of overweening； unabateable fire。 She had abated that fire； she
had broken him。
But she caressed him。 She would not have him remember what
had been。 She would not remember herself。
〃Kiss me； Anton； kiss me；〃 she pleaded。
He kissed her； but she knew he could not touch her。 His arms
were round her； but they had not got her。 She could feel his
mouth upon her； but she was not at all pelled by it。
〃Kiss me；〃 she whispered； in acute distress； 〃kiss me。〃
And he kissed her as she bade him； but his heart was hollow。
She took his kisses； outwardly。 But her soul was empty and
finished。
Looking away； she saw the delicate glint of oats dangling
from the side of the stack； in the moonlight； something proud
and royal； and quite impersonal。 She had been proud with them；
where they were； she had been also。 But in this temporary warm
world of the monplace； she was a kind； good girl。 She reached
out yearningly for goodness and affection。 She wanted to be kind
and good。
They went home through the night that was all pale and
glowing around； with shadows and glimmerings and presences。
Distinctly； she saw the flowers in the hedgebottoms； she saw
the thin； raked sheaves flung white upon the thorny hedge。
How beautiful； how beautiful it was！ She thought with anguish
how wildly happy she was tonight； since he had kissed her。 But
as he walked with his arm round her waist； she turned with a
great offering of herself to the night that glistened
tremendous； a magnificent godly moon white and candid as a
bridegroom； flowers silvery and transformed filling up the
shadows。
He kissed her again； under the yew trees at home； and she
left him。 She ran from the intrusion of her parents at home； to
her bedroom； where； looking out on the moonlit country； she
stretched up her arms； hard； hard； in bliss； agony offering
herself to the blond； debonair presence of the night。
But there was a wound of sorrow； she had hurt herself； as if
she had bruised herself； in annihilating him。 She covered up her
two young breasts with her hands； covering them to herself； and
covering herself with herself； she crouched in bed； to
sleep。
In the morning the sun shone； she got up strong and dancing。
Skrebensky was still at the Marsh。 He was ing to church。 How
lovely； how amazing life was！ On the fresh Sunday morning she
went out to the garden； among the yellows and the deepvibrating
reds of autumn； she smelled the earth and felt the gossamer； the
cornfields across the country were pale and unreal； everywhere
was the intense silence of the Sunday morning； filled with
unacquainted noises。 She smelled the body of the earth； it
seemed to stir its powerful flank beneath her as she stood。 In
the bluish air came the powerful exudation； the peace was the
peace of strong； exhausted breathing； the reds and yellows and
the white gleam of stubble otion of the
last subsiding transports and clear bliss of fulfilment。
The churchbells were ringing when he came。 She looked up in
keen anticipation at his entry。 But he was troubled and his
pride was hurt。 He seemed very much clothed； she was conscious
of his tailored suit。
〃Wasn't it lovely last night？〃 she whispered to him。
〃Yes；〃 he said。 But his face did not open nor bee
free。
The service and the singing in church that morning passed
unnoticed by her。 She saw the coloured glow of the windows； the
forms of the worshippers。 Only she glanced at the book of
Genesis； which was her favourite book in the Bible。
〃And God blessed Noah and his sons； and said unto them； Be
fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth。
〃And the fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every
beast of the earth； and upon every fowl of the air； upon all
that moveth upon the earth； and upon all the fishes in the sea；
into your hand are they delivered。
〃Every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you； even
as the green herb have I given you all things。〃
But Ursula was not moved by the history this morning。
Multiplying and replenishing the earth bored her。 Altogether it
seemed merely a vulgar and stockraising sort of business。 She
an's stockbreeding lordship over beast
and fishes。
〃And you； be ye fruitful and multiply； bring forth abundantly
in the earth； and multiply therein。〃
In her soul she mocked at this multiplication； every cow
being two cows； every turnip ten turnips。
〃And God said； This is the token of the covenant which I make
between me and you and every living creature that is with you；
for perpetual generations；
〃I do set my bow in the cloud； and it shall be a token of a
covenant between me and the earth。
〃And it shall e to pass； when I bring a cloud over the
earth； that a bow shall be seen in the cloud；
〃And I will remember my covenant； which is between me and you
and every living creature of all flesh； and the waters shall no
more bee a flood to destroy all flesh。〃
〃Destroy all flesh；〃 why 〃flesh〃 in particular？ Who was this
lord of flesh？ After all； how big was the Flood？ Perhaps a few
dryads and fauns had just run into the hills and the farther
valleys and woods； frightened； but most had gone on blithely
unaware of any flood at all； unless the nymphs should tell them。
It pleased Ursula to think of the naiads in Asia Minor meeting
the nereids at the mouth of the streams； where the sea washed
against the fresh； sweet tide； and calling to their sisters the
news of Noah's Flood。 They would tell amusing accounts of Noah
in his ark。 Some nymphs would relate how they had hung on the
side of the ark； peeped in； and heard Noah and Shem and Ham and
