her。 Then he went to the book…shelf and took down books to look
at； that she had scarcely glanced over。
He sat absorbed over a book on the illuminations in old
missals； and then over a book on paintings in churches： Italian；
English； French and German。 He had； when he was sixteen；
discovered a Roman Catholic bookshop where he could find such
things。
He turned the leaves in absorption； absorbed in looking； not
thinking。 He was like a man whose eyes were in his chest； she
said of him later。
She came to look at the things with him。 Half they fascinated
her。 She was puzzled； interested； and antagonistic。
It was when she came to pictures of the Pieta that she burst
out。
〃I do think they're loathsome；〃 she cried。
〃What？〃 he said； surprised； abstracted。
〃Those bodies with slits in them； posing to be
worshipped。〃
〃You see； it means the Sacraments； the Bread；〃 he said
slowly。
〃Does it；〃 she cried。 〃Then it's worse。 I don't want to see
your chest slit； nor to eat your dead body； even if you offer it
to me。 Can't you see it's horrible？〃
〃It isn't me； it's Christ。〃
〃What if it is； it's you！ And it's horrible； you wallowing in
your own dead body； and thinking of eating it in the
Sacrament。〃
〃You've to take it for what it means。〃
〃It means your human body put up to be slit and killed and
then worshipped……what else？〃
They lapsed into silence。 His soul grew angry and aloof。
〃And I think that lamb in Church；〃 she said； 〃is the biggest
joke in the parish〃
She burst into a 〃Pouf〃 of ridiculing laughter。
〃It might be； to those that see nothing in it；〃 he said。 〃You
know it's the symbol of Christ； of His innocence and
sacrifice。〃
〃Whatever it means； it's a lamb；〃 she said。 〃And I
like lambs too much to treat them as if they had to mean
something。 As for the Christmas…tree
flag……no〃
And again she poufed with mockery。
〃It's because you don't know anything；〃 he said violently；
harshly。 〃Laugh at what you know； not at what you don't
know。〃
〃What don't I know？〃
〃What things mean。〃
〃And what does it mean？〃
He was reluctant to answer her。 He found it difficult。
〃What does it mean？〃 she insisted。
〃It means the triumph of the Resurrection。〃
She hesitated； baffled； a fear came upon her。 What were these
things？ Something dark and powerful seemed to extend before her。
Was it wonderful after all？
But no……she refused it。
〃Whatever it may pretend to mean； what it is is a silly
absurd toy…lamb with a Christmas…tree flag ledged on its
paw……and if it wants to mean anything else； it must look
different from that。〃
He was in a state of violent irritation against her。 Partly
he was ashamed of his love for these things； he hid his passion
for them。 He was ashamed of the ecstasy into which he could
throw himself with these symbols。 And for a few moments he hated
the lamb and the mystic pictures of the Eucharist； with a
violent； ashy hatred。 His fire was put out； she had thrown cold
water on it。 The whole thing was distasteful to him； his mouth
was full of ashes。 He went out cold with corpse…like anger；
leaving her alone。 He hated her。 He walked through the white
snow； under a sky of lead。
And she wept again； in bitter recurrence of the previous
gloom。 But her heart was easy……oh； much more easy。
She ake it up with him when he came
home again。 He was black and surly； but abated。 She had broken a
little of something in him。 And at length he was glad to forfeit
from his soul all his symbols； to have her making love to him。
He loved it when she put her head on his knee； and he had not
asked her to or wanted her to； he loved her when she put her
arms round him and made bold love to him； and he did not make
love to her。 He felt a strong blood in his limbs again。
And she loved the intent； far look of his eyes when they
rested on her： intent； yet far； not near； not with her。 And she
wanted to bring them near。 She wanted his eyes to e to hers；
to know her。 And they would not。 They remained intent； and far；
and proud； like a hawk's naive and inhuman as a hawk's。 So she
loved him and caressed him and roused him like a hawk； till he
was keen and instant； but without tenderness。 He came to her
fierce and hard； like a hawk striking and taking her。 He was no
mystic any more； she was his aim and object； his prey。 And she
was carried off； and he was satisfied； or satiated at last。
Then immediately she began to retaliate on him。 She too was a
hawk。 If she imitated the pathetic plover running plaintive to
him； that was part of the game。 When he； satisfied； moved with a
proud； insolent slouch of the body and a half…contemptuous drop
of the head； unaware of her； ignoring her very existence； after
taking his fill of her and getting his satisfaction of her； her
soul roused； its pinions became like steel； and she struck at
him。 When he sat on his perch glancing sharply round with
solitary pride； pride eminent and fierce； she dashed at him and
threw him from his station savagely； she goaded him from his
keen dignity of a male； she harassed him from his unperturbed
pride； till he was mad with rage； his light brown eyes burned
with fury； they saw her now； like flames of anger they flared at
her and recognized her as the enemy。
Very good； she was the enemy； very good。 As he prowled round
her； she watched him。 As he struck at her； she struck back。
He was angry because she had carelessly pushed away his tools
so that they got rusty。
〃Don't leave them littering in my way； then；〃 she said。
〃I shall leave them where I like；〃 he cried。
〃Then I shall throw them where I like。〃
They glowered at each other； he with rage in his hands； she
with her soul fierce with victory。 They were very well matched。
They would fight it out。
She turned to her sewing。 Immediately the tea…things were
cleared away； she fetched out the stuff； and his soul rose in
rage。 He hated beyond measure to hear the shriek of calico as
she tore the web sharply； as if with pleasure。 And the run of
the sewing…machine gathered a frenzy in him at last。
〃Aren't you going to stop that row？〃 he shouted。 〃Can't you
do it in the daytime？〃
She looked up sharply； hostile from her work。
〃No； I can't do it in the daytime。 I have other things to do。
Besides； I like sewing； and you're not going to stop me doing
it。〃
Whereupon she turned back to her arranging； fixing；
stitching； his nerves jumped with anger as the sewing…machine
started and stuttered and buzzed。
But she was enjoying herself； she was triumphant and happy as
the darting needle danced ecstatically down a hem； drawing the
stuff along under its vivid stabbing； irresistibly。 She made the
machine hum。 She stopped it imperiously； her fingers were deft
and swift and mistress。
If he sat behind her stiff with impotent rage it only made a
trembling vividness e into her energy。 On she worked。 At last
he went to bed in a rage； and lay stiff； away from her。 And she
turned her back on him。 And in the morning they did not speak；
except in mere cold civilities。
And when he came home at night； his heart relenting and
growing hot for love of her； when he was just ready to feel he
ha