His fair
hair was washed down on his round head, his face seemed to glisten
suavely. She could hear him panting.
Then he clambered into the boat. Oh, and the beauty of the subjection
of his loins, white and dimly luminous as be climbed over the side of
the boat, made her want to die, to die. The beauty of his dim and
luminous loins as be climbed into the boat, his back rounded and
soft--ah, this was too much for her, too final a vision. She knew it,
and it was fatal The terrible hopelessness of fate, and of beauty, such
beauty!
He was not like a man to her, he was an incarnation, a great phase of
life. She saw him press the water out of his face, and look at the
bandage on his hand. And she knew it was all no good, and that she
would never go beyond him, he was the final approximation of life to
her.
'Put the lights out, we shall see better,' came his voice, sudden and
mechanical and belonging to the world of man. She could scarcely
believe there was a world of man. She leaned round and blew out her
lanterns.
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