Page 138 - women-in-love

will was strangely pervasive. With the entrance of the two
young men a sudden tension was felt.
She lifted her face, and said, in her amused sing-song:
‘Good morning! Did you sleep well? I’m so glad.’
And she turned away, ignoring them. Birkin, who knew
her well, saw that she intended to discount his existence.
‘Will you take what you want from the sideboard?’ said
Alexander, in a voice slightly suggesting disapprobation. ‘I
hope the things aren’t cold. Oh no! Do you mind putting
out the flame under the chafingdish, Rupert? Thank you.’
Even Alexander was rather authoritative where Hermi-
one was cool. He took his tone from her, inevitably. Birkin
sat down and looked at the table. He was so used to this
house, to this room, to this atmosphere, through years of
intimacy, and now he felt in complete opposition to it all, it
had nothing to do with him. How well he knew Hermione,
as she sat there, erect and silent and somewhat bemused,
and yet so potent, so powerful! He knew her statically, so
finally, that it was almost like a madness. It was difficult to
believe one was not mad, that one was not a figure in the
hall of kings in some Egyptian tomb, where the dead all sat
immemorial and tremendous. How utterly he knew Joshua
Mattheson, who was talking in his harsh, yet rather mincing
voice, endlessly, endlessly, always with a strong mentality
working, always interesting, and yet always known, every-
thing he said known beforehand, however novel it was, and
clever. Alexander the up-to-date host, so bloodlessly free-
and-easy, Fraulein so prettily chiming in just as she should,
the little Italian Countess taking notice of everybody, only

138 Women in Love