莫瑞尔太太还有他爸爸留给她的一些私房钱，她打算把儿子从部队里赎出来。他对此欣喜若狂，就像小孩子过节一般。
他过去一直爱恋着比特丽斯·怀尔德。在他休假期间，两人又相逢了，她身体比过去更健壮。两人、常 去远足，亚瑟以他那种士兵的方式拘谨地挽着她的胳膊。她弹钢琴时他就唱歌。这时，亚瑟就会解开军装领子，脸色通红，眼睛发亮，用雄浑的男高音唱着。唱完后，俩人就并肩坐在沙发上，他似乎在炫耀自己的身材，她对此很清楚——发达的胸肌，结实的两肋，还有紧身军裤里两条健壮的腿。
他喜欢用方言跟她说话， 有时她会跟他一起抽烟，偶尔直接从他嘴上拿过烟卷吸几口。
一天晚上，她伸手去拿他嘴上的烟卷时，他说：“别，别，你别拿。要抽，我就给你一个带烟味的吻。”
“我要抽一口烟，不要吻。”她答道。
“好，就给你抽一口，”他说，“再给你一个吻。”
“ 我就要抽你的烟卷。”她大叫着，一面伸手想夺下他嘴里的烟卷。
他肩膀挨着她坐着，比特丽斯身材娇小，动作快得象闪电，他好不容易才闪开了。
“我就要给你一个带烟味的吻，”他说。
“你是个讨厌的家伙，阿蒂·莫瑞尔。”她说着，把身子往后靠了靠。
“要来一个带烟味的吻吗？”
这个士兵笑着向她凑 过去，他的脸挨近了她的脸。
“不要！”她转过头去说。
他抽了一口烟，噘起嘴，把嘴唇凑近她，他那理得短短的深褐色的小胡子象刷子似的一根根竖起。她看着他那张皱拢的鲜红的唇，突然从他的指缝间夺下烟卷，转身逃开了。他跳起来追，从她头发上把梳子给抢去了。她转过身来，把烟卷向他扔去。他捡起来，衔在嘴里，坐了下来。
“讨厌！”她喊道，“给我梳子！”
她担心她那特意为他梳好的头发会散开，她站着，两手扰着头发，亚瑟把梳子藏在两膝之间。
“我没拿。”她说。
他说话时笑着，烟卷也在唇间颤动不已。
“骗人！”她说。
“真的，要不你看！”他笑着，伸开两手。
“你这个厚脸皮的家伙。”她叫着冲过去扭着他要夹在膝下的梳子。她跟他扭打时，使劲地扳着他紧紧裹在军裤里的膝头，他哈哈大笑着，笑得仰躺在沙发上直打颤，烟卷也笑得从嘴里掉了出来，差点烫着他的喉咙。淡褐色皮肤下的血液涨得通红，两只蓝眼睛也笑花了，嗓子也噎住了，这才坐起了身，比特丽斯把梳子插在头上。
“你撩拨我，比特。”他含糊地说。
她那白嫩的手闪电般打了他一耳光。他吃了一惊，对她瞪着双眼，两人互相瞪着。她的脸慢慢红了，垂下双眼，接着，头也低下去。他绷着个脸坐下来。她走进洗碗间去梳理乱发，也不知为了什么，她竟暗自捧着眼泪。
等到她回到屋子时，她又高高地噘着嘴，但这只不过是想掩饰心头的怒气罢了。亚瑟头发乱糟糟的，正坐在沙发上生气。她坐在他对面的一张扶手椅上。两人谁也没说话。静静的连时钟的滴嗒声都像一下下的撞击声。
“你象只小猫，比特。”他终于半带歉意地说。
“哼，谁叫你厚脸皮。”她回答。
接着，又是一段长长的沉默。他吹着口哨，就像很不服气似的，突然，她走到他身边，吻了他一下。
“来吧，可怜虫！”她嘲弄地说。
他抬起脸，诧异地笑着。
“吻？”他问她。
“当我不敢吗？”她问。
“来吧！”他挑战似的说，冲她仰起了嘴巴。
她故意古怪地颤声笑了，浑身都跟着颤动了一下，这才把嘴贴到他的嘴上，他的双臂立即拥住了她。长吻结束后，她立即仰着头，纤细的手指伸到了他敞开的衣领里搂着他的脖子。接着，闭上了眼睛，让他再给了自己一个吻。
她的一举一动完全是她自己的意愿，她想怎么做就怎么做，谁也管不着。
保罗觉得周围的一切都在变化，孩提时代的一切一去不复返了。现在家里全是成年人了。安妮已经结婚，亚瑟正在背着家里人寻欢作乐。长期以来，他们全家人都是住在一起，而且一起出去玩。但现在，对于安妮和亚瑟来说，他们的生活已经是母亲的家之外的天地了。他们回家只是来过节和休息的。因此，家里总是有一种陌生的人去楼空的感觉，就像鸟去巢空一样。保罗越来越觉得不安。安妮和亚瑟都走了。他也焦躁不安地想走，然而家对他来说就是在母亲身边。尽管如此，外面还是有些东西，这些才是他最想要的东西。
他变得越来越不安了。米丽亚姆不能让他感到满足，过去他那疯狂地想跟她在一起的念头淡薄了。有时，他会在诺丁汉姆碰上克莱拉，有时他会跟她一起开会，有时他在威利农场会见到她。不过，每当这个时候，气氛就有些紧张。在保罗、克莱拉和米丽亚姆之间有一种三角关系。和克莱拉在一起，他总是用一种俏皮而俗气的嘲讽口吻说话，这让米丽亚姆很反感。不管在此之间的情况怎样，也许她正和他亲密地坐在一起。可只要克莱拉一出现，这一切就消失了，他就开始对新来的人演起戏来了。
