'You think I'm afraid of you and your cattle, don't you?' she asked.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. There was a faint domineering smile on
his face.
'Why should I think that?' he said.
She was watching him all the time with her dark, dilated, inchoate
eyes. She leaned forward and swung round her arm, catching him a light
blow on the face with the back of her hand.
'That's why,' she said, mocking.
And she felt in her soul an unconquerable desire for deep violence
against him. She shut off the fear and dismay that filled her conscious
mind. She wanted to do as she did, she was not going to be afraid.
He recoiled from the slight blow on his face. He became deadly pale,
and a dangerous flame darkened his eyes. For some seconds he could not
speak, his lungs were so suffused with blood, his heart stretched
almost to bursting with a great gush of ungovernable emotion. It was as
if some reservoir of black emotion had burst within him, and swamped
him.
'You have struck the first blow,' he said at last, forcing the words
from his lungs, in a voice so soft and low, it sounded like a dream
within her, not spoken in the outer air.
'And I shall strike the last,' she retorted involuntarily, with
confident assurance. He was silent, he did not contradict her.
She stood negligently, staring away from him, into the distance. On the
edge of her consciousness the question was asking itself,
automatically: 'Why ARE you behaving in this IMPOSSIBLE and ridiculous fashion.' But
she was sullen, she half shoved the question out of herself. She could
not get it clean away, so she felt self-conscious.
Gerald, very pale, was watching her closely. His eyes were lit up with
intent lights, absorbed and gleaming. She turned suddenly on him.
'It's you who make me behave like this, you know,' she said, almost
suggestive.
'I? How?' he said.
But she turned away, and set off towards the lake. Below, on the water,
lanterns were coming alight, faint ghosts of warm flame floating in the
pallor of the first twilight. The earth was spread with darkness, like
lacquer, overhead was a pale sky, all primrose, and the lake was pale
as milk in one part. Away at the landing stage, tiniest points of
coloured rays were stringing themselves in the dusk. The launch was
being illuminated. All round, shadow was gathering from the trees.
Gerald, white like a presence in his summer clothes, was following down
the open grassy slope. Gudrun waited for him to come up. Then she
softly put out her hand and touched him, saying softly: 'Don't be angry with me.' A flame flew over him, and he was unconscious. Yet he stammered: 'I'm not angry with you. I'm in love with you.' His mind was gone, he grasped for sufficient mechanical control, to
save himself. She laughed a silvery little mockery, yet intolerably
caressive.