fond of it。 She looked at it lovingly； when she had taken it
from her neck。
〃Is it valuable？〃 the man asked her； curiously。
〃I think so；〃 she replied。
〃The stones and pearl are real； it is worth three or four
pounds；〃 said Skrebensky from the wharf above。 Ursula could tell
he disapproved of her。
〃I must give it to your baby……may I？〃 she said to
the bargee。
He flushed； and looked away into the evening。
〃Nay；〃 he said； 〃it's not for me to say。〃
〃What would your father and mother say？〃 cried the woman
curiously； from the door。
〃It is my own；〃 said Ursula； and she dangled the little
glittering string before the baby。 The infant spread its little
fingers。 But it could not grasp。 Ursula closed the tiny hand
over the jewel。 The baby waved the bright ends of the string。
Ursula had given her necklace away。 She felt sad。 But she did
not want it back。
The jewel swung from the baby's hand and fell in a little
heap on the coal…dusty bottom of the barge。 The man groped for
it； with a kind of careful reverence。 Ursula noticed the
coarsened； blunted fingers groping at the little jewelled heap。
The skin was red on the back of the hand； the fair hairs
glistened stiffly。 It was a thin； sinewy； capable hand
nevertheless； and Ursula liked it。 He took up the necklace
carefully； and blew the coal…dust from it； as it lay in the
hollow of his hand。 He seemed still and attentive。 He held out
his hand with the necklace shining small in its hard； black
hollow。
〃Take it back；〃 he said。
Ursula hardened with a kind of radiance。
〃No；〃 she said。 〃It belongs to little Ursula。〃
And she went to the infant and fastened the necklace round
its warm； soft； weak little neck。
There was a moment of confusion； then the father bent over
his child：
〃What do you say？〃 he said。 〃Do you say thank you？ Do you say
thank you； Ursula？〃
〃Her name's Ursula now；〃 said the mother； smiling a
little bit ingratiatingly from the door。 And she came out to
examine the jewel on the child's neck。
〃It is Ursula； isn't it？〃 said Ursula Brangwen。
The father looked up at her； with an intimate； half…gallant；
half…impudent； but wistful look。 His captive soul loved her： but
his soul was captive； he knew； always。
She wanted to go。 He set a little ladder for her to climb up
to the wharf。 She kissed the child； which was in its mother's
arms； then she turned away。 The mother was effusive。 The man
stood silent by the ladder。
Ursula joined Skrebensky。 The two young figures crossed the
lock； above the shining yellow water。 The barge…man watched them
go。
〃I loved them；〃 she was saying。 〃He was so
gentle……oh； so gentle！ And the baby was such a dear！〃
〃Was he gentle？〃 said Skrebensky。 〃The woman had been a
servant； I'm sure of that。〃
Ursula winced。
〃But I loved his impudence……it was so gentle
underneath。〃
She went hastening on； gladdened by having met the grimy；
lean man with the ragged moustache。 He gave her a pleasant warm
feeling。 He made her feel the richness of her own life。
Skrebensky； somehow； had created a deadness round her； a
sterility； as if the world were ashes。
They said very little as they hastened home to the big
supper。 He was envying the lean father of three children； for
his impudent directness and his worship of the woman in Ursula；
a worship of body and soul together； the man's body and soul
wistful and worshipping the body and spirit of the girl； with a
desire that knew the inaccessibility of its object； but was only
glad to know that the perfect thing existed； glad to have had a
moment of munion。
Why could not he himself desire a woman so？ Why did he never
really want a woman； not with the whole of him： never loved；
never worshipped； only just physically wanted her。
But he would want her with his body； let his soul do as it
would。 A kind of flame of physical desire was gradually beating
up in the Marsh； kindled by Tom Brangwen； and by the fact of the
wedding of Fred； the shy； fair； stiff…set farmer with the
handsome； half…educated girl。 Tom Brangwen； with all his secret
power； seemed to fan the flame that was rising。 The bride was
strongly attracted by him； and he was exerting his influence on
another beautiful； fair girl； chill and burning as the sea； who
said witty things which he appreciated； making her glint with
more； like phosphorescence。 And her greenish eyes seemed to rock
a secret； and her hands like mother…of…pearl seemed luminous；
transparent； as if the secret were burning visible in them。
At the end of supper； during dessert； the music began to
play； violins； and flutes。 Everybody's face was lit up。 A glow
of excitement prevailed。 When the little speeches were over； and
the port remained unreached for any more； those who wished were
invited out to the open for coffee。 The night was warm。
Bright stars were shining； the moon was not yet up。 And under
the stars burned two great； red； flameless fires； and round
these lights and lanterns hung； the marquee stood open before a
fire； with its lights inside。
The young people flocked out into the mysterious night。 There
was sound of laughter and voices； and a scent of coffee。 The
farm…buildings loomed dark in the background。 Figures； pale and
dark； flitted about； intermingling。 The red fire glinted on a
white or a silken skirt； the lanterns gleamed on the transient
heads of the wedding guests。
To Ursula it was wonderful。 She felt she was a new being。 The
darkness seemed to breathe like the sides of some great beast；
the haystacks loomed half…revealed； a crowd of them； a dark；
fecund lair just behind。 Waves of delirious darkness ran through
her soul。 She wanted to let go。 She wanted to reach and be
amongst the flashing stars； she wanted to race with her feet and
be beyond the confines of this earth。 She was mad to be gone。 It
was as if a hound were straining on the leash； ready to hurl
itself after a nameless quarry into the dark。 And she was the
quarry； and she was also the hound。 The darkness was passionate
and breathing with immense； unperceived heaving。 It was waiting
to receive her in her flight。 And how could she start……and
how could she let go？ She must leap from the known into the
unknown。 Her feet and hands beat like a madness； her breast
strained as if in bonds。
The music began； and the bonds began to slip。 Tom Brangwen
was dancing with the bride； quick and fluid and as if in another
element； inaccessible as the creatures that move in the water。
Fred Brangwen went in with another partner。 The music came in
waves。 One couple after another was washed and absorbed into the
deep underwater of the dance。
〃e；〃 said Ursula to Skrebensky； laying her hand on his
arm。
At the touch of her hand on his arm； his consciousness melted
away from him。 He took her into his arms； as if into the sure；
subtle power of his will； and they became one movement； one dual
movement； dancing on the slippery grass。 It would be endless；
this movement； it would continue for ever。 It was his will and
her will locked in a trance of motion； two wills locked in one
motion； yet never fusing； never yielding one to the other。 It
was a glaucous； intertwining； delicious