'Yes, it was horrible, really. Why should you hate the moon? It hasn't
done you any harm, has it?' 'Was it hate?' he said.
And they were silent for a few minutes.
'When did you come back?' she said.
'Today.' 'Why did you never write?' 'I could find nothing to say.' 'Why was there nothing to say?' 'I don't know. Why are there no daffodils now?' 'No.' Again there was a space of silence. Ursula looked at the moon. It had
gathered itself together, and was quivering slightly.
'Was it good for you, to be alone?' she asked.
'Perhaps. Not that I know much. But I got over a good deal. Did you do
anything important?' 'No. I looked at England, and thought I'd done with it.' 'Why England?' he asked in surprise.
'I don't know, it came like that.' 'It isn't a question of nations,' he said. 'France is far worse.' 'Yes, I know. I felt I'd done with it all.' They went and sat down on the roots of the trees, in the shadow. And
being silent, he remembered the beauty of her eyes, which were
sometimes filled with light, like spring, suffused with wonderful
promise. So he said to her, slowly, with difficulty: 'There is a golden light in you, which I wish you would give me.' It
was as if he had been thinking of this for some time.
She was startled, she seemed to leap clear of him. Yet also she was
pleased.
'What kind of a light,' she asked.
But he was shy, and did not say any more. So the moment passed for this
time. And gradually a feeling of sorrow came over her.
'My life is unfulfilled,' she said.
'Yes,' he answered briefly, not wanting to hear this.
'And I feel as if nobody could ever really love me,' she said.
But he did not answer.
'You think, don't you,' she said slowly, 'that I only want physical
things? It isn't true. I want you to serve my spirit.' 'I know you do. I know you don't want physical things by themselves.
But, I want you to give me--to give your spirit to me--that golden
light which is you--which you don't know--give it me--' After a moment's silence she replied: 'But how can I, you don't love me! You only want your own ends. You
don't want to serve ME, and yet you want me to serve you. It is so
one-sided!' It was a great effort to him to maintain this conversation, and to
press for the thing he wanted from her, the surrender of her spirit.