Women in Love Page #3

Yes and no.

But not finally.

Finally, no.

Nor I.

Do you want to?

I don't know.

I do.

I want...the finality of love.

Just one woman?

Just one woman.

I don't believe a woman...

and nothing but...

a woman...

will ever make my life.

You don't?

Then what do you live for, Gerald?

I suppose I live for my work.

And other than that, I live...

...because I'm living.

I find...

that one needs one single, pure activity.

I would call love a single, pure activity.

But I don't really love anybody.

Not now.

You mean that...

that if there isn't a woman...

then there's nothing?

More or less that.

Seeing there's no God.

Rupert, what is it you really want?

I want...

to sit with my beloved in a field...

...with daisies growing all around us.

We have devised

an entertainment for you.

In the style of the Russian ballet.

Who are those Brangwen girls?

Teachers in the grammar school.

Gudrun pretends she's an artist.

Well. What's their father?

Handicraft instructor

in the grammar school.

Really?

Class barriers are breaking down.

That their father teaches handicraft

at a school, doesn't matter to me.

I shall be Orpah.

A vivid, sensational widow.

I'm only just a widow.

And I slowly dance the death

of my husband,

before returning to my former life.

And Gudrun...

will be the beautiful Ruth.

Her husband, too,

has just now died.

And she weeps with me

and laments.

And Ursula...

will be the mother-in-law.

Naomi.

Our husbands

were her sons.

Her own husband died years ago.

Thus, all her men are dead.

She stands alone. Demanding nothing.

And the Contessa...

will be the wheat fields,

rippling in the evening air.

And Birkin will turn the pages

for the maestro.

Yes!

Ooh...

Yes! Oh...

Yes! Yes!

I can't do it!

You little tart!

Madame!

Hey, where are you going?

- Gerald!

- Coming!

I'm sorry if I...

spoilt your dance.

It was an act of pure spontaneity.

My arse!

You can't bear anything

to be spontaneous, can you?

Cause then it's no longer in your power.

You must clutch things

and have them in your power.

And why? Because you haven't got

any real body.

Any dark sensual body of life.

All you've got

is your will and your lust for power.

How can you...

not think me sensual?

All you want is pornography.

Looking at yourself in mirrors.

Watching your naked animal actions

in mirrors.

Keeping it all in your consciousness,

making it all mental.

If one cracked your skull,

maybe one could get a...

spontaneous,

passionate woman out of you.

With real sensuality.

No, you don't, Hermione.

I don't let you.

I shall not cease from mental fight

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand

Till we have built Jerusalem

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