Japeth； sitting in their place under the rain； saying； how they
four were the only men on earth now； because the Lord had
drowned all the rest； so that they four would have everything to
themselves； and be masters of every thing； subtenants under the
great Proprietor。
Ursula wished she had been a nymph。 She would have laughed
through the window of the ark； and flicked drops of the flood at
Noah； before she drifted away to people who were less important
in their Proprietor and their Flood。
What was God； after all？ If maggots in a dead dog be but God
kissing carrion； what then is not God？ She was surfeited of this
God。 She was weary of the Ursula Brangwen who felt troubled
about God。 What ever God was； He was； and there was no need for
her to trouble about Him。 She felt she had now all licence。
Skrebensky sat beside her； listening to the sermon； to the
voice of law and order。 〃The very hairs of your head are all
numbered。〃 He did not believe it。 He believed his own things
were quite at his own disposal。 You could do as you liked with
your own things； so long as you left other people's alone。
Ursula caressed him and made love to him。 Nevertheless he
knew she wanted to react upon him and to destroy his being。 She
was not with him； she was against him。 But her making love to
him； her plete admiration of him； in open life； gratified
him。
She caught him out of himself； and they were lovers； in a
young； romantic； almost fantastic way。 He gave her a little
ring。 They put it in Rhine wine； in their glass； and she drank；
then he drank。 They drank till the ring lay exposed at the
bottom of the glass。 Then she took the simple jewel； and tied it
on a thread round her neck； where she wore it。
He asked her for a photograph when he was going away。 She
went in great excitement to the photographer； with five
shillings。 The result was an ugly little picture of herself with
her mouth on one side。 She wondered over it and admired it。
He saw only the live face of the girl。 The picture hurt him。
He kept it； he always remembered it； but he could scarcely bear
to see it。 There was a hurt to his soul in the clear； fearless
face that was touched with abstraction。 Its abstraction was
certainly away from him。
Then war was declared with the Boers in South Africa； and
everywhere was a fizz of excitement。 He wrote that he might have
to go。 And he sent her a box of sweets。
She was slightly dazed at the thought of his going to the
war； not knowing how to feel。 It was a sort of romantic
situation that she knew so well in fiction she hardly understood
it in fact。 Underneath a top elation was a sort of dreariness；
deep； ashy disappointment。
However； she secreted the sweets under her bed； and ate them
all herself； when she went to bed； and when she woke in the
morning。 All the time she felt very guilty and ashamed； but she
simply did not want to share them。
That box of sweets remained stuck in her mind afterwards。 Why
had she secreted them and eaten them every one？ Why？ She did not
feel guiltyshe only knew she ought to feel guilty。 And
she could not make up her mind。 Curiously monumental that box of
sweets stood up； now it was empty。 It was a crux for her。 What
was she to think of it？
The idea of war altogether made her feel uneasy； uneasy。 When
men began anized fighting with each other it seemed to her as
if the poles of the universe were cracking； and the whole might
go tumbling into the bottomless pit。 A horrible bottomless
feeling she had。 Yet of course there was the minted
superscription of romance and honour and even religion about
war。 She was very confused。
Skrebensky was busy； he could not e to see her。 She asked
for no assurance； no security。 What was between them； was； and
could not be altered by avowals。 She knew that by instinct； she
trusted to the intrinsic reality。
But she felt an agony of helplessness。 She could do nothing。
Vaguely she knew the huge powers of the world rolling and
crashing together； darkly； clumsily； stupidly； yet colossal； so
that one was brushed along almost as dust。 Helpless； helpless；
swirling like dust！ Yet she wanted so hard to rebel； to rage； to
fight。 But with what？
Could she with her hands fight the face of the earth； beat
the hills in their places？ Yet her breast wanted to fight； to
fight the whole world。 And these two small hands were all she
had to do it with。
The months went by； and it was Christmasthe snowdrops
came。 There was a little hollow in the wood near Cossethay；
where snowdrops grew wild。 She sent him some in a box； and he
wrote her a quick little note of thanksvery grateful and
wistful he seemed。 Her eyes grew childlike and puzzled。 Puzzled
from day to day she went on； helpless； carried along by all that
must happen。
He went about at his duties； giving himself up to them。 At
the bottom of his heart his self； the soul that aspired and had
true hope of selfeffectuation lay as dead； stillborn； a dead
weight in his womb。 Who was he； to hold important his personal
connection？ What did a man matter personally？ He was just a
brick in the whole great social fabric； the nation； the modern
humanity。 His personal movements were small； and entirely
subsidiary。 The whole form must be ensured； not ruptured； for
any personal reason whatsoever； since no personal reason could
justify such a breaking。 What did personal intimacy matter？ One
had to fill one's place in the whole； the great scheme of man's
elaborate civilization； that was all。 The Whole
matteredbut the unit； the person； had no importance；
except as he represented the Whole。
So Skrebensky left the girl