She started, hearing someone say: 'There he is.' She saw the movement
of his swimming, like a water-rat. And she rowed involuntarily to him.
But he was near another boat, a bigger one. Still she rowed towards
him. She must be very near. She saw him--he looked like a seal. He
looked like a seal as he took hold of the side of the boat. His fair
hair was washed down on his round head, his face seemed to glisten
suavely. She could hear him panting.
Then he clambered into the boat. Oh, and the beauty of the subjection
of his loins, white and dimly luminous as be climbed over the side of
the boat, made her want to die, to die. The beauty of his dim and
luminous loins as be climbed into the boat, his back rounded and
soft--ah, this was too much for her, too final a vision. She knew it,
and it was fatal The terrible hopelessness of fate, and of beauty, such
beauty!
He was not like a man to her, he was an incarnation, a great phase of
life. She saw him press the water out of his face, and look at the
bandage on his hand. And she knew it was all no good, and that she
would never go beyond him, he was the final approximation of life to
her.
'Put the lights out, we shall see better,' came his voice, sudden and
mechanical and belonging to the world of man. She could scarcely
believe there was a world of man. She leaned round and blew out her
lanterns. They were difficult to blow out. Everywhere the lights were
gone save the coloured points on the sides of the launch. The
blueygrey, early night spread level around, the moon was overhead,
there were shadows of boats here and there.
Again there was a splash, and he was gone under. Gudrun sat, sick at
heart, frightened of the great, level surface of the water, so heavy
and deadly. She was so alone, with the level, unliving field of the
water stretching beneath her. It was not a good isolation, it was a
terrible, cold separation of suspense. She was suspended upon the
surface of the insidious reality until such time as she also should
disappear beneath it.
Then she knew, by a stirring of voices, that he had climbed out again,
into a boat. She sat wanting connection with him. Strenuously she
claimed her connection with him, across the invisible space of the
water. But round her heart was an isolation unbearable, through which
nothing would penetrate.
'Take the launch in. It's no use keeping her there. Get lines for the
dragging,' came the decisive, instrumental voice, that was full of the
sound of the world.