In the old age, before sex was, we were mixed, each one a mixture. The
process of singling into individuality resulted into the great
polarisation of sex. The womanly drew to one side, the manly to the
other. But the separation was imperfect even them. And so our
world-cycle passes. There is now to come the new day, when we are
beings each of us, fulfilled in difference. The man is pure man, the
woman pure woman, they are perfectly polarised. But there is no longer
any of the horrible merging, mingling self-abnegation of love. There is
only the pure duality of polarisation, each one free from any
contamination of the other. In each, the individual is primal, sex is
subordinate, but perfectly polarised. Each has a single, separate
being, with its own laws. The man has his pure freedom, the woman hers.
Each acknowledges the perfection of the polarised sex-circuit. Each
admits the different nature in the other.
So Birkin meditated whilst he was ill. He liked sometimes to be ill
enough to take to his bed. For then he got better very quickly, and
things came to him clear and sure.
Whilst he was laid up, Gerald came to see him. The two men had a deep,
uneasy feeling for each other. Gerald's eyes were quick and restless,
his whole manner tense and impatient, he seemed strung up to some
activity. According to conventionality, he wore black clothes, he
looked formal, handsome and COMME IL FAUT. His hair was fair almost to
whiteness, sharp like splinters of light, his face was keen and ruddy,
his body seemed full of northern energy. Gerald really loved Birkin,
though he never quite believed in him. Birkin was too unreal;--clever,
whimsical, wonderful, but not practical enough. Gerald felt that his
own understanding was much sounder and safer. Birkin was delightful, a
wonderful spirit, but after all, not to be taken seriously, not quite
to be counted as a man among men.
'Why are you laid up again?' he asked kindly, taking the sick man's
hand. It was always Gerald who was protective, offering the warm
shelter of his physical strength.
'For my sins, I suppose,' Birkin said, smiling a little ironically.
'For your sins? Yes, probably that is so. You should sin less, and keep
better in health?' 'You'd better teach me.' He looked at Gerald with ironic eyes.
'How are things with you?' asked Birkin.
'With me?' Gerald looked at Birkin, saw he was serious, and a warm
light came into his eyes.
'I don't know that they're any different. I don't see how they could
be. There's nothing to change.' 'I suppose you are conducting the business as successfully as ever, and
ignoring the demand of the soul.' 'That's it,' said Gerald. 'At least as far as the business is
concerned. I couldn't say about the soul, I'am sure.' 'No.' 'Surely you don't expect me to?' laughed Gerald.