Page:Sons and Lovers, 1913, Lawrence.djvu/330

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SONS AND LOVERS

“And she left him because he didn’t understand her?”

“I suppose so. I suppose she had to. It isn’t altogether a question of understanding; it’s a question of living. With him, she was only half alive; the rest was dormant, deadened. And the dormant woman was the femme incomprise, and she had to be awakened.”

“And what about him?”

“I don’t know. I rather think he loves her as much as he can, but he’s a fool.”

“It was something like your mother and father,” said Miriam.

“Yes; but my mother, I believe, got real joy and satisfaction out of my father at first. I believe she had a passion for him; that’s why she stayed with him. After all, they were bound to each other.”

“Yes,” said Miriam.

“That’s what one must have, I think,” he continued—“the real, real flame of feeling through another person—once, only once, if it only lasts three months. See, my mother looks as if she’d had everything that was necessary for her living and developing. There’s not a tiny bit of a feeling of sterility about her.”

“No,” said Miriam.

“And with my father, at first, I’m sure she had the real thing. She knows; she has been there. You can feel it about her, and about him, and about hundreds of people you meet every day; and, once it has happened to you, you can go on with anything and ripen.”

“What has happened, exactly?” asked Miriam.

“It’s so hard to say, but the something big and intense that changes you when you really come together with somebody else. It almost seems to fertilize your soul and make it that you can go on and mature.”

“And you think your mother had it with your father?”

“Yes; and at the bottom she feels grateful to him for giving it her, even now, though they are miles apart.”

“And you think Clara never had it?”

“I’m sure.”

Miriam pondered this. She saw what he was seeking—a sort of baptism of fire in passion, it seemed to her. She realized that he would never be satisfied till he had it. Perhaps it was essential to him, as to some men, to sow wild oats; and afterwards, when he was satisfied, he would not rage with restlessness any more, but could settle down and give her his