plication of dead reality； then what had his under…life to do
with her？ One's social wife was almost a material symbol。
Whereas now she was something more vivid to him than anything in
conventional life could be。 She gave the plete lie to all
conventional life； he and she stood together； dark； fluid；
infinitely potent； giving the living lie to the dead whole which
contained them。
He watched her pensive； puzzled face。
〃I don't think I want to marry you；〃 she said； her brow
clouded。
It piqued him rather。
〃Why not？〃 he asked。
〃Let's think about it afterwards； shall we？〃 she said。
He was crossed； yet he loved her violently。
〃You've got a museau； not a face；〃 he said。
〃Have I？〃 she cried； her face lighting up like a pure flame。
She thought she had escaped。 Yet he returned……he was not
satisfied。
〃Why？〃 he asked； 〃why don't you want to marry me？〃
〃I don't want to be with other people；〃 she said。 〃I want to
be like this。 I'll tell you if ever I want to marry you。〃
〃All right；〃 he said。
He would rather the thing was left indefinite； and that she
took the responsibility。
They talked of the Easter vacation。 She thought only of
plete enjoyment。
They went to an hotel in Piccadilly。 She was supposed to be
his wife。 They bought a wedding…ring for a shilling； from a shop
in a poor quarter。
They had revoked altogether the ordinary mortal world。 Their
confidence was like a possession upon them。 They were possessed。
Perfectly and supremely free they felt； proud beyond all
question； and surpassing mortal conditions。
They were perfect； therefore nothing else existed。 The world
was a world of servants whom one civilly ignored。 Wherever they
went； they were the sensuous aristocrats； warm； bright； glancing
with pure pride of the senses。
The effect upon other people was extraordinary。 The glamour
was cast from the young couple upon all they came into contact
with； waiters or chance acquaintances。
〃Oui； Monsieur le baron；〃 she would reply with a
mocking courtesy to her husband。
So they came to be treated as titled people。 He was an
officer in the engineers。 They were just married； going to India
immediately。
Thus a tissue of romance was round them。 She believed she was
a young wife of a titled husband on the eve of departure for
India。 This； the social fact； was a delicious make…belief。 The
living fact was that he and she were man and woman； absolute and
beyond all limitation。
The days went by……they were to have three weeks
together……in perfect success。 All the time； they themselves
were reality； all outside was tribute to them。 They were quite
careless about money； but they did nothing very extravagant。 He
was rather surprised when he found that he had spent twenty
pounds in a little under a week； but it was only the irritation
of having to go to the bank。 The machinery of the old system
lasted for him； not the system。 The money simply did not
exist。
Neither did any of the old obligations。 They came home from
the theatre； had supper； then flitted about in their
dressing…gowns。 They had a large bedroom and a corner
sitting…room high up； remote and very cosy。 They ate all their
meals in their own rooms； attended by a young German called
Hans； who thought them both wonderful； and answered
assiduously：
〃Gewiss； Herr Baron……bitte sehr； Frau
Baronin。〃
Often； they saw the pink of dawn away across the park。 The
tower of Westminster Cathedral was emerging； the lamps of
Piccadilly； stringing away beside the trees of the park； were
being pale and moth…like； the morning traffic was
clock…clocking down the shadowy road； which had gleamed all
night like metal； down below； running far ahead into the night；
beneath the lamps； and which was now vague； as in a mist；
because of the dawn。
Then； as the flush of dawn became stronger； they opened the
glass doors and went on to the giddy balcony； feeling triumphant
as two angels in bliss； looking down at the still sleeping
world； which would wake to a dutiful； rumbling； sluggish turmoil
of unreality。
＇But the air was cold。 They went into their bedroom； and bathed before
going to bed； leaving the partition doors of the bathroom open； so that
the vapour came into the bedroom and faintly dimmed the mirror。 She was
always in bed first。 She watched him as he bathed； his quick； unconscious
movements； the electric light glinting on his wet shoulders。 He stood out
of the bath； his hair all washed flat over his forehead； and pressed the
water out of his eyes。 He was slender； and； to her； perfect； a clean；
straight…cut youth； without a grain of superfluous body。 The brown hair on
his body was soft and fine and adorable； he was all beautifully flushed；
as he stood in the white bath…apartment。
He saw her warm； dark； lit…up face watching him from the pillow……yet
he did not see it……it was always present； and was to him as his own
eyes。 He was never aware of the separate being of her。 She was like his
own eyes and his own heart beating to him。
So he went across to her； to get his sleeping suit。 It was always a
perfect adventure to go near to her。 She put her arms round him； and
snuffed his warm； softened skin。
〃Scent；〃 she said。
〃Soap；〃 he answered。
〃Soap；〃 she repeated； looking up with bright eyes。 They were both
laughing； always laughing。＇
Soon they were fast asleep； asleep till midday； close
together； sleeping one sleep。 Then they awoke to the
ever…changing reality of their state。 They alone inhabited the
world of reality。 All the rest lived on a lower sphere。
Whatever they wanted to do； they did。 They saw a few
