David Herbert Lawrence

another world, they had a strange glamour, their voices were full of an

intolerable deep resonance, like a machine's burring, a music more

maddening than the siren's long ago.

She found herself, with the rest of the common women, drawn out on

Friday evenings to the little market. Friday was pay-day for the

colliers, and Friday night was market night. Every woman was abroad,

every man was out, shopping with his wife, or gathering with his pals.

The pavements were dark for miles around with people coming in, the

little market-place on the crown of the hill, and the main street of

Beldover were black with thickly-crowded men and women.

It was dark, the market-place was hot with kerosene flares, which threw

a ruddy light on the grave faces of the purchasing wives, and on the

pale abstract faces of the men. The air was full of the sound of criers

and of people talking, thick streams of people moved on the pavements

towards the solid crowd of the market. The shops were blazing and

packed with women, in the streets were men, mostly men, miners of all

ages. Money was spent with almost lavish freedom.

The carts that came could not pass through. They had to wait, the

driver calling and shouting, till the dense crowd would make way.

Everywhere, young fellows from the outlying districts were making

conversation with the girls, standing in the road and at the corners.

The doors of the public-houses were open and full of light, men passed

in and out in a continual stream, everywhere men were calling out to

one another, or crossing to meet one another, or standing in little

gangs and circles, discussing, endlessly discussing. The sense of talk,

buzzing, jarring, half-secret, the endless mining and political

wrangling, vibrated in the air like discordant machinery. And it was

their voices which affected Gudrun almost to swooning. They aroused a

strange, nostalgic ache of desire, something almost demoniacal, never

to be fulfilled.

Like any other common girl of the district, Gudrun strolled up and

down, up and down the length of the brilliant two-hundred paces of the

pavement nearest the market-place. She knew it was a vulgar thing to

do; her father and mother could not bear it; but the nostalgia came

over her, she must be among the people. Sometimes she sat among the

louts in the cinema: rakish-looking, unattractive louts they were. Yet

she must be among them.

And, like any other common lass, she found her 'boy.' It was an

electrician, one of the electricians introduced according to Gerald's

new scheme. He was an earnest, clever man, a scientist with a passion

<<BackPagesTo menuForward>>