They are all dogs that trot140 and sniff141 and copulate. To have found a man who was not afraid and not ashamed! She looked at him now, sleeping so like a wild animal asleep, gone, gone in the remoteness of it. She nestled down, not to be away from him.
Till his rousing waked her completely. He was sitting up in bed, looking down at her. She saw her own nakedness in his eyes, immediate142 knowledge of her. And the fluid, male knowledge of herself seemed to flow to her from his eyes and wrap her voluptuously143. Oh, how voluptuous128 and lovely it was to have limbs and body half-asleep, heavy and suffused144 with passion.
`Is it time to wake up?' she said.
`Half past six.'
She had to be at the lane-end at eight. Always, always, always this compulsion on one!
`I might make the breakfast and bring it up here; should I?' he said.
`Oh yes!'
Flossie whimpered gently below. He got up and threw off his pyjamas145, and rubbed himself with a towel. When the human being is full of courage and full of life, how beautiful it is! So she thought, as she watched him in silence.
`Draw the curtain, will you?'
The sun was shining already on the tender green leaves of morning, and the wood stood bluey-fresh, in the nearness. She sat up in bed, looking dreamily out through the dormer window, her naked arms pushing her naked breasts together. He was dressing146 himself. She was half-dreaming of life, a life together with him: just a life.
He was going, fleeing from her dangerous, crouching147 nakedness.
`Have I lost my nightie altogether?' she said.
He pushed his hand down in the bed, and pulled out the bit of flimsy silk.
`I knowed I felt silk at my ankles,' he said.
But the night-dress was slit148 almost in two.
`Never mind!' she said. `It belongs here, really. I'll leave it.'
`Ay, leave it, I can put it between my legs at night, for company. There's no name nor mark on it, is there?'
She slipped on the torn thing, and sat dreamily looking out of the window. The window was Open, the air of morning drifted in, and the sound of birds. Birds flew continuously past. Then she saw Flossie roaming out. It was morning.
Downstairs she heard him making the fire, pumping water, going out at the back door. By and by came the smell of bacon, and at length he came upstairs with a huge black tray that would only just go through the door. He set the tray on the bed, and poured out the tea. Connie squatted149 in her torn nightdress, and fell on her food hungrily. He sat on the one chair, with his plate on his knees.
`How good it is!' she said. `How nice to have breakfast together.'
He ate in silence, his mind on the time that was quickly passing. That made her remember.
`Oh, how I wish I could stay here with you, and Wragby were a million miles away! It's Wragby I'm going away from really. You know that, don't you?'
`Ay!'
`And you promise we will live together and have a life together, you and me! You promise me, don't you?'
`Ay! When we can.'
`Yes! And we will! we will, won't we?' she leaned over, making the tea spill, catching150 his wrist.
`Ay!' he said, tidying up the tea.
`We can't possibly not live together now, can we?' she said appealingly.
He looked up at her with his flickering grin.
`No!' he said. `Only you've got to start in twenty-five minutes.'
`Have I?' she cried. Suddenly he held up a warning finger, and rose to his feet.
Flossie had given a short bark, then three loud sharp yaps of warning.
Silent, he put his plate on the tray and went downstairs. Constance heard him go down the garden path. A bicycle bell tinkled151 outside there.
`Morning, Mr Mellors! Registered letter!'
`Oh ay! Got a pencil?'
`Here y'are!'
There was a pause.
`Canada!' said the stranger's voice.
`Ay! That's a mate o' mine out there in British Columbia. Dunno what he's got to register.'
`'Appen sent y'a fortune, like.'
`More like wants summat.'
Pause.
`Well! Lovely day again!'
`Ay!'
`Morning!'
`Morning!'
After a time he came upstairs again, looking a little angry.
`Postman,' he said.
`Very early!' she replied.
`Rural round; he's mostly here by seven, when he does come.
`Did your mate send you a fortune?'
`No! Only some photographs and papers about a place out there in British Columbia.'
`Would you go there?'
`I thought perhaps we might.'
`Oh yes! I believe it's lovely!' But he was put out by the postman's coming.
`Them damn bikes, they're on you afore you know where you are. I hope he twigged152 nothing.'
`After all, what could he twig153!'
`You must get up now, and get ready. I'm just goin' ter look round outside.'
She saw him go reconnoitring into the lane, with dog and gun. She went downstairs and washed, and was ready by the time he came back, with the few things in the little silk bag.
He locked up, and they set off, but through the wood, not down the lane. He was being wary154.
`Don't you think one lives for times like last night?' she said to him.
`Ay! But there's the rest o'times to think on,' he replied, rather short.
They plodded on down the overgrown path, he in front, in silence.
`And we will live together and make a life together, won't we?' she pleaded.
`Ay!' he replied, striding on without looking round. `When t' time comes! Just now you're off to Venice or somewhere.'
She followed him dumbly, with sinking heart. Oh, now she was wae to go!
At last he stopped.
`I'll just strike across here,' he said, pointing to the right.
But she flung her arms round his neck, and clung to him.
`But you'll keep the tenderness for me, won't you?' she whispered. `I loved last night. But you'll keep the tenderness for me, won't you?'
He kissed her and held her close for a moment. Then he sighed, and kissed her again.
`I must go an' look if th' car's there.'
He strode over the low brambles and bracken, leaving a trail through the fern. For a minute or two he was gone. Then he came striding back.
`Car's not there yet,' he said. `But there's the baker's cart on t' road.'
He seemed anxious and troubled.
`Hark!'
They heard a car softly hoot97 as it came nearer. It slowed up on the bridge.
She plunged155 with utter mournfulness in his track through the fern, and came to a huge holly156 hedge. He was just behind her.
`Here! Go through there!' he said, pointing to a gap. `I shan't come out.
She looked at him in despair. But he kissed her and made her go. She crept in sheer misery157 through the holly and through the wooden fence, stumbled down the little ditch and up into the lane, where Hilda was just getting out of the car in vexation.
`Why you're there!' said Hilda. `Where's he?'
`He's not coming.'
Connie's face was running with tears as she got into the car with her little bag. Hilda snatched up the motoring helmet with the disfiguring goggles.
`Put it on!' she said. And Connie pulled on the disguise, then the long motoring coat, and she sat down, a goggling158 inhuman159, unrecognizable creature. Hilda started the car with a businesslike motion. They heaved out of the lane, and were away down the road. Connie had looked round, but there was no sight of him. Away! Away! She sat in bitter tears. The parting had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly. It was like death.
`Thank goodness you'll be away from him for some time!' said Hilda, turning to avoid Crosshill village.
