its softest purest flower； its chicory flower； its meadow
saffron。 The sky was blue and sweet； the yellow leaves down the
lane seemed like free； wandering flowers as they chittered round
the feet； making a keen； poignant； almost unbearable music to
her heart。 And the scents of autumn were like a summer madness
to her。 She fled away from the little； purple…red
button…chrysanthemums like a frightened dryad； the bright yellow
little chrysanthemums smelled so strong； her feet seemed to
dither in a drunken dance。
Then her Uncle Tom appeared； always like the cynical Bacchus
in the picture。 He would have a jolly wedding； a harvest supper
and a wedding feast in one： a tent in the home close； and a band
for dancing； and a great feast out of doors。
Fred demurred； but Tom must be satisfied。 Also Laura； a
handsome； clever girl； the bride； she also must have a great and
jolly feast。 It appealed to her educated sense。 She had been to
Salisbury Training College； knew folk…songs and
morris…dancing。
So the preparations were begun； directed by Tom Brangwen。 A
marquee was set up on the home close； two large bonfires were
prepared。 Musicians were hired； feast made ready。
Skrebensky was to e； arriving in the morning。 Ursula had a
new white dress of soft crepe； and a white hat。 She liked to
wear white。 With her black hair and clear golden skin； she
looked southern； or rather tropical； like a Creole。 She wore no
colour whatsoever。
She trembled that day as she appeared to go down to the
wedding。 She was to be a bridesmaid。 Skrebensky would not arrive
till afternoon。 The wedding was at two o'clock。
As the wedding…party returned home； Skrebensky stood in the
parlour at the Marsh。 Through the window he saw Tom Brangwen；
who was best man； ing up the garden path most elegant in
cut…away coat and white slip and spats； with Ursula laughing on
his arm。 Tom Brangwen was handsome； with his womanish colouring
and dark eyes and black close…cut moustache。 But there was
something subtly coarse and suggestive about him for all his
beauty； his strange； bestial nostrils opened so hard and wide；
and his well…shaped head almost disquieting in its nakedness；
rather bald from the front； and all its soft fulness
betrayed。
Skrebensky saw the man rather than the woman。 She saw only
the slender； unchangeable youth waiting there inscrutable； like
her fate。 He was beyond her； with his loose； slightly horsey
appearance； that made him seem very manly and foreign。 Yet his
face was smooth and soft and impressionable。 She shook hands
with him； and her voice was like the rousing of a bird startled
by the dawn。
〃Isn't it nice；〃 she cried； 〃to have a wedding？〃
There were bits of coloured confetti lodged on her dark
hair。
Again the confusion came over him； as if he were losing
himself and being all vague； undefined； inchoate。 Yet he
wanted to be hard； manly； horsey。 And he followed her。
There was a light tea； and the guests scattered。 The real
feast was for the evening。 Ursula walked out with Skrebensky
through the stackyard to the fields； and up the embankment to
the canal…side。
The new corn…stacks were big and golden as they went by； an
army of white geese marched aside in braggart protest。 Ursula
was light as a white ball of down。 Skrebensky drifted beside
her； indefinite； his old from loosened； and another self； grey；
vague； drifting out as from a bud。 They talked lightly； of
nothing。
The blue way of the canal wound softly between the autumn
hedges； on towards the greenness of a small hill。 On the left
was the whole black agitation of colliery and railway and the
town which rose on its hill； the church tower topping all。 The
round white dot of the clock on the tower was distinct in the
evening light。
That way； Ursula felt； was the way to London； through the
grim； alluring seethe of the town。 On the other hand was the
evening； mellow over the green water…meadows and the winding
alder trees beside the river； and the pale stretches of stubble
beyond。 There the evening glowed softly； and even a pee…wit was
flapping in solitude and peace。
Ursula and Anton Skrebensky walked along the ridge of the
canal between。 The berries on the hedges were crimson and bright
red； above the leaves。 The glow of evening and the wheeling of
the solitary pee…wit and the faint cry of the birds came to meet
the shuffling noise of the pits； the dark； fuming stress of the
town opposite； and they two walked the blue strip of water…way；
the ribbon of sky between。
He was looking； Ursula thought； very beautiful； because of a
flush of sunburn on his hands and face。 He was telling her how
he had learned to shoe horses and select cattle fit for
killing。
〃Do you like to be a soldier？〃 she asked。
〃I am not exactly a soldier；〃 he replied。
〃But you only do things for wars；〃 she said。
〃Yes。〃
〃Would you like to go to war？〃
〃I？ Well； it would be exciting。 If there were a war I would
want to go。〃
A strange； distracted feeling came over her； a sense of
potent unrealities。
〃Why would you want to go？〃
〃I should be doing something； it would be genuine。 It's a
sort of toy…life as it is。〃
〃But what would you be doing if you went to war？〃
〃I would be making railways or bridges； working like a
nigger。〃
〃But you'd only make them to be pulled down again when the
armies had done with them。 It seems just as much a game。〃
〃If you call war a game。〃
〃What is it？〃
〃It's about the most serious business there is；
fighting。〃
A sense of hard separateness came over her。
〃Why is fighting more serious than anything else？〃 she
asked。
〃You either kill or get killed……and I suppose it is
serious enough； killing。〃
〃But when you're dead you don't matter any more；〃 she
said。
He was silenced for a moment。
〃But the result matters；〃 he said。 〃It matters whether we
settle the Mahdi or not。〃
〃Not to you……nor me……we don't care about
Khartoum。〃
〃You want to have room to live in： and somebody has to make
room。〃
〃But I don't want to live in the desert of Sahara……do
you？〃 she replied； laughing with antagonism。
〃I don't……but we've got to back up those who do。
〃Why have we？〃
〃Where is the nation if we don't？〃
〃But we aren't the nation。 There are heaps of other people
who are the nation。〃
〃They might say they weren't either。〃
〃Well； if everybody said it； there wouldn't be a nation。 But
I should still be myself；〃 she asserted brilliantly。
〃You wouldn't be yourself if there were no nation。〃
〃Why not？〃
〃Because you'd just be a prey to everybody and anybody。〃
〃How a prey？〃
〃They'd e and take everything you'd got。〃
〃Well； they couldn't take much even then。 I don't care what
they take。 I'd rather have a robber who carried me off than a
millionaire who gave me everything you can buy。〃
〃That's because you are a romanticist。〃
〃Yes； I am。 I want to be romantic。 I hate houses that never
go away； and people just living in the houses。 It's all so stiff
and stupid。 I hate soldiers； they are stiff and wooden。 What do
you fight for； really？〃
〃I would fight for the nation。〃
〃For all that； you aren't the nation。 What would you do for
yo