Each acknowledges the perfection of the polarised sex-circuit.Each admits the different nature in the other.
So Birkin meditated whilst he was ill.He liked sometimes to be ill enough to take to his bed.For then he got better very quickly, and things came to him clear and sure.
Whilst he was laid up, Gerald came to see him.The two men had a deep, uneasy feeling for each other.Gerald's eyes were quick and restless, his whole manner tense and impatient, he seemed strung up to some activity.
According to conventionality, he wore black clothes, he looked formal, handsome and comme il faut.His hair was fair almost to whiteness, sharp like splinters of light, his face was keen and ruddy, his body seemed full of northern energy.Gerald really loved Birkin, though he never quite believed in him.Birkin was too unreal; -- clever, whimsical, wonderful, but not practical enough.Gerald felt that his own understanding was much sounder and safer.Birkin was delightful, a wonderful spirit, but after all, not to be taken seriously, not quite to be counted as a man among men.
`Why are you laid up again?' he asked kindly, taking the sick man's hand.It was always Gerald who was protective, offering the warm shelter of his physical strength.
`For my sins, I suppose,' Birkin said, smiling a little ironically.
`For your sins? Yes, probably that is so.You should sin less, and keep better in health?'
`You'd better teach me.'
He looked at Gerald with ironic eyes.
`How are things with you?' asked Birkin.
`With me?' Gerald looked at Birkin, saw he was serious, and a warm light came into his eyes.
`I don't know that they're any different.I don't see how they could be.There's nothing to change.'
`I suppose you are conducting the business as successfully as ever, and ignoring the demand of the soul.'
`That's it,' said Gerald.`At least as far as the business is concerned.
I couldn't say about the soul, I'am sure.'
`No.'
`Surely you don't expect me to?' laughed Gerald.
`No.How are the rest of your affairs progressing, apart from the business?'
`The rest of my affairs? What are those? I couldn't say; I don't know what you refer to.'
`Yes, you do,' said Birkin.`Are you gloomy or cheerful? And what about Gudrun Brangwen?'
`What about her?' A confused look came over Gerald.`Well,' he added, `I don't know.I can only tell you she gave me a hit over the face last time I saw her.'
`A hit over the face! What for?'
`That I couldn't tell you, either.'
`Really! But when?'
`The night of the party -- when Diana was drowned.She was driving the cattle up the hill, and I went after her -- you remember.'
`Yes, I remember.But what made her do that? You didn't definitely ask her for it, I suppose?'
`I? No, not that I know of.I merely said to her, that it was dangerous to drive those Highland bullocks -- as it is.She turned in such a way, and said -- "I suppose you think I'm afraid of you and your cattle, don't you?" So I asked her "why," and for answer she flung me a back-hander across the face.'
Birkin laughed quickly, as if it pleased him.Gerald looked at him, wondering, and began to laugh as well, saying:
`I didn't laugh at the time, I assure you.I was never so taken aback in my life.'
`And weren't you furious?'
`Furious? I should think I was.I'd have murdered her for two pins.'
`H'm!' ejaculated Birkin.`Poor Gudrun, wouldn't she suffer afterwards for having given herself away!' He was hugely delighted.
`Would she suffer?' asked Gerald, also amused now.
Both men smiled in malice and amusement.
`Badly, I should think; seeing how self-conscious she is.'
`She is self-conscious, is she? Then what made her do it? For I certainly think it was quite uncalled-for, and quite unjustified.'
`I suppose it was a sudden impulse.'
`Yes, but how do you account for her having such an impulse? I'd done her no harm.'
Birkin shook his head.
`The Amazon suddenly came up in her, I suppose,' he said.
`Well,' replied Gerald, `I'd rather it had been the Orinoco.'
They both laughed at the poor joke.Gerald was thinking how Gudrun had said she would strike the last blow too.But some reserve made him keep this back from Birkin.
`And you resent it?' Birkin asked.
`I don't resent it.I don't care a tinker's curse about it.' He was silent a moment, then he added, laughing.`No, I'll see it through, that's all.She seemed sorry afterwards.'
`Did she? You've not met since that night?'
Gerald's face clouded.
`No,' he said.`We've been -- you can imagine how it's been, since the accident.'
`Yes.Is it calming down?'
`I don't know.It's a shock, of course.But I don't believe mother minds.
I really don't believe she takes any notice.And what's so funny, she used to be all for the children -- nothing mattered, nothing whatever mattered but the children.And now, she doesn't take any more notice than if it was one of the servants.'
`No? Did it upset you very much?'
`It's a shock.But I don't feel it very much, really.I don't feel any different.We've all got to die, and it doesn't seem to make any great difference, anyhow, whether you die or not.I can't feel any grief you know.It leaves me cold.I can't quite account for it.'
`You don't care if you die or not?' asked Birkin.
Gerald looked at him with eyes blue as the blue-fibred steel of a weapon.
He felt awkward, but indifferent.As a matter of fact, he did care terribly, with a great fear.
`Oh,' he said, `I don't want to die, why should I? But I never trouble.
The question doesn't seem to be on the carpet for me at all.It doesn't interest me, you know.'
` Timor mortis conturbat me, ' quoted Birkin, adding -- `No, death doesn't really seem the point any more.It curiously doesn't concern one.
It's like an ordinary tomorrow.'
Gerald looked closely at his friend.The eyes of the two men met, and an unspoken understanding was exchanged.
Gerald narrowed his eyes, his face was cool and unscrupulous as he looked at Birkin, impersonally, with a vision that ended in a point in space, strangely keen-eyed and yet blind.
