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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 265/388
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Again
he
was
silent
,
his
face
sullen
.
Outside
there
was
only
the
threshing
of
the
rain
.
’
It
’
s
not
quite
true
!
’
she
whispered
.
’
It
’
s
not
quite
true
!
There
’
s
another
truth
.
’
She
felt
he
was
bitter
now
partly
because
she
was
leaving
him
,
deliberately
going
away
to
Venice
.
And
this
half
pleased
her
.
She
pulled
open
his
clothing
and
uncovered
his
belly
,
and
kissed
his
navel
.
Then
she
laid
her
cheek
on
his
belly
and
pressed
her
arm
round
his
warm
,
silent
loins
.
They
were
alone
in
the
flood
.
’
Tell
me
you
want
a
child
,
in
hope
!
’
she
murmured
,
pressing
her
face
against
his
belly
.
’
Tell
me
you
do
!
’
’
Why
!
’
he
said
at
last
:
and
she
felt
the
curious
quiver
of
changing
consciousness
and
relaxation
going
through
his
body
.
’
Why
I
’
ve
thought
sometimes
if
one
but
tried
,
here
among
th
’
colliers
even
!
They
’
re
workin
’
bad
now
,
an
’
not
earnin
’
much
.
If
a
man
could
say
to
’
em
:
Dunna
think
o
’
nowt
but
th
’
money
.
When
it
comes
ter
wants
,
we
want
but
little
.
Let
’
s
not
live
for
money
-
-
’
She
softly
rubbed
her
cheek
on
his
belly
,
and
gathered
his
balls
in
her
hand
.
The
penis
stirred
softly
,
with
strange
life
,
but
did
not
rise
up
.
The
rain
beat
bruisingly
outside
.
’
Let
’
s
live
for
summat
else
.
Let
’
s
not
live
ter
make
money
,
neither
for
us
-
selves
nor
for
anybody
else
.
Now
we
’
re
forced
to
.
We
’
re
forced
to
make
a
bit
for
us
-
selves
,
an
’
a
fair
lot
for
th
’
bosses
.
Let
’
s
stop
it
!
Bit
by
bit
,
let
’
s
stop
it
.
We
needn
’
t
rant
an
’
rave
.
Bit
by
bit
,
let
’
s
drop
the
whole
industrial
life
an
’
go
back
.
The
least
little
bit
o
’
money
’
ll
do
.
For
everybody
,
me
an
’
you
,
bosses
an
’
masters
,
even
th
’
king
.
The
least
little
bit
o
’
money
’
ll
really
do
.
Just
make
up
your
mind
to
it
,
an
’
you
’
ve
got
out
o
’
th
’
mess
.
’
He
paused
,
then
went
on
:
’
An
’
I
’
d
tell
’
em
:
Look
!
Look
at
Joe
!
He
moves
lovely
!
Look
how
he
moves
,
alive
and
aware
.
He
’
s
beautiful
!
An
’
look
at
Jonah
!
He
’
s
clumsy
,
he
’
s
ugly
,
because
he
’
s
niver
willin
’
to
rouse
himself
I
’
d
tell
’
em
:
Look
!
look
at
yourselves
!
one
shoulder
higher
than
t
’
other
,
legs
twisted
,
feet
all
lumps
!
What
have
yer
done
ter
yerselves
,
wi
’
the
blasted
work
?
Spoilt
yerselves
.
No
need
to
work
that
much
.
Take
yer
clothes
off
an
’
look
at
yourselves
.
Yer
ought
ter
be
alive
an
’
beautiful
,
an
’
yer
ugly
an
’
half
dead
.
So
I
’
d
tell
’
em
.
An
’
I
’
d
get
my
men
to
wear
different
clothes
:
appen
close
red
trousers
,
bright
red
,
an
’
little
short
white
jackets
.
Why
,
if
men
had
red
,
fine
legs
,
that
alone
would
change
them
in
a
month
.
They
’
d
begin
to
be
men
again
,
to
be
men
!
An
’
the
women
could
dress
as
they
liked
.
Because
if
once
the
men
walked
with
legs
close
bright
scarlet
,
and
buttocks
nice
and
showing
scarlet
under
a
little
white
jacket
:
then
the
women
’
ud
begin
to
be
women
.
It
’
s
because
th
’
men
aren
’
t
men
,
that
th
’
women
have
to
be
.
-
-
An
’
in
time
pull
down
Tevershall
and
build
a
few
beautiful
buildings
,
that
would
hold
us
all
.
An
’
clean
the
country
up
again
.
An
’
not
have
many
children
,
because
the
world
is
overcrowded
.
