Любовник леди Чаттерлей / Lady Chatterley's Lover

Was it actually her destiny to go on weaving herself into his life all the rest of her life? Nothing else?

Was it just that? She was to be content to weave a steady life with him, all one fabric, but perhaps brocaded with the occasional flower of an adventure. But how could she know what she would feel next year? How could one ever know? How could one say Yes? for years and years? The little yes, gone on a breath! Why should one be pinned down by that butterfly word? Of course it had to flutter away and be gone, to be followed by other yes’s and no’s! Like the straying of butterflies.

“I think you’re right, Clifford. And as far as I can see I agree with you. Only life may turn quite a new face on it all.”

“But until life turns a new face on it all, you do agree?”

“Oh yes! I think I do, really.”

She was watching a brown spaniel that had run out of a side-path, and was looking towards them with lifted nose, making a soft, fluffy bark. A man with a gun strode swiftly, softly out after the dog, facing their way as if about to attack them; then stopped instead, saluted, and was turning downhill.

He was a man in dark green velveteens and gaiters… the old style, with a red face and red moustache and distant eyes. He was going quickly downhill.

“Mellors!” called Clifford.

The man faced lightly round, and saluted with a quick little gesture, a soldier!

“Will you turn the chair round and get it started? That makes it easier,” said Clifford.

The man at once slung his gun over his shoulder, and came forward with the same curious swift, yet soft movements, as if keeping invisible. He was moderately tall and lean, and was silent. He did not look at Connie at all, only at the chair.

“Connie, this is the new game-keeper, Mellors. You haven’t spoken to her ladyship yet, Mellors?”

“No, Sir!” came the ready, neutral words.

The man lifted his hat as he stood, showing his thick, almost fair hair. He stared straight into Connie’s eyes, with a perfect, fearless, impersonal look, as if he wanted to see what she was like. He made her feel shy. She bent her head to him shyly, and he changed his hat to his left hand and made her a slight bow, like a gentleman; but he said nothing at all.