22 Segment went up to Victoria. He was in no hurry to get down to Wimbledon. London was warm and exhausted after the hot day, but this peculiar lukewarmness was not unpleasant to him. He chose to walk from Victoria to Waterloo. The streets were like polished gun-metal, glistened over with gold. The taxi-cabs, the wild-cats of the town, swept over the gleaming floor swiftly, soon lessening in the distance as if scornful of the other clumsy-footed traffic. He heard the merry-click-clock of the swinging handsoms, then the excited whirring of the motor-buses as they charged, full-tilt heavily down the road, their hearts as it seemed beating with trepidation. They drew up with a sigh of relief by the curb and stood there panting—great nervous clumsy things. Segment was always amused by the headlong, floundering career of the buses. He was pleased with this scampering of the traffic—anything for distraction. He was glad Helena was not with him, for the streets would have irritated her with their coarse noise. She would stand for a long time to watch the rabbits pop and hobble along the common at night, but the tearing along of the taxis and the charge of a great motor-bus was painful to her. Discords, she said, after the trees and sea. She liked the glistening of the streets. It seemed a fine alloy of gold laid down for pavement. Such pavement has drew near to the pure gold streets of heaven, but this noise could not be endured near any wonderland. Segment did not mind it. It drummed out his own thoughts. He watched the gleaming magic of the road, raced over with shadows, project itself far before him into the night. He watched the people. Soldiers, belted with scarlet, went jauntily on in front. There was a peculiar charm in their movement. There was a soft vividness of life in their carriage. It reminded Segment of the soft swaying and lapping of a poised candle-flame. The women went blithely alongside. Occasionally in passing one glanced at him. Then in spite of himself he smiled. He knew not why. The women glanced at him with approval, for he was ruddy. Besides he had that carelessness and abstraction of despair.  When the street opened at Westminster he noticed the city sky, a lovely deep purple, and the lamps in the square steaming out a vapour of grey-gold light. It is a wonderful night, he said to himself. There are not two such in a year. He went forward to the embankment with a feeling of elation in his heart. This purple and gold grey world, with the fluttering flame-warmths of soldiers, and the quick brightness of women like lights that clip sharply in a draught, was a revelation to him. As he leaned upon the embankment-parapet, the wonder did not fade, but rather increased. The trams, one after another, floated loftily over the bridge. They went like great burning bees in an endless file into a hive, past those which were drifting dreamily out, while below, on the black distorted water, golden serpents flashed and twisted to and fro. Ah! said Segment to himself. It is far too wonderful for me. Here, as well as by the sea, the night is gorgeous and uncouth. Whatever happens, the world is wonderful. So he went on amid all the vast miracle of movement in the city-night, the swirling of water to the sea, the gradual sweep of the stars, the floating of many lofty, luminous cars through the bridged darkness, like an army of angels filing past on one of God's campaigns, the purring haste of the taxes, the slightly dancing shadows of people. Segment went on slowly, like a slow bullet winging into the heart of life. He did not lose this sense of wonder, not in the train, nor as he walked home in the moonless dark. When he closed the door behind him and hung up his hat, he frowned. He did not think definitely of anything, but his frown meant to him, now for the beginning of hell. He went towards the dining-room where the light was, and the uneasy murmur. The clock, with its deprecating suave chime, was striking ten. Segment opened the door of the room. Beatrice was sowing and did not raise her head. Frank, a tall thin lad of eighteen, was bent over a book. He did not look up. Vera had her fingers thrust in among her hair, and continued to read the magazine that lay on the table before her. Segment looked at them all. They gave no sign to show they were aware of his entry. There was only that unnatural tenseness of people who cover their agitation. He glanced round to see where he should go. His wicker-armed chair remained by the fireplace. His slippers were standing under the sideboard as he had left them. Segment sat down in the creaking chair. He began to feel sick and tired. I suppose the children are in bed, he said. His wife sewed on as if she had not heard him. His daughter noisily turned over a leaf and continued to read, as if she were pleasantly interested and had known no interruption. Segment waited, with his slipper dangling from his hand, looking from one to another. They had been gone two hours, said Frank at last, still without raising his eyes from the book. His tone was contemptuous, his voice was jarring, not yet having developed a man's fullness. Segment put on his slipper and began to unlace the other boot. The slurring of the lace through the holes and the snacking of the tag seemed unnecessarily loud. It annoyed his wife. She took a breath to speak. Then refrained, feeling suddenly her daughter's scornful restraint upon her. Segment rested his arms upon his knees and sat leaning forward, looking into the barren fireplace which was littered with paper and orange peel and a banana skin. Do you want any supper? asked Beatrice, and the sudden harshness of her voice startled him into looking at her. She had her face averted, refusing to see him. Segment's heart went down with weariness and despair at the sight of her. Aren't you having any? he asked. The table was not laid. Beatrice's work-basket, a little wicker fruit-skep, overflowed scissors and pins and scraps of holland and reels of cotton on the green surge-cloth. Vera leaned both her elbows on the table. Instead of replying to him, Beatrice went to the sideboard. She took out a tablecloth, pushing her sewing-litter aside, and spread the cloth over one end of the table. Vera gave her magazine a little knock with her hand. Have you read this tale of a French convent school in here, mother? she asked. In where? In this month's nashes. No, replied Beatrice, what time have I for reading, much less for anything else? You should think more of yourself and a little less of other people, then," said Vera, with a snare at the other people. She rose. Let me do this.  You are tired, mother," she said. Her mother, without replying, went out to the kitchen. Vera followed her. Frank, left alone with his father, moved uneasily, and bent his thin shoulders lower over his book. Segment remained with his arms on his knees, looking into the grate. From the kitchen came the chinking of crockery, and soon the smell of coffee. All the time Vera was heard chatting with affected brightness to her mother, addressing her in fond tones, using all her wits to recall bright little incidents to retail to her. Beatrice answered rarely, and then with the utmost brevity. Presently Vera came in with the tray. She put down a cup of coffee, a plate with boiled ham, pink and thin, such as is bought from a grocer, and some bread and butter. Then she sat down, noisily turning over the leaves of her magazine. Frank glanced at the table. It was laid solely for his father. He looked at the bread and the meat, but restrained himself, and went on reading, or pretended to do so. This came in with the small crewit. It was conspicuously bright. Everything was correct. Knife and fork, spoon, crewit, all perfectly clean, the crockery fine, the bread and butter thin. In fact, it was just as it would have been for a perfect stranger. This scrupulous neatness, in a household so slovenly and easy-going, where it was an established tradition that something should be forgotten or wrong, impressed Segment. Beatrice put the serving knife and fork by the little dish of ham, saw that all was proper, then went and sat down. Her face showed no emotion. It was calm and proud. She began to sow. "'What do you say, mother?' said Vera, as if resuming a conversation. Shall it be Hampton Court or Richmond on Sunday?' "'I say, as I said before,' replied Beatrice, I cannot afford to go out. But you must begin, my dear, and Sunday shall see the beginning. Deet-donk!' "'There are other things to think of,' said Beatrice. "'Now, mamma, nous avons changé tout cela. We are going out. A jolly little razzle!'  "'I am afraid there will be no razzle!' Beatrice accented the word, smiling slightly. "'For me, you are slangy, Vera. Ah, dos-ar gomme, amère! You look tired!' Beatrice glanced at the clock. "'I will go to bed when I have cleared the table,' she said." Segment winced.  Vera went on to say something more. Presently Frank looked up at the table and remarked in his grating voice. "'There's your supper, father!' The women stopped and looked round at this. Segment bent his head lower. Vera resumed her talk. It died out, and there was silence. Segment was hungry. "'Oh, good Lord, good Lord! Bread of humiliation to-night,' he said to himself, before he could muster courage to rise and go to the table. He seemed to be shrinking inwards. The women glanced swiftly at him and away from him as his chair creaked and he got up. Frank was watching from under his eyebrows. He went through the ordeal of eating and drinking in presence of his family. If he had not been hungry he could not have done it, despite the fact that he was content to receive humiliation this night. He swallowed the coffee with effort. When he had finished, he sat irresolute for some time. Then he arose and went to the door. "'Good night,' he said. Nobody made any reply. Frank merely stirred in his chair.  There was absolute silence in the room till they heard him turn on the tap in the bathroom. Then Beatrice began to breathe spasmodically, catching her breath as if she would sob. But she restrained herself. The faces of the two children set hard with hate. "'He is not worth the flicking of your little finger, mother,' said Vera. Beatrice moved about with pitiful, groping hands, collecting her sewing and her cottons. "'At any rate, he's come back red enough,' said Frank in his grating tone of contempt. "'He's like boiled salmon!' Beatrice did not answer anything. Frank rose and stood with his back to the grate in his father's characteristic attitude. "'He would come slinking back in a funk,' he said with a young man's sneer.  Vera came to the table at this and began to make herself a more dainty sandwich. Frank watched her with jealous eyes. "'There is a little more ham, if you'd like it,' said Beatrice to him. "'I kept you some.' "'All right, ma,' he replied, fetch it in.' Beatrice went out to the kitchen. "'And bring the bread and butter, too, will you?' called Vera after her.  Vera did not reply, but she seemed tacitly to agree. They petted their mother while she waited on them. At length Frank yawned. He fidgeted a moment or two, then he went over to his mother, and putting his hand on her arm. The feel of his mother's round arm under the black silk sleeve made his tears rise. He said more gratingly than ever. "'Nah, mind, ma, we'll be all right to you.' Then he bent and kissed her. "'Good night, mother,' he said awkwardly, and he went out of the room.' Beatrice was crying. End of chapter 22. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere, Surrey. Chapter 23 of The Trespasser. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. The Trespasser by D. H. Lawrence. Chapter 23. "'I shall never re-establish myself,' said Segment, as he closed behind him the dining-room door, and went upstairs in the dark. I am a family criminal. Beatrice might come round, but the children's insolent judgment is too much. And I am like a dog that creeps round the house from which it escaped with joy. I have nowhere else to go. Why did I come back? But I am sleepy. I will not bother to-night.' He went into the bathroom and washed himself. Everything he did gave him a grateful sense of pleasure, notwithstanding the misery of his position. He dipped his arms deeper into the cold water, but he might feel the delight of it a little farther. His neck he swilled time after time, and it seemed to him he laughed with pleasure as the water caught him and fell away. The towel reminded him how sore were his forehead and his neck, blistered both to a state of rawness by the sun. He touched them very cautiously to dry them, wincing, and smiling at his own childish touch and shrink. Though his bedroom was very dark, he did not light the gas. Instead he stepped out into the small balcony. His shirt was open at the neck and wrists. He pulled it farther apart, bearing his chest to the deliciously soft night. He stood looking out at the darkness for some time. The night was as yet moonless, but luminous with a certain atmosphere of light. The stars were small. Near at hand large shapes of trees rose up. Father, lamps like little mushroom groups shone amid an undergrowth of darkness. There was a vague hoarse noise filling the sky, like the whispering in a shell, and this breathing of the summer night occasionally swelled into a restless sigh as a train roared across the distance.  The night gathers everything into a oneness. I wonder what is in it? He leaned forward over the balcony, trying to catch something out of the night. He felt his soul like tendrils stretched out anxiously to grasp a hold. What could he hold to in this great hoarse breathing night? A star fell. It seemed to burst into sight just across his eyes with a yellow flash. He looked up, unable to make up his mind whether he had seen it or not. There was no gap in the sky. It is a good sign, a shooting star, he said to himself. It is a good sign for me. I know I am right. That was my sign. Having assured himself, he stepped indoors, unpacked his bag, and was soon in bed. This is a good bed, he said, and the sheets are very fresh. He lay for a little while with his head bending forwards, looking from his pillow out at the stars. Then he went to sleep. At half-past six in the morning he suddenly opened his eyes. What is it? he asked, and almost without interruption answered, Well, I've got to go through it. His sleep had shaped him perfect premonition, which, like a dream, he forgot when he awoke. Only this naive question and answer betrayed what had taken place in his sleep. Immediately he awoke. This subordinate knowledge vanished. Another fine day was striding in triumphant. The first thing Siegmund did was to salute the morning because of its brightness. The second thing was to call to mind the aspect of that bay in the Isle of Wight. What would it just be like now? he said to himself. He had to give his heart some justification for the peculiar pain left in it from his sleep activity. So he began poignantly to long for the place which had been his during the last mornings. He pictured the garden with roses and nasturtiums. He remembered the sunny way down the shore and all the expanse of sea hung softly between the tall white cliffs. It is impossible, it is gone, he cried to himself. It can't be gone. I looked forward to it as if it never would come. It can't be gone now. Helena is not lost to me, surely. Then he began a long pining for the departed beauty of his life. He turned the jewel of memory and facet by facet it wounded him with its brilliant loveliness. This pain, though it was keen, was half-pleasure. Presently he heard his wife stirring. She opened the door of the room next to his, and he heard her. Frank, it's a quarter to eight. You will be late. All right, mother, why didn't you call me sooner? grumbled the lad. I didn't wake myself. I didn't go to sleep till morning, and then I slept. She went downstairs. Siegmund listened for his son to get out of bed. The minutes passed. The young donkey, why doesn't he get out? said Siegmund angrily to himself. He turned over, pressing himself upon the bed in anger and humiliation, because now he had no authority to call to his son and keep him to his duty. Siegmund waited, writhing with anger, shame and anxiety. When the suave of velvety, ban, ban, of the clock was heard striking, Frank stepped with a thud onto the floor. He could be heard dressing in clumsy haste. Beatrice called from the bottom of the stairs. Do you want any hot water? You know there isn't time for me to shave now, answered her son, lifting his voice to a kind of broken falsetto. The scent of the cooking of bacon filled the house. Siegmund heard his second daughter, Marjorie, aged nine, talking to Vera, who occupied the same room with her. The child was evidently questioning, and the elder girl answered briefly. There was a lull in the household noises, broken suddenly by Marjorie, shouting from the top of the stairs. Mum. She wailed. Mum. Still Beatrice did not hear her. Mum. Mumma. Beatrice was in the scullery. Mumma. The child was getting impatient. She lifted her voice and shouted. Mum. Mumma. Still no answer. Mum. Me. She squealed. Siegmund could hardly contain himself.  