康妮到家后，忍受了一番盘洁。午茶时候出去了的克利福，到暴风雨开始时才回去，夫人哪儿去了？谁也不知道。只有主太想出她是到林中散步去了。在这暴风雨里到林中去！……这一次，克利福却神经兴奋地狂乱起来了。电光闪一下，他惊跳一下，雷声轰一下，他失神一下。他望着冰冷的大雷雨。仿佛世界的末日到了，他愈来愈狂躁起来。
波太太试着去安慰他。
“她会躲避在林中的小屋里的。放心罢。夫人不会有什么的。”
“在这种雷雨里，我不喜欢她待在林中！我压根儿不喜欢她到林中去！现在她已经出去两个多小时了，好是什么时候出去的？”
“你回家以前不久出去的。”
“我没有看见她在花园里。上帝知道她在哪儿和发生了什么事！”
“啊，不会发生什么事的。你看罢。等雨一停了她马上就会回来的。只是雨把她阻住罢了。”
但是雨已停了，夫人却没有马上回来，时间过着，夕阳出来发着最后的黄光了，依旧没有夫人的影子，夕阳沉下去了，昏色渐渐地深了，晚餐的第一次也敲了。
“再等也没有用了！”克利福在狂躁中说，“我要打发非尔德或白蒂斯找她去。”
“啊，不要这样！”波太太喊道，“他们将瞎想发生了自杀或什么大事。网，不要让人讲闲话……让我到小屋那边去看看她在万：在。我找得着她。”
这样劝了一会，克利福准她去了。
这样，康妮在马路上碰见了，脸色苍白，迟疑地不敢前进。
“不要怪我来找你，夫人！克利福男爵狂躁得那神样儿！他以为你一定是给雷打死了，或给一株树倒下来压死了。他决意要订发非尔德和白蒂斯来林中找尸首呢，这一宋，我想还是我来好，别惊动了所有的仆人。
她不安地说着，她看得见康妮的脸上还带着热情的光润和梦影，并且她觉得她是对她发怒的。
“很对！”康妮说，她再也找不着什么话说了。
两个妇人在那湿世界里缓缓地前进。两个人都不t兑话。一些大水滴唤亮地在林中滴着。当他们到了大花园里时，康妮在前边越是着。波太大有点喘不过气来，她日见肥胖了。
“克利福这种大惊小怪，真是愚蠢！”康妮最后恼怒地说，其实她只是对自己说着。
“唉！你知道男子们是怎样的！他们是喜欢狂躁。但是一见了夫人就会好的。”
康妮很恼怒波太大知道了她的秘密：因为她无疑是知道的。
突然地，康妮在小径上站着了。
“真是岂有此理，人们竟敢来追的踪！”她说，睛眼发着光。
“啊！夫人哟，别这么说！巍”
他惊愕地望着她。
“肉体的生命。”他说，不过是禽兽的生命。”
“甚至这样也好过煞有介事的死尸的生命。不过你的话是不对的！人类的肉体现在不过才开始生活。在古代希腊民族里，肉体生命曾焕发过，不久便给柏拉图和亚里斯多德毁灭了，从坟墓中地站在那儿，低着头，毕竟呢，她也是个妇人，她是个同盟者。
“啊，好罢！”她说，“既然如此—，我也就没有什么了！”
“但是夫人，你放心罢！你只是在小屋里避雨，那是毫无所谓的。”
她他到了家里。康妮直进克利福的房里去，她对他，对他的苍白紧张的脸孔和突出的两眼，狂怒起来。
“我得告诉你，我想你无需叫仆人来跟踪我的！”她劈头便说。
“我的上帝！”他也暴怒起来，“你这女人上那儿去来？你离去了整整几个钟头，而且在这样的暴风雨里！你到那瘟树林里去弄什么鬼？直到理在你干吗来？雨已停了几个钟头了！几个钟头了！你知道是什么时候了不？你真够使任何人发疯！你上那儿去了？你干吗去了？”
“我要是不愿告诉你又怎么样呢？她拔去了她的帽子，摇着她的头发。
他望着她，他的睛眼突着，白睛膜上起着黄色，这种暴怒一他的害处是很大的：结果是波太太在以后的几天里，没有好过的时间，康妮突然地内疚起来。
“的确！”她说，温和些了，“谁都会奇怪我究竟到哪儿去了！暴风雨到来的时候，我只是坐在小屋里罢了，而且生了一点火，怪快活的。”
她现在安闲地说话了。毕竟，为什么要上添油使他难过呢！我狐疑地望着她。
“瞧瞧你的头发！”他说，“瞧瞧你自己！”
“是的。”她泰然地答道，“我脱光了衣服在雨中奔了一阵。”
他惊愕地望着她。
“你一定是发疯了！”他说。
“为什么？喜欢雨水浴有什么好发疯了地方？”
“你用什么擦干你自己的？
“用一条旧毛巾和火烘干的。”
他老是目瞪口呆地望着她。
“假如有人来了？”
“谁会来？”
“谁？无论谁啊！梅乐士呢？他没有来吗？餐上他是一定到那儿去的。”
“是的，他在雨停了后才来，他是来喂短雉鸡。”
她说话时的从容的态度，是令人惊愕的。在隔房听着的波太太，叹服得五体投地。想想吧，一个妇人竟能这样自然地图旋应变！”
“假如他在你赤裸棵地、疯妇似地在雨中奔窜着的时候来到了？”
“那么我想他定要吓得魂不附体，逃之唯恐不速呢。”
克利福屹然不动地老是望着她。他的下意识里究竟在想什么，他是决不知道的。他太惶无措了，因而他的上意识里也不能构成什么明确的思想，他不能自己的佩服她。她的样子是这么红润，这么美丽，这么光泽：爱的光泽。
“总之，”他说，渐渐平静下来，“假如你没有受惊，得了个大伤风，便算你的幸运了。”
“啊，我没有受惊！”她答道。她心里正在想着那个男子的话：“您有的是最美丽的妇人的臀儿！”她希望，她真上希望她能告诉克利福，在那雷雨交加的时候，有人曾对她这么说过。然而！她却摆了个被件逆了的王后的样儿，到楼上换衣服去了。
那天晚上，克利福想向她讨好起来，他正读着一本最新出的关于科学的宗教的书：他身体里有着一种无诚意的宗教的血脉。他是自私地关心着他的自我的将来的。那象他和康妮间的文学上的谈话一样。因为他们之间的谈话差不多是化学制作出来的。他们差不多在头脑里用化学方法调制他们的谈话。
“喂，你觉得这个怎样？”他说着，把书拿了过来，“假如我们的宇宙里再进化多少时代，你便用不着走到雨中去冷却你的热烈的肉体了。啊，你听罢！——宇宙预示着我们两种光景：一方面，它是物质地耗损着；另一方面，它是精神地上升着。”
