The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第69章

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world。　Now　a　new　state　should　e　to　pass。

He　walked　near　to　her；　and　with　the　same；　silent；　intent
approach　put　his　arm　round　her　waist；　and　softly；　very　softly；
drew　her　to　him；　till　his　arm　was　hard　and　pressed　in　upon　her；
she　seemed　to　be　carried　along；　floating；　her　feet　scarce
touching　the　ground；　borne　upon　the　firm；　moving　surface　of　his
body；　upon　whose　side　she　seemed　to　lie；　in　a　delicious　swoon　of
motion。　And　whilst　she　swooned；　his　face　bent　nearer　to　her；　her
head　was　leaned　on　his　shoulder；　she　felt　his　warm　breath　on　her
face。　Then　softly；　oh　softly；　so　softly　that　she　seemed　to　faint
away；　his　lips　touched　her　cheek；　and　she　drifted　through
strands　of　heat　and　darkness。

Still　she　waited；　in　her　swoon　and　her　drifting；　waited；　like
the　Sleeping　Beauty　in　the　story。　She　waited；　and　again　his　face
was　bent　to　hers；　his　lips　came　warm　to　her　face；　their
footsteps　lingered　and　ceased；　they　stood　still　under　the　trees；
whilst　his　lips　waited　on　her　face；　waited　like　a　butterfly　that
does　not　move　on　a　flower。　She　pressed　her　breast　a　little
nearer　to　him；　he　moved；　put　both　his　arms　round　her；　and　drew
her　close。

And　then；　in　the　darkness；　he　bent　to　her　mouth；　softly；　and
touched　her　mouth　with　his　mouth。　She　was　afraid；　she　lay　still
on　his　arm；　feeling　his　lips　on　her　lips。　She　kept　still；
helpless。　Then　his　mouth　drew　near；　pressing　open　her　mouth；　a
hot；　drenching　surge　rose　within　her；　she　opened　her　lips　to
him；　in　pained；　poignant　eddies　she　drew　him　nearer；　she　let　him
e　farther；　his　lips　came　and　surging；　surging；　soft；　oh　soft；
yet　oh；　like　the　powerful　surge　of　water；　irresistible；　till
with　a　little　blind　cry；　she　broke　away。

She　heard　him　breathing　heavily；　strangely；　beside　her。　A
terrible　and　magnificent　sense　of　his　strangeness　possessed　her。
But　she　shrank　a　little　now；　within　herself。　Hesitating；　they
continued　to　walk　on；　quivering　like　shadows　under　the　ash　trees
of　the　hill；　where　her　grandfather　had　walked　with　his　daffodils
to　make　his　proposal；　and　where　her　mother　had　gone　with　her
young　husband；　walking　close　upon　him　as　Ursula　was　now　walking
upon　Skrebensky。

Ursula　was　aware　of　the　dark　limbs　of　the　trees　stretching
overhead；　clothed　with　leaves；　and　of　fine　ash　leaves　tressing
the　summer　night。

They　walked　with　their　bodies　moving　in　plex　unity；　close
together。　He　held　her　hand；　and　they　went　the　long　way　round　by
the　road；　to　be　farther。　Always　she　felt　as　if　she　were
supported　off　her　feet；　as　if　her　feet　were　light　as　little
breezes　in　motion。

He　would　kiss　her　again……but　not　again　that　night　with
the　same　deep……reaching　kiss。　She　was　aware　now；　aware　of
what　a　kiss　might　be。　And　so；　it　was　more　difficult　to　e　to
him。

She　went　to　bed　feeling　all　warm　with　electric　warmth；　as　if
the　gush　of　dawn　were　within　her；　upholding　her。　And　she　slept
deeply；　sweetly；　oh；　so　sweetly。　In　the　morning　she　felt　sound
as　an　ear　of　wheat；　fragrant　and　firm　and　full。

