ot much, she felt. Yet he was kind. There was something, a sort of warm naive kindness, curious and sudden, that almost opened her womb to him. But she felt he might be kind like that to any woman. Though even so, it was curiously soothing, comforting. And he was a passionate man, wholesome and passionate. But perhaps he wasn't quite individual enough; he might be the same with any woman as he had been with her. It really wasn't personal. She was only really a female to him.

可一旦回到房间，她仍旧感到茫然困惑。总是胡思乱想。他到底是怎样的人？他当真喜欢自己吗？不太喜欢，她觉得是这样。可他是那样温柔体贴。起到至关重要作用的，恰恰是这种温和质朴的性格，它不同寻常，突如其来，几乎让她卸去所有防卫。但她怀疑，这家伙或许对每个女人都那样和善。尽管如此，那依然让她倍感安慰和鼓舞。他是个热情似火的汉子，身心健康又激情四射。或许他只是个多情种子，能让所有在一起的女人都如沐春风。他的温柔并非她能独享。对他而言，她不过是个普通异性而已。

But perhaps that was better. And after all, he was kind to the female in her, which no man had ever been. Men were very kind to the PERSON she was, but rather cruel to the female, despising her or ignoring her altogether. Men were awfully kind to Constance Reid or to Lady Chatterley; but not to her womb they weren't kind. And he took no notice of Constance or of Lady Chatterley; he just softly stroked her loins or her breasts.

但或许情况并非想象得那样糟糕。毕竟，他的温柔源自她的女性特质，而在此之前，从来没有男人有过类似的反应。男人们尊重的是她的躯壳，但对待她的女性特质，却异常残酷，或轻蔑鄙视，或视若无睹。男人们对康斯坦斯·里德或者查泰莱夫人都极其友善，但却从不把她当做有情有欲的女人。而他对康斯坦斯或是查泰莱夫人毫不在意，只会温柔地抚弄她的私处或者乳房。

She went to the wood next day. It was a grey, still afternoon, with the dark-green dogs-mercury spreading under the hazel copse, and all the trees making a silent effort to open their buds. Today she could almost feel it in her own body, the huge heave of the sap in the massive trees, upwards, up, up to the bud-a, there to push into little flamey oak-leaves, bronze as blood. It was like a ride running turgid upward, and spreading on the sky.

翌日，她再度造访树林。那是个阴郁寂静的午后，墨绿色的水银菜在榛丛下蔓延，所有树木都一声不响地绽出嫩芽。今天，她几乎能在自己体内感觉到这种盎然的生机，大树的汁液向上喷涌，向上，不断向上，直至芽尖，生发成闪亮的嫩橡树叶，呈现出血青色。如同汹涌的潮水不断向上攀升，在天空激荡澎湃。

She came to the clearing, but he was not there. She had only half expected him. The pheasant chicks