And she was bitter against him, that he let his mind sleep.
That which was human, belonged to mankind, he would not exert.
He cared only for himself. He was no Christian. Above all,
Christ had asserted the brotherhood of man.
She, almost against herself, clung to the worship of the
human knowledge. Man must die in the body, but in his knowledge
he was immortal. Such, somewhere, was her belief, quite obscure
and unformulated. She believed in the omnipotence of the human
mind.
He, on the other hand, blind as a subterranean thing, just
ignored the human mind and ran after his own dark-souled
desires, following his own tunnelling nose. She felt often she
must suffocate. And she fought him off.
Then he, knowing he was blind, fought madly back again,
frantic in sensual fear. He did foolish things. He asserted
himself on his rights, he arrogated the old position of master
of the house.
"You've a right to do as I want," he cried.
"Fool!" she answered. "Fool!"
"I'll let you know who's master," he cried.
"Fool!" she answered. "Fool! I've known my own father, who
could put a dozen of you in his pipe and push them down with his
finger-end. Don't I know what a fool you are!"
He knew himself what a fool he was, and was flayed by the
knowledge. Yet he went on trying to steer the ship of their dual
life. He asserted his position as the captain of the ship. And
captain and ship bored her. He wanted to loom important as
master of one of the innumerable domestic craft that make up the
great fleet of society. It seemed to her a ridiculous armada of
tubs jostling in futility. She felt no belief in it. She jeered
at him as master of the house, master of their dual life. And he
was black with shame and rage. He knew, with shame, how her
father had been a man without arrogating any authority.
He had gone on the wrong tack, and he felt it hard to give up
the expedition. There was great surging and shame. Then he
yielded. He had given up the master-of-the-house idea.
There was something he wanted, nevertheless, some form of
mastery. Ever and anon, after his collapses into the petty and
the shameful, he rose up again, and, stubborn in spirit, strong
in his power to start afresh, set out once more in his male
pride of being to fulfil the hidden passion of his spirit.
It began well, but it ended always in war between them, till
they were both driven almost to madness. He said, she did not
respect him. She laughed in hollow scorn of this. For her it was
enough that she loved him.
"Respect what?" she asked.
But he always answered the wrong thing. And though she
cudgelled her brains, she could not come at it.