world must be abolished。 He maddened her with his soft；
cajoling； vibrating tones。 He wanted her to answer； to
understand。 A turgid； teeming night； heavy with fecundity in
which every molecule of matter grew big with increase； secretly
urgent with fecund desire； seemed to e to pass。 She quivered；
taut and vibrating； almost pained。 And gradually； he ceased
telling her of Africa； there came a silence； whilst they walked
the darkness beside the massive river。 Her limbs were rich and
tense； she felt they must be vibrating with a low； profound
vibration。 She could scarcely walk。 The deep vibration of the
darkness could only be felt； not heard。
Suddenly； as they walked； she turned to him and held him
fast； as if she were turned to steel。
〃Do you love me？〃 she cried in anguish。
〃Yes；〃 he said； in a curious； lapping voice； unlike himself。
〃Yes； I love you。〃
He seemed like the living darkness upon her； she was in the
embrace of the strong darkness。 He held her enclosed； soft；
unutterably soft； and with the unrelaxing softness of fate； the
relentless softness of fecundity。 She quivered； and quivered；
like a tense thing that is struck。 But he held her all the time；
soft； unending； like darkness closed upon her； omnipresent as
the night。 He kissed her； and she quivered as if she were being
destroyed； shattered。 The lighted vessel vibrated； and broke in
her soul； the light fell； struggled； and went dark。 She was all
dark； will…less； having only the receptive will。
He kissed her； with his soft； enveloping kisses； and she
responded to them pletely； her mind； her soul gone out。
Darkness cleaving to darkness； she hung close to him； pressed
herself into soft flow of his kiss； pressed herself down； down
to the source and core of his kiss； herself covered and
enveloped in the warm； fecund flow of his kiss； that travelled
over her； flowed over her； covered her； flowed over the last
fibre of her； so they were one stream； one dark fecundity； and
she clung at the core of him； with her lips holding open the
very bottommost source of him。
So they stood in the utter； dark kiss； that triumphed over
them both； subjected them； knitted them into one fecund nucleus
of the fluid darkness。
It was bliss； it was the nucleolating of the fecund darkness。
Once the vessel had vibrated till it was shattered； the light of
consciousness gone； then the darkness reigned； and the
unutterable satisfaction。
They stood enjoying the unmitigated kiss； taking it； giving
to it endlessly； and still it was not exhausted。 Their veins
fluttered； their blood ran together as one stream。
Till gradually a sleep； a heaviness settled on them； a
drowse； and out of the drowse； a small light of consciousness
woke up。 Ursula became aware of the night around her； the water
lapping and running full just near； the trees roaring and
soughing in gusts of wind。
She kept near to him； in contact with him； but she became
ever more and more herself。 And she knew she must go to catch
her train。 But she did not want to draw away from contact with
him。
At length they roused and set out。 No longer they existed in
the unblemished darkness。 There was the glitter of a bridge； the
twinkle of lights across the river； the big flare of the town in
front and on their right。
But still； dark and soft and incontestable； their bodies
walked untouched by the lights； darkness supreme and
arrogant。
〃The stupid lights；〃 Ursula said to herself； in her dark
sensual arrogance。 〃The stupid； artificial； exaggerated town；
fuming its lights。 It does not exist really。 It rests upon the
unlimited darkness； like a gleam of coloured oil on dark water；
but what is it？……nothing； just nothing。〃
In the tram； in the train； she felt the same。 The lights； the
civic uniform was a trick played； the people as they moved or
sat were only dummies exposed。 She could see； beneath their
pale； wooden pretence of posure and civic purposefulness； the
dark stream that contained them all。 They were like little paper
ships in their motion。 But in reality each one was a dark；
blind； eager wave urging blindly forward； dark with the same
homogeneous desire。 And all their talk and all their behaviour
was sham； they were dressed…up creatures。 She was reminded of
the Invisible Man； who was a piece of darkness made visible only
by his clothes。
During the next weeks； all the time she went about in the
same dark richness； her eyes dilated and shining like the eyes
of a wild animal； a curious half…smile which seemed to be gibing
at the civic pretence of all the human life about her。
〃What are you； you pale citizens？〃 her face seemed to say；
gleaming。 〃You subdued beast in sheep's clothing； you primeval
darkness falsified to a social mechanism。〃
She went about in the sensual sub…consciousness all the time；
mocking at the ready…made； artificial daylight of the rest。
〃They assume selves as they assume suits of clothing；〃 she
said to herself； looking in mocking contempt at the stiffened；
neutralized men。 〃They think it better to be clerks or
professors than to be the dark； fertile beings that exist in the
