Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Thenhewokeupandlookedatthelight.Thecurtainsweredrawn.Helistenedtotheloudwildcallingofblackbirdsandthrushesinthewood.Itwouldbeabrilliantmorning,abouthalfpastfive,hishourforrising.Hehadsleptsofast!Itwassuchanewday!Thewomanwasstillcurledasleepandtender.Hishandmovedonher,andsheopenedherbluewonderingeyes,smilingunconsciouslyintohisface.

           ’Areyouawake?’shesaidtohim.

           Hewaslookingintohereyes.Hesmiled,andkissedher.Andsuddenlysherousedandsatup.

           ’FancythatIamhere!’shesaid.

           Shelookedroundthewhitewashedlittlebedroomwithitsslopingceilingandgablewindowwherethewhitecurtainswereclosed.Theroomwasbaresaveforalittleyellow-paintedchestofdrawers,andachair:andthesmallishwhitebedinwhichshelaywithhim.

           ’Fancythatwearehere!’shesaid,lookingdownathim.Hewaslyingwatchingher,strokingherbreastswithhisfingers,underthethinnightdress.Whenhewaswarmandsmoothedout,helookedyoungandhandsome.Hiseyescouldlooksowarm.Andshewasfreshandyounglikeaflower.

           ’Iwanttotakethisoff!’shesaid,gatheringthethinbatistenightdressandpullingitoverherhead.Shesattherewithbareshouldersandlongishbreastsfaintlygolden.Helovedtomakeherbreastsswingsoftly,likebells.

           ’Youmusttakeoffyourpyjamastoo,’shesaid.

           ’Eh,nay!’

           ’Yes!Yes!’shecommanded.

           Andhetookoffhisoldcottonpyjama-jacket,andpusheddownthetrousers.Saveforhishandsandwristsandfaceandneckhewaswhiteasmilk,withfineslendermuscularflesh.