Women in Love

'Not the same--but equally important, equally creative, equally sacred,

if you like.' 'I know,' said Gerald, 'you believe something like that. Only I can't

FEEL it, you see.' He put his hand on Birkin's arm, with a sort of

deprecating affection. And he smiled as if triumphantly.

He was ready to be doomed. Marriage was like a doom to him. He was

willing to condemn himself in marriage, to become like a convict

condemned to the mines of the underworld, living no life in the sun,

but having a dreadful subterranean activity. He was willing to accept

this. And marriage was the seal of his condemnation. He was willing to

be sealed thus in the underworld, like a soul damned but living forever

in damnation. But he would not make any pure relationship with any

other soul. He could not. Marriage was not the committing of himself

into a relationship with Gudrun. It was a committing of himself in

acceptance of the established world, he would accept the established

order, in which he did not livingly believe, and then he would retreat

to the underworld for his life. This he would do.

The other way was to accept Rupert's offer of alliance, to enter into

the bond of pure trust and love with the other man, and then

subsequently with the woman. If he pledged himself with the man he

would later be able to pledge himself with the woman: not merely in

legal marriage, but in absolute, mystic marriage.

Yet he could not accept the offer. There was a numbness upon him, a

numbness either of unborn, absent volition, or of atrophy. Perhaps it

was the absence of volition. For he was strangely elated at Rupert's

offer. Yet he was still more glad to reject it, not to be committed.