And for several days she went
about possessed by this exquisite force of hatred against him. It
surpassed anything she had ever known before, it seemed to throw her
out of the world into some terrible region where nothing of her old
life held good. She was quite lost and dazed, really dead to her own
life.
It was so completely incomprehensible and irrational. She did not know
WHY she hated him, her hate was quite abstract. She had only realised
with a shock that stunned her, that she was overcome by this pure
transportation. He was the enemy, fine as a diamond, and as hard and
jewel-like, the quintessence of all that was inimical.
She thought of his face, white and purely wrought, and of his eyes that
had such a dark, constant will of assertion, and she touched her own
forehead, to feel if she were mad, she was so transfigured in white
flame of essential hate.
It was not temporal, her hatred, she did not hate him for this or for
that; she did not want to do anything to him, to have any connection
with him.
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