康妮等着下文。但是克利福并不读下去。她惊异地望着他。
“假如它是精神地上升着，”她说，“那么下面剩下什么东西呢，下面那个从前的尾巴所在的地方？”
“嗳！”他说，“得留心著者的意思。我想他所谓，‘上升’但是‘耗损’的相反。”
“那么可以说，精神出了毛病，出壳了！”
“唔，正经点，别说笑，你觉得怎样？”
她重新望着他。
“物质地耗损？”她说，“我看你却日见肥胖起来，而我也不见得耗损着我自己。你相信太阳比从前小了些么？我却不。我想亚当献给夏娃的苹果，不见得会比我们的橙子核大，你以为怎样？”
“好罢，听听下文罢：‘宇宙便这样慢馒地过去，电得非我们所能思议，而到了一种新的创造的情境，在这种情境里，我们今日所见的物质世界，将变成一种飘渺的波纹，这种波纹与虚无是无甚分别的。”
她觉得怪可笑地徨着，她心里涌着种种不便说出的话；但是她仅仅说：
“多么愚笨的骗人的鬼话！仿佛他可怜的小小的知觉能知道在那么悠久缓慢的时间里会有什么发生似的！那只是说，他自己是个物质的失败者，所以他想使全宇宙也为一个物质的失败者罢了！胡说乱道的假道学！”
啊，且徨罢！别中断了这伟大的庄重之词：‘目前世界的这种情境，系从一个不能想象的过去中生出来的，并且将在一个不能想象的将来中消灭。剩下的是抽象的无穷尽的王国，自新不息、变化万端的创造力，和主宰大干的聪明上帝。’那，那便是结论！”
康妮轻蔑地听着。
“他是精神出了毛病，出完了。”她说，“多么荒唐！什么‘不可想象。’什么‘世界的消灭’，什么‘万变的创造力’，甚至上帝也凑在一块！这真是白痴说的话！”
“我承认他说得有点模糊，有点象烟幕，”克利福说，”可是，说到宇宙是在物质地耗损，精神地上升，我倒相信是存几分真理的。”
“是么！那么让它上升吧，只要它让我在这下界物质地安全而坚实。”
“你喜欢你的体格么？”他问道。
“我爱我的体格呢！”同时她的心涌起了这句话：“这是世上最美丽的，最美丽的妇人臀儿！”
“但是你这话使我有点惊异。因为格格无疑地是个多余累赘的东西。在我想来，女子在精神生活上是不能享受最高乐趣自勺。”
“最高乐趣？”她望着他说，“难道那种白痴的想法便是精神生活的最高乐趣么！谢谢你罢！我不要这种最高乐趣！我只要肉体，我相信肉体的生命比精神的生命更真实一只要这肉体的确有生命。但是世间许多的人，都和你的著名的风力机器一样，他们的精神仅仅依附在他们的尸首上！”
他惊愕地望着她。
“肉体的生命。”他说，不过是禽兽的生命。”
“甚至这样也好过煞有介事的死尸的生命。不过你的话是不对的！人类的肉体现在不过才开始生活。在古代希腊民族里，肉体生命曾焕发过，不久便给柏拉图和亚里斯多德毁灭了，从坟墓中复活起来了。这人类肉体的生命，将是这美丽的宇宙间的美丽的、美丽的生命！”
“亲爱的，你说得仿佛你正引领着这肉体生命到世界上来了！不错，你要旅行去了，但是请你不要高兴得这样没有分寸，相信你吧，如有个上帝在，管他是什么上帝，他会把人类肉体里的肠胃淘汰了。而使人类变成一个更高尚、更神圣的东西的。”
“为什么我要相信你，克利福？我倒觉得假如有个什么上帝在，他将在我的肠胃里醒觉转来，并且在那里曙光似地幸福的荡漾着。为什么要相信你的话？我所相信的恰恰与你相反！”
“呀！真的？什么使你变得这么异样？是不是因为赤裸裸地在雨中奔了一阵，学了一回古代的烂醉的酒神的女祭司？或者是因为某种感官的欲望？或者是因为要到威尼斯去了？”
“者是原因；为了旅行觉得满腔兴头，难道是可惊怪的么？”她说。
“表现得这么露骨，就未免可怪了。”
“那么我隐藏着就是了。”
“啊，用不着！你兴奋得差不多从事多也兴奋起来了。我差不多觉得是我自己要旅行去了。”
“那么，为什么你不和我一起去呢。”
“理由我们已经说过。不过，我想你的原因，是因为你可以暂时告别这一切了。此刻再也没有比‘告别这一切’更令你兴奋的事了。……但是，凡是出行便必有避返，而且凡是避返便是一种新的关系。”
“我并不想有什么新的关系。”
“不要大言，上帝听着呢。”他说。
“不！我并不大言；”她爽脆地说。
但是她对于出行一把旧的关系截断一的兴奋并不减少。这是她无可如何的事。
不能人官的克利福，整夜里和波太太打牌赌钱，直至她磕睡得欲想死了。
希尔达要来的日子来到了，康妮和梅乐士已经商议好了、假如他们的爱情之夜，没有什么阻碍的话，她便在她的窗上接一条绿色围巾：否则，便挂一条红色巾。
波太太帮着康妮打棼行李。
“换换空气，对于夫人是很有益处的。”
是的，我也这样想，克利福男爵的事，都得你一个人料理一些时日了，你不介意吧？”
“啊，不！他的事我都可以处理。我是说，他所需要我做的事，我都做得了，你觉和比以前好了些吗？”
“啊，好得多了，你替他做了些惊人的事呢！”
唉，哪里啊！不过男子们都是一样的；他们只是一些婴孩你得诌媚他们，拿甜言去诱骗他们，让他们相信他们是事事随心所欲的，你觉得对不对？夫人。”
“这种事情我恐怕没有太多经验呢。”
康妮停止了收拾东西。
“甚至你的丈夫，你也得象婴孩似的去诌媚他，用甜言诱骗他么？”她一边说，一边望着波太太。
波太太也停了下来。
“说到他”。她说，“是的，我也得好好地去奉承他的。但是他常常知道我所永的是什么，这是我不得不说的。不过他普通总是让步的。”
“他从来不摆老爷先生的架子么？”
“不！不过，有时当我看见了神色不同的时候，我便知道非让步不可了，但是普通总是他让步的。不，他从不摆老爷先生的架子，而我也不，我知道可以跟他强硬到哪一步，使得退让；虽然这种退让有时是很吃亏的。”
