Коханець леді Чаттерлей
Chapter 3
It’sasortofpermanentaccidentofyourownnature;onceyoustart,youmakemoney,andyougoon;uptoapoint,Isuppose.’
’Butyou’vegottobegin,’saidClifford.
’Oh,quite!You’vegottogetin.Youcandonothingifyouarekeptoutside.You’vegottobeatyourwayin.Onceyou’vedonethat,youcan’thelpit.’
’Butcouldyouhavemademoneyexceptbyplays?’askedClifford.
’Oh,probablynot!ImaybeagoodwriterorImaybeabadone,butawriterandawriterofplaysiswhatIam,andI’vegottobe.There’snoquestionofthat.’
’Andyouthinkit’sawriterofpopularplaysthatyou’vegottobe?’askedConnie.
’There,exactly!’hesaid,turningtoherinasuddenflash.’There’snothinginit!There’snothinginpopularity.There’snothinginthepublic,ifitcomestothat.There’snothingreallyinmyplaystomakethempopular.It’snotthat.Theyjustareliketheweather...thesortthatwillhavetobe...forthetimebeing.’
Heturnedhisslow,ratherfulleyes,thathadbeendrownedinsuchfathomlessdisillusion,onConnie,andshetrembledalittle.Heseemedsoold...endlesslyold,builtupoflayersofdisillusion,goingdowninhimgenerationaftergeneration,likegeologicalstrata;andatthesametimehewasforlornlikeachild.Anoutcast,inacertainsense;butwiththedesperatebraveryofhisrat-likeexistence.
’Atleastit’swonderfulwhatyou’vedoneatyourtimeoflife,’saidCliffordcontemplatively.
’I’mthirty...
