But, like the oxen of the plain, she knew her work,
she knew the other people engaged in the work. Her intelligence was
attentive and purposive. She had been a housekeeper, a servant, in
Venice and Verona, before her marriage. She had got the hang of this
world of commerce and activity, she wanted to master it. But she was
weighted down by her heavy animal blood.
Paolo and she were the opposite sides of the universe, the light and the
dark. Yet they lived together now without friction, detached, each
subordinated in their common relationship. With regard to Maria, Paolo
omitted himself; Maria omitted herself with regard to Paolo. Their souls
were silent and detached, completely apart, and silent, quite silent.
They shared the physical relationship of marriage as if it were
something beyond them, a third thing.
They had suffered very much in the earlier stages of their connexion.
Now the storm had gone by, leaving them, as it were, spent. They were
both by nature passionate, vehement. But the lines of their passion were
opposite. Hers was the primitive, crude, violent flux of the blood,
emotional and undiscriminating, but wanting to mix and mingle.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150