米丽亚姆跟保罗一起过了一个愉快的傍晚，他们在一起翻干草。他原来正使着马拉耙，刚干完，就帮她把干草堆成圆锥形小堆。接着，他跟她说起自己的希望和失望，他的整个灵魂都似乎赤裸裸地暴露在她面前，她觉得她好像在他身上看到了那颤动的生命。月亮出来了，他俩一起走回了家，他来找她好像是因为他迫切地需要她。而她听着他的倾诉，把她所有的爱情和忠贞都给了他。对她来说，他好像带 来了最珍贵的东西交给她，她要用全部生命来卫护。是啊，苍天对星星的爱抚，也远远不及她对保罗·莫瑞尔心灵中善良的东西卫护得那么无微不至。她独自往家走去，心境盎然，信心百倍。
第二天，克莱拉来了。他们到干草地里去用茶点，米丽亚姆看着暮色由一片金黄色变成阴影，保罗还跟克莱拉在嬉戏。他堆了一个比较高的干草堆，让他们跳过去。米丽亚姆对这种游戏不太感兴趣，就站在一旁。艾德加·杰弗里、莫里斯、克莱拉和保罗都跳了。保罗胜了，因为他身子轻。克莱拉热血直往上涌，她能像女战士那样飞奔。保罗就喜欢她那向干草堆冲过去、一跃而起落在另一边的那副果断的神态。她那乳房不住地颤动，厚密的头发披散开来。
“你碰着草了！”他叫道，“你碰到了！”
“没有！”她涨红了脸， 转向艾德加，“我没碰到，是不是？我挺利索的吧？”
“我说不上。”艾德加笑着说。
没有一个人能说得上来。
“但你就是碰上了，”他说，“你输了。”
“我没有碰上。”她大叫道。
“清清楚楚，你碰到了。”
“替我打他耳光。”她对艾德加说。
“不，”艾德加大笑着，“我不敢，你得自己去打。”
“但什么也改变不了这事实。”保罗哈哈大笑。
她对保罗非常生气。她在这些男人和小伙子面前的那点威风已荡然无存。她忘了自己只是在做游戏，但现在他却让她下不了台。
“你真卑鄙！”她 说。
他又哈哈大笑起来。这对米丽亚姆来说真是一种折磨。
“我就知道你跳不过这草堆。”他取笑她。
她背转过身。然而每个人都明白她唯一关心的就是保罗。而保罗呢，也只对她一个人感兴趣。他们的争吵让小伙子们觉得很开心。可这却深深刺痛了米丽亚姆。
她已经看出来，保罗完全可能因低落的情绪而抛弃了对崇高事物的追求。他完全可能背叛自己，背叛那个真正的、思想深刻的保罗·莫瑞尔。他大有可能变得轻浮，像亚瑟像他父亲那样只追求个人欲望的满足。他可能舍弃自己的灵魂，草率地和克莱拉进行轻浮的交往。一想到这些，她就感到心痛。当他们俩互相嘲弄，保罗开着玩笑时，她痛苦地无言地走着。
事后，他会不承认这些。不过，他毕竟有些为自己感到羞愧，因此完全听从米丽亚姆，随后他又会再次反悔。
“故作虔诚并不是真正的虔诚。”他说，“我觉得一只乌鸦，当它飞过天空时是虔诚的。但它这么做只是因为它觉得自己是不由自主的飞往要去的地方，而不是它认为自己这样做正在成为不朽的功绩。”
但是米丽亚姆认为一个人不论在任何事情上都应该虔诚。不管上帝是什么样子，它总是无所不在的。
“我不相信上帝对自己的事就那么了解。”
他叫道：“上帝才不了解情况，他自己本身就是事物，而且我敢说他不是生气勃勃的。”
在她看来，保罗是在借上帝为自己辩护，因为他想耽于享乐，为所欲为。他俩争吵了很久。甚至在她在场的时候，他也会做出对她完全不忠实的事来。过后他就愧悔交加，接着，他又厌恶痛恨她，就再次背叛她。这种情况周而复始。
米丽亚姆使他极度的烦躁不安。她仍然是一个忧郁的、多思的崇拜者。而他却令她伤情。有时， 他为她悲伤，有时他又痛恨她。她是他的良知，然而，不知为什么，他觉得对这个良知太难接受了。他离不开她，因为她的确掌握着他最善良的一面，但他又不能跟她在一起，因为她不能接受另一个他。所以他心里一烦就把气撒在她身上。
当她二十一岁时，他给她写了一封只能写给她的信。
“请允许我最后一次谈谈我们之间这段衰退的旧情。它同样也在变化，是不是？就说说那段爱情吧，难道不是躯体已经死了，只留下一个永久的灵魂给你吗？你明白，我可以给你精神上的爱，我早就把这种爱 给了你，但这绝不是肉体上的爱。要知道，你是一个修女。我已经把我应该献给圣洁的修女的东西献给你——就像神秘的修士把爱献给神秘的修女一样。你的确很珍惜这份感情。然而，你又在惋惜——不，曾经惋惜过另外一种爱。在我们所有的关系中没有一点肉体的位置。我不是通过感觉同你交谈，而是用精神来同你交流。这就是我们不能按常规相爱的原因。我们的爱不是正常的恋情。假如，我们象凡人那样，形影不离地共同生活，那太可怕了。因为不知为什么，你在我身边，我就不能长久地过平凡日子。可你知道，要经常超脱这种凡人的状态，也就是失掉凡人的生活，就会失去这种生活。人要是结了婚就必须像彼此相亲相爱的平常人那样生活在一起。互相之间丝毫不感到别扭——而不是像两个灵魂聚会在一起。我就 有这种感觉。