Vera called crossly from the bedroom, and at the same moment Beatrice answered also crossly. What do you want? Where's my stockings? cried the child at the top of her voice. Why do you ask me? Are they down here? replied her mother. What are you shouting for? The child plodded down the stairs. Directly she returned, and as she passed into Vera's room, she grumbled. And now they're not mended. Siegmund heard a sound that made his heart beat. It was the crackling of the sides of the crib, as Gwen, his little girl of five, climbed out. She was silent for his space.  Then there came the quick little thud of her feet as she went downstairs. Mum. Siegmund heard her say as she went down the hall. As dad come. The answer and the child's further talk were lost in the distance of the kitchen. The small anxious question, and the quick thudding of Gwen's feet, made Siegmund lie still with torture. He wanted to hear no more. He lay shrinking within himself. It seemed that his soul was sensitive to madness. He felt that he could not come what might get up and meet them all. The front door banged, and he heard Frank's hasty call. Good-bye! Evidently the lad was in an ill humour. Siegmund listened for the sound of the train. It seemed an age. The boy would catch it. Then the water from the wash-hand-bowl in the bathroom ran loudly out. That, he suggested, was Vera, who was evidently not going up to town. At the thought of this Siegmund almost hated her. He listened for her to go downstairs. It was nine o'clock. The footsteps of Beatrice came upstairs. She put something down in the bathroom, his hot water. Siegmund listened intently for her to come to his door. Would she speak? She approached hurriedly, knocked and waited. Siegmund startled, for the moment could not answer. She knocked loudly. All right! said he. Then she went downstairs. He lay probing and torturing himself for another half-hour, till Vera's voice said coldly beneath his window outside. You should clear away, then. We don't want the breakfast things on the table for a week. Siegmund's heart set hard.  There he started. The quaint figure of Gwen stood at the bowl. Her back was towards him. She was sponging her face gingerly.  Her arms were bare to the shoulder. She wore a bodiced petticoat of pink flannelette, which hardly reached her knees.   Then, very deliberately, she squeezed out the sponge and proceeded to wipe away the soap. For some reason or other she glanced round. Her startled eyes met his. She, too, had beautiful dark blue eyes. She stood with the sponge at her neck, looking full at him. Siegmund felt himself shrinking. The child's look was steady, calm, inscrutable. Hello! said her father. Are you here? The child, without altering her expression in the slightest, turned her back on him and continued wiping her neck. She dropped the sponge in the water and took the towel from off the side of the bath. Then she turned to look again at Siegmund, who stood in his pyjamas before her.  She seemed to be trying to discover something in him. Have you washed your ears? he said gaily. She paid no heed to this, except that he noticed her face now wore a slight constrained smile as she looked at him. She was shy. Still she continued to regard him curiously. There is some chocolate on my dressing table, he said. Where have you been, too? she said suddenly. To the seaside, he answered smiling. To Brighton, she asked, her tone was still condemning. Much farther than that, he replied. To Worthing, she asked. Father, in a steamer, he replied. But who did you go with? asked the child. Why, I went all by myself, he answered. Twooly, she asked. Weerly and twooly, he answered, laughing. Couldn't you take me? she asked. I will next time, he replied. The child looked at him unsatisfied. But what did you go for? she asked, goading him suspiciously. To see the sea and the ships, and the fighting ships with cannons. You might have taken me, said the child reproachfully. Yes, I ought to have done autentie, he said, as if regretful. Gwen still looked full at him. You are red, she said. He glanced quickly in the glass, and replied, That is the sun, hasn't it been hot? Mmm, it made my nose all peel. Vera said she would scrape me like a new potato. The child laughed, and turned shyly away. Come here, said Siegmund. I believe you've got a tooth out, haven't you? He was very cautious and gentle. The child drew back. He hesitated, and she drew away from him, unwilling. Come and let me look, he repeated. She drew farther away, and the same constrained smile appeared on her face, shy, suspicious, condemning. Aren't you going to get your chocolate? he asked, as the child hesitated in the doorway. She glanced into his room, and answered, I've got to go to mam and have my hair done. Her awkwardness and her lack of compliance insulted him. She went downstairs without going into his room. Siegmund, rebuffed by the only one in the house from whom he might have expected friendship, proceeded slowly to shave, feeling sick at heart. He was a long time over his toilet. When he stripped himself of the bath, it seemed to him he could smell the sea. He bent his head and licked his shoulder. It tasted decidedly salt. A pity to wash it off, he said. As he got up dripping from the cold bath, he felt for the moment exhilarated. He rubbed himself smooth. Glancing down at himself, he thought, I look young, I look as young as twenty-six. He turned to the mirror. There he saw himself a mature, complete man of forty. With grave years of experience on his countenance. I used to think that when I was forty, he said to himself, I should find everything straight as the nose on my face, walking through my affairs as easily as you like. Now I am no more sure of myself, have no more confidence than a boy of twenty. What can I do? It seems to me a man needs a mother all his life. I don't feel much like a lord of creation. Having arrived at this cynicism, Segment prepared to go downstairs. His sensitiveness had passed off, his nerves had become callous. When he was dressed he went down to the kitchen without hesitation. He was indifferent to his wife and children. No one spoke to him as he sat to the table. That was as he liked it. He wished for nothing to touch him. He ate his breakfast alone, while his wife bustled about upstairs, and Vera bustled about in the dining-room. Then he retired to the solitude of the drawing-room.  