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Women in Love

Page 78

'It SOUNDS like megalomania, Rupert,' said Gerald, genially.

Hermione gave a queer, grunting sound. Birkin stood back.

'Yes, let it,' he said suddenly, the whole tone gone out of his voice,

that had been so insistent, bearing everybody down. And he went away.

But he felt, later, a little compunction. He had been violent, cruel

with poor Hermione. He wanted to recompense her, to make it up. He had

hurt her, he had been vindictive. He wanted to be on good terms with

her again.

He went into her boudoir, a remote and very cushiony place. She was

sitting at her table writing letters. She lifted her face abstractedly

when he entered, watched him go to the sofa, and sit down. Then she

looked down at her paper again.

He took up a large volume which he had been reading before, and became

minutely attentive to his author. His back was towards Hermione. She

could not go on with her writing. Her whole mind was a chaos, darkness

breaking in upon it, and herself struggling to gain control with her

will, as a swimmer struggles with the swirling water. But in spite of

her efforts she was borne down, darkness seemed to break over her, she

felt as if her heart was bursting. The terrible tension grew stronger

and stronger, it was most fearful agony, like being walled up.

And then she realised that his presence was the wall, his presence was

destroying her. Unless she could break out, she must die most

fearfully, walled up in horror. And he was the wall. She must break

down the wall--she must break him down before her, the awful

obstruction of him who obstructed her life to the last. It must be

done, or she must perish most horribly.

Terribly shocks ran over her body, like shocks of electricity, as if

many volts of electricity suddenly struck her down. She was aware of

him sitting silently there, an unthinkable evil obstruction. Only this

blotted out her mind, pressed out her very breathing, his silent,

stooping back, the back of his head.

A terrible voluptuous thrill ran down her arms--she was going to know

her voluptuous consummation. Her arms quivered and were strong,

immeasurably and irresistibly strong. What delight, what delight in

strength, what delirium of pleasure! She was going to have her

consummation of voluptuous ecstasy at last. It was coming! In utmost

terror and agony, she knew it was upon her now, in extremity of bliss.

Her hand closed on a blue, beautiful ball of lapis lazuli that stood on

her desk for a paper-weight. She rolled it round in her hand as she

rose silently. Her heart was a pure flame in her breast, she was purely

unconscious in ecstasy. She moved towards him and stood behind him for

a moment in ecstasy. He, closed within the spell, remained motionless

and unconscious.

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