第48部分(第1/7 頁)

the　town；　with　a　childish；　candid；　uncanny　face；　as　if　it　all

were　strange　to　her。

The　children；　Ursula　and　Gudrun　and　Theresa　went　by　the

garden　gate　on　their　way　to　school。　The　grandmother　would　have

them　call　in　each　time　they　passed；　she　would　have　them　e　to

the　Marsh　for　dinner。　She　wanted　children　about　her。

Of　her　sons；　she　was　almost　afraid。　She　could　see　the　sombre

passion　and　desire　and　dissatisfaction　in　them；　and　she　wanted

not　to　see　it　any　more。　Even　Fred；　with　his　blue　eyes　and　his

heavy　jaw；　troubled　her。　There　was　no　peace。　He　wanted

something；　he　wanted　love；　passion；　and　he　could　not　find　them。

But　why　must　he　trouble　her？　Why　must　he　e　to　her　with　his

seething　and　suffering　and　dissatisfactions？　She　was　too

old。

Tom　was　more　restrained；　reserved。　He　kept　his　body　very

still。　But　he　troubled　her　even　more。　She　could　not　but　see　the

black　depths　of　disintegration　in　his　eyes；　the　sudden　glance

upon　her；　as　if　she　could　save　him；　as　if　he　would　reveal

himself。

And　how　could　age　save　youth？　Youth　must　go　to　youth。　Always

the　storm！　Could　she　not　lie　in　peace；　these　years；　in　the

quiet；　apart　from　life？　No；　always　the　swell　must　heave　upon　her

and　break　against　the　barriers。　Always　she　must　be　embroiled　in

the　seethe　and　rage　and　passion；　endless；　endless；　going　on　for

ever。　And　she　wanted　to　draw　away。　She　wanted　at　last　her　own

innocence　and　peace。　She　did　not　want　her　sons　to　force　upon　her

any　more　the　old　brutal　story　of　desire　and　offerings　and　deep；

deep…hidden　rage　of　unsatisfied　men　against　women。　She　wanted　to

be　beyond　it　all；　to　know　the　peace　and