He remarked nothing, not even the extravagant bowl of grasses, placed where he would not have allowed it, on his piano. Nor his fiddle laid cruelly on the cold, polished floor near the window. He merely sat down in an armchair, and felt sick. All his unnatural excitement, all the poetic stimulation of the past few days, had vanished. He felt flaccid, while his life struggled slowly through him. After an intoxication of passion and love and beauty, and of sunshine, he was prostrate. Like a plant that blossoms gorgeously and madly, he had wasted the tissue of his strength, so that now his life struggled in a clogged and broken channel. Segment sat with his head between his hands, leaning upon the table. He would have been stupidly quiescent, in his feeling of loathing and sickness, had not an intense irritability in all his nerves, tormented him into consciousness. I suppose this is the result of the sun, a sort of sunstroke, he said, realizing an intolerable stiffness of his brain, a stunned condition in his head. This is hideous, he said. His arms were quivering with intense irritation. He exerted all his will to stop them, and then the hot irritability commenced in his belly. Segment fidgeted in his chair, without changing his position. He had not the energy to get up and move about. He fidgeted like an insect pinned down. The door opened. He felt violently startled, yet there was no movement perceptible. Vera entered, ostensibly for an autograph album into which she was going to copy a drawing from the London opinion, really to see what her father was doing. He did not move a muscle. He only longed intensely for his daughter to go out of the room, so that he could let go. Vera went out of the drawing-room humming to herself. Apparently she had not even glanced at her father. In reality she had observed him closely.  Beatrice replied, I'm glad he's nothing else to do. I should think he's pitying himself, said Vera. He's a good one at it, answered Beatrice. Gwen came forward and took hold of her mother's skirt, looking up anxiously. What is he doing, ma'am? she asked. Nothing, replied her mother, nothing, only sitting in the drawing-room. But what has he been doing? persisted the anxious child. Nothing, nothing that I can tell you. He's only spoiled all our lives. The little girl stood regarding her mother in the greatest distress and perplexity. But what will he do, ma'am? she asked. Nothing, don't bother, run away and play with margery now. Do you want a nice plum? She took a yellow plum from the table. Gwen accepted it without a word. She was too much perplexed. What do you say? asked her mother. Thank you, replied the child, turning away. Segment sighed with relief when he was again left alone. He twisted in his chair and sighed again, trying to drive out the intolerable, clawing irritability from his belly. Oh! this is horrible, he said. He stiffened his muscles to quieten them. I've never been like this before. What is the matter? he asked himself. But the question died out immediately. It seemed useless and sickening to try and answer it. He began to cast a bout for an alleviation. If he could only do something or have something he wanted, it would be better. What do I want? he asked himself, and he anxiously strove to find this out. Everything he suggested to himself made him sicken with weariness or distaste. The seaside, a foreign land, a fresh life that he had often dreamed of farming in Canada. I should be just the same there, he answered himself, just the same sickening feeling there that I want nothing. Helena, he suggested to himself, trembling. But he only felt a deeper horror. The thought of her made him shrink convulsively. I can't endure this, he said. If this is the case, I had better be dead. To have no want, no desire. That is death to begin with. He rested a while after this. The idea of death alone seemed entertaining. Then, is there really nothing I could turn to? he asked himself. To him, in that state of soul, it seemed there was not. Helena, he suggested again, appealingly testing himself. Oh, no! he cried, drawing sharply back, as from an approaching touch upon a raw place. He groaned slightly as he breathed, with a horrid weight of nausea. There was a fumbling upon the doorknob. Segment did not start. He merely pulled himself together. Gwen pushed open the door, and stood holding onto the doorknob, looking at him. Dad, Mom says, dinner's ready, she announced. Segment did not reply. The child waited at a loss for some moments, before she repeated in a hesitating tone. Dinner's ready. All right! said Segment, go away. The little girl returned to the kitchen, with tears in her eyes, very crestfallen. What did he say? asked Beatrice. He shouted at me, replied the little one, breaking into tears. Beatrice flushed. Tears came into her own eyes.  Did he? she said very tenderly. Never mind, then, dearie. Never mind. The tears in her mother's voice made the child sob bitterly. Vera and Marjorie sat silent at table. The steak and mashed potatoes steamed and grew cold. End of chapter 23. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey. Chapter 24 of The Trespasser. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. The Trespasser. By D. H. Lawrence. Chapter 24. When Helena arrived home on the Thursday evening, she found everything repulsive. All the odours of the sordid street through which she must pass hung about the pavement, having crept out in the heat. The house was bare and narrow.  As she knocked at the door, she felt like a numbed moth, which a boy is pushing off its leaf-rest into his box. The door was opened by her mother. She was a woman whose sunken mouth, ruddy cheeks, and quick brown eyes gave her the appearance of a bird which walks about pecking suddenly here and there. As Helena reluctantly entered, the mother drew herself up and immediately relaxed, seeming to peck forwards as she said, Well, here we are, replied the daughter in a matter-of-fact tone. Her mother was inclined to be affectionate, therefore she became proportionately cold. So I see, exclaimed Mrs. Verdon, tossing her head in a peculiar jocular manner. And what sort of a time have you had? Oh, very good, replied Helena, still more coolly. Mrs. Verdon looked keenly at her daughter. She recognized the peculiar, sulky, childish look she knew so well. Therefore, making an effort, she forbore to question. You look well, she said. Helena smiled ironically. And are you ready for your supper? She asked, in the playful affectionate manner she had assumed. If the supper is ready, I will have it, replied her daughter. Well, it's not ready.  Because, she continued, I didn't know when you were coming.  But, she added, after a tedious, dramatic pause, I can soon have it ready. What will you have? The full list of your capacious larder, replied Helena. Mrs. Verdon looked at her again and hesitated. Will you have cocoa or lemonade? she asked, coming to the point curtly. Lemonade, said Helena. Presently Mr. Verdon entered, a small, white-bearded man with a gentle voice. Oh, so you are back, Nelly, he said in his quiet, reserved manner. As you see, Peter, she answered. Hmm! he murmured, and he moved about at his accounts. Neither of her parents dared to question Helena. They moved about her on tiptoe stealthily. Yet neither subserved her. Her father's quiet. Hmm! her mother's curt question made her draw inwards like a snail, which can never retreat far enough from condemning eyes. She made a careless pretense of eating. She was like a child which has done wrong, and will not be punished, but will be left with the humiliating smear of offence upon it. There was a quick light palpitating of the knocker. Mrs. Verdon went to the door. As she come, and there were hasty steps along the passage, Louisa entered. She flung herself upon Helena and kissed her. How long have you been in? she asked, in a voice trembling with affection. Ten minutes, replied Helena. Why didn't you send me the time of the train, so that I could come and meet you? Louisa reproached her. Why, drawed Helena? Louisa looked at her friend without speaking. She was deeply hurt by this sarcasm. As soon as possible Helena went upstairs. Louisa stayed with her that night. On the next day they were going to Cornwall together for their usual mid-summer holiday. They were to be accompanied by a third girl, a minor friend of Louisa, a slight acquaintance of Helena. During the night neither of the two friends slept much. Helena