Page 74 - lady-chatterlys-lover

derful...and quite beautiful, in Connie’s eyes. She saw in
him that ancient motionlessness of a race that can’t be dis-
illusioned any more, an extreme, perhaps, of impurity that
is pure. On the far side of his supreme prostitution to the
bitch-goddess he seemed pure, pure as an African ivory
mask that dreams impurity into purity, in its ivory curves
and planes.
His moment of sheer thrill with the two Chatterleys,
when he simply carried Connie and Clifford away, was one
of the supreme moments of Michaelis’ life. He had succeed-
ed: he had carried them away. Even Clifford was temporarily
in love with him...if that is the way one can put it.
So next morning Mick was more uneasy than ever;
restless, devoured, with his hands restless in his trousers
pockets. Connie had not visited him in the night...and he
had not known where to find her. Coquetry!...at his mo-
ment of triumph.
He went up to her sitting-room in the morning. She
knew he would come. And his restlessness was evident. He
asked her about his play...did she think it good? He had to
hear it praised: that affected him with the last thin thrill
of passion beyond any sexual orgasm. And she praised it
rapturously. Yet all the while, at the bottom of her soul, she
knew it was nothing.
’Look here!’ he said suddenly at last. ‘Why don’t you and
I make a clean thing of it? Why don’t we marry?’
’But I am married,’ she said, amazed, and yet feeling
nothing.
’Oh that!...he’ll divorce you all right...Why don’t you and