“假如你强硬下去会怎么样呢？”
“啊，我可不知道，我从来就没有强硬下去过，甚至他错了，假如他固执，我也退让。你知道，我决不愿使我们间的东西被破坏，假如你固执着对付一个男子，那便完了。假如你爱上了一个男子，当他真是决了意的时候，你便得退让；管你有理没有理。都得退让，否则什么东西便要破坏了。但是，我不得不说，德底有时看见我决了意的时候，甚至我没有理，他也退让的，我想这是双方一样的。”
“你对付你所有的病人也这样么？”康妮问道。
“啊，那是不同的。我对他们不是这样的。我知道什么是对于他们有益的，或者我努力去知道，然后我设法为他们的好处帮去。那和自己真正所爱的人是不相同的，大不相同的，假如你真正地爱过丁一个人，你使差不多能对任何人表示亲爱，甚至他不太需要你，但那是不同的，你不是真正爱他的，一个人真正地爱过了一回，如果还能真正地再爱一回，那是可疑的。”
这话把康妮吓着丁。
“你以为一个人只能爱一次么？”她问道。
“爱一次，或永远不爱，大多数的女子是从来不爱，从来不开始爱的，她们不知爱是什么东西。男子也不例外。我呢，当我看见了一个女子在恋爱的时候，我对他是满腔同情的。”
“你觉得男子是易动怒的么？”
“是的，假如你伤了他们的虚荣心。但是女子还不是一样？不过男子的虚荣心和女子的有点不同罢了。”
康妮把这些话思量着，她对于她到威尼斯去的事，又开始有点疑惧起来，实在说来，她不是故意要躲避她的爱人么？一虽然是短时间，他是知道的，所以他的神气是那么怪异和讥。
虽然！人生常是受环境的机械所支配的，康妮便是这机械的栖牲者。她不能在五分钟内摆脱出来，她甚至边摆脱的心也没有了。
星期四的早晨，希尔达按照预定的时间来到，驶着她的两座轻便汽车，她的衣箱用皮带牢牢地缚在后边，和平家一样，她的样子是端庄的，处女的；但是也和平至少一样，她有着一种倔强的气概，她有一种魔鬼似的倔强的自我意志，这是她的丈夫发觉的。但是现在，这位丈夫正在要求和始离婚了。她呢，她虽然没有情人，但她却给了他许多方便，好去提他的要求。目下。她和男子们疏远了。她倒觉得很满意自己做了自己的主人，和她的两个孩子的主人，她打算把这两个孩子“好好地”教养成人，不管这个词的意义怎样解释。
在小汽车上，康妮也只准带一口衣箱。但是她已经把一日大箱子寄绘她的父亲，由火车带去了。她的父亲刚由苏格兰到伦。他认为到威尼斯何必坐汽车去？在七月天，在意大利用汽车旅行是太热了，所以他还是舒舒服服地乘火车去。
这样，希尔达俨然大元帅似的，严肃地把旅丢失重要事件计划好了。她和康妮在楼上的房子里闸谈着。
“但是，希尔达，”康妮说，心里有点惊惧着她要说下去的话．“今晚我要在这我和附近过夜；不是这儿；是这儿附近。”
希尔达的灰色的、不可思议的跟随，注视着她的妹妹。她的样子似乎非常镇静，但是她却常常盛怒起来。
“传播对方，这儿购近？”她柔和地问道。
“希尔达，你知道我爱上了一个人吧，是不是？”
“是的，我是知道有了什么事情的。”
“那么，他住在这儿附近。我要和他共度过最后的一夜，我得去！我已经答应了。”
康妮固执起来了。
希尔达静默地低着她的象密涅瓦一样的头，然后望着她。
“你愿意告诉我他是谁么？她说。
“他是我们的守猎人，”康妮支吾着说，她的脸孔鲜红起来，好象有个做了坏事的孩子一样。
“康妮！”希尔达说，厌恶地道挺着她的鼻子一这是她母亲传下的姿势。
“我明白，但是他的确是可爱的人，他的的确是了解温情的人。”康妮企图为她的爱人辩护。
希尔达，象脸色鲜艳的雅典娜似的低头沉思着。产际上她正在暴怒着．但是她不敢露了出来，因为酷肖父亲的康妮，努势将立刻放肆争抗起来。
无疑地，希尔达不喜欢克利福和他以大人物自居的冷静的神气，她觉得他无耻地利用着康妮。她曾希望她的妹妹会离开他。但是，她是属于苏格兰的坚固的中等阶级的人，她深恶任何贬抑自己身分。或贬抑家声的事情。
“你将要懊悔的！”她说。”
“不！我决不懊悔！”康妮红着脸喊道，“他是个罕有的例外，我的确爱他，他是个美妙的情人！
希尔达依旧沉思着。
“你转瞬使我要厌倦他的。”她说，“然后你一生便要惭愧你的这种行为。”“不，决不！我希望我不久便要有个他的孩子呢。”
“怎么！康妮！”希尔达说，严厉务象一声铁锤气愤得脸色苍白起来。
“假如你我可以的话，便将有个孩子，假如我有个他的孩子，我将发狂似的骄傲。”
希尔达明白和她争论是无用的，她沉思着。
“克利福没有猜什么吗？”她问道。
“啊，不！猜疑什么呢？”
“我深信你一定给了他不少猜疑的机会。”希年达说。
“不，一点都没有。”
“我觉得今晚的勾当是纯粹的癫狂，那个人住在哪儿？”
“在树林那一端的村舍里。”
“他没有结婚么？”
“结了！但是他的女人离弃了他。”
“什么年纪？”
“我可不知道，比我大些。”
康妮的每句回答，都使希尔达越发愤怒起来，愤怒得和她母亲在生之日一样，愤怒到无可复加的境地，但是她还是隐忍着。
“假如我是你，我决不干今晚的勾当。”她安静地劝道。
“我不能！今晚我定要在他那儿过夜，否则我便不能去威尼斯，我决不能。”
希尔达从康妮的这话里，听出她父亲的声音，她只得让步，但这不过是外交手腕，她同意了和康妮到曼斯非德晚餐，天黑后把她带回到村舍去的山路尽头，早上再到那里去找她。她自己将在曼斯非德过夜，那不过是半点钟的汽车路程，假如汽车开得快的话，但是她对她的妹妹的破坏她的计划，是非常愤怒的，她在心里隐忍着。
康妮在她的窗槛上挂上了一条鲜绿的围巾。