我不知道该不该发这封信。不过——最好还是让你了解一下，再见。”
米丽亚姆把信看了两遍。看完后又把信封了起来。一年后，她才拆开信让她母亲看。
“你是个修女——你是个修女。”这句话不断刺痛着她的心，他过去说的话从来没有像这一句话深深地、牢牢地刺进她的心，就像一个致命伤。
她在大伙聚会后的第三天给他回了信。
“我们的亲密的关系是美好的，但遗憾的是有一个小小的差错。”她引证了一句他的话：“难道这是爱我的错误吗？”
他收信后，几乎立刻就从诺丁汉姆给她回信，同时寄了一本《莪默·伽亚嫫诗集》。
“很高兴收到你的回信，你如此平静，让我感到很羞愧。我，真是个太夸大其辞的人。我们经常不和谐。不过，我想我们从根本上来说还可以永远在一起。
“我必须感谢你对我的油画和素描的赞赏。我的好多幅素描都是献给你的，我盼望得到你的指正。你的指正对我来说总是一种赏识，这让我感到羞愧和荣幸。开玩笑别当真。再见。”
保罗的初恋就 到此为止了。当时， 他大概二十三岁了。虽然，他还是处男，可是他的那种性的本能长期受到米丽亚姆的净化和压抑，如今变得格外强烈。他跟克莱拉·道伍斯说话时，满腔热血会越流越快越流越猛，胸口堵得慌，好像有个活跃的东西。一个新的自 我，一个新的意识中枢，预告他迟早会向这个或那个女人求欢。但他是属于米丽亚姆的。对此，米丽亚姆绝对肯定，坚信他给了她这份权利。
He had always been fond of Beatrice Wyld, and during his furloughhe picked up with her again. She was stronger and better in health. The two often went long walks together, Arthur taking her armin soldier's fashion, rather stiffly. And she came to play thepiano whilst he sang. Then Arthur would unhook his tunic collar. He grew flushed, his eyes were bright, he sang in a manly tenor. Afterwards they sat together on the sofa. He seemed to flaunthis body: she was aware of him so--the strong chest, the sides,the thighs in their close-fitting trousers.
He liked to lapse into the dialect when he talked to her. She would sometimes smoke with him. Occasionally shewould only take a few whiffs at his cigarette.
"Nay," he said to her one evening, when she reachedfor his cigarette. "Nay, tha doesna. I'll gi'e thee a smokekiss if ter's a mind."
"I wanted a whiff, no kiss at all," she answered.
"Well, an' tha s'lt ha'e a whiff," he said, "along wi' t' kiss."
"I want a draw at thy fag," she cried, snatching for thecigarette between his lips.
He was sitting with his shoulder touching her. She was smalland quick as lightning. He just escaped.
