Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Shefollowedthetrack,andthehammeringgrewnearer,inthesilenceofthewindywood,fortreesmakeasilenceevenintheirnoiseofwind.

           Shesawasecretlittleclearing,andasecretlittlehutmadeofrusticpoles.Andshehadneverbeenherebefore!Sherealizeditwasthequietplacewherethegrowingpheasantswerereared;thekeeperinhisshirt-sleeveswaskneeling,hammering.Thedogtrottedforwardwithashort,sharpbark,andthekeeperliftedhisfacesuddenlyandsawher.Hehadastartledlookinhiseyes.

           Hestraightenedhimselfandsaluted,watchingherinsilence,asshecameforwardwithweakeninglimbs.Heresentedtheintrusion;hecherishedhissolitudeashisonlyandlastfreedominlife.

           ’Iwonderedwhatthehammeringwas,’shesaid,feelingweakandbreathless,andalittleafraidofhim,ashelookedsostraightather.

           ’Ah’mgettin’th’coopsreadyforth’youngbods,’hesaid,inbroadvernacular.

           Shedidnotknowwhattosay,andshefeltweak.’Ishouldliketositdownabit,’shesaid.

           ’Comeandsit’erei’th’’ut,’hesaid,goinginfrontofhertothehut,pushingasidesometimberandstuff,anddrawingoutarusticchair,madeofhazelsticks.

           ’AmAht’lightyeralittlefire?’heasked,withthecuriousnaiveteofthedialect.

           ’Oh,don’tbother,’shereplied.

           Buthelookedatherhands;theywereratherblue.Sohequicklytooksomelarchtwigstothelittlebrickfire-placeinthecorner,andinamomenttheyellowflamewasrunningupthechimney.Hemadeaplacebythebrickhearth.