people……Dorothy； whose guest she was supposed to be； and a
couple of friends of Skrebensky； young Oxford men； who called
her Mrs。 Skrebensky with entire simplicity。 They treated her；
indeed； with such respect； that she began to think she was
really quite of the whole universe； of the old world as well as
of the new。 She forgot she was outside the pale of the old
world。 She thought she had brought it under the spell of her
own； real world。 And so she had。
In such ever…changing reality the weeks went by。 All the
time； they were an unknown world to each other。 Every movement
made by the one was a reality and an adventure to the other。
They did not want outside excitements。 They went to very few
theatres； they were often in their sitting…room high up over
Piccadilly； with windows open on two sides； and the door open on
to the balcony； looking over the Green Park； or down upon the
minute travelling of the traffic。
Then suddenly； looking at a sunset； she wanted to go。 She
must be gone。 She must be gone at once。 And in two hours' time
they were at Charing Cross taking train for Paris。 Paris was his
suggestion。 She did not care where it was。 The great joy was in
setting out。 And for a few days she was happy in the novelty of
Paris。
Then； for some reason； she must call in Rouen on the way back
to London。 He had an instinctive mistrust of her desire for the
place。 But； perversely； she wanted to go there。 It was as if she
wanted to try its effect upon her。
For the first time； in Rouen； he had a cold feeling of death；
not afraid of any other man； but of her。 She seemed to leave
him。 She followed after something that was not him。 She did not
want him。 The old streets； the cathedral； the age and the
monumental peace of the town took her away from him。 She turned
to it as if to something she had forgotten； and wanted。 This was
now the reality； this great stone cathedral slumbering there in
its mass； which knew no transience nor heard any denial。 It was
majestic in its stability； its splendid absoluteness。
Her soul began to run by itself。 He did not realize； nor did
she。 Yet in Rouen he had the first deadly anguish； the first
sense of the death towards which they were wandering。 And she
felt the first heavy yearning； heavy； heavy hopeless warning；
almost like a deep； uneasy sinking into apathy；
hopelessness。
They returned to London。 But still they had two days。 He
began to tremble； he grew feverish with the fear of her
departure。 She had in her some fatal prescience； that made her
calm。 What would be； would be。
He remained fairly easy； however； still in his state of
heightened glamour； till she had gone； and he had turned away
from St。 Pancras； and sat on the tram…car going up Pimlico to
the 〃Angel〃； to Moorgate Street on Sunday evening。
Then the cold horror gradually soaked into him。 He saw the
horror of the City Road； he realized the ghastly cold sordidness
of the tram…car in which he sat。 Cold； stark； ashen sterility
had him surrounded。 Where then was the luminous； wonderful world
he belonged to by rights？ How did he e to be thrown on this
refuse…heap where he was？
He was as if mad。 The horror of the brick buildings； of the
tram…car； of the ashen…grey people in the street made him
reeling and blind as if drunk。 He went mad。 He had lived with
her in a close； living； pulsing world； where everything pulsed
with rich being。 Now he found himself struggling amid an
ashen…dry； cold world of rigidity； dead walls and mechanical
traffic； and creeping； spectre…like people。 The life was
extinct； only ash moved and stirred or stood rigid； there was a
horrible； clattering activity； a rattle like the falling of dry
slag； cold and sterile。 It was as if the sunshine that fell were
unnatural light exposing the ash of the town； as if the lights
at night were the sinister gleam of deposition。
Quite mad； beside himself； he went to his club and sat with a
glass of whisky； motionless； as if turned to clay。 He felt like
a corpse that is inhabited with just enough life to make it
appear as any other of the spectral； unliving beings which we
call people in our dead language。 Her absence was worse than
pain to him。 It destroyed his being。
Dead； he went on from lunch to tea。 His face was all the time
fixed and stiff and colourless； his life was a dry； mechanical
movement。 Yet even he wondered slightly at the awful misery that
had overe him。 How could he be so ashlike and extinct？ He
wrote her a letter。
I have been thinking that we must get married before long。 My
pay will be more when I get out to India； we shall be able to
get along。 Or if you don't want to go to India； I could very
probably stay here in England。 But I think you would like India。
You could ride； and you would know just everybody out there。
Perhaps if you stay on to take your degree； we might marry
immediately after that。 I will write to your father as soon as I
hear from you
He went on； disposing of her。 If only he could be with her！
All he wanted now was to marry her； to be sure of her。 Yet all
the time he was perfectly； perfectly hopeless； cold； extinct；
without emotion or connection。
He felt as if his life were dead。 His soul was extinct。 The
whole being of him had bee sterile； he was a spectre；
divorced from life。 He had no fullness； he was just a flat
shape。 Day by day the madness accumulated in him。 The horror of
not…being possessed him。
He went here； there； and everywhere。 But whatever he did； he
knew that only the cipher of him was there； nothing was filled
in。 He went to the theatre； what he heard and saw fell upon a