m Cromford. In front, it looked over a lawn, over a few trees, down to a string of fish-ponds in the hollow of the silent p

Valley, outside the show scenery. Silent and forsaken, the golden stucco showed

absent, abroad, she was either alone in the house, with her visitors, of whom there were always several, or she had with her her brother, a bachelor, and a Liberal member

ross the dip, where the fish-ponds lay in silence, at the pillared front of the house, sunny and small like an English drawing of the old school, on the brow of the gree

tint.' She spoke with some resentment in her voice, as if she we

ve it?' as

in its way, I think

ide door. A parlour-maid appeared, and then Hermione, coming forward with her pale face li

udrun-'so glad to see you-' she kissed Ursula and r

l tired,'

tired,

, thanks,'

were embarrassed because she would not move into the house, but must h

un's dress more. It was of green poplin, with a loose coat above it, of broad, dark-green and dark-brown stripes. The hat was of a pale, greenish straw, the colour of new hay, and it had a plaited ri

with coral beads and coral coloured stockings. But h

ooms now, wouldn't you! Yes.

ade such a stress on one. She stood so near to one, pressing herself near upon one, in

n woman, slight and fashionable, a young, athletic-looking Miss Bradley, a learned, dry Baronet of fifty, who was always making witticisms and l

able by the cedar tree, the scent of new sunshine, the little vision of the leafy park, with far-off deer feeding peacefully. There seemed a m

sness that was only emphasised by the continual crackling of a witticism, the continual spatter of verbal jest, designed to give

g persistence, to wish to ridicule him and make him look ignominious in the eyes of everybody. And it was surprising how she seemed to succeed, how helpless he seemed against her. He looked completely insignificant. U

y wished. Fraulein departed into the house, Hermione took up her embroidery, the little Contessa took a book, Miss Bradley was weaving a basket out of

nd of the brakes and the s

g-song. And laying down her work, she rose slowly, and sl

it?' ask

brother-at least, I suppose

fting her head for a moment from her book, and speaking as if

at once a host, with an easy, offhand hospitality that he had learned for Hermione's friends. He had just come down from London, from the House. At once the atmosphere of the House of Com

. Gerald was presented to everybody, was kept by Hermione for a few moments in full vi

er for Education had resigned owing to adverse cr

ion, except the joy and beauty of knowledge in itself.' She seemed to rumble and ruminate with subterranean t

ssion, sniffed the air with d

ly like gymnastics, isn't the end of education the pr

thy body, ready for anything,' cr

at her in si

knowing is so great, so WONDERFUL-nothing has meant so much t

r example, Hermione

ted her face

tars, when I really understood something about th

d at her in

ded for?' he said sarcastically.

recoiled

ling,' said Gerald. 'It's like getting on

murmured the Italian, lifting her

iayn,' said Gerald, whi

dust to settle, and th

ng in life-to KNOW. It is re

course, liberty,

. Immediately Gudrun saw the famous sociologist as a flat bottle, containing tabloids of co

, Rupert?' sang Herm

of things concluded, in the past. It's like bottling t

ronet, pointedly. 'Could we call our knowledge of the l

said

ly piped the little Italian woman. 'It says the man

mpany. Miss Bradley went and looked

aid the

nd threw his eyes hurriedly

rtling of which was the Baronet's, which r

ok?' asked Alex

e foreigner, pronouncing every syllable distinc

can edition,'

Alexander, with a fine declamatory voice. 'Baza

ightly round

he "hurriedly" w

began t

the maid came hurrying with a large tea-t

were all gathe

of them, one by one. And they all said yes, feeling somehow

ome for a w

Hermi

re you

here was a seco

ood run sharp, to be thwarted in even so trifling a mat

ike trooping off i

at for a moment. Then she sai

a little boy behin

while she insulted him. B

only turning to wave her handkerchief to him

good-bye, l

dent hag,' he s

urely voice at intervals. And they had all to come this way. The daffodils were pretty, but who could see them? Ursula was stiff all o

xert some kind of power over him. They trailed home by the fish-ponds, and Hermione told them about the quarrel of two male swans, who had striven

e stood on the lawn and sang out, in a stran

lable was high and slow, the se

no answer. A

raying voice of Hermione. But under the strayi

's in his r

s

airs, along the corridor, sing

ert! Ru-

r, and tapped, stil

ded his voi

re you

n was mild

swer. Then he o

d Hermione. 'The daffo

aid, 'I've

er long, slow, impassive

his conflict with him, when he was like a sulky boy, helpless, and she had him safe at Breadalby.

er, and she made her way, almost unconsciously into his room. He had taken a Chinese

the table, and looking down at his work. 'Yes. How be

ellous drawi

cause I've always been fond of it.