They　continued　to　be　lovers；　in　the　first　wondering　state　of
unrealization。　Ursula　told　nobody；　she　was　entirely　lost　in　her
own　world。

Yet　some　strange　affectation　made　her　seek　for　a　spurious
confidence。　She　had　at　school　a　quiet；　meditative；
serious…souled　friend　called　Ethel；　and　to　Ethel　must　Ursula
confide　the　story。　Ethel　listened　absorbedly；　with　bowed；
unbetraying　head；　whilst　Ursula　told　her　secret。　Oh；　it　was　so
lovely；　his　gentle；　delicate　way　of　making　love！　Ursula　talked
like　a　practiced　lover。

〃Do　you　think；〃　asked　Ursula；　〃it　is　wicked　to　let　a　man　kiss
you……real　kisses；　not　flirting？〃

〃I　should　think；〃　said　Ethel；　〃it　depends。〃

〃He　kissed　me　under　the　ash　trees　on　Cossethay　hill……do
you　think　it　was　wrong？〃

〃When？〃

〃On　Thursday　night　when　he　was　seeing　me　home……but　real
kisses……real……。　He　is　an　officer　in　the　army。〃

〃What　time　was　it？〃　asked　the　deliberate　Ethel。

〃I　don't　know……about　half…past　nine。〃

There　was　a　pause。

〃I　think　it's　wrong；〃　said　Ethel；　lifting　her　head　with
impatience。　〃You　don't　know　him。〃

She　spoke　with　some　contempt。

〃Yes；　I　do。　He　is　half　a　Pole；　and　a　Baron　too。　In　England　he
is　equivalent　to　a　Lord。　My　grandmother　was　his　father's
friend。〃

But　the　two　friends　were　hostile。　It　was　as　if　Ursula
wanted　to　divide　herself　from　her　acquaintances；　in
asserting　her　connection　with　Anton；　as　she　now　called　him。

He　came　a　good　deal　to　Cossethay；　because　her　mother　was　fond
of　him。　Anna　Brangwen　became　something　of　a　grande　dame
with　Skrebensky；　very　calm；　taking　things　for　granted。

〃Aren't　the　children　in　bed？〃　cried　Ursula　petulantly；　as　she
came　in　with　the　young　man。

〃They　will　be　in　bed　in　half　an　hour；〃　said　the　mother。

〃There　is　no　peace；〃　cried　Ursula。

〃The　children　must　live；　Ursula；〃　said　her　mother。

And　Skrebensky　was　against　Ursula　in　this。　Why　should　she　be
so　insistent？

But　then；　as　Ursula　knew；　he　did　not　have　the　perpetual
tyranny　of　young　children　about　him。　He　treated　her　mother　with
great　courtliness；　to　which　Mrs。　Brangwen　returned　an　easy；
friendly　hospitality。　Something　pleased　the　girl　in　her　mother's
calm　assumption　of　state。　It　seemed　impossible　to　abate　Mrs。
Brangwen's　position。　She　could　never　be　beneath　anyone　in　public
relation。　Between　Brangwen　and　Skrebensky　there　was　an
unbridgeable　silence。　Sometimes　the　two　men　made　a　slight
conversation；　but　there　was　no　interchange。　Ursula　rejoiced　to
see　her　father　retreating　into　himself　against　the　young
man。

She　was　proud　of　Skrebensky　in　the　house。　His　lounging；
languorous　indifference　irritated　her　and　yet　cast　a　spell　over
her。　She　knew　it　was　the　oute　of　a　spirit　of
laissez…aller　bined　with　profound　young　vitality。　Yet
it　irritated　her　deeply。

Notwithstanding；　she　was　proud　of　him　as　he　lounged　in　his
lambent　fashion　in　her　home；　he　was　so　attentive　and　courteous
to　her　mother　and　to　herself　all　the　time。　It　was　wonderful　to
have　his　awareness　in　the　room。　She　felt　rich　and　augmented　by
it；　as　if　she　were　the　positive　attraction　and　he　the　flow
towards　her。　And　his　courtesy　and　his　agreement　might　be　all　her
mother's；　but　the　lambent　flicker　of　his　body　was　for　herself。
She　held　it。