made confidences to Louisa, who brooded on these, on the romance and tragedy which enveloped the girl she loved so dearly. Meanwhile Helena's thoughts went round and round, tethered amid the five days by the sea, pulling forwards as far as the morrow's meeting with Segment, but reaching no further. Friday was an intolerable day of silence, broken by little tender advances and playful affection at Sally's on the part of the mother, all of which were rapidly repulsed. The father said nothing, and avoided his daughter with his eyes. In his humble reserve there was a dignity which made his disapproval far more difficult to bear than the repeated flagrant questionings of the mother's eyes. But the day wore on. Helena pretended to read and sat thinking. She played her violin a little, mechanically. She went out into the town and wandered about. At last the night fell. Well, said Helena to her mother, I suppose I'd better pack. Haven't you done it? cried Mrs. Verdon, exaggerating her surprise. You'll never have it done! I'd better help you. What times does the train go? Helena smiled. Ten minutes to ten. Her mother glanced at the clock. It was only half past eight. There was ample time for everything. Nevertheless you'd better look sharp, Mrs. Verdon said. Helena turned away, weary of this exaggeration. I'll come with you to the station, suggested Mrs. Verdon. I'll see the last of you. We shan't see much of you just now. Helena turned round in surprise. Oh, I wouldn't bother, she said, fearing to make her disapproval too evident. Yes, I will. I'll see you off. Mrs. Verdon's animation and indulgence were remarkable. Usually she was curt and undemonstrative. On occasions like these, however, when she was reminded of the ideal relations between mother and daughter, she played the part of the affectionate parent, much to the general distress. Helena lit a candle and went to her bedroom. She quickly packed her dress-basket. As she stood before the mirror to put on her hat, her eyes, gazing heavily, met her heavy eyes in the mirror. She glanced away swiftly, as if she had been burned.  And Siegmund, how is he, I wonder? She wondered how Siegmund had passed the day, what had happened to him, how he felt, how he looked. She thought of him protectively. Having strapped her basket, she carried it downstairs.  After a short time, Louisa came in. She dropped her basket in the passage and then sank into a chair. I don't want to go, Nell, she said, after a few moments of silence. Why, how is that? asked Helena, not surprised, but condescending as to a child. Oh, I don't know. I'm tired, said the other petulantly. Of course you are. What do you expect after a day like this? said Helena. And rushing about, packing, exclaimed Mrs. Verdon, still in an exaggerated manner, this time scolding playfully. Oh, I don't know. I don't think I want to go, dear, repeated Louisa dejectedly. Well, it is time we set out, replied Helena, rising. Will you carry the basket or the violin, Mater? Louisa rose, and with a fullerne expression took up her light luggage. The west opposite the door was smoldering with sunset. Darkness is only smoke that hangs suffocatingly over the low red heat of the sunken day. Such was Helena's longed-for night. The tram-car was crowded. In one corner, Olive, the third friend, rose excitedly to greet them. Helena sat mute, while the car swung through the yellow stale lights of a third-rate street of shops.  She became aware of the renewed inflammation in her blistered arms. She heard her own curious voice answering. Everything was in a maze. To the beat of the car, while the yellow blur of the shops passed over her eyes, she repeated 240 miles, 240 miles. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 In Hazelmere, Surrey, Chapter 25 of The Trespasser This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Geeson The Trespasser by D. H. Lawrence Chapter 25 Siegmund passed the afternoon in a sort of stupor. At tea time, Beatrice, who had until then kept herself in restraint, gave way to an outburst of angry hysteria. When does your engagement at the comedy theatre commence? She had asked him coldly. He knew she was wondering about money. Tomorrow, if ever, he had answered. She was aware that he hated the work. For some reason or other, her anger flashed out like sudden lightning at his, if ever. What do you think you can do? she cried, for I think you have done enough. We can't do as we like altogether. Indeed, indeed we cannot. You have had your fling, haven't you? You have had your fling, and you want to keep on. But there's more than one person in the world. Remember that. But there are your children. Let me remind you, who's are they? You talk about shirking the engagement, but who is going to be responsible for your children, do you think? I said nothing about shirking the engagement, replied Siegmund, very coldly. No, there was no need to say. I know what it means.  What do you think I do? I have to see to the children. I have to work and slave. I go on from day to day.  I tell you, I'll do as I like. I'll go as well.  You know that. You know I wouldn't leave little children to the workhouse or anything. They're my children. They mightn't be yours. There is no need for this, said Siegmund contemptuously. The pressure in his temples was excruciating, and he felt loathsomely sick. Beatrice's dark eyes flashed with rage. Isn't there? she cried. Oh, isn't there? No, there is need for a great deal more. I don't know what you think I am. How much farther do you think you can go? No, you don't like reminding of us.  I wonder how much you think I shall stand. What do you think I am, to put up with it? What do you think I am? Am I a servant to eat out of your hand? Be quiet, shouted Siegmund. Don't I know what you are? Listen to yourself. Beatrice was suddenly silenced. It was the stillness of white hot wroth. Even Siegmund was glad to hear her voice again. She spoke low and trembling. You coward! You miserable coward! It is I, is it, who am wrong. It is I, who am to blame, is it? You miserable thing! I have no doubt you know what I am. Siegmund looked up at her as her words died off. She looked back at him with dark eyes loathing his cowed wretched animosity. His eyes were bloodshot and furtive.   She tortured him till his sickness was swallowed by anger, which glared redly at her as he pushed back his chair to rise. He trembled too much, however. His chin dropped again on his chest. Beatrice sat down in her place, hearing footsteps. She was shuddering slightly, and her eyes were fixed. Vera entered with the two children. All three immediately, as if they found themselves confronted by something threatening, stood arrested. Vera tackled the situation. Is the table ready to be cleared yet? She asked in an unpleasant tone. Her father's cup was half-emputed. He had come to tea late, after the others had left the table. Evidently he had not finished, but he made no reply. Neither did Beatrice. Vera glanced disgustedly at her father. Gwen sidled up to her mother, and tried to break the tension. Ma'am, there was a lady had a dog, and it ran into a shop, and it licked a sheep, ma'am, what was hanging up. Beatrice sat fixed and paid not the slightest attention. The child looked up at her, waited, then continued softly. Ma'am, there was a lady had a dog. Don't bother," snapped Vera sharply. The child looked, wondering, and resentful at her sister. Vera was taking the things from the table, snatching them, and thrusting them on the tray. Gwen's eyes rested a moment or two on the bent head of her father.  