The Rainbow

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.