potential darkness。 What do you think you are？〃 her soul asked
of the professor as she sat opposite him in class。 〃What do you
think you are； as you sit there in your gown and your
spectacles？ You are a lurking； blood…sniffing creature with eyes
peering out of the jungle darkness； snuffing for your desires。
That is what you are； though nobody would believe it； and
you would be the very last to allow it。〃
Her soul mocked at all this pretence。 Herself； she kept on
pretending。 She dressed herself and made herself fine； she
attended her lectures and scribbled her notes。 But all in a mood
of superficial； mocking facility。 She understood well enough
their two…and…two…make…four tricks。 She was as clever as they
were。 But care！……did she care about their monkey tricks of
knowledge or learning or civic deportment？ She did not care in
the least。
There was Skrebensky； there was her dark； vital self。 Outside
the college； the outer darkness； Skrebensky was waiting。 On the
edge of the night； he was attentive。 Did he care？
She was free as a leopard that sends up its raucous cry in
the night。 She had the potent； dark stream of her own blood； she
had the glimmering core of fecundity； she had her mate； her
plement； her sharer in fruition。 So； she had all；
everything。
Skrebensky was staying in Nottingham all the time。 He too was
free。 He knew no one in this town； he had no civic self to
maintain。 He was free。 Their trams and markets and theatres and
public meetings were a shaken kaleidoscope to him； he watched as
a lion or a tiger may lie with narrowed eyes watching the people
pass before its cage； the kaleidoscopic unreality of people； or
a leopard lie blinking； watching the inprehensible feats of
the keepers。 He despised it all……it was all non…existent。
Their good professors； their good clergymen； their good
political speakers； their good； earnest women……all the time
he felt his soul was grinning； grinning at the sight of them。 So
many performing puppets； all wood and rag for the
performance！
He watched the citizen； a pillar of society； a model； saw the
stiff goat's legs； which have bee almost stiffened to wood in
the desire to make them puppet in their action； he saw the
trousers formed to the puppet…action： man's legs； but man's legs
bee rigid and deformed； ugly； mechanical。
He was curiously happy； being alone； now。 The glimmering grin
was on his face。 He had no longer any necessity to take part in
the performing tricks of the rest。 He had discovered the clue to
himself； he had escaped from the show； like a wild beast escaped
straight back into its jungle。 Having a room in a quiet hotel；
he hired a horse and rode out into the country； staying
sometimes for the night in some village； and returning the next
day。
He felt rich and abundant in himself。 Everything he did was a
voluptuous pleasure to him……either to ride on horseback； or
to walk； or to lie in the sun； or to drink in a public…house。 He
had no use for people； nor for words。 He had an amused pleasure
in everything； a great sense of voluptuous richness in himself；
and of the fecundity of the universal night he inhabited。 The
puppet shapes of people； their wood…mechanical voices； he was
remote from them。
For there were always his meetings with Ursula。 Very often；
she did not go to college in the afternoon； but walked with him
instead。 Or he took a motor…car or a dog…cart and they drove
into the country； leaving the car and going away by themselves
into the woods。 He had not taken her yet。 With subtle；
instinctive economy； they went to the end of each kiss； each
embrace； each pleasure in intimate contact； knowing
subconsciously that the last was ing。 It was to be their
final entry into the source of creation。
She took him home； and he stayed a week…end at Beldover with
her family。 She loved having him in the house。 Strange how he
seemed to e into the atmosphere of her family； with his
laughing； insidious grace。 They all loved him； he was kin to
them。 His raillery； his warm； voluptuous mocking presence was
meat and joy to the Brangwen household。 For this house was
always quivering with darkness； they put off their puppet form
when they came home； to lie and drowse in the sun。
There was a sense of freedom amongst them all； of the
undercurrent of darkness among them all。 Yet here； at home；
Ursula resented it。 It became distasteful to her。 And she knew
that if they understood the real relationship between her and
Skrebensky； her parents； her father in particular； would go mad
with rage。 So subtly； she seemed to be like any other girl who
is more or less courted by a man。 And she was like any other
girl。 But in her； the antagonism to the social imposition was
for the time plete and final。
She waited； every moment of the day； for his next kiss。 She
admitted it to herself in shame and bliss。 Almost consciously；
she waited。 He waited； but； until the time came； more
unconsciously。 When the time came that he should kiss her again；
a prevention was an annihilation to him。 He felt his flesh go
grey； he was heavy with a corp