womb。
They were friends again； new； subdued friends。 But there was
a wanness between them。 They slept together once more； very
quietly； and distinct； not one together as before。 And she was
intimate with him as at first。 But he was very quiet； and not
intimate。 He was glad in his soul； but for the time being he was
not alive。
He could sleep with her； and let her be。 He could be alone
now。 He had just learned what it was to be able to be alone。 It
was right and peaceful。 She had given him a new； deeper freedom。
The world might be a welter of uncertainty； but he was himself
now。 He had e into his own existence。 He was born for a
second time； born at last unto himself； out of the vast body of
humanity。 Now at last he had a separate identity； he existed
alone； even if he were not quite alone。 Before he had only
existed in so far as he had relations with another being。 Now he
had an absolute self……as well as a relative self。
But it was a very dumb； weak； helpless self； a crawling
nursling。 He went about very quiet； and in a way； submissive。 He
had an unalterable self at last； free； separate；
independent。
She was relieved； she was free of him。 She had given him to
himself。 She wept sometimes with tiredness and helplessness。 But
he was a husband。 And she seemed； in the child that was ing；
to forget。 It seemed to make her warm and drowsy。 She lapsed
into a long muse； indistinct； warm； vague； unwilling to be taken
out of her vagueness。 And she rested on him also。
Sometimes she came to him with a strange light in her eyes；
poignant； pathetic； as if she were asking for something。 He
looked and he could not understand。 She was so beautiful； so
visionary； the rays seemed to go out of his breast to her； like
a shining。 He was there for her； all for her。 And she would hold
his breast； and kiss it； and kiss it； kneeling beside him； she
who was waiting for the hour of her delivery。 And he would lie
looking down at his breast； till it seemed that his breast was
not himself； that he had left it lying there。 Yet it was himself
also； and beautiful and bright with her kisses。 He was glad with
a strange； radiant pain。 Whilst she kneeled beside him； and
kissed his breast with a slow； rapt； half…devotional
movement。
He knew she wanted something； his heart yearned to give it
her。 His heart yearned over her。 And as she lifted her face；
that was radiant and rosy as a little cloud； his heart still
yearned over her； and； now from the distance； adored her。 She
had a flower…like presence which he adored as he stood far off；
a stranger。
The weeks passed on； the time drew near； they were very
gentle； and delicately happy。 The insistent； passionate； dark
soul； the powerful unsatisfaction in him seemed stilled and
tamed； the lion lay down with the lamb in him。
She loved him very much indeed； and he waited near her。 She
was a precious； remote thing to him at this time； as she waited
for her child。 Her soul was glad with an ecstasy because of the
ing infant。 She wanted a boy： oh； very much she wanted a
boy。
But she seemed so young and so frail。 She was indeed only a
girl。 As she stood by the fire washing herself……she was
proud to wash herself at this time……and he looked at her；
his heart was full of extreme tenderness for her。 Such fine；
fine limbs； her slim； round arms like chasing lights； and her
legs so simple and childish； yet so very proud。 Oh； she stood on
proud legs； with a lovely reckless balance of her full belly；
and the adorable little roundnesses； and the breasts being
important。 Above it all； her face was like a rosy cloud
shining。
How proud she was； what a lovely proud thing her young body！
And she loved him to put his hand on her ripe fullness； so that
he should thrill also with the stir and the quickening there。 He
was afraid and silent； but she flung her arms round his neck
with proud； impudent joy。
The pains came on； and Oh……how she cried！ She would have
him stay with her。 And after her long cries she would look at
him； with tears in her eyes and a sobbing laugh on her face；
saying：
〃I don't mind it really。〃
It was bad enough。 But to her it was never deathly。 Even the
fierce； tearing pain was exhilarating。 She screamed and
suffered； but was all the time curiously alive and vital。 She
felt so powerfully alive and in the hands of such a masterly
force of life； that her bottom…most feeling was one of
exhilaration。 She knew she was winning； winning； she was always
winning； with each onset of pain she was nearer to victory。
Probably he suffered more than she did。 He was not shocked or
horrified。 But he was screwed very tight in the vise of
suffering。
It was a girl。 The second of silence on her face when they
said so showed him she was disappointed。 And a great blazing
passion of resentment and protest sprang up in his heart。 In
that moment he claimed the child。
But when the milk came； and the infant sucked her breast； she
seemed to be leaping with extravagant bliss。
〃It sucks me； it sucks me； it likes me……oh； it loves
it！〃 she cried； holding the child to her breast with her two
hands covering it； passionately。
And in a few moments； as she became used to her bliss； she
looked at the youth with glowing； unseeing eyes； and said：
〃Anna Victrix。〃
He went away； trembling； and slept。 To her； her pains were
the wound…smart of a victor； she was the prouder。
When she was well again she was very happy。 She called the
baby Ursula。 Both Anna and her husband felt they must have a
name that gave them private satisfaction。 The baby was tawny
skinned； it had a curious downy skin； and wisps of bronze hair；
and the yellow grey eyes that wavered； and then became
golden…brown like the father's。 So they called her Ursula
because of the picture of the saint。
It was a rather delicate baby at first； but soon it became
stronger； and was restless as a young eel。 Anna was worn out
with the day…long wrestling with its young vigour。
As a little animal； she loved and adored it and was happy。
She loved her husband； she kissed his eyes and nose and mouth；
and made much of him； she said his limbs were beautiful； she was
fascinated by the physical form of him。
And she was indeed Anna Victrix。 He could not bat her any
more。 He was out in the wilderness； alone with her。 Having
occasion to go to London； he marvelled； as he returned； thinking
of naked； lurking savages on an island； how these had built up
and created the great mass of Oxford Street or Piccadilly。 How
had helpless savages； running with their spears on the
riverside； after fish； how had they e to rear up this great
London； the ponderous； massive； ugly superstructure of a world
of man upon a world of nature！ It frightened and awed him。 Man
was terrible； awful in his works。 The works of man were more
terrible than man himself； almost monstrous。
And yet； for his own part； for his private being； Brangwen
felt that the whole of the man's world was exterior and
extraneous to his own real life with Anna。 Sweep away the whole
monstrous superstructure of the world of to…day； cities and
industries and civilization； leave only the bare earth with
plants growing and waters running； and he would not mind； so
long as he were whole； had Anna and the child and the new；
strange certainty in his soul。 Then； if he were naked； he would
find clothing somewhere； he would make a shelter and bring food
to his wife。
And what more？ What more would be necessary？ The great mass
of activity in which mankind was engaged meant nothing to him。
By nature； he had no part in it。 What did he live for； then？ For
Anna only； and for the sake of living？ What did he want on this
earth？ Anna only； and his children； and his life with his
children and her？ Was there no more？
He was attended by a sense of something more； something
further； which gave him absolute being。 It was as if now he
existed in Eternity； let Time be what it might。 What was there
outside？ The fabricated world； that he did not believe in？ What
should he bring to her； from outside？ Nothing？ Was it enough； as
it was？ He was troubled in his acquiescence。 She was not with
him。 Yet he scarcely believed in himself； a