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- Авторы
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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 150/388
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Clifford
was
so
healthy
,
considering
.
He
looked
so
well
and
ruddy
in
the
face
,
his
shoulders
were
broad
and
strong
,
his
chest
deep
,
he
had
put
on
flesh
.
And
yet
,
at
the
same
time
,
he
was
afraid
of
death
.
A
terrible
hollow
seemed
to
menace
him
somewhere
,
somehow
,
a
void
,
and
into
this
void
his
energy
would
collapse
.
Energyless
,
he
felt
at
times
he
was
dead
,
really
dead
.
So
his
rather
prominent
pale
eyes
had
a
queer
look
,
furtive
,
and
yet
a
little
cruel
,
so
cold
:
and
at
the
same
time
,
almost
impudent
.
It
was
a
very
odd
look
,
this
look
of
impudence
:
as
if
he
were
triumphing
over
life
in
spite
of
life
.
’
Who
knoweth
the
mysteries
of
the
will
-
-
for
it
can
triumph
even
against
the
angels
-
-
’
But
his
dread
was
the
nights
when
he
could
not
sleep
.
Then
it
was
awful
indeed
,
when
annihilation
pressed
in
on
him
on
every
side
.
Then
it
was
ghastly
,
to
exist
without
having
any
life
:
lifeless
,
in
the
night
,
to
exist
.
But
now
he
could
ring
for
Mrs
Bolton
.
And
she
would
always
come
.
That
was
a
great
comfort
.
She
would
come
in
her
dressing
gown
,
with
her
hair
in
a
plait
down
her
back
,
curiously
girlish
and
dim
,
though
the
brown
plait
was
streaked
with
grey
.
And
she
would
make
him
coffee
or
camomile
tea
,
and
she
would
play
chess
or
piquet
with
him
.
She
had
a
woman
’
s
queer
faculty
of
playing
even
chess
well
enough
,
when
she
was
three
parts
asleep
,
well
enough
to
make
her
worth
beating
.
So
,
in
the
silent
intimacy
of
the
night
,
they
sat
,
or
she
sat
and
he
lay
on
the
bed
,
with
the
reading
-
lamp
shedding
its
solitary
light
on
them
,
she
almost
gone
in
sleep
,
he
almost
gone
in
a
sort
of
fear
,
and
they
played
,
played
together
-
-
then
they
had
a
cup
of
coffee
and
a
biscuit
together
,
hardly
speaking
,
in
the
silence
of
night
,
but
being
a
reassurance
to
one
another
.
And
this
night
she
was
wondering
who
Lady
Chatterley
’
s
lover
was
.
And
she
was
thinking
of
her
own
Ted
,
so
long
dead
,
yet
for
her
never
quite
dead
.
And
when
she
thought
of
him
,
the
old
,
old
grudge
against
the
world
rose
up
,
but
especially
against
the
masters
,
that
they
had
killed
him
.
They
had
not
really
killed
him
.
Yet
,
to
her
,
emotionally
,
they
had
.
And
somewhere
deep
in
herself
because
of
it
,
she
was
a
nihilist
,
and
really
anarchic
.
In
her
half
-
sleep
,
thoughts
of
her
Ted
and
thoughts
of
Lady
Chatterley
’
s
unknown
lover
commingled
,
and
then
she
felt
she
shared
with
the
other
woman
a
great
grudge
against
Sir
Clifford
and
all
he
stood
for
.
At
the
same
time
she
was
playing
piquet
with
him
,
and
they
were
gambling
sixpences
.
And
it
was
a
source
of
satisfaction
to
be
playing
piquet
with
a
baronet
,
and
even
losing
sixpences
to
him
.
When
they
played
cards
,
they
always
gambled
.
It
made
him
forget
himself
.
And
he
usually
won
.
Tonight
too
he
was
winning
.
So
he
would
not
go
to
sleep
till
the
first
dawn
appeared
.
Luckily
it
began
to
appear
at
half
past
four
or
thereabouts
.
Connie
was
in
bed
,
and
fast
asleep
all
this
time
.
But
the
keeper
,
too
,
could
not
rest
.
He
had
closed
the
coops
and
made
his
round
of
the
wood
,
then
gone
home
and
eaten
supper
.
But
he
did
not
go
to
bed
.
Instead
he
sat
by
the
fire
and
thought
.
