Ursula listened to this speech, her mind dumb and almost senseless, what he said was so unexpected and so untoward.
`It is just purely selfish,' she said.
`If it is pure, yes.But it isn't selfish at all.Because I don't know what I want of you.I deliver myself over to the unknown, in coming to you, I am without reserves or defences, stripped entirely, into the unknown.Only there needs the pledge between us, that we will both cast off everything, cast off ourselves even, and cease to be, so that that which is perfectly ourselves can take place in us.'
She pondered along her own line of thought.
`But it is because you love me, that you want me?' she persisted.
`No it isn't.It is because I believe in you -- if I do believe in you.'
`Aren't you sure?' she laughed, suddenly hurt.
He was looking at her steadfastly, scarcely heeding what she said.
`Yes, I must believe in you, or else I shouldn't be here saying this,'
he replied.`But that is all the proof I have.I don't feel any very strong belief at this particular moment.'
She disliked him for this sudden relapse into weariness and faithlessness.
`But don't you think me good-looking?' she persisted, in a mocking voice.
He looked at her, to see if he felt that she was good-looking.
`I don't feel that you're good-looking,' he said.
`Not even attractive?' she mocked, bitingly.
He knitted his brows in sudden exasperation.
`Don't you see that it's not a question of visual appreciation in the least,' he cried.`I don't want to see you.I've seen plenty of women, I'm sick and weary of seeing them.I want a woman I don't see.'
`I'm sorry I can't oblige you by being invisible,' she laughed.
`Yes,' he said, `you are invisible to me, if you don't force me to be visually aware of you.But I don't want to see you or hear you.'
`What did you ask me to tea for, then?' she mocked.
But he would take no notice of her.He was talking to himself.
`I want to find you, where you don't know your own existence, the you that your common self denies utterly.But I don't want your good looks, and I don't want your womanly feelings, and I don't want your thoughts nor opinions nor your ideas -- they are all bagatelles to me.'
`You are very conceited, Monsieur,' she mocked.`How do you know what my womanly feelings are, or my thoughts or my ideas? You don't even know what I think of you now.'
`Nor do I care in the slightest.'
`I think you are very silly.I think you want to tell me you love me, and you go all this way round to do it.'
`All right,' he said, looking up with sudden exasperation.`Now go away then, and leave me alone.I don't want any more of your meretricious persiflage.'
`Is it really persiflage?' she mocked, her face really relaxing into laughter.She interpreted it, that he had made a deep confession of love to her.But he was so absurd in his words, also.
They were silent for many minutes, she was pleased and elated like a child.His concentration broke, he began to look at her simply and naturally.
`What I want is a strange conjunction with you --' he said quietly;`not meeting and mingling -- you are quite right -- but an equilibrium, a pure balance of two single beings -- as the stars balance each other.'
She looked at him.He was very earnest, and earnestness was always rather ridiculous, commonplace, to her.It made her feel unfree and uncomfortable.
Yet she liked him so much.But why drag in the stars.
`Isn't this rather sudden?' she mocked.
He began to laugh.
`Best to read the terms of the contract, before we sign,' he said.
A young grey cat that had been sleeping on the sofa jumped down and stretched, rising on its long legs, and arching its slim back.Then it sat considering for a moment, erect and kingly.And then, like a dart, it had shot out of the room, through the open window-doors, and into the garden.
`What's he after?' said Birkin, rising.
The young cat trotted lordly down the path, waving his tail.He was an ordinary tabby with white paws, a slender young gentleman.A crouching, fluffy, brownish-grey cat was stealing up the side of the fence.The Mino walked statelily up to her, with manly nonchalance.She crouched before him and pressed herself on the ground in humility, a fluffy soft outcast, looking up at him with wild eyes that were green and lovely as great jewels.
He looked casually down on her.So she crept a few inches further, proceeding on her way to the back door, crouching in a wonderful, soft, self-obliterating manner, and moving like a shadow.
He, going statelily on his slim legs, walked after her, then suddenly, for pure excess, he gave her a light cuff with his paw on the side of her face.She ran off a few steps, like a blown leaf along the ground, then crouched unobtrusively, in submissive, wild patience.The Mino pretended to take no notice of her.He blinked his eyes superbly at the landscape.
In a minute she drew herself together and moved softly, a fleecy brown-grey shadow, a few paces forward.She began to quicken her pace, in a moment she would be gone like a dream, when the young grey lord sprang before her, and gave her a light handsome cuff.She subsided at once, submissively.
`She is a wild cat,' said Birkin.`She has come in from the woods.'
The eyes of the stray cat flared round for a moment, like great green fires staring at Birkin.Then she had rushed in a soft swift rush, half way down the garden.There she paused to look round.The Mino turned his face in pure superiority to his master, and slowly closed his eyes, standing in statuesque young perfection.The wild cat's round, green, wondering eyes were staring all the while like uncanny fires.Then again, like a shadow, she slid towards the kitchen.
In a lovely springing leap, like a wind, the Mino was upon her, and had boxed her twice, very definitely, with a white, delicate fist.She sank and slid back, unquestioning.He walked after her, and cuffed her once or twice, leisurely, with sudden little blows of his magic white paws.
`Now why does he do that?' cried Ursula in indignation.
`They are on intimate terms,' said Birkin.
`And is that why he hits her?'