Page 122 - women-in-love

time, resentment of the whole atmosphere. Gudrun, mock-
ing and objective, watched and registered everything.
They looked at the shy deer, and Hermione talked to the
stag, as if he too were a boy she wanted to wheedle and fon-
dle. He was male, so she must exert some kind of power
over him. They trailed home by the fish-ponds, and Her-
mione told them about the quarrel of two male swans, who
had striven for the love of the one lady. She chuckled and
laughed as she told how the ousted lover had sat with his
head buried under his wing, on the gravel.
When they arrived back at the house, Hermione stood
on the lawn and sang out, in a strange, small, high voice that
carried very far:
‘Rupert! Rupert!’ The first syllable was high and slow, the
second dropped down. ‘Roo-o-opert.’
But there was no answer. A maid appeared.
‘Where is Mr Birkin, Alice?’ asked the mild straying
voice of Hermione. But under the straying voice, what a
persistent, almost insane WILL!
‘I think he’s in his room, madam.’
‘Is he?’
Hermione went slowly up the stairs, along the corridor,
singing out in her high, small call:
‘Ru-oo-pert! Ru-oo pert!’
She came to his door, and tapped, still crying: ‘Roo-
pert.’
‘Yes,’ sounded his voice at last.
‘What are you doing?’
The question was mild and curious.

122 Women in Love