And she bore many children. For, as time went on, she never opposed her
husband in word or deed. She took no notice of him, externally. She
submitted to him, let him take what he wanted and do as he wanted with
her. She was like a hawk that sullenly submits to everything. The
relation between her and her husband was wordless and unknown, but it
was deep, awful, a relation of utter inter-destruction. And he, who
triumphed in the world, he became more and more hollow in his vitality,
the vitality was bled from within him, as by some haemorrhage. She was
hulked like a hawk in a cage, but her heart was fierce and undiminished
within her, though her mind was destroyed.
So to the last he would go to her and hold her in his arms sometimes,
before his strength was all gone. The terrible white, destructive light
that burned in her eyes only excited and roused him. Till he was bled
to death, and then he dreaded her more than anything. But he always
said to himself, how happy he had been, how he had loved her with a
pure and consuming love ever since he had known her.
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