She　must　ever　prove　her　power。

〃I　meant　to　show　you　my　little　wood…carving；〃　she　said。

〃I'm　sure　it's　not　worth　showing；　that；〃　said　her　father。

〃Would　you　like　to　see　it？〃　she　asked；　leaning　towards　the
door。

And　his　body　had　risen　from　the　chair；　though　his　face　seemed
to　want　to　agree　with　her　parents。

〃It　is　in　the　shed；〃　she　said。

And　he　followed　her　out　of　the　door；　whatever　his　feelings
might　be。

In　the　shed　they　played　at　kisses；　really　played　at　kisses。
It　was　a　delicious；　exciting　game。　She　turned　to　him；　her　face
all　laughing；　like　a　challenge。　And　he　accepted　the　challenge　at
once。　He　twined　his　hand　full　of　her　hair；　and　gently；　with　his
hand　wrapped　round　with　hair　behind　her　head；　gradually　brought
her　face　nearer　to　his；　whilst　she　laughed　breathless　with
challenge；　and　his　eyes　gleamed　with　answer；　with　enjoyment　of
the　game。　And　he　kissed　her；　asserting　his　will　over　her；　and
she　kissed　him　back；　asserting　her　deliberate　enjoyment　of　him。
Daring　and　reckless　and　dangerous　they　knew　it　was；　their　game；
each　playing　with　fire；　not　with　love。　A　sort　of　defiance　of　all
the　world　possessed　her　in　it……she　would　kiss　him　just
because　she　wanted　to。　And　a　dare…devilry　in　him；　like　a
cynicism；　a　cut　at　everything　he　pretended　to　serve；　retaliated
in　him。

She　was　very　beautiful　then；　so　wide　opened；　so　radiant；　so
palpitating；　exquisitely　vulnerable　and　poignantly；　wrongly；
throwing　herself　to　risk。　It　roused　a　sort　of　madness　in　him。
Like　a　flower　shaking　and　wide…opened　in　the　sun；　she　tempted
him　and　challenged　him；　and　he　accepted　the　challenge；　something
went　fixed　in　him。　And　under　all　her　laughing；　poignant
recklessness　was　the　quiver　of　tears。　That　almost　sent　him　mad；
mad　with　desire；　with　pain；　whose　only　issue　was　through
possession　of　her　body。

So；　shaken；　afraid；　they　went　back　to　her　parents　in　the
kitchen；　and　dissimulated。　But　something　was　roused　in　both　of
them　that　they　could　not　now　allay。　It　intensified　and
heightened　their　senses；　they　were　more　vivid；　and　powerful　in
their　being。　But　under　it　all　was　a　poignant　sense　of
transience。　It　was　a　magnificent　self…assertion　on　the　part　of
both　of　them；　he　asserted　himself　before　her；　he　felt　himself
infinitely　male　and　infinitely　irresistible；　she　asserted
herself　before　him；　she　knew　herself　infinitely　desirable；　and
hence　infinitely　strong。　And　after　all；　what　could　either　of
them　get　from　such　a　passion　but　a　sense　of　his　or　of　her　own
maximum　self；　in　contradistinction　to　all　the　rest　of　life？
Wherein　was　something　finite　and　sad；　for　the　human　soul　at　its
maximum　wants　a　sense　of　the　infinite。

Nevertheless；　it　was　begun　now；　this　passion；　and　must　go　on；
the　passion　of　Ursula　to　know　her　own　maximum　self；　limited　and
so　defined　against　him。　She　could　limit　and　define　herself
against　him；　the　male；　she　could　be　her　maximum　self；　female；　oh
female；　triumphant　for　one　moment　in　exquisite　assertion　against
the　male；　in　supreme　contradistinction