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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 148/388
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She
was
like
a
forest
,
like
the
dark
interlacing
of
the
oakwood
,
humming
inaudibly
with
myriad
unfolding
buds
.
Meanwhile
the
birds
of
desire
were
asleep
in
the
vast
interlaced
intricacy
of
her
body
.
But
Clifford
’
s
voice
went
on
,
clapping
and
gurgling
with
unusual
sounds
.
How
extraordinary
it
was
!
How
extraordinary
he
was
,
bent
there
over
the
book
,
queer
and
rapacious
and
civilized
,
with
broad
shoulders
and
no
real
legs
!
What
a
strange
creature
,
with
the
sharp
,
cold
inflexible
will
of
some
bird
,
and
no
warmth
,
no
warmth
at
all
!
One
of
those
creatures
of
the
afterwards
,
that
have
no
soul
,
but
an
extra
-
alert
will
,
cold
will
.
She
shuddered
a
little
,
afraid
of
him
.
But
then
,
the
soft
warm
flame
of
life
was
stronger
than
he
,
and
the
real
things
were
hidden
from
him
.
The
reading
finished
.
She
was
startled
.
She
looked
up
,
and
was
more
startled
still
to
see
Clifford
watching
her
with
pale
,
uncanny
eyes
,
like
hate
.
’
Thank
you
so
much
!
You
do
read
Racine
beautifully
!
’
she
said
softly
.
’
Almost
as
beautifully
as
you
listen
to
him
,
’
he
said
cruelly
.
’
What
are
you
making
?
’
he
asked
.
’
I
’
m
making
a
child
’
s
dress
,
for
Mrs
Flint
’
s
baby
.
’
He
turned
away
.
A
child
!
A
child
!
That
was
all
her
obsession
.
’
After
all
,
’
he
said
in
a
declamatory
voice
,
’
one
gets
all
one
wants
out
of
Racine
.
Emotions
that
are
ordered
and
given
shape
are
more
important
than
disorderly
emotions
.
She
watched
him
with
wide
,
vague
,
veiled
eyes
.
’
Yes
,
I
’
m
sure
they
are
,
’
she
said
.
’
The
modern
world
has
only
vulgarized
emotion
by
letting
it
loose
.
What
we
need
is
classic
control
.
’