w,' he

asked, casual and sing-song. '

e gets more of China, copying this p

at do y

ts from him. She MUST know. It was a dreadful tyranny, an obsession in her, to know al

se in the flux of cold water and mud-the curious bitter stinging heat of a goose's blood, entering th

He stared back at her, devilish and unchanging. With another strange, sick convulsion, she turned away, as if she were sick, could feel dissolution setting-in in her b

as she might, she could not recover. She suffered the ghastliness of dissolution, broken and gone in a horrible corruption. And he stood and looked at her unmoved. She strayed out, palli

that fitted tight and made her look tall and rather terrible, ghastly. In the gay light of the drawing-room she was uncanny and oppressive. But seated in the half-

ull silver veiling, Miss Bradley was of grey, crimson and jet, Fraulein Marz wore pale blue. It gave Hermione a sudden convulsive sensation of pleasure, to see these rich colours under the candle-light. She was aware of the talk going on, ceaselessly, Joshua's voice dominating; of the ceaseless pitter-pa

without any attention to ceremony. Fraulein handed the coffee, everybody smoked

dsome young Englishman, Alexander tall and the handsome politician, democratic and lucid, Hermione strange like a long Cassandra, and the women lurid with colour, all

seemed to be thrown into the melting pot, and it seemed to Ursula they were all witches, helping the pot to bubble. There was an elation and a satisfaction in it all, but it was cruel

of Hermione. There was a lull in the talk, as it wa

ly. 'Won't somebody dance? Gudrun, you will dance, won't you? I wish you

the mantel, clinging to it for a moment, then releasing it suddenly.

d shawls and scarves, mostly oriental, things that Hermione, with

will dance toge

?' asked Alexande

cchette,' said th

o languid,'

Naomi and Ruth and Orpah. Ursula was Naomi, Gudrun was Ruth, the Contessa was Orpah. The i

y to dance the death of her husband. Then Ruth came, and they wept together, and lamented, then Naomi came to comfort them. It wa

ubtle widow, would go back to the former life, a repetition. The interplay between the women was real and rather frightening. It was strange to see how Gudrun clung with heavy, desperate passion to U

alism, Gudrun's ultimate but treacherous cleaving to the woman in her sister, Urs

in her soul, knowing what she could not know. She cried out for more dancing, a

Gudrun's lifted, offered, cleaving, reckless, yet withal mocking weight. And Birkin, watching like a hermit crab from its hole, had seen the brilliant frustration and helple

yet escape from the waltz and the two-step, but feeling his force stir along his limbs and his body, out of captivity. He did not know yet how to dance their convulsive, rag-time sort of dancing, but he

atching his purely gay motion, which he had

uddered, knowing that only a foreigne

Palestra?' she

alian. 'He is not a man, he is a

r to escape, to exist, other than she did, because he was not consistent, not a man, less than a man. She hated him in a despair that shattered her and broke her down, so t

onstraint came over Ursula in the big, strange bedroom. Hermione seemed to be bearing down on her, awful and inchoate, making some appeal. They were looking at some Indian silk shirts, gorgeous and sensual in themselves, their shape, their almost corrupt gorgeousness. And Hermione came near, and her bosom

ould dare to put those tw

and Ursula, overcome with dread, esc

e had danced he was happy. But Gerald would talk to him. Gerald, in ev

two Brangwens

ve in Be

r! Who are

n the Gramm

was a

ald at length. 'I thought

ints you?'

-but how is it Herm

ger one, the one with the darker hair-she'

in the Grammar School

mistress, Ursula

t's the

nstructor in

all

iers are br

y under the slightly je

raft instructor in a school!

it lay there laughing and bitter and indiffe

of Gudrun, at least. She is a restless bird,

will

to Damascus or San Francisco; she's a bird of paradise. God knows wh

ered for a

now her so we

ssum and Libidnikov and the rest-even if she doesn't know them personally. She was nev

, apart from her tea

can sell her models. Sh

much

a, ten g

ey good? Wh

is hers, those two wagtails in Hermione's boudoir-yo

was savage c

l people in everyday dress, really rather wonderful when they come of

l-known artist one

-she must never be too serious, she feels she might give herself away. And she won't give herself away-she's always on the defensive

onable, and I only just saved myself from jumpi

was s

a pure servant, washing the feet of Christ, or else he is making obscene drawings of Jesus-action and reaction-and between the two, nothing. He is really

' said Gerald. 'Does he love h

g to throw himself into the filth of her. Then he gets up and calls on the name of the lily of purity, the b