"I'll gi'e thee a smoke kiss," he said.
"Tha'rt a knivey nuisance, Arty Morel," she said, sitting back.
"Ha'e a smoke kiss?"
The soldier leaned forward to her, smiling. His face wasnear hers.
"Shonna!" she replied, turning away her head.
He took a draw at his cigarette, and pursed up his mouth,and put his lips close to her. His dark-brown cropped moustachestood out like a brush. She looked at the puckered crimson lips,then suddenly snatched the cigarette from his fingers and darted away. He, leaping after her, seized the comb from her back hair. She turned,threw the cigarette at him. He picked it up, put it in his mouth,and sat down.
"Nuisance!" she cried. "Give me my comb!"
She was afraid that her hair, specially done for him,would come down. She stood with her hands to her head. He hidthe comb between his knees.
"I've non got it," he said.
The cigarette trembled between his lips with laughter as he spoke.
"Liar!" she said.
"'S true as I'm here!" he laughed, showing his hands.
"You brazen imp!" she exclaimed, rushing and scuffling forthe comb, which he had under his knees. As she wrestled with him,pulling at his smooth, tight-covered knees, he laughed till helay back on the sofa shaking with laughter. The cigarette fellfrom his mouth almost singeing his throat. Under his delicate tanthe blood flushed up, and he laughed till his blue eyes were blinded,his throat swollen almost to choking. Then he sat up. Beatrice wasputting in her comb.
"Tha tickled me, Beat," he said thickly.
Like a flash her small white hand went out and smacked his face. He started up, glaring at her. They stared at each other. Slowly the flush mounted her cheek, she dropped her eyes, then her head. He sat down sulkily. She went into the scullery to adjust her hair. In private there she shed a few tears, she did not know what for.