Ma'am, I saw a dog, and it ran in a butcher's shop, and licked a piece of meat. Ma'am, ma'am," there was no answer. Gwen went forward and put her hand on her mother's knee. Ma'am," she pleaded timidly. No response. Ma'am," she whispered. She was desperate. She stood on tip-toe, and pulled with little hands at her mother's breast. Ma'am," she whispered shrilly. Her mother, with an effort of self-denial, put off her investment of tragedy, and laying her arm round the child's shoulders, drew her close. Gwen was somewhat reassured, but not satisfied. With an earnest face upturned to the impassive countenance of her mother, she began to whisper, sibilant, coaxing, pleading, Ma'am," there was a lady. She had a dog. Vera turned sharply to stop this whispering, which was too much for her nerves, but the mother forestalled her. Taking the child in her arms, she averted her face, put her cheek against the baby cheek, and let the tears run freely. Gwen was too much distressed to cry. The tears gathered very slowly in her eyes, and fell without her having moved a muscle in her face. Vera remained in the scullery, weeping tears of rage and pity, and shame into the towel. The only sound in the room was the occasional sharp breathing of Beatrice. Segment sat without the trace of a movement, almost without breathing. His head was ducked low. He dared never lift it. He dared give no sign of his presence. Presently Beatrice put down the child, and went to join Vera in the scullery. There came the low sound of women's talking, an angry, ominous sound. Gwen followed her mother. A little voice could be heard cautiously asking, Ma'am, is Dad Cross? Is he? What did he do? Don't bother, snapped Vera.  Here, take this into the dining room, and don't drop it. The child did not obey. She stood looking from her mother to her sister. The latter pushed a dish into her hand.  Gwen departed. She hesitated in the kitchen. Her father still remained unmoved. The child wished to go to him, to speak to him, but she was afraid. She crossed the kitchen slowly, hugging the dish. Then she came slowly back, hesitating. She sidled into the kitchen. She crept round the table, inch by inch, drawing nearer her father. At about a yard from the chair she stopped. He, from under his bent brows, could see her small feet in brown slippers nearly kicked through at the toes, waiting and moving nervously near him. He pulled himself together, as a man does, who watches the surgeon's lancet suspended over his wound. Would the child speak to him? Would she touch him with her small hands? He held his breath, and it seemed held his heart from beating. What he should do, he did not know. He waited in a daze of suspense. The child shifted from one foot to another. He could just see the edge of her white-friiled drawers. He wanted above all things to take her in his arms, to have something against which to hide his face. Yet he was afraid. Often, when all the world was hostile, he had found her full of love. He had hidden his face against her.   If she should come to him now, his heart halted again in suspense. He knew not what he would do. It would open perhaps the tumour of his sickness. He was quivering too fast with suspense to know what he feared, or wanted, or hoped. Gwen, called Vera, wondering why she did not return. Gwen. Yes, answered the child, and slowly Siegmund saw her feet lifted. Hesitate, move, then turn away. She had gone. His excitement sank rapidly, and the sickness returned stronger, more horrible, and wearying than ever. For a moment it was so bad that he was afraid of losing consciousness. He recovered slightly, pulled himself up, and went upstairs. His fists were tightly clenched. His fingers closed over his thumbs, which were pressed blood-less. He lay down on the bed. For two hours he lay in a dazed condition, resembling sleep. At the end of that time, the knowledge that he had to meet Helena was actively at work. An activity quite apart from his will or his consciousness, jogging and pulling him awake. At eight o'clock he sat up.  He looked at them, and mechanically shut them again under his fingers into the position they sought after two hours of similar constraint. Siegmund opened his hands again, smiling. It is said to be the sign of a weak, deceitful character, he said to himself. His head was peculiarly numbed. At the back it felt heavy, as if weighted with lead. He could think only one detached sentence at intervals. Between wiles there was a blank gray sleep, or swoon. I have got to go and meet Helena at Wimbledon, he said to himself. And instantly he felt a peculiar joy, as if he had laughed somewhere. But I must be getting ready. I can't disappoint her, said Siegmund. The idea of Helena woke a craving for rest in him. If he should say to her, do not go away from me, come with me somewhere. Then he might lie down somewhere beside her, and she might put her hands on his head. If she could hold his head in her hands, for she had fine silk, and hands that adjusted themselves with a rare pressure wrapping his weakness up in life. Then his head would gradually grow healed, and he could rest. This was the one thing that remained for his restoration, that she should with long unwearying gentleness put him to rest. He longed for it utterly, for the hands and the restfulness of Helena. But it is no good, he said, staring like a drunken man from sleep. What time is it? It was ten minutes to nine. She would be in Wimbledon by ten ten. It was time he should be getting ready. Yet he remained sitting on the bed. I am forgetting again, he said. But I do not want to go. What is the good? I have only to tie a mask on for the meeting. It is too much. He waited and waited. His head dropped forward in a sort of sleep. Suddenly he started awake.  Goodness, he said, it is getting quite dark. It was twenty minutes to ten. He went bewildered into the bathroom to wash in cold water and bring back his senses. His hands were sore, and his face blazed with sun inflammation. He made himself neat as usual. It was ten minutes to ten. He would be very late. It was practically dark, though these bright days were endless. He wondered whether the children were in bed. It was too late, however, to wonder. Segment hurried downstairs and took his hat. He was walking down the path when the door was snatched open behind him, and Vera ran out, crying, Are you going out? Where are you going? Segment stood still and looked at her. She is frightened, he said to himself, smiling ironically. I am only going a walk. I have to go to Wimbledon. I shall not be very long. Wimbledon at this time, said Vera sharply, full of suspicion. Yes, I am late. I shall be back in an hour. He was sorry for her. She knew he gave her an honourable promise. You need not keep her sitting up, she said. He did not answer, but hurried to the station. End of Chapter 25. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere, Surrey. Chapter 26 of The Trespasser This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen The Trespasser by D.H. Lawrence Chapter 26 Helena, Louisa and Olive climbed the steps to go to the southwestern platform. They were laden with dress baskets, umbrellas and little packages. Olive and Louisa at least were in high spirits. Olive stopped before the indicator. The next train for Waterloo, she announced in her Contralto voice, is 1030. It is now 1012. We go by the 1040. It is a better train, said Helena. Olive turned to her with a heavy arch-mana. Very well, dear! There is a parting to be got through, I am told. We sympathise, dear, but we regret it. Starting for a holiday is always a prolonged agony. But I am strong to endure it. You look it! You look as if you could tackle a ball! cried Louisa, skittish. My dear Louisa! rang out Olive's Contralto. Don't judge me by appearances. You're sure to be taken in. With me it's a case of o' the gladness of her gladness when she's sad, and the sadness of her sadness when she's glad. She looked round to see the effect of this. Helena expected to say something chimed in sarcastically. They are nothing to her madness. When she's going for a holiday, dear, cried Olive. Don't go on being mad, cried Louisa. What do you like it? I thought you'd be thanking heaven that sanity was given me in large doses. And holidays in small, laughed Louisa. Good. No, I like your madness if you call it such. You are always so serious. It's ill talking of halters in the house of the hanged, dear. Boomed