在对于康妮的愤怒里，希尔达不觉对克利福宽大起来，他毕竟是个有智慧的人。说他没有性能，这更好；可以少了一件争吵的理由！希尔达再也不想要肉体的爱了，这东西把男子都变成自私可恶的小鬼子。康妮的生活，实在比多数的女人的生活都安适，不过她不她的神气罢了。
而克利福也断定希尔达毕竟是个无疑的聪明女子，假如一个男子想在政治上活动的话，这种女子是再好不过的助手和伴侣。是的，她不象康妮那么孩子气，那么不可依靠。
在大厅里，大家提早用了午后的茶点，大厅门开着，让太射了进来。大家都仿佛有点气喘。
“再见，康妮，女孩子！平安地回来！”
“再见，克利福！是的，我不久便会回来的！”康妮差不多温柔起来了。
“再见，希尔达！请你用只眼睛看护她。”
“我将用只眼睛呢。”希尔达说，“她决不会怎样迷途的。”
“这就是保证！”
“再见，波太太！我知道你会好好地侍候克利福男爵的。”
“我将尽我的能力，夫人。”
“有付’么消息的时候，给我写信，并且告诉我克利福男爵的种种情形，”
“是的，夫人，我不会忘记，祝你快活，并且早日回来我们的闷！”
大家挥着手巾，车开行了，康妮回转头来，看见克利福在台阶上坐在轮椅里，毕竟是他的丈夫，勒格贝是她近有，这是环境所决定的。
铁伯斯太太把大门打开着，祝了声夫人一路平安，汽车悄悄地出了小树丛幽黑遍布着的大花园，上了大道，那儿矿工们正曳着沉重的步伐归家。希尔达朝着克罗斯山的路驶去，这并不是条大路，但也是到曼斯非德的路，康妮戴上了避尘镜。她们沿着铁道驶去，这铁道在她们下边这一条壕道里。然后她们在壕道上的桥上横过。
“这儿便是到村舍去的小路！”康妮说。
希尔达愤愤地望了望那条小路。
“我们不能一直往前去，真是万分可惜！”她说，“否则我们九点钟使可到帕尔摩了。”
“我真替你抱赚。”戴着眼睛的康妮说。
她们不久便到了曼斯非德。从前这儿是绝妙的一个城市。现在却是个令人气丧的矿工城市了。希尔达在一本旅行指南书中介绍的旅店前停下了，开了一间房子，这一番事于她是毫无意思的，她差不多气愤到了不能说话。但是康妮却忍不住要告诉她一关于那男子的事情。
“他！他！他叫什么名字？你尽是说：他！希尔达说。”
“我从来就没有用名字叫过他，他也没有用名字叫过我。想起来也是奇怪的。我们有时只是用珍奴夫人，和约翰.多马士的名字，但是他的名字是奥利佛.梅乐士。”
“你觉得做奥利佛.梅乐士太太比做查太莱男爵夫人怎么佯？”
“可爱得多了！”
康妮是令人失望的了！虽然，那男子已经在军队里当过了四五年军官，他定然有多少相当的仪表。他似乎是个有身份的，希尔达有点温和起来了。
“但是你不久便要厌倦他的。”她说，“那时你便要因和他发生了关系而感到羞耻呢。我们是不能和工人阶级相混的。”
“但是你自己却是个热心的社会主义者！你常常是站在工人阶级方面的。”
“在政治的危机中，我可以站在他们的方面；但是正因为我站在他们的方面，我知道在生活上和他们相混是多么不可能的事，这并不是势利，实在是因为我们和他们的节奏全不能相谐。”
希尔达曾经在道地的政治界和知识分子中生活过，所以她的话是令人无可答辩的。
在旅馆里，慢慢地度过了嗳昧的黄昏，最后来了个嗳昧的晚餐。晚餐后，康妮捡了些东西放在一个小绸袋里，再梳了一次头发。
“希尔达，”她说，“毕竟爱情是美的，那使你觉得你是生活着，你是在造化的中心。”她仿佛在自夸。
“我想每个景子都有这同样的感觉。”希尔达说。
“是么？以我要替它高兴呢！”
黄昏是奇妙地睛朗，甚至在这个城市里，黄昏也留恋不去，今夜一定是个半透明的夜。希尔达气愤着的脸孔，象是个假面具似的冷酷她把汽车开行了，姊妹俩向原处回去，但走的是经过波梭接的另一条路。
康妮戴着她的避尘眼镜和掩饰面孔的帽子，静默地坐着，希尔达的反对，使她更决绝地站在她的爱人的方面，纵令海拓石烂她也要依附他。
当她们经过克罗斯山时，她们的车灯亮着，在壕道里驶过的光亮的小火车，使人觉和是在夜间了。希尔教研室打算在桥的尽头处转入小路里去。她把速度有点突然地放慢了下来，汽车离开了大路，车灯明亮地照着那蔓草丛生的小咱，康妮往外望着，看见了一个暗影，她把车门打开了。
“我们来了！”她低声地说。
但是希尔达已经把灯光熄了，正专心地把车子退后，想转过头来。
“桥上没有东西吗？”她简略地问道。
“没有，你退罢。”男子的声音说。
她把车子退到桥上，转了方向，在大路上前进了几步，然后再退人小路里，在一株榆树下面，压倒着草丛和藏躲藏康妮步下车来。男子在树下站着。
“你等了珍久了么？”康妮问道。
“不很久。”他答道。
他们俩等丰希尔达下来，但是希尔达却把车门关上了，坐着不动。
“那是我的姊姊希尔达，你愿意来和她说说话么？希尔达！这是梅乐士先生。”
守猎人脱了脱他的帽子，便是没有走上前去。
“希尔达，请你和我们到村舍里去罢。”康妮恳求道：“离这儿不远了。”“但是汽车呢？”
“放在小路去，不要紧的，你有钥匙。”
希尔达不说什么，她犹豫着，然后她望着后面的小路。
“我可以绕过这树丛退了进去么？”她说。
“啊，可以的！”守猎人说。
她慢慢地退着，绕过了树丛后面把汽车锁好了，走下来，已经是夜里了。但是夜色是明亮的，荒凉的小咱两旁，起着高高的野生的篱笆，样子是很黑的，空气中散布着一种新鲜的香留。守猎人在前，康妮跟在他后面，最后是希尔达，大家都静默着，在难走的地方，他把电筒照着，然后又继续。一支猫头鹰在橡树上轻轻地叫着，大家都不能说话；没有什么好说的话。
最后，康妮看见丁屋里的黄色灯光，她的心剧跳起来，她有点害怕起来，他们继续着色贯前进。
他把锁着的门打开了，领他们进到好温暖的、但是空洞的小屋于里。炉火低低地红热地燃着。桌子上摆好了两份子和玻璃杯，这一次，桌布是洁白。希尔达摇了摇她的头发，济览着那空洞而忧郁的屋子。然后她鼓着勇气望着那男子。
