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    The Ladybird

    Page 9
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    sex and the desire gone. He didn't want it--he hadn't wanted it.

      This new pure feeling was so much more wonderful.

      He went to her side.

      'Forgive me, darling,' he said, 'for having questioned you.'

      She looked up at him with the wide eyes, without a word. His face

      was good and beautiful. Tears came to her eyes.

      'You have the right to question me,' she said sadly.

      'No,' he said. 'No, darling. I have no right to question you.

      Daphne! Daphne, darling! It shall be as YOU wish, between us.

      Shall it? Shall it be as you wish?'

      'You are the husband, Basil,' she said sadly.

      'Yes, darling. But'--he went on his knees beside her--'perhaps,

      darling, something has changed in us. I feel as if I ought never

      to touch you again--as if I never WANTED to touch you--in that way.

      I feel it was wrong, darling. Tell me what you think.'

      'Basil, don't be angry with me.'

      'It isn't anger; it's pure love, darling--it is.'

      'Let us not come any nearer to one another than this, Basil--

      physically--shall we?' she said. 'And don't be angry with me, will

      you?'

      'Why,' he said. 'I think myself the sexual part has been a

      mistake. I had rather love you--as I love now. I KNOW that this

      is true love. The other was always a bit whipped up. I KNOW I

      love you now, darling: now I'm free from that other. But what if

      it comes upon me, that other, Daphne?'

      'I am always your wife,' she said quietly. 'I am always your wife.

      I want always to obey you, Basil: what you wish.'

      'Give me your hand, dear.'

      She gave him her hand. But the look in her eyes at the same time

      warned him and frightened him. He kissed her hand and left her.

      It was to the Count she belonged. This had decided itself in her

      down to the depths of her soul. If she could not marry him and be

      his wife in the world, it had nevertheless happened to her for

      ever. She could no more question it. Question had gone out of

      her.

      Strange how different she had become--a strange new quiescence.

      The last days were slipping past. He would be going away--Dionys:

      he with the still remote face, the man she belonged to in the dark

      and in the light, for ever. He would be going away. He said it

      must be so. And she acquiesced. The grief was deep, deep inside

      her. He must go away. Their lives could not be one life, in this

      world's day. Even in her anguish she knew it was so. She knew he

      was right. He was for her infallible. He spoke the deepest soul

      in her.

      She never SAW him as a lover. When she saw him, he was the little

      officer, a prisoner, quiet, claiming nothing in all the world. And

      when she went to him as his lover, his wife, it was always dark.

      She only knew his voice and his contact in darkness. 'My wife in

      darkness,' he said to her. And in this too she believed him. She

      would not have contradicted him, no, not for anything on earth:

      lest contradicting him she should lose the dark treasures of

      stillness and bliss which she kept in her breast even when her

      heart was wrung with the agony of knowing he must go.

      No, she had found this wonderful thing after she had heard him

      singing: she had suddenly collapsed away from her old self into

      this darkness, this peace, this quiescence that was like a full

      dark river flowing eternally in her soul. She had gone to sleep

      from the nuit blanche of her days. And Basil, wonderful, had

      changed almost at once. She feared him, lest he might change back

      again. She would always have him to fear. But deep inside her she

      only feared for this love of hers for the Count: this dark,

      everlasting love that was like a full river flowing for ever inside

      her. Ah, let that not be broken.

      She was so still inside her. She could sit so still, and feel the

      day slowly, richly changing to night. And she wanted nothing, she

      was short of nothing. If only Dionys need not go away! If only he

      need not go away!

      But he said to her, the last morning:

      'Don't forget me. Always remember me. I leave my soul in your

      hands and your womb. Nothing can ever separate us, unless we

      betray one another. If you have to give yourself to your husband,

      do so, and obey him. If you are true to me, innerly, innerly true,

      he will not hurt us. He is generous, be generous to him. And

      never fail to believe in me. Because even on the other side of

      death I shall be watching for you. I shall be king in Hades when I

      am dead. And you will be at my side. You will never leave me any

      more, in the after-death. So don't be afraid in life. Don't be

      afraid. If you have to cry tears, cry them. But in your heart of

      hearts know that I shall come again, and that I have taken you for

      ever. And so, in your heart of hearts be still, be still, since

      you are the wife of the ladybird.' He laughed as he left her, with

      his own beautiful, fearless laugh. But they were strange eyes that

      looked after him.

      He went in the car with Basil back to Voynich Hall.

      'I believe Daphne will miss you,' said Basil.

      The Count did not reply for some moments.

      'Well, if she does,' he said, 'there will be no bitterness in it.'

      'Are you sure?' smiled Basil.

      'Why--if we are sure of anything,' smiled the Count.

      'She's changed, isn't she?'

      'Is she?'

      'Yes, she's quite changed since you came, Count.'

      'She does not seem to me so very different from the girl of

      seventeen whom I knew.'

      'No--perhaps not. I didn't know her then. But she's very

      different from the wife I have known.'

      'A regrettable difference?'

      'Well--no, not as far as she goes. She is much quieter inside

      herself. You know, Count, something of me died in the war. I feel

      it will take me an eternity to sit and think about it all.'

      'I hope you may think it out to your satisfaction, Major.'

      'Yes, I hope so too. But that is how it has left me--feeling as if

      I needed eternity now to brood about it all, you know. Without the

      need to act--or even to love, really. I suppose love is action.'

      'Intense action,' said the Count.

      'Quite so. I know really how I feel. I only ask of life to spare

      me from further effort of action of any sort--even love. And then

      to fulfil myself, brooding through eternity. Of course, I don't

      mind WORK, mechanical action. That in itself is a form of

      inaction.'

      'A man can only be happy following his own inmost need,' said the

      Count.

      'Exactly!' said Basil. 'I will lay down the law for nobody, not

      even for myself. And live my day--'

      'Then you will be happy in your own way. I find it so difficult to

      keep from laying the law down for myself,' said the Count. 'Only

      the thought of death and the after life saves me from doing it any

      more.'

      'As the thought of eternity helps me,' said Basil. 'I suppose it

      amounts to the same thing.'

      End of this Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook

      The Ladybird by D
    H Lawrence

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