When she returned she was pursed up close. But it was only a filmover her fire. He, with ruffled hair, was sulking upon the sofa. She sat down opposite, in the armchair, and neither spoke. The clock ticked in the silence like blows.
"You are a little cat, Beat," he said at length, half apologetically.
"Well, you shouldn't be brazen," she replied.
There was again a long silence. He whistled to himselflike a man much agitated but defiant. Suddenly she went acrossto him and kissed him.
"Did it, pore fing!" she mocked.
He lifted his face, smiling curiously.
"Kiss?" he invited her.
"Daren't I?" she asked.
"Go on!" he challenged, his mouth lifted to her.
Deliberately, and with a peculiar quivering smile thatseemed to overspread her whole body, she put her mouth on his. Immediately his arms folded round her. As soon as the long kiss wasfinished she drew back her head from him, put her delicate fingerson his neck, through the open collar. Then she closed her eyes,giving herself up again in a kiss.
She acted of her own free will. What she would do she did,and made nobody responsible.
Paul felt life changing around him. The conditions of youthwere gone. Now it was a home of grown-up people. Annie wasa married woman, Arthur was following his own pleasure in a wayunknown to his folk. For so long they had all lived at home,and gone out to pass their time. But now, for Annie and Arthur,life lay outside their mother's house. They came home for holidayand for rest. So there was that strange, half-empty feeling aboutthe house, as if the birds had flown. Paul became more and moreunsettled. Annie and Arthur had gone. He was restless to follow.Yet home was for him beside his mother. And still there wassomething else, something outside, something he wanted.
He grew more and more restless. Miriam did not satisfy him. His old mad desire to be with her grew weaker. Sometimes he metClara in Nottingham, sometimes he went to meetings with her,sometimes he saw her at Willey Farm. But on these last occasionsthe situation became strained. There was a triangle of antagonismbetween Paul and Clara and Miriam. With Clara he took on a smart,worldly, mocking tone very antagonistic to Miriam. It did notmatter what went before. She might be intimate and sad with him. Then as soon as Clara appeared, it all vanished, and he played tothe newcomer.
Miriam had one beautiful evening with him in the hay. He had been on the horse-rake, and having finished, came to helpher to put the hay in cocks. Then he talked to her of his hopesand despairs, and his whole soul seemed to lie bare before her. She felt as if she watched the very quivering stuff of life in him. The moon came out: they walked home together: he seemed to havecome to her because he needed her so badly, and she listened to him,gave him all her love and her faith. It seemed to her he broughther the best of himself to keep, and that she would guard it allher life. Nay, the sky did not cherish the stars more surely andeternally than she would guard the good in the soul of Paul Morel. She went on home alone, feeling exalted, glad in her faith.
And then, the next day, Clara came. They were to have teain the hayfield. Miriam watched the evening drawing to goldand shadow. And all the time Paul was sporting with Clara. He made higher and higher heaps of hay that they were jumping over. Miriam did not care for the game, and stood aside. Edgar and Geoffreyand Maurice and Clara and Paul jumped. Paul won, because hewas light. Clara's blood was roused. She could run like an Amazon. Paul loved the determined way she rushed at the hay-cock and leaped,landed on the other side, her breasts shaken, her thick haircome undone.
"You touched!" he cried. "You touched!"
"No!" she flashed, turning to Edgar. "I didn't touch, did I? Wasn't I clear?"
"I couldn't say," laughed Edgar.
None of them could say.
"But you touched," said Paul. "You're beaten."
"I did NOT touch!" she cried.
"As plain as anything," said Paul.
"Box his ears for me!" she cried to Edgar.
"Nay," Edgar laughed. "I daren't. You must do it yourself."
"And nothing can alter the fact that you touched," laughed Paul.
She was furious with him. Her little triumph before theselads and men was gone. She had forgotten herself in the game. Now he was to humble her.
"I think you are despicable!" she said.
And again he laughed, in a way that tortured Miriam.
"And I KNEW you couldn't jump that heap," he teased.
