and to advantage. He invited Michaelis down to Wragby with Act I.
Michaelis came: in summer, in a pale-coloured suit and white suède gloves, with mauve orchids for Connie, very lovely, and Act I was a great success. Even Connie was thrilled. . . thrilled to what bit of marrow she had left. And Michaelis, thrilled by his power to thrill, was really wonderful. . . and quite beautiful, in Connie’s eyes. She saw in him that ancient motionlessness of a race that can’t be disillusioned any more, an extreme, perhaps, of impurity that is pure. On the far side of his supreme prostitution to the bitch-goddess he seemed pure, pure as an African ivory mask that dreams impurity into purity, in its ivory curves and planes.
His moment of sheer thrill with the two Chatterleys, when he simply carried Connie and Clifford away, was one of the supreme moments of Michaelis’ life. He had succeeded: he had carried them away. Even Clifford was temporarily in love with him. . . if that is the way one can put it.
So next morning Mick was more uneasy than ever: restless, devoured, with his hands restless in his trousers pockets. Connie had not visited him in the night. . . and he had not known where to find her. Coquetry!. . . at his moment of triumph.
He went up to her sitting-room in the morning. She knew he would come. And his restlessness was evident. He asked her about his play. . . did she think it good? He had to hear it praised: that affected him with the last thin thrill of passion beyond any sexual orgasm. And she praised it rapturously. Yet all the while, at the bottom of her soul, she knew it was nothing.
"Look here!" he said suddenly at last. "Why don’t you and I make a clean thing of it? Why don’t we marry?"
"But I am married," she said amazed, and yet feeling nothing.
"Oh that!. . .. he’ll divorce you all right.. . .. Why don’t you and I marry? I want to marry. I know it would be the best thing for me. . . marry and lead a regular life. I lead the deuce of a life, simply tearing myself to pieces. Look here, you and I, we’re made for one another. . . hand and glove. Why don’t we marry? Do you see any reason why we shouldn’t?"
Connie looked at him amazed: and yet she felt nothing. These men, they were all alike, they left everything out. They just went
