Women in Love

Hermione poured a little cream into a saucer. The simple way she

assumed her rights in Birkin's room maddened and discouraged Ursula.

There was a fatality about it, as if it were bound to be. Hermione

lifted the cat and put the cream before him. He planted his two paws on

the edge of the table and bent his gracious young head to drink.

'Siccuro che capisce italiano,' sang Hermione, 'non l'avra dimenticato,

la lingua della Mamma.' She lifted the cat's head with her long, slow, white fingers, not

letting him drink, holding him in her power. It was always the same,

this joy in power she manifested, peculiarly in power over any male

being. He blinked forbearingly, with a male, bored expression, licking

his whiskers. Hermione laughed in her short, grunting fashion.

'Ecco, il bravo ragazzo, come e superbo, questo!' She made a vivid picture, so calm and strange with the cat. She had a

true static impressiveness, she was a social artist in some ways.

The cat refused to look at her, indifferently avoided her fingers, and

began to drink again, his nose down to the cream, perfectly balanced,

as he lapped with his odd little click.

'It's bad for him, teaching him to eat at table,' said Birkin.

'Yes,' said Hermione, easily assenting.

Then, looking down at the cat, she resumed her old, mocking, humorous

sing-song.

'Ti imparano fare brutte cose, brutte cose--' She lifted the Mino's white chin on her forefinger, slowly. The young

cat looked round with a supremely forbearing air, avoided seeing

anything, withdrew his chin, and began to wash his face with his paw.

Hermione grunted her laughter, pleased.

'Bel giovanotto--' she said.

The cat reached forward again and put his fine white paw on the edge of

the saucer. Hermione lifted it down with delicate slowness. This

deliberate, delicate carefulness of movement reminded Ursula of Gudrun.

'No! Non e permesso di mettere il zampino nel tondinetto. Non piace al

babbo. Un signor gatto cosi selvatico--!' And she kept her finger on the softly planted paw of the cat, and her

voice had the same whimsical, humorous note of bullying.

Ursula had her nose out of joint. She wanted to go away now. It all

seemed no good. Hermione was established for ever, she herself was

ephemeral and had not yet even arrived.

'I will go now,' she said suddenly.

Birkin looked at her almost in fear--he so dreaded her anger. 'But

there is no need for such hurry,' he said.

'Yes,' she answered. 'I will go.' And turning to Hermione, before there

was time to say any more, she held out her hand and said 'Good-bye.' 'Good-bye--' sang Hermione, detaining the band. 'Must you really go

now?' 'Yes, I think I'll go,' said Ursula, her face set, and averted from

Hermione's eyes.