The Greatest Works of D. H. Lawrence. D. H. Lawrence

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СКАЧАТЬ don't know!” she cried.

      She seemed slightly hysterical, but with a sort of horror. His heart died in him.

      “You don't think it ugly?” he asked.

      “No, not now. You have TAUGHT me it isn't.”

      “You are afraid?”

      She calmed herself hastily.

      “Yes, I am only afraid,” she said.

      He kissed her tenderly.

      “Never mind,” he said. “You should please yourself.”

      Suddenly she gripped his arms round her, and clenched her body stiff.

      “You SHALL have me,” she said, through her shut teeth.

      His heart beat up again like fire. He folded her close, and his mouth was on her throat. She could not bear it. She drew away. He disengaged her.

      “Won't you be late?” she asked gently.

      He sighed, scarcely hearing what she said. She waited, wishing he would go. At last he kissed her quickly and climbed the fence. Looking round he saw the pale blotch of her face down in the darkness under the hanging tree. There was no more of her but this pale blotch.

      “Good-bye!” she called softly. She had no body, only a voice and a dim face. He turned away and ran down the road, his fists clenched; and when he came to the wall over the lake he leaned there, almost stunned, looking up the black water.

      Miriam plunged home over the meadows. She was not afraid of people, what they might say; but she dreaded the issue with him. Yes, she would let him have her if he insisted; and then, when she thought of it afterwards, her heart went down. He would be disappointed, he would find no satisfaction, and then he would go away. Yet he was so insistent; and over this, which did not seem so all-important to her, was their love to break down. After all, he was only like other men, seeking his satisfaction. Oh, but there was something more in him, something deeper! She could trust to it, in spite of all desires. He said that possession was a great moment in life. All strong emotions concentrated there. Perhaps it was so. There was something divine in it; then she would submit, religiously, to the sacrifice. He should have her. And at the thought her whole body clenched itself involuntarily, hard, as if against something; but Life forced her through this gate of suffering, too, and she would submit. At any rate, it would give him what he wanted, which was her deepest wish. She brooded and brooded and brooded herself towards accepting him.

      He courted her now like a lover. Often, when he grew hot, she put his face from her, held it between her hands, and looked in his eyes. He could not meet her gaze. Her dark eyes, full of love, earnest and searching, made him turn away. Not for an instant would she let him forget. Back again he had to torture himself into a sense of his responsibility and hers. Never any relaxing, never any leaving himself to the great hunger and impersonality of passion; he must be brought back to a deliberate, reflective creature. As if from a swoon of passion she caged him back to the littleness, the personal relationship. He could not bear it. “Leave me alone—leave me alone!” he wanted to cry; but she wanted him to look at her with eyes full of love. His eyes, full of the dark, impersonal fire of desire, did not belong to her.

      There was a great crop of cherries at the farm. The trees at the back of the house, very large and tall, hung thick with scarlet and crimson drops, under the dark leaves. Paul and Edgar were gathering the fruit one evening. It had been a hot day, and now the clouds were rolling in the sky, dark and warm. Paul combed high in the tree, above the scarlet roofs of the buildings. The wind, moaning steadily, made the whole tree rock with a subtle, thrilling motion that stirred the blood. The young man, perched insecurely in the slender branches, rocked till he felt slightly drunk, reached down the boughs, where the scarlet beady cherries hung thick underneath, and tore off handful after handful of the sleek, cool-fleshed fruit. Cherries touched his ears and his neck as he stretched forward, their chill finger-tips sending a flash down his blood. All shades of red, from a golden vermilion to a rich crimson, glowed and met his eyes under a darkness of leaves.

      The sun, going down, suddenly caught the broken clouds. Immense piles of gold flared out in the south-east, heaped in soft, glowing yellow right up the sky. The world, till now dusk and grey, reflected the gold glow, astonished. Everywhere the trees, and the grass, and the far-off water, seemed roused from the twilight and shining.

      Miriam came out wondering.

      “Oh!” Paul heard her mellow voice call, “isn't it wonderful?”

      He looked down. There was a faint gold glimmer on her face, that looked very soft, turned up to him.

      “How high you are!” she said.

      Beside her, on the rhubarb leaves, were four dead birds, thieves that had been shot. Paul saw some cherry stones hanging quite bleached, like skeletons, picked clear of flesh. He looked down again to Miriam.

      “Clouds are on fire,” he said.

      “Beautiful!” she cried.

      She seemed so small, so soft, so tender, down there. He threw a handful of cherries at her. She was startled and frightened. He laughed with a low, chuckling sound, and pelted her. She ran for shelter, picking up some cherries. Two fine red pairs she hung over her ears; then she looked up again.

      “Haven't you got enough?” she asked.

      “Nearly. It is like being on a ship up here.”

      “And how long will you stay?”

      “While the sunset lasts.”

      She went to the fence and sat there, watching the gold clouds fall to pieces, and go in immense, rose-coloured ruin towards the darkness. Gold flamed to scarlet, like pain in its intense brightness. Then the scarlet sank to rose, and rose to crimson, and quickly the passion went out of the sky. All the world was dark grey. Paul scrambled quickly down with his basket, tearing his shirt-sleeve as he did so.

      “They are lovely,” said Miriam, fingering the cherries.

      “I've torn my sleeve,” he answered.

      She took the three-cornered rip, saying:

      “I shall have to mend it.” It was near the shoulder. She put her fingers through the tear. “How warm!” she said.

      He laughed. There was a new, strange note in his voice, one that made her pant.

      “Shall we stay out?” he said.

      “Won't it rain?” she asked.

      “No, let us walk a little way.”

      They went down the fields and into the thick plantation of trees and pines.

      “Shall we go in among the trees?” he asked.

      “Do you want to?”

      “Yes.”

      It was very dark among the firs, and the sharp spines pricked her face. She was afraid. Paul was silent and strange.

      “I like the darkness,” he said. “I wish it were thicker—good, СКАЧАТЬ