Woman to Woman T HEY CAME to the town, and left Gerald at the railway station.Gudrun and Winifred were to come to tea with Birkin, who expected Ursula also.In the afternoon, however, the first person to turn up was Hermione.Birkin was out, so she went in the drawing-room, looking at his books and papers, and playing on the piano.Then Ursula arrived.She was surprised, unpleasantly so, to see Hermione, of whom she had heard nothing for some time.
`It is a surprise to see you,' she said.
`Yes,' said Hermione -- `I've been away at Aix --'
`Oh, for your health?'
`Yes.'
The two women looked at each other.Ursula resented Hermione's long, grave, downward-looking face.There was something of the stupidity and the unenlightened self-esteem of a horse in it.`She's got a horse-face,'
Ursula said to herself, `she runs between blinkers.' It did seem as if Hermione, like the moon, had only one side to her penny.There was no obverse.
She stared out all the time on the narrow, but to her, complete world of the extant consciousness.In the darkness, she did not exist.Like the moon, one half of her was lost to life.Her self was all in her head, she did not know what it was spontaneously to run or move, like a fish in the water, or a weasel on the grass.She must always know.
But Ursula only suffered from Hermione's one-sidedness.She only felt Hermione's cool evidence, which seemed to put her down as nothing.Hermione, who brooded and brooded till she was exhausted with the ache of her effort at consciousness, spent and ashen in her body, who gained so slowly and with such effort her final and barren conclusions of knowledge, was apt, in the presence of other women, whom she thought simply female, to wear the conclusions of her bitter assurance like jewels which conferred on her an unquestionable distinction, established her in a higher order of life.She was apt, mentally, to condescend to women such as Ursula, whom she regarded as purely emotional.Poor Hermione, it was her one possession, this aching certainty of hers, it was her only justification.She must be confident here, for God knows, she felt rejected and deficient enough elsewhere.In the life of thought, of the spirit, she was one of the elect.
And she wanted to be universal.But there was a devastating cynicism at the bottom of her.She did not believe in her own universals -- they were sham.She did not believe in the inner life -- it was a trick, not a reality.
She did not believe in the spiritual world -- it was an affectation.In the last resort, she believed in Mammon, the flesh, and the devil -- these at least were not sham.She was a priestess without belief, without conviction, suckled in a creed outworn, and condemned to the reiteration of mysteries that were not divine to her.Yet there was no escape.She was a leaf upon a dying tree.What help was there then, but to fight still for the old, withered truths, to die for the old, outworn belief, to be a sacred and inviolate priestess of desecrated mysteries? The old great truths bad been true.And she was a leaf of the old great tree of knowledge that was withering now.To the old and last truth then she must be faithful even though cynicism and mockery took place at the bottom of her soul.
`I am so glad to see you,' she said to Ursula, in her slow voice, that was like an incantation.`You and Rupert have become quite friends?'
`Oh yes,' said Ursula.`He is always somewhere in the background.'
Hermione paused before she answered.She saw perfectly well the other woman's vaunt: it seemed truly vulgar.
`Is he?' she said slowly, and with perfect equanimity.`And do you think you will marry?'
The question was so calm and mild, so simple and bare and dispassionate that Ursula was somewhat taken aback, rather attracted.It pleased her almost like a wickedness.There was some delightful naked irony in Hermione.
`Well,' replied Ursula, ` He wants to, awfully, but I'm not so sure.'
Hermione watched her with slow calm eyes.She noted this new expression of vaunting.How she envied Ursula a certain unconscious positivity! even her vulgarity!
`Why aren't you sure?' she asked, in her easy sing song.She was perfectly at her ease, perhaps even rather happy in this conversation.`You don't really love him?'
Ursula flushed a little at the mild impertinence of this question.And yet she could not definitely take offence.Hermione seemed so calmly and sanely candid.After all, it was rather great to be able to be so sane.
`He says it isn't love he wants,' she replied.
`What is it then?' Hermione was slow and level.
`He wants me really to accept him in marriage.'
Hermione was silent for some time, watching Ursula with slow, pensive eyes.
`Does he?' she said at length, without expression.Then, rousing, `And what is it you don't want? You don't want marriage?'
`No -- I don't -- not really.I don't want to give the sort of submission he insists on.He wants me to give myself up -- and I simply don't feel that I can do it.'
Again there was a long pause, before Hermione replied:
`Not if you don't want to.' Then again there was silence.Hermione shuddered with a strange desire.Ah, if only he had asked her to subserve him, to be his slave! She shuddered with desire.
`You see I can't --'
`But exactly in what does --'
They had both begun at once, they both stopped.Then, Hermione, assuming priority of speech, resumed as if wearily:
`To what does he want you to submit?'
`He says he wants me to accept him non-emotionally, and finally -- Ireally don't know what he means.He says he wants the demon part of himself to be mated -- physically -- not the human being.You see he says one thing one day, and another the next -- and he always contradicts himself --'
`And always thinks about himself, and his own dissatisfaction,' said Hermione slowly.
`Yes,' cried Ursula.`As if there were no-one but himself concerned.
That makes it so impossible.'
But immediately she began to retract.
`He insists on my accepting God knows what in him ,' she resumed.
