and fishes。
〃And you； be ye fruitful and multiply； bring forth abundantly
in the earth； and multiply therein。〃
In her soul she mocked at this multiplication； every cow
being two cows； every turnip ten turnips。
〃And God said； This is the token of the covenant which I make
between me and you and every living creature that is with you；
for perpetual generations；
〃I do set my bow in the cloud； and it shall be a token of a
covenant between me and the earth。
〃And it shall e to pass； when I bring a cloud over the
earth； that a bow shall be seen in the cloud；
〃And I will remember my covenant； which is between me and you
and every living creature of all flesh； and the waters shall no
more bee a flood to destroy all flesh。〃
〃Destroy all flesh；〃 why 〃flesh〃 in particular？ Who was this
lord of flesh？ After all； how big was the Flood？ Perhaps a few
dryads and fauns had just run into the hills and the farther
valleys and woods； frightened； but most had gone on blithely
unaware of any flood at all； unless the nymphs should tell them。
It pleased Ursula to think of the naiads in Asia Minor meeting
the nereids at the mouth of the streams； where the sea washed
against the fresh； sweet tide； and calling to their sisters the
news of Noah's Flood。 They would tell amusing accounts of Noah
in his ark。 Some nymphs would relate how they had hung on the
side of the ark； peeped in； and heard Noah and Shem and Ham and
Japeth； sitting in their place under the rain； saying； how they
four were the only men on earth now； because the Lord had
drowned all the rest； so that they four would have everything to
themselves； and be masters of every thing； sub…tenants under the
great Proprietor。
Ursula wished she had been a nymph。 She would have laughed
through the window of the ark； and flicked drops of the flood at
Noah； before she drifted away to people who were less important
in their Proprietor and their Flood。
What was God； after all？ If maggots in a dead dog be but God
kissing carrion； what then is not God？ She was surfeited of this
God。 She was weary of the Ursula Brangwen who felt troubled
about God。 What ever God was； He was； and there was no need for
her to trouble about Him。 She felt she had now all licence。
Skrebensky sat beside her； listening to the sermon； to the
voice of law and order。 〃The very hairs of your head are all
numbered。〃 He did not believe it。 He believed his own things
were quite at his own disposal。 You could do as you liked with
your own things； so long as you left other people's alone。
Ursula caressed him and made love to him。 Nevertheless he
knew she wanted to react upon him and to destroy his being。 She
was not with him； she was against him。 But her making love to
him； her plete admiration of him； in open life； gratified
him。
She caught him out of himself； and they were lovers； in a
young； romantic； almost fantastic way。 He gave her a little
ring。 They put it in Rhine wine； in their glass； and she drank；
then he drank。 They drank till the ring lay exposed at the
bottom of the glass。 Then she took the simple jewel； and tied it
on a thread round her neck； where she wore it。
He asked her for a photograph when he was going away。 She
went in great excitement to the photographer； with five
shillings。 The result was an ugly little picture of herself with
her mouth on one side。 She wondered over it and admired it。
He saw only the live face of the girl。 The picture hurt him。
He kept it； he always remembered it； but he could scarcely bear
to see it。 There was a hurt to his soul in the clear； fearless
face that was touched with abstraction。 Its abstraction was
certainly away from him。
Then war was declared with the Boers in South Africa； and
everywhere was a fizz of excitement。 He wrote that he might have
to go。 And he sent her a box of sweets。
She was slightly dazed at the thought of his going to the
war； not knowing how to feel。 It was a sort of romantic
situation that she knew so well in fiction she hardly understood
it in fact。 Underneath a top elation was a sort of dreariness；
deep； ashy disappointment。
However； she secreted the sweets under her bed； and ate them
all herself； when she went to bed； and when she woke in the
morning。 All the time she felt very guilty and ashamed； but she
simply did not want to share them。
That box of sweets remained stuck in her mind afterwards。 Why
had she secreted them and eaten them every one？ Why？ She did not
feel guilty……she only knew she ought to feel guilty。 And
she could not make up her mind。 Curiously monumental that box of
