immune； a whole darkness dividing her from them。 When she went
into the lighted diningroom at home； she was impervious to the
lights and the eyes of her parents。 Her everyday self was just
the same。 She merely had another； stronger self that knew the
darkness。
This curious separate strength； that existed in darkness and
pride of night； never forsook her。 She had never been more
herself。 It could not occur to her that anybody； not even the
young man of the world； Skrebensky； should have anything at all
to do with her permanent self。 As for her temporal； social self；
she let it look after itself。
Her whole soul was implicated with Skrebenskynot the
young man of the world； but the undifferentiated man he was。 She
was perfectly sure of herself； perfectly strong； stronger than
all the world。 The world was not strongshe was strong。
The world existed only in a secondary sense：she existed
supremely。
She continued at college； in her ordinary routine； merely as
a cover to her dark； powerful underlife。 The fact of herself；
and with her Skrebensky； was so powerful； that she took rest in
the other。 She went to college in the morning； and attended her
classes； flowering； and remote。
She had lunch with him in his hotel； every evening she spent
with him； either in town； at his rooms； or in the country。 She
made the excuse at home of evening study for her degree。 But she
paid not the slightest attention to her study。
They were both absolute and happy and calm。 The fact of their
own consummate being made everything else so entirely
subordinate that they were free。 The only thing they wanted； as
the days went by； was more time to themselves。 They wanted the
time to be absolutely their own。
The Easter vacation was approaching。 They agreed to go right
away。 It would not matter if they did not e back。 They were
indifferent to the actual facts。
〃I suppose we ought to get married；〃 he said； rather
wistfully。 It was so magnificently free and in a deeper
world； as it was。 To make public their connection would be to
put it in range with all the things which nullified him； and
from which he was for the moment entirely dissociated。 If he
married he would have to assume his social self。 And the thought
of assuming his social self made him at once diffident and
abstract。 If she were his social wife； if she were part of that
plication of dead reality； then what had his underlife to do
with her？ One's social wife was almost a material symbol。
Whereas now she was something more vivid to him than anything in
conventional life could be。 She gave the plete lie to all
conventional life； he and she stood together； dark； fluid；
infinitely potent； giving the living lie to the dead whole which
contained them。
He watched her pensive； puzzled face。
〃I don't think I want to marry you；〃 she said； her brow
clouded。
It piqued him rather。
〃Why not？〃 he asked。
〃Let's think about it afterwards； shall we？〃 she said。
He was crossed； yet he loved her violently。
〃You've got a museau； not a face；〃 he said。
〃Have I？〃 she cried； her face lighting up like a pure flame。
She thought she had escaped。 Yet he returnedhe was not
satisfied。
〃Why？〃 he asked； 〃why don't you want to marry me？〃
〃I don't want to be with other people；〃 she said。 〃I want to
be like this。 I'll tell you if ever I want to marry you。〃
〃All right；〃 he said。
He would rather the thing was left indefinite； and that she
took the responsibility。
They talked of the Easter vacation。 She thought only of
plete enjoyment。
They went to an hotel in Piccadilly。 She was supposed to be
his wife。 They bought a weddingring for a shilling； from a shop
in a poor quarter。
They had revoked altogether the ordinary mortal world。 Their
confidence was like a possession upon them。 They were possessed。
Perfectly and supremely free they felt； proud beyond all
question； and surpassing mortal conditions。
They were perfect； therefore nothing else existed。 The world
was a world of servants whom one civilly ignored。 Wherever they
went； they were the sensuous aristocrats； warm； bright； glancing
with pure pride of the senses。
The effect upon other people was extraordinary。 The glamour
was cast from the young couple upon all they came into contact
with； waiters or chance acquaintances。
〃Oui； Monsieur le baron；〃 she would reply with a
mocking courtesy to her husband。
So they came to be treated as titled people。 He was an
officer in the engineers。 They were just married； going to India
immediately。
Thus a tissue of romance was round them。 She believed she was
a young wife of a titled husband on the eve of departure for
India。 This； the social fact； was a delicious makebelief。 The
living fact was that he and she were man and woman； absolute and
beyond all limitation。
The days went bythey were to have three weeks
togetherin perfect success。 All the time； they themselves
were reality； all outside was tribute to them。 They were quite
careless about money； but they did nothing very extravagant。 He
was rather surprised when he found that he had spent twenty
