Skrebensky escorted her home。 For she could not go away from
him。 And she was waiting； waiting for something more。
In the warm of the early night； with the shadows new about
them； she felt in another； harder； more beautiful； less personal
world。 Now a new state should e to pass。
He walked near to her； and with the same； silent； intent
approach put his arm round her waist； and softly； very softly；
drew her to him； till his arm was hard and pressed in upon her；
she seemed to be carried along； floating； her feet scarce
touching the ground； borne upon the firm； moving surface of his
body； upon whose side she seemed to lie； in a delicious swoon of
motion。 And whilst she swooned； his face bent nearer to her； her
head was leaned on his shoulder； she felt his warm breath on her
face。 Then softly； oh softly； so softly that she seemed to faint
away； his lips touched her cheek； and she drifted through
strands of heat and darkness。
Still she waited； in her swoon and her drifting； waited； like
the Sleeping Beauty in the story。 She waited； and again his face
was bent to hers； his lips came warm to her face； their
footsteps lingered and ceased； they stood still under the trees；
whilst his lips waited on her face； waited like a butterfly that
does not move on a flower。 She pressed her breast a little
nearer to him； he moved； put both his arms round her； and drew
her close。
And then； in the darkness； he bent to her mouth； softly； and
touched her mouth with his mouth。 She was afraid； she lay still
on his arm； feeling his lips on her lips。 She kept still；
helpless。 Then his mouth drew near； pressing open her mouth； a
hot； drenching surge rose within her； she opened her lips to
him； in pained； poignant eddies she drew him nearer； she let him
e farther； his lips came and surging； surging； soft； oh soft；
yet oh； like the powerful surge of water； irresistible； till
with a little blind cry； she broke away。
She heard him breathing heavily； strangely； beside her。 A
terrible and magnificent sense of his strangeness possessed her。
But she shrank a little now； within herself。 Hesitating； they
continued to walk on； quivering like shadows under the ash trees
of the hill； where her grandfather had walked with his daffodils
to make his proposal； and where her mother had gone with her
young husband； walking close upon him as Ursula was now walking
upon Skrebensky。
Ursula was aware of the dark limbs of the trees stretching
overhead； clothed with leaves； and of fine ash leaves tressing
the summer night。
They walked with their bodies moving in plex unity； close
together。 He held her hand； and they went the long way round by
the road； to be farther。 Always she felt as if she were
supported off her feet； as if her feet were light as little
breezes in motion。
He would kiss her againbut not again that night with
the same deepreaching kiss。 She was aware now； aware of
what a kiss might be。 And so； it was more difficult to e to
him。
She went to bed feeling all warm with electric warmth； as if
the gush of dawn were within her； upholding her。 And she slept
deeply； sweetly； oh； so sweetly。 In the morning she felt sound
as an ear of wheat； fragrant and firm and full。
They continued to be lovers； in the first wondering state of
unrealization。 Ursula told nobody； she was entirely lost in her
own world。
Yet some strange affectation made her seek for a spurious
confidence。 She had at school a quiet； meditative；
serioussouled friend called Ethel； and to Ethel must Ursula
confide the story。 Ethel listened absorbedly； with bowed；
unbetraying head； whilst Ursula told her secret。 Oh； it was so
lovely； his gentle； delicate way of making love！ Ursula talked
like a practiced lover。
〃Do you think；〃 asked Ursula； 〃it is wicked to let a man kiss
youreal kisses； not flirting？〃
〃I should think；〃 said Ethel； 〃it depends。〃
〃He kissed me under the ash trees on Cossethay hilldo
you think it was wrong？〃
〃When？〃
〃On Thursday night when he was seeing me homebut real
kissesreal。 He is an officer in the army。〃
〃What time was it？〃 asked the deliberate Ethel。
〃I don't knowabout halfpast nine。〃
There was a pause。
〃I think it's wrong；〃 said Ethel； lifting her head with
impatience。 〃You don't know him。〃
She spoke with some contempt。
〃Yes； I do。 He is half a Pole； and a Baron too。 In England he
is equivalent to a Lord。 My grandmother was his father's
friend。〃
But the two friends were hostile。 It was as if Ursula
wanted to divide herself from her acquaintances； in
asserting her connection with Anton； as she now called him。
He came a good deal to Cossethay； because her mother was fond
of him。 Anna Brangwen became something of a grande dame
with Skrebensky； very calm； taking things for granted。
〃Aren't the children in bed？〃 cried Ursula petulantly； as she
came in with the young man。
〃They will be in bed in half an hour；〃 said the mother。
〃There is no peace；〃 cried Ursula。
〃The children must live； Ursula；〃 said her mother。
And Skrebensky was against Ursula in this。 Why should she be
so insistent？