, 'that he does insult the Pussum so very

n. 'I always felt fond of her. I never had any

r would have turned me over. There's a certain smell about the skin of those

d, rather fretfully, 'But go to bed

ose off the bed, and went to his room. But

bed again. 'We finished up rather stormily,

t what she wants from Halliday o

I'd rather give her her du

oesn't

the account is left open, and

the side of the bed in his shirt. They were white-skinned, full, muscular legs, handsome an

the account,' said Gerald,

r one way or anot

Gerald, a little puzzled, looking down at

oes it,' s

a decent so

n, turning aside. It seemed to him Gerald was talking for the sake

ald, looking down all the time at the face of the other ma

d, and he laid his hand affectionately on

d Birkin move, he called out: 'I still th

f-fact. Close the account in your own soul,

you know

wing

tated for s

hing to do, you know, with

he right thing for wives: live under the same roof wi

to be nasty about

not interested in

re whether you

formed, how final all the things of the past were-the lovely accomplished past-this house, so still and golden, the park slumbering its centuries of peace. And then, what a snare and a delusion, this beauty of static things-what a horrible, dead prison Breadalby really was, what a

rested in,' came Gerald's voice from the lower room. '

u can, Gerald. Only I'm not i

at all, then?' ca

e. What am I

in could feel Geral

now,' came the go

hing but the Pussum, part of you wants the mines, the business

hing else,' said Gerald, in

Birkin, rat

ped you could tel

silence fo

my own way, let alone yours. Yo

ussum?' as

kin. And he rose an

'But you haven't even tried it on y

kin. 'Still, I s

gh mar

in answered

Gerald. 'No, n

always kept a gap, a distance between them, they wanted always to be free e

inus,' said Ger

t?' sai

erald, 'if it really works

n,' sai

' said

she felt she had missed her life. She seemed to grip the hours by the throat, to force her life from them. She was rather pale and ghastly, as if le

e, and said, in he

id you sleep wel

irkin, who knew her well, saw that sh

slightly suggesting disapprobation. 'I hope the things aren't cold. Oh no!

e hall of kings in some Egyptian tomb, where the dead all sat immemorial and tremendous. How utterly he knew Joshua Mattheson, who was talking in his harsh, yet rather mincing voice, endlessly, endlessly, always with a strong mentality working, always interesting, and yet always known, everything he said known beforehand, however novel it was, and clever. Alexander the up-to-date host, so bloodlessly free-and-easy, Fraulein so prettily chiming in just as she should, the little Italian Countess taking notice of everybody, only playing her little game, objective and cold, lik

teady, large, hostile eyes; the game fascinated her, and she loathed it. There was Ursula, with a sli

kin got up a

he said to hims

over her. Only her indomitable will remained static and mechanical, she sat at the table making her musing, stray remarks. But the darkness had covered her, she was

rning?' she said, sudde

Joshua. 'It is a

eautiful,' s

athe,' said th

athing suits,

'I must go to church and read

sked the Italian Countes

not. But I believe in keepi

utiful,' said Fr

re,' cried

he church bells were ringing a little way off, not a cloud was in the sky, the swans were like lilies on the water below, the peacocks walke

s gloves cheerily, and he disappeared b

rmione, 'shall

t,' sai

' said Hermione, lo

t want to,'

' said

my suit?'

h an odd, amused intonation. 'Will a

l do,' sa

then,' san

p in surprise. Then out ran Miss Bradley, like a large, soft plum in her dark-blue suit. Then Gerald came, a scarlet silk kerchief round his loins, his towels over his arms. He seemed to flaunt himself a little in the sun, lingering and laughing, strolling easily, looking white but natural in his nakedness. Then came Sir Joshua, in an overcoat, and lastly Hermione, st

. The water ran over a little stone wall, over small rocks, splashing down from one pond to the level below

ttle Countess was swimming like a rat, to join him. They both sat in the sun, laughing and crossing their arms on their breasts. Sir Joshua swam u

saurian? They are just like great lizards. Did you ever see anything like Sir Joshua? B

is eyes, his neck set into thick, crude shoulders. He was talking to Miss Bradley, who, seated on the bank above, plump a

figure so full and laughing. Hermione, in her large, stiff, sinister grace, leaned near him, frightening, as if she were not responsible for what she might do.