他的身材是中等，纤瘦的，她觉得他样子还好看，他默默地守着一种冷淡的态度，仿佛他决不愿开口似的。
坐下罢，希尔达。”康妮说。
“请！”他说，“我给你们什么好呢，茶呢还是旁的东西？或者一杯啤酒！啤酒是够冷的。”
“啤酒吧！”康妮说。
“是的，请你也给我啤酒吧！”希尔达用一种做作的羞怯态度说，他冷眼望着她。
他拿了一个蓝色壶子到厨房间里，带着啤酒回来时，他脸上的表情又变了。
康妮坐在门边，希尔达背着墙坐在他常坐的椅子上，正对着窗角。
“那是他的子。”康妮说，希尔达站了起来，仿佛那子烧了她似的。
“别起来，别起来！随便坐，我们这儿并没有谁是熊。”他很泰然地用土话说道。
他给希尔达一只玻璃杯，替她先斟了啤酒。
“香酒我这儿是没有的。”他说，“但是也许你们自己有罢，我自己是不舞烟的，您要吃什么东西么？”他回转头去对康妮说，“您要吃点什么东西么？您普通是不推辞的。”他怪自若地说他的土话，仿佛是个乡间旅舍的主人。”
“有什么好吃的？”康妮脸红着问道。
“煮熟的火腿和干酷核桃，随你们喜欢。并没有什么好东西。”
“好的！”康妮说，“你吃一点么；希尔达？”
希尔达举目望着他。
“为什么你说约克郡的土话？”她温和地说。
“那不是约克郡话，那是德比话，”他望着她，模棱地冷笑着说。
“德比话，好罢！为什么你说德比话？你开始的时候不是说大家所；兑的英语么？”
“是么！但是假如我高兴的话；难道我不能换换么？唔，唔，让我说德比话，如果我觉得合适。我想您不反对罢！”
“那仿佛有点矫揉做作了。”希不达说。
“嗳，也许！但是达娃斯哈，倒是您才象矮做作呢。”他用一种怪疏远的态度，偏着脸打量着她，仿佛说：“你，你是谁呵？”
他到伙食间里去取食物。
姊妹俩沉默着坐着。他带了另一份碟子和刀刃回来，然后他说：
“假如你们不介意，我要象平常一样把外衣除了。”
他把他的外衣脱了挂在衣钩上，穿着一件薄薄的，淡黄色的法兰绒衬衣，在桌边坐下。
“随意罢！”他说，“随意罢！别等人来请！”
他把面包切了，静坐着，希迎达象康妮前些时一样，感到了他的静默和冷淡的力量。她看见的不大的、锐敏的手，不经意地放在桌上。无疑地他不是个不简单的工作！不！他是做作的！做作的！
“不过，”她一边拿了一小零部件干酷一边说，“假如你对我们说普通的英语，一定比说土话来得自然些。”
但望着她，感觉到她的魔般的坚强的意志。
“是么？”他用普通的英语说，是么？不过我与您之间有什么很自然的话可说？除非您告诉我，您愿我坠人地狱，好让您的妹妹不再见我；于是我回答些一样难堪的话，此外还有什么是自然的？”
“啊，有的！”希尔达说，“讲点礼貌便是很自然的。”
“那便是第二天性，可以这么说罢！”他说着笑了起来。“不，我是厌恶礼貌了，别管我罢！，”
希尔达分明地无话可说了。赚得满腔的愤怒，哼，他应该知道人家休面了他，而他却摆着重要角色的威风神气，仿佛以为是他给了人家体面似的，多么鲁薷！可怜的康妮，迷失在这么一个人的爪掌里！
三个人静默地吃着，希尔达留心看着他在餐桌上的仪态怎样，她不得不承认他是本能地比她自己优雅高尚得多的。她有着某种苏样兰人的笨重态度，而他呢，他有着英国人所有的缄默的、自制的安泰一无聊可剩的安泰，他是不易屈服于人的。
但是她也是决不力他所报导服的。她说：
“你真以为这件事值得冒险吗？”她有点温和下来了。
“什么事值得什么冒险？”
“和我妹妹的这件事。”
他脸上露着不快的苦笑，用土话说：
“那你得去问她！”
然后他望着康妮。
“那是您甘心情愿的，是不是，女孩和？我没有强迫您罢？”
康妮望着希尔达。
“我希望你不要拔是非罢，希尔达。”她说。
“我决不想挑拔什么是非。但是总得有个人去想想是非。在生活中，不得不有点某种永久性。你不能一味胡闹的。”
他们静默了一会。
“咳，永久性！”他说，“那是什么意思？您自己的生命里可有什么永久性？我相信您正在离婚罢，不知道这里头的永久性是什么？这不过是您自己的执锄性的永久性罢，我看很明白，那永久性于您有什么好处？您不久便要厌恶这永久性。一个执锄的女人和她的自我意志！咳，这两种东西合起来便成个好漂亮的永久性，的确！谢谢天，幸得您的事与我无涉！”
“你有什么权利对我说这种话？”希尔达说。
“什么权利？你又有什么权利把您的永久性来厌烦他人？不要管他人的永久性罢。”
“我的好汉哟，你以为你和我有什么关系么？”希迎达温和地说。
“是的！”他说，“有的，愿他罢，不愿也罢，你多少总是我的阿姨了。”
“还差得远呢，我确实告诉你。”
“并不如您想象的远，我确实告诉您。我有我自己的永久性，我的水久性决不输您的永久性！假如您的妹妹到我这儿来找点性爱和温情，她自己知道她打的是什么主意。她在我的床上睡过，这是非您的永久性所能有后，谢谢上帝！”他停下一会，然后继续说，“嗳，我不是个呆子，假如一块天鹅肉落在我嘴边我只好多谢天，有这么一个美人儿，一个男子不知能够享受多少的乐趣，不象您一类的女了那么难说，说起来也是可惜的，您本来是可以象一只好苹果的，而你却是个好看不好吃的野苹果，象你这样的女子是需要接种的。
他带了一种鉴赏家的有点肉感的怪笑望着她。
“而象你这样的男子。”她说，“是应该了起来，这是他们的极鄙与自私欲所应得的惩罚。”
“是的，太太！世上还有我这种人已经是幸福了。至于您呢，没有人睬您，喧是您所活该的。”
希尔达已经向边走去，他也站了起来，在衣钩上取了他的外衣。
“我一个人很可以找到我的路。”她说。
“我恐怕你不能呢。”他从容地答道。
在静默中，他们重重新在那可笑地鱼贯面蚝，那只猫头鹰还在叫着，他恨不得把它杀掉。