She turned her back on him. Yet everybody could see thatthe only person she listened to, or was conscious of, was he,and he of her. It pleased the men to see this battle between them. But Miriam was tortured.
Paul could choose the lesser in place of the higher, she saw. He could be unfaithful to himself, unfaithful to the real,deep Paul Morel. There was a danger of his becoming frivolous, of hisrunning after his satisfaction like any Arthur, or like his father. It made Miriam bitter to think that he should throw away his soulfor this flippant traffic of triviality with Clara. She walkedin bitterness and silence, while the other two rallied each other,and Paul sported.
And afterwards, he would not own it, but he was ratherashamed of himself, and prostrated himself before Miriam. Then again he rebelled.
"It's not religious to be religious," he said. "I reckona crow is religious when it sails across the sky. But it onlydoes it because it feels itself carried to where it's going,not because it thinks it is being eternal."
But Miriam knew that one should be religious in everything,have God, whatever God might be, present in everything.
"I don't believe God knows such a lot about Himself,"he cried. "God doesn't KNOW things, He IS things.And I'm sure He's not soulful."
And then it seemed to her that Paul was arguing God on to hisown side, because he wanted his own way and his own pleasure. There was a long battle between him and her. He was utterlyunfaithful to her even in her own presence; then he was ashamed,then repentant; then he hated her, and went off again. Those werethe ever-recurring conditions.
She fretted him to the bottom of his soul. There sheremained--sad, pensive, a worshipper. And he caused her sorrow. Half the time he grieved for her, half the time he hated her. She was his conscience; and he felt, somehow, he had got a consciencethat was too much for him. He could not leave her, because in oneway she did hold the best of him. He could not stay with herbecause she did not take the rest of him, which was three-quarters.So he chafed himself into rawness over her.
When she was twenty-one he wrote her a letter which couldonly have been written to her.
"May I speak of our old, worn love, this last time. It, too,is changing, is it not? Say, has not the body of that love died,and left you its invulnerable soul? You see, I can give youa spirit love, I have given it you this long, long time; but notembodied passion. See, you are a nun. I have given you what Iwould give a holy nun--as a mystic monk to a mystic nun. Surely youesteem it best. Yet you regret--no, have regretted--the other. In all our relations no body enters. I do not talk to you throughthe senses--rather through the spirit. That is why we cannot lovein the common sense. Ours is not an everyday affection. As yet weare mortal, and to live side by side with one another would be dreadful,for somehow with you I cannot long be trivial, and, you know,to be always beyond this mortal state would be to lose it. If people marry, they must live together as affectionate humans,who may be commonplace with each other without feeling awkward--notas two souls. So I feel it.
"Ought I to send this letter?--I doubt it. But there--itis best to understand. Au revoir."
Miriam read this letter twice, after which she sealed it up. A year later she broke the seal to show her mother the letter.
"You are a nun--you are a nun." The words went into her heartagain and again. Nothing he ever had said had gone into herso deeply, fixedly, like a mortal wound.
She answered him two days after the party.
"'Our intimacy would have been all-beautiful but for onelittle mistake,'" she quoted. "Was the mistake mine?"
Almost immediately he replied to her from Nottingham,sending her at the same time a little "Omar Khayyam."
"I am glad you answered; you are so calm and natural you putme to shame. What a ranter I am! We are often out of sympathy. But in fundamentals we may always be together I think.
"I must thank you for your sympathy with my painting and drawing. Many a sketch is dedicated to you. I do look forward to your criticisms,which, to my shame and glory, are always grand appreciations. It is a lovely joke, that. Au revoir."
This was the end of the first phase of Paul's love affair. He was now about twenty-three years old, and, though still virgin,the sex instinct that Miriam had over-refined for so long nowgrew particularly strong. Often, as he talked to Clara Dawes,came that thickening and quickening of his blood, that peculiarconcentration in the breast, as if something were alive there,a new self or a new centre of consciousness, warning him thatsooner or later he would have to ask one woman or another. But hebelonged to Miriam. Of that she was so fixedly sure that he allowedher right.
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