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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 153/388
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All
hopes
of
eternity
and
all
gain
from
the
past
he
would
have
given
to
have
her
there
,
to
be
wrapped
warm
with
him
in
one
blanket
,
and
sleep
,
only
sleep
.
It
seemed
the
sleep
with
the
woman
in
his
arms
was
the
only
necessity
.
He
went
to
the
hut
,
and
wrapped
himself
in
the
blanket
and
lay
on
the
floor
to
sleep
.
But
he
could
not
,
he
was
cold
.
And
besides
,
he
felt
cruelly
his
own
unfinished
nature
.
He
felt
his
own
unfinished
condition
of
aloneness
cruelly
.
He
wanted
her
,
to
touch
her
,
to
hold
her
fast
against
him
in
one
moment
of
completeness
and
sleep
.
He
got
up
again
and
went
out
,
towards
the
park
gates
this
time
:
then
slowly
along
the
path
towards
the
house
.
It
was
nearly
four
o
’
clock
,
still
clear
and
cold
,
but
no
sign
of
dawn
.
He
was
used
to
the
dark
,
he
could
see
well
.
Slowly
,
slowly
the
great
house
drew
him
,
as
a
magnet
.
He
wanted
to
be
near
her
.
It
was
not
desire
,
not
that
.
It
was
the
cruel
sense
of
unfinished
aloneness
,
that
needed
a
silent
woman
folded
in
his
arms
.
Perhaps
he
could
find
her
.
Perhaps
he
could
even
call
her
out
to
him
:
or
find
some
way
in
to
her
.
For
the
need
was
imperious
.
He
slowly
,
silently
climbed
the
incline
to
the
hall
.
Then
he
came
round
the
great
trees
at
the
top
of
the
knoll
,
on
to
the
drive
,
which
made
a
grand
sweep
round
a
lozenge
of
grass
in
front
of
the
entrance
.
He
could
already
see
the
two
magnificent
beeches
which
stood
in
this
big
level
lozenge
in
front
of
the
house
,
detaching
themselves
darkly
in
the
dark
air
.
There
was
the
house
,
low
and
long
and
obscure
,
with
one
light
burning
downstairs
,
in
Sir
Clifford
’
s
room
.
But
which
room
she
was
in
,
the
woman
who
held
the
other
end
of
the
frail
thread
which
drew
him
so
mercilessly
,
that
he
did
not
know
.
He
went
a
little
nearer
,
gun
in
hand
,
and
stood
motionless
on
the
drive
,
watching
the
house
.
Perhaps
even
now
he
could
find
her
,
come
at
her
in
some
way
.
The
house
was
not
impregnable
:
he
was
as
clever
as
burglars
are
.
Why
not
come
to
her
?
He
stood
motionless
,
waiting
,
while
the
dawn
faintly
and
imperceptibly
paled
behind
him
.
He
saw
the
light
in
the
house
go
out
.
But
he
did
not
see
Mrs
Bolton
come
to
the
window
and
draw
back
the
old
curtain
of
dark
-
blue
silk
,
and
stand
herself
in
the
dark
room
,
looking
out
on
the
half
-
dark
of
the
approaching
day
,
looking
for
the
longed
-
for
dawn
,
waiting
,
waiting
for
Clifford
to
be
really
reassured
that
it
was
daybreak
.
For
when
he
was
sure
of
daybreak
,
he
would
sleep
almost
at
once
.
She
stood
blind
with
sleep
at
the
window
,
waiting
.
And
as
she
stood
,
she
started
,
and
almost
cried
out
.
For
there
was
a
man
out
there
on
the
drive
,
a
black
figure
in
the
twilight
.
She
woke
up
greyly
,
and
watched
,
but
without
making
a
sound
to
disturb
Sir
Clifford
.
