bleeding also with desire to have his father again; to see him;
to hear him again。 He could not bear it。
Tom Brangwen only arrived on the day of the funeral。 He was
quiet and controlled as ever。 He kissed his mother; who was
still dark…faced; inscrutable; he shook hands with his brother
without looking at him; he saw the great coffin with its black
handles。 He even read the name…plate; 〃Tom Brangwen; of the
Marsh Farm。 Born 。 Died 。〃
The good…looking; still face of the young man crinkled up for
a moment in a terrible grimace; then resumed its stillness。 The
coffin was carried round to the church; the funeral bell tanged
at intervals; the mourners carried their wreaths of white
flowers。 The mother; the Polish woman; went with dark; abstract
face; on her sons arm。 He was good…looking as ever; his face
perfectly motionless and somehow pleasant。 Fred walked with
Anna; she strange and winsome; he with a face like wood; stiff;
unyielding。
Only afterwards Ursula; flitting between the currant bushes
down the garden; saw her Uncle Tom standing in his black
clothes; erect and fashionable; but his fists lifted; and his
face distorted; his lips curled back from his teeth in a
horrible grin; like an animal which grimaces with torment;
whilst his body panted quick; like a panting dogs。 He was
facing the open distance; panting; and holding still; then
panting rapidly again; but his face never changing from its
almost bestial look of torture; the teeth all showing; the nose
wrinkled up; the eyes; unseeing; fixed。
Terrified; Ursula slipped away。 And when her Uncle Tom was in
the house again; grave and very quiet; so that he seemed almost
to affect gravity; to pretend grief; she watched his still;
handsome face; imagining it again in its distortion。 But she saw
the nose was rather thick; rather Russian; under its transparent
skin; she remembered the teeth under the carefully cut moustache
were small and sharp and spaced。 She could see him; in all his
elegant demeanour; bestial; almost corrupt。 And she was