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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 314/388
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He
jerked
his
head
swiftly
to
indicate
the
candle
burning
on
the
table
.
She
took
it
obediently
,
and
he
watched
the
full
curve
of
her
hips
as
she
went
up
the
first
stairs
.
It
was
a
night
of
sensual
passion
,
in
which
she
was
a
little
startled
and
almost
unwilling
:
yet
pierced
again
with
piercing
thrills
of
sensuality
,
different
,
sharper
,
more
terrible
than
the
thrills
of
tenderness
,
but
,
at
the
moment
,
more
desirable
.
Though
a
little
frightened
,
she
let
him
have
his
way
,
and
the
reckless
,
shameless
sensuality
shook
her
to
her
foundations
,
stripped
her
to
the
very
last
,
and
made
a
different
woman
of
her
.
It
was
not
really
love
.
It
was
not
voluptuousness
.
It
was
sensuality
sharp
and
searing
as
fire
,
burning
the
soul
to
tinder
.
Burning
out
the
shames
,
the
deepest
,
oldest
shames
,
in
the
most
secret
places
.
It
cost
her
an
effort
to
let
him
have
his
way
and
his
will
of
her
.
She
had
to
be
a
passive
,
consenting
thing
,
like
a
slave
,
a
physical
slave
.
Yet
the
passion
licked
round
her
,
consuming
,
and
when
the
sensual
flame
of
it
pressed
through
her
bowels
and
breast
,
she
really
thought
she
was
dying
:
yet
a
poignant
,
marvellous
death
.
She
had
often
wondered
what
Abelard
meant
,
when
he
said
that
in
their
year
of
love
he
and
Heloise
had
passed
through
all
the
stages
and
refinements
of
passion
.
The
same
thing
,
a
thousand
years
ago
:
ten
thousand
years
ago
!
The
same
on
the
Greek
vases
,
everywhere
!
The
refinements
of
passion
,
the
extravagances
of
sensuality
!
And
necessary
,
forever
necessary
,
to
burn
out
false
shames
and
smelt
out
the
heaviest
ore
of
the
body
into
purity
.
With
the
fire
of
sheer
sensuality
.
In
the
short
summer
night
she
learnt
so
much
.
She
would
have
thought
a
woman
would
have
died
of
shame
.
Instead
of
which
,
the
shame
died
.
Shame
,
which
is
fear
:
the
deep
organic
shame
,
the
old
,
old
physical
fear
which
crouches
in
the
bodily
roots
of
us
,
and
can
only
be
chased
away
by
the
sensual
fire
,
at
last
it
was
roused
up
and
routed
by
the
phallic
hunt
of
the
man
,
and
she
came
to
the
very
heart
of
the
jungle
of
herself
.
She
felt
,
now
,
she
had
come
to
the
real
bed
-
rock
of
her
nature
,
and
was
essentially
shameless
.
She
was
her
sensual
self
,
naked
and
unashamed
.
She
felt
a
triumph
,
almost
a
vainglory
.
So
!
That
was
how
it
was
!
That
was
life
!
That
was
how
oneself
really
was
!
There
was
nothing
left
to
disguise
or
be
ashamed
of
.
She
shared
her
ultimate
nakedness
with
a
man
,
another
being
.
And
what
a
reckless
devil
the
man
was
!
really
like
a
devil
!
One
had
to
be
strong
to
bear
him
.
But
it
took
some
getting
at
,
the
core
of
the
physical
jungle
,
the
last
and
deepest
recess
of
organic
shame
.
The
phallos
alone
could
explore
it
.
And
how
he
had
pressed
in
on
her
!
And
how
,
in
fear
,
she
had
hated
it
.
But
how
she
had
really
wanted
it
!
She
knew
now
.
At
the
bottom
of
her
soul
,
fundamentally
,
she
had
needed
this
phallic
hunting
out
,
she
had
secretly
wanted
it
,
and
she
had
believed
that
she
would
never
get
it
.
Now
suddenly
there
it
was
,
and
a
man
was
sharing
her
last
and
final
nakedness
,
she
was
shameless
.
What
liars
poets
and
everybody
were
!
They
made
one
think
one
wanted
sentiment
.
When
what
one
supremely
wanted
was
this
piercing
,
consuming
,
rather
awful
sensuality
.
To
find
a
man
who
dared
do
it
,
without
shame
or
sin
or
final
misgiving
!
If
he
had
been
ashamed
afterwards
,
and
made
one
feel
ashamed
,
how
awful
!
What
a
pity
most
men
are
so
doggy
,
a
bit
shameful
,
like
Clifford
!
Like
Michaelis
even
!
Both
sensually
a
bit
doggy
and
humiliating
.
The
supreme
pleasure
of
the
mind
!
And
what
is
that
to
a
woman
?
What
is
it
,
really
,
to
the
man
either
!
He
becomes
merely
messy
and
doggy
,
even
in
his
mind
.
It
needs
sheer
sensuality
even
to
purify
and
quicken
the
mind
.
Sheer
fiery
sensuality
,
not
messiness
.
