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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 168/388
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Within
a
year
of
Connie
’
s
last
call
,
it
had
happened
.
There
stood
Shipley
Hall
Estate
,
an
array
of
red
-
brick
semi
-
detached
’
villas
’
in
new
streets
.
No
one
would
have
dreamed
that
the
stucco
hall
had
stood
there
twelve
months
before
.
But
this
is
a
later
stage
of
King
Edward
’
s
landscape
gardening
,
the
sort
that
has
an
ornamental
coal
-
mine
on
the
lawn
.
One
England
blots
out
another
.
The
England
of
the
Squire
Winters
and
the
Wragby
Halls
was
gone
,
dead
.
The
blotting
out
was
only
not
yet
complete
.
What
would
come
after
?
Connie
could
not
imagine
.
She
could
only
see
the
new
brick
streets
spreading
into
the
fields
,
the
new
erections
rising
at
the
collieries
,
the
new
girls
in
their
silk
stockings
,
the
new
collier
lads
lounging
into
the
Pally
or
the
Welfare
.
The
younger
generation
were
utterly
unconscious
of
the
old
England
.
There
was
a
gap
in
the
continuity
of
consciousness
,
almost
American
:
but
industrial
really
.
What
next
?
Connie
always
felt
there
was
no
next
.
She
wanted
to
hide
her
head
in
the
sand
:
or
,
at
least
,
in
the
bosom
of
a
living
man
.
The
world
was
so
complicated
and
weird
and
gruesome
!
The
common
people
were
so
many
,
and
really
so
terrible
.
So
she
thought
as
she
was
going
home
,
and
saw
the
colliers
trailing
from
the
pits
,
grey
-
black
,
distorted
,
one
shoulder
higher
than
the
other
,
slurring
their
heavy
ironshod
boots
.
Underground
grey
faces
,
whites
of
eyes
rolling
,
necks
cringing
from
the
pit
roof
,
shoulders
out
of
shape
.
Men
!
Men
!
Alas
,
in
some
ways
patient
and
good
men
.
In
other
ways
,
non
-
existent
.
Something
that
men
should
have
was
bred
and
killed
out
of
them
.
Yet
they
were
men
.
They
begot
children
.
One
might
bear
a
child
to
them
.
Terrible
,
terrible
thought
!
They
were
good
and
kindly
.
But
they
were
only
half
,
Only
the
grey
half
of
a
human
being
.
As
yet
,
they
were
’
good
’
.
But
even
that
was
the
goodness
of
their
halfness
.
Supposing
the
dead
in
them
ever
rose
up
!
But
no
,
it
was
too
terrible
to
think
of
.
Connie
was
absolutely
afraid
of
the
industrial
masses
.
They
seemed
so
weird
to
her
.
A
life
with
utterly
no
beauty
in
it
,
no
intuition
,
always
’
in
the
pit
’
.
Children
from
such
men
!
Oh
God
,
oh
God
!
Yet
Mellors
had
come
from
such
a
father
.
Not
quite
.
Forty
years
had
made
a
difference
,
an
appalling
difference
in
manhood
.
The
iron
and
the
coal
had
eaten
deep
into
the
bodies
and
souls
of
the
men
.
Incarnate
ugliness
,
and
yet
alive
!
What
would
become
of
them
all
?
Perhaps
with
the
passing
of
the
coal
they
would
disappear
again
,
off
the
face
of
the
earth
.