汽车还是好好地停在那儿，有点给露水沾湿了。希尔达上了车，把机器开动了，剩下的两个人在等待着。
“总之，我的意思是，她在汽车里面说，“我诚恐你们两个都要觉得悔不当初！”
“一个人的佳肴是另一个人的毒物，他在黑暗里说，“但是在我，这既是佳肴又是美酒。”
车灯亮了起来。
“康妮，早上别让我等。”
“是的，我不会你等的。晚安！”
汽车慢慢地出到了大路上，然后飞逝了，寂静的夜又笼罩了一切。
康妮羞怯地挽着他的手臂他们向着村舍归去，他一句话也不说，过了一会她使他站住了。
“吻一吻我吧！”她喃喃地说。
“不、等一会吧。等我的气消了。”他说。
这话使她觉得好笑起来，她依旧挽着他的手臂他们静默地，匆匆地回去，她现在和他在一起了。她是怪高兴的，当她想到希尔达差不多把他们拆散了时候，她寒战了一下，他在不可思议地静默的。
当他们回到村舍里去时，她觉得脱离了她的姊姊了。她高兴得差不多跳跃起来。
“但是你使希尔达太难为情了。”她对他说。
“她实在是该吃耳光的。”
“为什么呢？她是怪好的人！”
他并不回答，只是沉静地、安泰地忙着晚上的工作，他在外表上是愤怒的，可不是对她愤怒，康妮觉得出来。在愤怒中的他，有一种深刻、光泽的、特殊的美，使她心醉，使她的四脚酥软。
他老是不注意她。
最后，他坐下去解鞋带。然后他仰望着她，那眉端依旧蕴藏！着怒气。
“你要上楼去么？”他说，“那边有一枝蜡烛！”
他迅疾地把多倾了一倾，指示着桌上点着的蜡烛。她驯服地把蜡烛拿在手里，当她上楼的时候，他注视着她的饱满的臀部的曲线。
那是个惊人的情欲之夜。在这夜里，她有点吃惊而且差不多觉得无可奈何起来，然而在那最恰人意的关头，一种比温情战栗更不同、更尖锐、更可怖的刺人的战栗，把她钻穿了。虽然是有点怕，她却毫不推却地让他瓷情任性，一种无因而不羞怯的肉感，摇撼着她，摇撼到她的骨髓，把她脱到一丝不挂，使她成了一个新的妇人。实在那并不是爱。那并不是淫欲。那是一种火似的烧人的尖锐的内感，把灵魂烧成火绒一样。
这种火似的肉感，在那最秘密的地方，把最古老而最深刻的羞耻心焚毁了。结果是使康妮地卖力让她的爱人您情任性的享受她。她是个无抵抗的、逢迎迁就的东西。好象一个奴录，一个肉体的奴录，情欲的毁灭的火，却舐着她的周身，当这欲焰紧束地经过她的心怀与脏腑的时候，她真是觉得她是互着了。可是好一个痛快而神奇的死哟！
她曾常常地奇怪过，亚培拉所谓他与海萝伊斯相爱之时，所有情欲的微妙花样都尝过了，是什么意思，原来同样的东西，在千年以前，甚至在万年以前就有过了，同样的东西在希腊的土瓶上，随处都有！情欲的种种微妙、肉感的种种放肆，那是必需，绝对地必需的。用纯粹的肉感的火，去把虚焦的羞耻心焚毁了，把人体的沉浊的杂质溶解了，使它成为纯洁。
在这一个短短的夏夜里，她不知懂得了多少的事情！在这夜以前，她差不多相信了一个妇人是会因羞耻而死的；然而现在，死的却是羞耻，羞耻不过是恐惧罢了，在我们的肉体的根蒂里深伏着那种官能的羞耻，那种古老的，古老的肉体的恐惧，只有肉感的火才能把它赶走。最后，它是给男子的“地乐士”的追击所惊醒而溃散，于是她便来到她的生命的莽原之中心了。
现在，她觉得已经来到了她的天性的真正的原如处所，并且觉得她原本就是无羞惧的了。她是她的原来的、有肉感的自我，赤裸裸的、毫无羞惧的自我。她觉得胜利，差不多光荣起来！原来如此！生命原来是如此的！一个人的本来面目原来是如此的！世上是没有需要掩茂怕东西，没有需要害羞的东西的！她和一个男子一另一个人，共享着她的终极的赤裸。
而且是个多么肆无忌惮的恶魔似的男了！真象个恶魔！一个不坚强的人是承受不了他的。但是要达到那肉体的莽原一中心，要达到那官能的羞惧心的最后最深的伏处，是不容易的。只有“法乐士”有这窥探的本领。啊！他把她压得多么紧！
啊！在惊怖中，她曾多么恨它，但是实际上，她多么需要它！现在她明白了，在她的灵魂的根基处，深深地，她是需要而且秘密地希望这“法乐士”的追击的，不过她相信她不会得到罢了。现在，突然地，它来到了，一个男子在共享着她最终最后的赤裸，她一点儿羞惧都没有了。
诗人和世人真是一些骗子！他们使你相信你需要感，其实你所最需要的是这尖锐的、消蚀的、有点可怖的肉感。找个无羞惧、无罪过、无心疚的大胆从事的男子！假如他事后觉得羞惧，而且令人觉得羞惧，那就令人寒心了！多么可惜，多数的男人都这么怯懦，害羞，如克利福！甚至如蔑克里斯！这两个／、在肉感上都是有点儿象狗，有点儿奴颜卑膝的。所谓“精神的无上快乐！”这对于一个女人有什么价值？而且事实上，对于一个男子又有什么价值！那不过把精神弄得一塌糊湖糊涂而卑鄙罢了，甚至想把精神纯洁化、灵敏化起来，也得要这唯一的肉感才能成功，唯一的火假的肉感，而不是混沌一团的幻想。
啊！上帝啊，一个真正的男子是多可珍贵的东西！男人们大都是些只知东跑西窜，只知东闻西嗅，只知苟且交尾的狗。找到了一个无畏宿、无羞惧的男子！多可珍贵！她望着他在酣睡着，好象一个睡着的野兽似的，深深地迷失在睡官中。她鸟儿似地栖依在他的身边，诚恐脱离了他。
他醒来的时候，她的睡意也全失了。他坐了起来，俯望着她，好从他的里，看出了她自己的赤裸，直接的她的自我。那男性对她的认识，好象流液似地从他的眼眼里传到了她身上，把她春怠融融地包了起来，啊，这半睡的、饱和着热烈情欲的、沉重的肢体，是多么撩人肉欲，多么可爱！
“是起身的时候了么？”她说。
“六点半了。”
八点钟她便得到小咱的尽头去，老是，老是，老是这不容人的世事！
“我可以去弄早餐，弄好了带上这儿来，好吗？”
“啊，好的！”