pounds in a little under a week； but it was only the irritation
of having to go to the bank。 The machinery of the old system
lasted for him； not the system。 The money simply did not
exist。
Neither did any of the old obligations。 They came home from
the theatre； had supper； then flitted about in their
dressinggowns。 They had a large bedroom and a corner
sittingroom high up； remote and very cosy。 They ate all their
meals in their own rooms； attended by a young German called
Hans； who thought them both wonderful； and answered
assiduously：
〃Gewiss； Herr Baronbitte sehr； Frau
Baronin。〃
Often； they saw the pink of dawn away across the park。 The
tower of Westminster Cathedral was emerging； the lamps of
Piccadilly； stringing away beside the trees of the park； were
being pale and mothlike； the morning traffic was
clockclocking down the shadowy road； which had gleamed all
night like metal； down below； running far ahead into the night；
beneath the lamps； and which was now vague； as in a mist；
because of the dawn。
Then； as the flush of dawn became stronger； they opened the
glass doors and went on to the giddy balcony； feeling triumphant
as two angels in bliss； looking down at the still sleeping
world； which would wake to a dutiful； rumbling； sluggish turmoil
of unreality。
＇But the air was cold。 They went into their bedroom； and bathed before
going to bed； leaving the partition doors of the bathroom open； so that
the vapour came into the bedroom and faintly dimmed the mirror。 She was
always in bed first。 She watched him as he bathed； his quick； unconscious
movements； the electric light glinting on his wet shoulders。 He stood out
of the bath； his hair all washed flat over his forehead； and pressed the
water out of his eyes。 He was slender； and； to her； perfect； a clean；
straightcut youth； without a grain of superfluous body。 The brown hair on
his body was soft and fine and adorable； he was all beautifully flushed；
as he stood in the white bathapartment。
He saw her warm； dark； litup face watching him from the pillowyet
he did not see itit was always present； and was to him as his own
eyes。 He was never aware of the separate being of her。 She was like his
own eyes and his own heart beating to him。
So he went across to her； to get his sleeping suit。 It was always a
perfect adventure to go near to her。 She put her arms round him； and
snuffed his warm； softened skin。
〃Scent；〃 she said。
〃Soap；〃 he answered。
〃Soap；〃 she repeated； looking up with bright eyes。 They were both
laughing； always laughing。＇
Soon they were fast asleep； asleep till midday； close
together； sleeping one sleep。 Then they awoke to the
everchanging reality of their state。 They alone inhabited the
world of reality。 All the rest lived on a lower sphere。
Whatever they wanted to do； they did。 They saw a few
peopleDorothy； whose guest she was supposed to be； and a
couple of friends of Skrebensky； young Oxford men； who called
her Mrs。 Skrebensky with entire simplicity。 They treated her；
indeed； with such respect； that she began to think she was
really quite of the whole universe； of the old world as well as
of the new。 She fot she was outside the pale of the old
world。 She thought she had brought it under the spell of her
own； real world。 And so she had。
In such everchanging reality the weeks went by。 All the
time； they were an unknown world to each other。 Every movement
made by the one was a reality and an adventure to the other。
They did not want outside excitements。 They went to very few
theatres； they were often in their sittingroom high up over
Piccadilly； with windows open on two sides； and the door open on
to the balcony； looking over the Green Park； or down upon the
minute travelling of the traffic。
Then suddenly； looking at a sunset； she wanted to go。 She
must be gone。 She must be gone at once。 And in two hours' time
they were at Charing Cross taking train for Paris。 Paris was his
suggestion。 She did not care where it was。 The great joy was in
setting out。 And for a few days she was happy in the novelty of
Paris。
Then； for some reason； she must call in Rouen on the way back
to London。 He had an instinctive mistrust of her desire for the
place。 But； perversely； she wanted to go there。 It was as if she
wanted to try its effect upon her。
For the first time； in Rouen； he had a cold feeling of death；
not afraid of any other man； but of her。 She seemed to leave
him。 She followed after something that was not him。 She did not
want him。 The old streets； the cathedral； the age and the
monumental peace of the town took her away from him。 She turned
to it as if to something she had fotten； and wanted。 This was
now the reality； this great stone cathedral slumbering there in
its mass； which knew no transience nor heard any denial。 It was
majestic in its stability； its splendid absoluteness。
Her soul began to run by itself。 He did not realize； nor did
she。 Yet in Rouen he had the first deadly anguish； the first
sense of the death towards which they were wandering。 And she
felt the first heavy yearning； heavy； heavy h