sweets stood up； now it was empty。 It was a crux for her。 What
was she to think of it？
The idea of war altogether made her feel uneasy； uneasy。 When
men began organized fighting with each other it seemed to her as
if the poles of the universe were cracking； and the whole might
go tumbling into the bottomless pit。 A horrible bottomless
feeling she had。 Yet of course there was the minted
superscription of romance and honour and even religion about
war。 She was very confused。
Skrebensky was busy； he could not e to see her。 She asked
for no assurance； no security。 What was between them； was； and
could not be altered by avowals。 She knew that by instinct； she
trusted to the intrinsic reality。
But she felt an agony of helplessness。 She could do nothing。
Vaguely she knew the huge powers of the world rolling and
crashing together； darkly； clumsily； stupidly； yet colossal； so
that one was brushed along almost as dust。 Helpless； helpless；
swirling like dust！ Yet she wanted so hard to rebel； to rage； to
fight。 But with what？
Could she with her hands fight the face of the earth； beat
the hills in their places？ Yet her breast wanted to fight； to
fight the whole world。 And these two small hands were all she
had to do it with。
The months went by； and it was Christmas……the snowdrops
came。 There was a little hollow in the wood near Cossethay；
where snowdrops grew wild。 She sent him some in a box； and he
wrote her a quick little note of thanks……very grateful and
wistful he seemed。 Her eyes grew childlike and puzzled。 Puzzled
from day to day she went on； helpless； carried along by all that
must happen。
He went about at his duties； giving himself up to them。 At
the bottom of his heart his self； the soul that aspired and had
true hope of self…effectuation lay as dead； still…born； a dead
weight in his womb。 Who was he； to hold important his personal
connection？ What did a man matter personally？ He was just a
brick in the whole great social fabric； the nation； the modern
humanity。 His personal movements were small； and entirely
subsidiary。 The whole form must be ensured； not ruptured； for
any personal reason whatsoever； since no personal reason could
justify such a breaking。 What did personal intimacy matter？ One
had to fill one's place in the whole； the great scheme of man's
elaborate civilization； that was all。 The Whole
mattered……but the unit； the person； had no importance；
except as he represented the Whole。
So Skrebensky left the girl out and went his way； serving
what he had to serve； and enduring what he had to endure；
without remark。 To his own intrinsic life； he was dead。 And he
could not rise again from the dead。 His soul lay in the tomb。
His life lay in the established order of things。 He had his five
senses too。 They were to be gratified。 Apart from this； he
represented the great； established； extant Idea of life； and as
this he was important and beyond question。
The good of the greatest number was all that mattered。 That
which was the greatest good for them all； collectively； was the
greatest good for the individual。 And so； every man must give
himself to support the state； and so labour for the greatest
good of all。 One might make improvements in the state； perhaps；
but always with a view to preserving it intact。
No highest good of the munity； however； would give him the
vital fulfilment of his soul。 He knew this。 But he did not
consider the soul of the individual sufficiently important。 He
believed a man was important in so far as he represented all
humanity。
He could not see； it was not born in him to see； that the
highest good of the munity as it stands is no longer the
highest good of even the average individual。 He thought that；
because the munity represents millions of people； therefore
it must be millions of times more important than any individual；
forgetting that the munity is an abstraction from the many；
and is not the many themselves。 Now when the statement of the
abstract good for the munity has bee a formula lacking in
all inspiration or value to the average intelligence； then the
〃mon good〃 bees a general nuisance； representing the
vulgar； conservative materialism at a low level。
And by the highest good of the greatest number is chiefly
meant the material prosperity of all classes。 Skrebensky did not
really care about his own material prosperity。 If he had been
penniless……well； he would have taken his chances。 Therefore
how could he find his highest good in giving up his life for the
material prosperity of everybody else！ What he considered an
unimportant thing for himself