佛萝茜在楼下轻轻的呜咽着。她起身把睡衣除了，用一条毛巾擦着他的身体，当一个人充满着勇气与生命的时候，是多么美丽！她一边静默地望着他，一边心里这么想着。
“把窗商拉开，好不好？”
太阳已经在早晨的嫩绿的树叶上照耀着了。近边的树林，显得蔚蓝而新鲜的颜色。她坐在床上，梦一般地望着楼窗外面，她的赤裸裸的两臂把她赤裸的两只乳房挤得凑合拢来。他在穿着衣服。她在梦幻着生活，与他共同的生活：这才叫生活！
他正在走开，避开她的危险的媚人的赤裸。
“难道我把睡衣都失去了么？”她说。
他伸手在床下边摇出一条薄薄的绸衣。
“在夜里我就觉得脚踝上有着什么绸的东西。”他说。
但是那睡衣已经差不多裂成两片了。
“不要紧！”她说，“它是属于这间房子的；我把它留在这儿罢。”
“是的，留在这儿罢，夜里我可以把它放在两腿间陪伴我。上面没有什么史字或标记么？”
她穿上了那撕破的睡衣，梦一般地望着窗外。窗门开着，清晨的空气和乌声透专进来，乌儿不住地飞过，然后她看见佛萝茜徘徊着走出门外，这是早晨了。
她听见他在楼下生火，舞水，从后门出去，她渐渐地闻着了煎肉的气味。最后，他端了一个大得刚能通过门框的黑色大托盘，走上楼来，他把找盘放在床上，斟着茶，康妮穿着那撕破了的睡衣，蹲伏着狼吞虎咽起来。他从城那唯一椅子上，他的碟子放在膝上。
“多么好！”她说，“在一起吃早餐是多么美妙！”
他静默地吃着，心里想着那在飞逝的时光，那使她想起来了。
“啊，我真希望我可以留在这儿和你一块，并且勒格贝在一百万里以外！但是事实上我正脱离着勒格贝呢，你知道吧，是不是？”
“是的！”“你答应我们将住在一起，将在一起生活，你和我！你答应吧，是不是？”
“是的，当我们能够的时候。”
“是啊！这不会久了，不会久了，是不是？”她向他斜依着，握着他的手腕，她把茶杯里的茶倾溢了出来。
“是的！”他一边说，一边整理着溢在托盘的茶。
“此后，我们再也不能在一起生活了，是不是？”她恳求地说。他苦笑了一笑，仰望着她。
“不氏蝗！不过在二二分钟内你便得走了。”
“只有二十五分钟了么？”她叫道。突然地，他举着手指，叫她不要出声，他站了起来，佛萝茜猛然吠了一声，跟着又高声地吠着几声，仿佛告警似的。
默默地，他把碟子放在托盘上，走下楼来，康妮听见他向园里的小径出去，一个脚踏车铃声在那外边响着。
“早安，梅乐士先生！一封挂号信！”
“啊，喂！你有铅笔么？”
“有的！，！
停顿了一会。
“加拿大！”那生人的声音说。
“是的！这是我从前一位朋友，他在在英属哥化比亚。不知道什么事用得着挂号信。”
“也许他寄你一笔大钱呢。”
“或者是来要点什么东西吧，这倒更象。”
静了一会。
“喂！又是个睛朗的日子！”
“是的！”
“早安广
“早安！”
过了一会，他回到楼上，脸上带点怒容。
“邮差。”他说。
“他来得好早啊！”她答道。
“这是乡间的邮递；他来的时候，多数总是七点左右来的。”
“是不是你的朋友寄绘你一笔大钱？”
“不，只是几张关于那边的一个产业的像片和文件罢了。”
“你想到那边去么？”
“我想或者我们是可以支的。”
“啊，是的！我相信那是个可有可爱的地方！”
但是，这邮差的来到，使他扫兴了。
“这些该死的脚踏车，不等到你留神它们便来到了。我希望他没有听见什么。”
“毕竟他听见佬呢！”
“现在你得起来，作好准备。我到外面看看就来。”
她看见他带着他的狗儿和枪，到那小咱上巡察，她下楼去梳洗，等到他回来时，她已经准备好了，把几件零的东西也收拾在她的小绸裹里。
他把门上了锁，他们向着林中下去，却不走那条小咱。他小心着。
“你认为人一生中可以有几个好时期过着象昨夜那种生活么？”她对他说。
“是的！不过也得想想其余的时期呢。”他有点简短地答道。
他们在林中草径上缓缓地瞳着；他默默地瞳到前面。
“我们不久便将在一起共同生活，是不是？”她恳求道。
“是的！”他答一道，头也不回，只顾前进。“当时机到了的时候！但是此刻你正要到威尼斯或什么地方去。”
她无言地跟着他，心里抑郁着。啊，多么难舍难离！
最后他站住了。
“我要打这边过去了。”他指着右边说。
但是她举着两臂环抱着他的颈项，紧紧地侵依着他。
“但是你对我的温情不会变吧，会不会？”她细声说，“我爱昨夜！但是你对我的温情不会变，会不会？”
他吻了吻她，把她紧紧地拥抱了一会。然后他又叹息着，重新了吻了吻她。
“我得看汽车来了没有。”
他踏过了那低低的荆刺和羊齿草丛，经过处留晒了一条痕迹。他去了几分钟，回来说：
“汽车还没有来．但是大路上停着一部送面包的货车。”
他显得焦虑不安的样子。
“听！”
他们听见一部汽车轻轻地响着呈懈驶近了，这汽车在桥上慢了下来，她无限悲伤地踏进了荆刺丛中，沿着他留下的脚痕走去，到了一排庞大的冬青树篱笆面前，他正在她的后面。
“那边！打那边过去！”他指着一个空隙说，“我不过去了。”
她失望地望着他，但是他吻了吻她，叫她出去，她满腔悲伤地爬过了冬青树丛和木栅，颠踬地走下小壕堑，颠踬地走上那小坡上去，希尔达不见康妮，正在那儿恼怒着走下车来。
“啊！你来了！”希尔达说，“他在哪儿呢？”
“他不来了。”
当康妮拿着她的小手囊上车去的时候，她的脸上流着眼泪，希尔达把风帽和眼镜交给她。
“戴上罢广她说。
康妮把掩饰的东西戴上了。然后再穿了一件乘汽车用的外套，变成了一个不能的不象人的东西了。希尔达匆匆地把汽车开动了。她们出了小路，向着大路驶去，康妮回转头去望了望，但是没有目的地见他的影迹。她走了！走了！她苦楚地流着眼泪，这离别来得这样骤然，这样意外！好象是死别似的；
“谢谢天，你要离开这人一些时日了！”希尔达一边说；一边把车子转着方，免得打克罗斯山的山村落经过。
