Birkin heard the sound as if his own spirit stood behind him, outside him, and listened to it.His body was in a trance of exhaustion, his spirit heard thinly.His body could not answer.Only he knew his heart was getting quieter.He was divided entirely between his spirit, which stood outside, and knew, and his body, that was a plunging, unconscious stroke of blood.
`I could have thrown you -- using violence --' panted Gerald.`But you beat me right enough.'
`Yes,' said Birkin, hardening his throat and producing the words in the tension there, `you're much stronger than I -- you could beat me --easily.'
Then he relaxed again to the terrible plunging of his heart and his blood.
`It surprised me,' panted Gerald, `what strength you've got.Almost supernatural.'
`For a moment,' said Birkin.
He still heard as if it were his own disembodied spirit hearing, standing at some distance behind him.It drew nearer however, his spirit.And the violent striking of blood in his chest was sinking quieter, allowing his mind to come back.He realised that he was leaning with all his weight on the soft body of the other man.It startled him, because he thought he had withdrawn.He recovered himself, and sat up.But he was still vague and unestablished.He put out his hand to steady himself.It touched the hand of Gerald, that was lying out on the floor.And Gerald's hand closed warm and sudden over Birkin's, they remained exhausted and breathless, the one hand clasped closely over the other.It was Birkin whose hand, in swift response, had closed in a strong, warm clasp over the hand of the other.Gerald's clasp had been sudden and momentaneous.
The normal consciousness however was returning, ebbing back.Birkin could breathe almost naturally again.Gerald's hand slowly withdrew, Birkin slowly, dazedly rose to his feet and went towards the table.He poured out a whiskey and soda.Gerald also came for a drink.
`It was a real set-to, wasn't it?' said Birkin, looking at Gerald with darkened eyes.
`God, yes,' said Gerald.He looked at the delicate body of the other man, and added: `It wasn't too much for you, was it?'
`No.One ought to wrestle and strive and be physically close.It makes one sane.'
`You do think so?'
`I do.Don't you?'
`Yes,' said Gerald.
There were long spaces of silence between their words.The wrestling had some deep meaning to them -- an unfinished meaning.
`We are mentally, spiritually intimate, therefore we should be more or less physically intimate too -- it is more whole.'
`Certainly it is,' said Gerald.Then he laughed pleasantly, adding:
`It's rather wonderful to me.' He stretched out his arms handsomely.
`Yes,' said Birkin.`I don't know why one should have to justify oneself.'
`No.'
The two men began to dress.
`I think also that you are beautiful,' said Birkin to Gerald, `and that is enjoyable too.One should enjoy what is given.'
`You think I am beautiful -- how do you mean, physically?' asked Gerald, his eyes glistening.
`Yes.You have a northern kind of beauty, like light refracted from snow -- and a beautiful, plastic form.Yes, that is there to enjoy as well.
We should enjoy everything.'
Gerald laughed in his throat, and said:
`That's certainly one way of looking at it.I can say this much, I feel better.It has certainly helped me.Is this the Bruderschaft you wanted?'
`Perhaps.Do you think this pledges anything?'
`I don't know,' laughed Gerald.
`At any rate, one feels freer and more open now -- and that is what we want.'
`Certainly,' said Gerald.
They drew to the fire, with the decanters and the glasses and the food.
`I always eat a little before I go to bed,' said Gerald.`I sleep better.'
`I should not sleep so well,' said Birkin.
`No? There you are, we are not alike.I'll put a dressing-gown on.'
Birkin remained alone, looking at the fire.His mind had reverted to Ursula.
She seemed to return again into his consciousness.Gerald came down wearing a gown of broad-barred, thick black-and-green silk, brilliant and striking.
`You are very fine,' said Birkin, looking at the full robe.
`It was a caftan in Bokhara,' said Gerald.`I like it.'
`I like it too.'
Birkin was silent, thinking how scrupulous Gerald was in his attire, how expensive too.He wore silk socks, and studs of fine workmanship, and silk underclothing, and silk braces.Curious! This was another of the differences between them.Birkin was careless and unimaginative about his own appearance.