`Repel and attract, both.They are very repulsive when they are cold, and they look grey.But when they are hot and roused, there is a definite attraction -- a curious kind of full electric fluid -- like eels.'
`Well -- yes -- probably.'
The man brought in the tray and set it down.
`Don't come in any more,' said Gerald.
The door closed.
`Well then,' said Gerald; `shall we strip and begin? Will you have a drink first?'
`No, I don't want one.'
`Neither do I.'
Gerald fastened the door and pushed the furniture aside.The room was large, there was plenty of space, it was thickly carpeted.Then he quickly threw off his clothes, and waited for Birkin.The latter, white and thin, came over to him.Birkin was more a presence than a visible object, Gerald was aware of him completely, but not really visually.Whereas Gerald himself was concrete and noticeable, a piece of pure final substance.
`Now,' said Birkin, `I will show you what I learned, and what I remember.
You let me take you so --' And his hands closed on the naked body of the other man.In another moment, he had Gerald swung over lightly and balanced against his knee, head downwards.Relaxed, Gerald sprang to his feet with eyes glittering.
`That's smart,' he said.`Now try again.'
So the two men began to struggle together.They were very dissimilar.
Birkin was tall and narrow, his bones were very thin and fine.Gerald was much heavier and more plastic.His bones were strong and round, his limbs were rounded, all his contours were beautifully and fully moulded.He seemed to stand with a proper, rich weight on the face of the earth, whilst Birkin seemed to have the centre of gravitation in his own middle.And Gerald had a rich, frictional kind of strength, rather mechanical, but sudden and invincible, whereas Birkin was abstract as to be almost intangible.
He impinged invisibly upon the other man, scarcely seeming to touch him, like a garment, and then suddenly piercing in a tense fine grip that seemed to penetrate into the very quick of Gerald's being.
They stopped, they discussed methods, they practised grips and throws, they became accustomed to each other, to each other's rhythm, they got a kind of mutual physical understanding.And then again they had a real struggle.They seemed to drive their white flesh deeper and deeper against each other, as if they would break into a oneness.Birkin had a great subtle energy, that would press upon the other man with an uncanny force, weigh him like a spell put upon him.Then it would pass, and Gerald would heave free, with white, heaving, dazzling movements.
So the two men entwined and wrestled with each other, working nearer and nearer.Both were white and clear, but Gerald flushed smart red where he was touched, and Birkin remained white and tense.He seemed to penetrate into Gerald's more solid, more diffuse bulk, to interfuse his body through the body of the other, as if to bring it subtly into subjection, always seizing with some rapid necromantic fore-knowledge every motion of the other flesh, converting and counteracting it, playing upon the limbs and trunk of Gerald like some hard wind.It was as if Birkin's whole physical intelligence interpenetrated into Gerald's body, as if his fine, sublimated energy entered into the flesh of the fuller man, like some potency, casting a fine net, a prison, through the muscles into the very depths of Gerald's physical being.
So they wrestled swiftly, rapturously, intent and mindless at last, two essential white figures working into a tighter closer oneness of struggle, with a strange, octopus-like knotting and flashing of limbs in the subdued light of the room; a tense white knot of flesh gripped in silence between the walls of old brown books.Now and again came a sharp gasp of breath, or a sound like a sigh, then the rapid thudding of movement on the thickly-carpeted floor, then the strange sound of flesh escaping under flesh.Often, in the white interlaced knot of violent living being that swayed silently, there was no head to be seen, only the swift, tight limbs, the solid white backs, the physical junction of two bodies clinched into oneness.Then would appear the gleaming, ruffled head of Gerald, as the struggle changed, then for a moment the dun-coloured, shadow-like head of the other man would lift up from the conflict, the eyes wide and dreadful and sightless.
At length Gerald lay back inert on the carpet, his breast rising in great slow panting, whilst Birkin kneeled over him, almost unconscious.
Birkin was much more exhausted.He caught little, short breaths, he could scarcely breathe any more.The earth seemed to tilt and sway, and a complete darkness was coming over his mind.He did not know what happened.He slid forward quite unconscious, over Gerald, and Gerald did not notice.Then he was half-conscious again, aware only of the strange tilting and sliding of the world.The world was sliding, everything was sliding off into the darkness.And he was sliding, endlessly, endlessly away.
He came to consciousness again, hearing an immense knocking outside.
What could be happening, what was it, the great hammer-stroke resounding through the house? He did not know.And then it came to him that it was his own heart beating.But that seemed impossible, the noise was outside.
No, it was inside himself, it was his own heart.And the beating was painful, so strained, surcharged.He wondered if Gerald heard it.He did not know whether he were standing or lying or falling.
When he realised that he had fallen prostrate upon Gerald's body he wondered, he was surprised.But he sat up, steadying himself with his hand and waiting for his heart to become stiller and less painful.It hurt very much, and took away his consciousness.
Gerald however was still less conscious than Birkin.They waited dimly, in a sort of not-being, for many uncounted, unknown minutes.
`Of course --' panted Gerald, `I didn't have to be rough -- with you -- I had to keep back -- my force --'