nconscious in the water, large and slow and powerful. Palestra was quick and silent as a water rat, Gerald wav

red a moment to

ike the wate

le look, as he stood before her negligently,

very much,'

cting some sort

you s

, I

o in then. He could feel something ironic in h

r again, later, when he was once more

before answering, opp

't like the cro

him. He wanted to come up to her standards, fulfil her expectations. He knew that her criterion was the only one that mattered. The others were all outsiders, instin

lk. There had been some discussion, on the whole quite intellectual and artificial, about a new state, a ne

ittle bit of a task-let him do that, and then please himself. The unifying principle was the work in hand. Only work, the business of produ

g but Herr Obermeister and Herr Untermeister. I can imagine it-"I am Mrs Colliery-Manager Cr

uch better, Miss Art-Teac

ager Crich? The relation betw

the Italian. 'That which i

ial,' said Birki

and a woman, the social question d

note on it,

woman is a social being?

r as society is concerned. But for her own private self,

ifficult to arrange the t

y arrange themselves naturall

santly till you're out o

is brows in mome

aughing?

all equal in the spirit, all brothers there-the rest wouldn't matter, there would be no

ly the party rose from the table. But when the others had

hirst, two eyes, one nose and two legs. We're all the same in point of number. But spiritually, there is pure difference and neither equality nor inequality counts. It is upon these two bits of knowledge that you must found a state. Your democracy is an absolute lie-y

er, not because they are equal, but because they are intrinsically OTHER, that there is no term of comparison. The minute you begin to compare, one man is seen to be far better than another, all the inequality you can imagine is there by nature. I want

of all he said, coming out of her. It was dynamic hatred and loathing, coming strong and black out of the unconsci

lomania, Rupert,' sa

er, grunting sound.

e gone out of his voice, that had been so insi

poor Hermione. He wanted to recompense her, to make it up. He had hurt h

her table writing letters. She lifted her face abstractedly when he entered, wa

mind was a chaos, darkness breaking in upon it, and herself struggling to gain control with her will, as a swimmer struggles with the swirling water. But in spite of her efforts she wa

t die most fearfully, walled up in horror. And he was the wall. She must break down the wall-she must break him down befor

struck her down. She was aware of him sitting silently there, an unthinkable evil obstruction. Only th

ve her consummation of voluptuous ecstasy at last. It was coming! In utmost terror and agony, she knew it was upon her now, in extremity of bliss. Her hand closed on a blue, beautiful ball of lapis lazuli that stood on her desk for a paper-weight. She rolle

dened the blow. Nevertheless, down went his head on the table on which his book lay, the stone slid aside and over his ear, it was one convulsion of pure bliss for her, lit up by the crushed pain of her fingers. But it was not somehow complete. She lifted her arm high

sed, the hand clasping the ball of lapis lazuli. It was her left hand, he realised again with horror that she was left-handed. Hurriedly, with a bu

from her. He was like a flask that is smashed to atoms, he seemed to himself that he was all fragments,

e,' he said in a low v

livid and attentive, the ston

me go,' he said, d

way, watching him all the time without chang

n he had gone past her. 'It is

in. While he was on his guard, she dared not move. And he was on h

hat she had done, but it seemed to her, she had only hit him, as any woman might do, because he tortured her. She was perfectly right. She knew that, spiritually, she was r

ain were falling. He wandered on to a wild valley-side, where were thickets of hazel, many flowers, tufts of heather, and little clumps of young firtrees, budding with soft paws. It was rather wet every

touch of them all. He took off his clothes, and sat down naked among the primroses, moving his feet softly among the primroses, his legs, his knees, his arms right up to t

d soft. To lie down and roll in the sticky, cool young hyacinths, to lie on one's belly and cover one's back with handfuls of fine wet grass, soft as a breath, soft and more delicate and more beautiful than the touch of any woman; and then to sting one's thigh against the living dark bristles of the fir-boughs; and then to feel the light whip of the hazel on one's shoulders, stinging, and then to clasp the silvery bir

e matter altogether? There was this perfect cool loneliness, so lovely and fresh and unexplored. Really, what a mistake he had made, thinking he wanted people, thinking he wanted a woman. He did not want a woman-n

pretend to have anything to do with human beings at all? Here was his world, he wanted nobod

d not matter, so one knew where one belonged. He knew now where he bel

anity. He rejoiced in his own madness, he was free. He did not want that old sanity of the world, which was becom

dhere to humanity. But he was weary of the old ethic, of the human being, and of humanity. He loved now the soft, delicate vegetatio

. He was walking now along the road to the nearest station. It was raining and he

mankind, of other people! It amounted almost to horror, to a sort of dream terror-his horror of being observed by some other people. If he were on an island, like Alexander Selkirk, with on

t trouble about him, and he did not want the on

right-I don't want you to mind having biffed me, in the least. Tell the others it is just one of

and he was sick. He dragged himself from the station into a cab, feeling

e was a complete estrangement between them. She became rapt, abstracted in her conviction of exclusi