Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Theactivity,theorgasmwashis,allhis;shecouldstriveforherselfnomore.Eventhetightnessofhisarmsroundher,eventheintensemovementofhisbody,andthespringingofhisseedinher,wasakindofsleep,fromwhichshedidnotbegintorousetillhehadfinishedandlaysoftlypantingagainstherbreast.

           Thenshewondered,justdimlywondered,why?Whywasthisnecessary?Whyhaditliftedagreatcloudfromherandgivenherpeace?Wasitreal?Wasitreal?

           Hertormentedmodern-woman’sbrainstillhadnorest.Wasitreal?Andsheknew,ifshegaveherselftotheman,itwasreal.Butifshekeptherselfforherselfitwasnothing.Shewasold;millionsofyearsold,shefelt.Andatlast,shecouldbeartheburdenofherselfnomore.Shewastobehadforthetaking.Tobehadforthetaking.

           Themanlayinamysteriousstillness.Whatwashefeeling?Whatwashethinking?Shedidnotknow.Hewasastrangemantoher,shedidnotknowhim.Shemustonlywait,forshedidnotdaretobreakhismysteriousstillness.Helaytherewithhisarmsroundher,hisbodyonhers,hiswetbodytouchinghers,soclose.Andcompletelyunknown.Yetnotunpeaceful.Hisverystillnesswaspeaceful.

           Sheknewthat,whenatlastherousedanddrewawayfromher.Itwaslikeanabandonment.Hedrewherdressinthedarknessdownoverherkneesandstoodafewmoments,apparentlyadjustinghisownclothing.Thenhequietlyopenedthedoorandwentout.

           Shesawaverybrilliantlittlemoonshiningabovetheafterglowovertheoaks.Quicklyshegotupandarrangedherselfshewastidy.Thenshewenttothedoorofthehut.