The normal consciousness however was returning, ebbing back. Birkin
could breathe almost naturally again. Gerald's hand slowly withdrew,
Birkin slowly, dazedly rose to his feet and went towards the table. He
poured out a whiskey and soda. Gerald also came for a drink.
'It was a real set-to, wasn't it?' said Birkin, looking at Gerald with
darkened eyes.
'God, yes,' said Gerald. He looked at the delicate body of the other
man, and added: 'It wasn't too much for you, was it?' 'No. One ought to wrestle and strive and be physically close. It makes
one sane.' 'You do think so?' 'I do. Don't you?' 'Yes,' said Gerald.
There were long spaces of silence between their words. The wrestling
had some deep meaning to them--an unfinished meaning.
'We are mentally, spiritually intimate, therefore we should be more or
less physically intimate too--it is more whole.' 'Certainly it is,' said Gerald. Then he laughed pleasantly, adding:
'It's rather wonderful to me.' He stretched out his arms handsomely.
'Yes,' said Birkin. 'I don't know why one should have to justify
oneself.' 'No.' The two men began to dress.
'I think also that you are beautiful,' said Birkin to Gerald, 'and that
is enjoyable too. One should enjoy what is given.' 'You think I am beautiful--how do you mean, physically?' asked Gerald,
his eyes glistening.
'Yes. You have a northern kind of beauty, like light refracted from
snow--and a beautiful, plastic form. Yes, that is there to enjoy as
well. We should enjoy everything.' Gerald laughed in his throat, and said: 'That's certainly one way of looking at it. I can say this much, I feel
better. It has certainly helped me. Is this the Bruderschaft you
wanted?' 'Perhaps. Do you think this pledges anything?' 'I don't know,' laughed Gerald.
'At any rate, one feels freer and more open now--and that is what we
want.' 'Certainly,' said Gerald.
They drew to the fire, with the decanters and the glasses and the food.
'I always eat a little before I go to bed,' said Gerald. 'I sleep
better.' 'I should not sleep so well,' said Birkin.
'No? There you are, we are not alike. I'll put a dressing-gown on.'
Birkin remained alone, looking at the fire. His mind had reverted to
Ursula. She seemed to return again into his consciousness. Gerald came
down wearing a gown of broad-barred, thick black-and-green silk,
brilliant and striking.
'You are very fine,' said Birkin, looking at the full robe.
'It was a caftan in Bokhara,' said Gerald. 'I like it.' 'I like it too.' Birkin was silent, thinking how scrupulous Gerald was in his attire,
how expensive too. He wore silk socks, and studs of fine workmanship,
and silk underclothing, and silk braces. Curious! This was another of
the differences between them. Birkin was careless and unimaginative
about his own appearance.