om one adored in one's bowels and one's womb, it made her feel she was very different from her old self and as if she was sinking deep, deep to the centre of all womanhood and the sleep of creation.

“要是能有个孩子该多好！”她心想，“要是能怀上他的孩子该多好！”想到这里，她的四肢几近熔化，她清楚，只为自己生个孩子，和为自己心爱的男人诞下后代，简直有天壤之别。前者似乎变得再普通不过，但与倾心恋着的男人生下爱的结晶，这样的想法让她感觉自己已经不再是昔日那个浑浑噩噩的康妮，好像自己已经深深陶醉，陶醉在女性毕生的要务中，陶醉在孕育新生命的梦乡里。

It was not the passion that was new to her, it was the yearning adoration. She knew she had always feared it, for it left her helpless; she feared it still, lest if she adored him too much, then she would lose herself become effaced, and she did not want to be effaced, a slave, like a savage woman. She must not become a slave. She feared her adoration, yet she would not at once fight against it. She knew she could fight it. She had a devil of self-will in her breast that could have fought the full soft heaving adoration of her womb and crushed it. She could even now do it, or she