But then； as Ursula knew； he did not have the perpetual
tyranny of young children about him。 He treated her mother with
great courtliness； to which Mrs。 Brangwen returned an easy；
friendly hospitality。 Something pleased the girl in her mother's
calm assumption of state。 It seemed impossible to abate Mrs。
Brangwen's position。 She could never be beneath anyone in public
relation。 Between Brangwen and Skrebensky there was an
unbridgeable silence。 Sometimes the two men made a slight
conversation； but there was no interchange。 Ursula rejoiced to
see her father retreating into himself against the young
man。
She was proud of Skrebensky in the house。 His lounging；
languorous indifference irritated her and yet cast a spell over
her。 She knew it was the oute of a spirit of
laissezaller bined with profound young vitality。 Yet
it irritated her deeply。
Notwithstanding； she was proud of him as he lounged in his
lambent fashion in her home； he was so attentive and courteous
to her mother and to herself all the time。 It was wonderful to
have his awareness in the room。 She felt rich and augmented by
it； as if she were the positive attraction and he the flow
towards her。 And his courtesy and his agreement might be all her
mother's； but the lambent flicker of his body was for herself。
She held it。
She must ever prove her power。
〃I meant to show you my little woodcarving；〃 she said。
〃I'm sure it's not worth showing； that；〃 said her father。
〃Would you like to see it？〃 she asked； leaning towards the
door。
And his body had risen from the chair； though his face seemed
to want to agree with her parents。
〃It is in the shed；〃 she said。
And he followed her out of the door； whatever his feelings
might be。
In the shed they played at kisses； really played at kisses。
It was a delicious； exciting game。 She turned to him； her face
all laughing； like a challenge。 And he accepted the challenge at
once。 He twined his hand full of her hair； and gently； with his
hand wrapped round with hair behind her head； gradually brought
her face nearer to his； whilst she laughed breathless with
challenge； and his eyes gleamed with answer； with enjoyment of
the game。 And he kissed her； asserting his will over her； and
she kissed him back； asserting her deliberate enjoyment of him。
Daring and reckless and dangerous they knew it was； their game；
each playing with fire； not with love。 A sort of defiance of all
the world possessed her in itshe would kiss him just
because she wanted to。 And a daredevilry in him； like a
cynicism； a cut at everything he pretended to serve； retaliated
in him。
She was very beautiful then； so wide opened； so radiant； so
palpitating； exquisitely vulnerable and poignantly； wrongly；
throwing herself to risk。 It roused a sort of madness in him。
Like a flower shaking and wideopened in the sun； she tempted
him and challenged him； and he accepted the challenge； something
went fixed in him。 And under all her laughing； poignant
recklessness was the quiver of tears。 That almost sent him mad；
mad with desire； with pain； whose only issue was through
possession of her body。
So； shaken； afraid； they went back to her parents in the
kitchen； and dissimulated。 But something was roused in both of
them that they could not now allay。 It intensified and
heightened their senses； they were more vivid； and powerful in
their being。 But under it all was a poignant sense of
transience。 It was a magnificent selfassertion on the part of
both of them； he asserted himself before her； he felt himself
infinitely male and infinitely irresistible； she asserted
herself before him； she knew herself infinitely desirable； and
hence infinitely strong。 And after all； what could either of
them get from such a passion but a sense of his or of her own
maximum self； in contradistinction to all the rest of life？
Wherein was something finite and sad； for the human soul at its
maximum wants a sense of the infinite。
Nevertheless； it was begun now； this passion； and must go on；
the passion of Ursula to know her own maximum self； limited and
so defined against him。 She could limit and define herself
against him； the male； she could be her maximum self； female； oh
female； triumphant for one moment in exquisite assertion against
the male； in supreme contradistinction to the male。
The next afternoon； when he came； prowling； she went with him
across to the church。 Her father was gradually gathering in
anger against him； her mother was hardening in anger against
her。 But the parents were naturally tolerant in action。
They went together across the churchyard； Ursula and
Skrebensky； and ran to hiding in the church。 It was dimmer in
there than the sunny afternoon outside； but the mellow glow
among the bowed stone was very sweet。 The windows burned in ruby
and in blue； they made magnificent arras to their bower of
secret stone。
〃What a perfect place for a rendezvous；〃 he said； in a
hushed voice； glancing round。
She too glanced round the familiar interior。 The dimness and
stillness chilled her。 But her eyes lit up with daring。 Here；
here she