Olive. She looked from side to side. She felt triumphant. Helena smiled, acknowledging the sarcasm. But, said Louisa, smiling anxiously, I don't quite see it. What's the point? Well, to be explicit, dear, replied Olive. It is hardly safe to accuse me of sadness and seriousness in this trio. Louisa laughed and shook herself. Come to think of it, it isn't, she said. Helena sighed, and walked down the platform. Her heart was beating thickly. She could hardly breathe. The station lamps hung low, so they made a ceiling of heat and dusty light. She suffocated under them. For a moment she beat with hysteria, feeling as most of us feel when sick on a hot summer night, as if she must certainly go crazed, smothered under the grey woolly blanket of heat. Segment was late. It was already twenty-five minutes past ten. She went towards the booking office. At that moment Segment came on to the platform. Here I am, he said. Where is Louisa? Helen appointed to the seat without answering. She was looking at Segment. He was distracted by the excitement of the moment, so she could not read him. Olive is there too, she explained. Segment stood still, straining his eyes to see the two women seated amidst pale wicker dress-baskets and dark rugs. The stranger made things more complex. Does she, your other friend, does she know? he asked. She knows nothing, replied Helena in a low tone as she led him forward to be introduced. How do you do? replied Olive in most mellow contralto. Behold the dauntless three with their traps. You will see us forth on our perils. I will, since I may not do more, replied Segment, smiling, continuing, and how is sister Louisa? She is very well, thank you. It is her turn now, cried Louisa, vindictive triumphant. There was always a faint animosity in her bearing towards Segment. He understood and smiled at her enmity, for the two were really good friends. It is your turn now, he repeated, smiling, and he turned away. He and Helena walked down the platform. How did you find things at home? he asked her. Oh, as usual, she replied indifferently. And you? Just the same, he answered. He thought for a moment or two, then added, The children are happier without me. Oh, you mustn't say that kind of thing, protested Helena miserably. It's not true. It's all right, dear, he answered, so long as they are happy. It's all right. After a pause he added, But I feel pretty bad tonight. Helena's hand tightened on his arm. He had reached the end of the platform. There he stood, looking up the line which ran dark under a haze of lights. The high red signal lamps hung aloft in a scarlet swarm. Farther off, like spangles shaking downwards from a burst skyrocket, was a tangle of brilliant red and green signal lamps settling. A train with the warm flair on its thick column of smoke came thundering upon the lovers. Dazed, they felt the yellow bar of carriage windows brush in vibration across their faces. The ground and the air rocked. Then Siegmund turned his head to watch the red and the green lights in the rear of the train, swiftly dwindle on the darkness. Still watching the distance where the train had vanished, he said, Dear, I want you to promise that whatever happens to me you will go on. Remember to. Remember, dear, two wrongs don't make a right. Helena swiftly, with the movement of terror, faced him, looking into his eyes. But he was in the shadow she could not see him. The flat sound of his voice lacking resonance. The dead, expressionless tone made her lose her presence of mind. She stared at him blankly. What do you mean? What has happened? Something has happened to you. What has happened at home? What are you going to do? She said sharply. She palpitated with terror. For the first time she felt powerless. Siegmund was beyond her grasp. She was afraid of him. He had shaken away her hold over him. There's nothing fresh the matter at home. He replied wearily. He was to be scourged with emotion again. I swear it, he added, and I have not made up my mind, but I can't think of life without you. And life must go on. And I swear, she said wrothfully, turning at bay, that I won't live a day after you. Siegmund dropped his head. The dead spring of his emotion swelled up, scalding hot again. Then he said almost inaudibly, Oh, don't speak to me like that, dear. It is late to be angry. When I have seen your train out tonight, there is nothing left.  They became aware of the porters, shouting loudly that the Waterloo train was to leave from another platform. You'd better come, said Siegmund, and they hurried down towards Louisa and Olive. We've got to change platforms, cried Louisa, running forward and excitedly announcing the news. Yes, replied Helena, pale and impassive. Siegmund picked up the luggage. I say, cried Olive, rushing to catch Helena and Louisa by the arm. Look, look both of you. Look at that hat. A lady in front was wearing on her hat a wild and dishevelled array of peacock feathers. It's the sight of a lifetime. I wouldn't have you miss it, added Olive in horse Sotovoce. Indeed not, cried Helena, turning in wild exasperation to look. Get a good view of it, Olive. Let's have a good mental impression of it, one that will last. That's right, dear, said Olive, somewhat non-plussed by this outburst. Siegmund had escaped with the heaviest two bags. They could see him ahead climbing the steps. Olive readjusted herself from the wildly animated to the calmly ironical. After all, dear, she said, as they hurried in the tail of the crowd, it's not half a bad idea to get a man on the job. Louisa laughed aloud at this vulgar conception of Siegmund. Just now, at any rate, she rejoined. As they reached the platform, the train ran in before them. Helena watched anxiously for an empty carriage. There was not one. Perhaps it is as well, she thought. We needn't talk. There will be three-quarters of an hour at Waterloo. If we were alone, Olive would make Siegmund talk. She found a carriage with four people, and hastily took possession. Siegmund followed her with the bags. He swung these on the rack, and then quickly received the rugs, umbrellas, and packages from the other two. These he put on the seats or anywhere, while Helena stowed them. She was very busy for a moment or two. The racks were full. Other people entered. Their luggage was troublesome to bestow. When she turned round again, she found Louisa and Olive seated, but Siegmund was outside on the platform, and the door was closed. He saw her face move as if she would cry to him. She restrained herself, and immediately called. You are coming! Oh, you are coming to Waterloo! He shook his head. I cannot come, he said. She stood looking blankly at him for some moments, unable to reach the door because of the portmanteau thrust through with umbrellas and sticks, which stood on the floor between the knees of the passengers. She was helpless. Siegmund was repeating deliriously in his mind. Oh, go, go, go! When will she go? He could not bear her piteousness. Her presence made him feel insane. Would you like to come to the window? a man asked of Helena kindly. She smiled suddenly in his direction without perceiving him. He pulled the portmanteau under his legs, and Helena edged past. She stood by the door, leaning forward with some of her old protective grace, her hawa-spirit evident. Benign and shielding, she bent forward, looking at Siegmund. But her face was blank with helplessness, with misery of helplessness. She stood looking at Siegmund, saying nothing. His forehead was scorched and swollen, she noticed sorrowfully. And beneath one eye the skin was blistered. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed in a kind of apathy. They filled her with terror. He looked up at her because she wished it. For himself he could not see her. He could only recoil from her. All he wished was to hide himself in the dark alone. Yet she wanted him. And so far he yielded. But to go to Waterloo he could not yield. The people in the carriage, made uneasy by this strange farewell, did not speak. There were a few taut moments of silence. No one seems to have strength to interrupt these spaces of irresolute anguish. Finally the guard's whistle went. Siegmund and Helena clasped hands. A warm flush of love and healthy grief came over Siegmund for the last time. The train began to move, drawing Helena's hand from his. Monday, she whispered, Monday. Meaning that on Monday she should receive a letter from him. He nodded, turned, hesitated, looked at her, turned and walked away. She remained at the window, watching him depart. Now, dear, we are manless, said Olive in a whisper. But her attempt at a joke fell dead. Everybody was silent and uneasy. End of chapter 26 Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey


As of the breakfast in Plastivia Africa, like we mentioned, we'll be back with the papers. At this point we go through the pages of the National Dailies and bring you great insight, courtesy of our analysts or guest analysts. We'll have Tunde Kualawali who joins the conversation. But also, I have Kofi Battels who joins also the show this morning as we proceed. Kofi, it's good to have you join me. Fantastic. Also to have Tunde Kualawali on the line with us and as we go through the pages of the National Dailies. Mercy, it's quite interesting what's been happening. You've been away for some time. But the national discourse has been of an interesting note, on an interesting note. We'll look at some of the papers. Let's start off with a story coming from the leadership newspaper. The story is coming on the front page of the leadership newspaper this morning. And there, with a kicker, Fiori of our APC running mate, Muslim-Muslim ticket recipe for more crisis, Northern Christians won. I mean, the Northern Christians, especially those in the APC, 19 states, government APC have said that they will not campaign for the presidential candidate of the party. They're not happy. And a kicker to that headline, demand immediate replacement of Shatima, vow not to sell, same-faith ticket to constituents, let's shun religious ethnic politics. Till we campaign group replies and more APC members resign in protest. It's quite interesting. In River State, one of them resigned. Tonya Princewell, he's a former government candidate of the Labour Party, switched to the APC and became a lawyer. He said because of this whole thing of Muslim-Muslim ticket, he's leaving the party, interesting times for the APC. More headlines from the leadership. FG orders contractor to complete 194 km Yula Mubi Road project. So now they've told him, I'm sure he will complete it. Voluntary asset declaration, FG goes after tax defaulters. Low remittances, Mar-State's enactment of pension scheme. Oshun Poe, INEC issues 1.5 million PVCs as IGP, deploys 21,000 officers. Northern Youth opposed sale of five power plants.  Remember Dumebe Kachikou, the presidential candidate of ADC, I hope we've not forgotten him. He's also still in the race. 61,000 Boko Haram Suspects. Suspects rather detained in North-East, Aregbe Shola. 61,000 Boko Haram Suspects detained in North-East. He is in charge of the Ministry of Interior. Prison Service is one of the parodies of state under him. It's in response to the Kuji incident. Photo story of Governor Ozo Dima's designer watch. It's an interesting one. I'm sure people would like to really can find details in the leadership. Alright, let's move away from the leadership. Quickly, turn our attention to the punch newspaper this morning. On the punch, Ogun governorship elections, please declare war on vote buyers and deploy dictators. Sometimes you begin to wonder what is going on with the country in Nigeria. I mean, is that the approach? If you understand the reason why a lot of people engage in vote buying, then should that be really, really the approach in tackling the situation? As much as we say, hey, those who are involved in buying vote and selling vote should be apprehended, but don't we think that we need to move beyond the level of arrest and threat to making the people understand the essence and the need for, you know, not selling their votes? We have mobilized FIB operatives against vote buyers. FOSSPRO is quoted. Over 23,100 security officials are deployed as Oshun prepares for governorship polls. And some people ask where, I mean, this personnel, I mean, where you're talking about 23,100 security officials when the Kuji Correctional Centre was attacked. Vice President Yemo Shibajo, Arabashola absent. Tunubu APC governor's governorship rally support for Uyitola. You have this person's not present there. Away from that Muslim-Muslim ticket, disastrous error. XSGF Lawal is quoted. Oil falls below $100. Nigeria's production heat 1.158 million hours per day. New Peng threatened Solidarity Strike with ASU just as you, you know, some days back, you also have the health walker saying that we'll embark on Solidarity Strike if the government fails to get into that implementation of the agreement with ASU. Blames or blame Nigerians for voting bad leaders. Goats don't vote. Senator, that's good to say. Find out which of the senators is speaking here. And just before we move away from the punch newspaper this morning, you find Stop Lobbying for Posting, National Assembly One's workers. 18 Catholic priests kidnapped three killed in 2022. 18 Catholic priests kidnapped and three killed. Really saddening. Nigeria records 27 cases of vaccine-deprived polio. And you find Christian-Christian tickets would have set the Nigerian fire. I take that again. Christian ticket would set Nigerian fire. That's what you find on the punch newspaper this morning. And federal government plans 3,863 megawatt boost for power greed. So we're going to add 3,000 plus. How many are we generating? Mercy, mercy, mercy. I want to ask you, have you been having consul electricity in the past few days? I have been having electricity supply but not constant. But more than usual, right? No, I think it's reduced. Usually because for where I live, the access that I live. It's okay, it's okay. I don't want to say anything. Before they realize, let's just keep it under wraps. But I think in some parts of the country it's been improved, especially where I live. I hope you're not watching. I don't know which one. I hope you're not watching. But where I live, it's been almost constant. Especially with these rains. Let me keep quiet before so much changes in my mind. We need to move away now because we have Tunde Kola with me on standby. Tunde Kola, good morning to you. Thank you for your time. Good morning. Hope you had a lovely night. Fantastic. We tried our best. Thank you. Let's start with... Very well, thank you for asking. Let's start with the stories coming from the leadership. It's been in the papers. A lot of papers carry this story. Throughout the day, the latter parts of yesterday online and now in print this morning. Some group in the APC saying, the Christians in the All Progressives Congress are withdrawing their support for the party's presidential candidate on account of the Muslim-Muslim ticket of the party. Apart from that, of course, the Tinnable Campaign Group is saying that they should show religious and ethnic politics. What are your thoughts on this? Well, honestly speaking, if a political party had decided to choose the Babalawu and the Marabouds to fly tickets and those people are able to deliver to our people the difference, the dividends of democracy that throughout our body has been at all. Well, the truth of the matter is, in the last seven years, since the advent of... especially since the advent of the Mohammed of Gwali, the Nigerian society, the Nigeria of the country has become my percentage to religious issues. So, any political party that want to ensure inclusiveness must be sensitive to this high sensitivity to the religions that we claim in the society today. You must also remember that the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria emphasizes the federal character principle. It also says that the resources of the nation, whether woman or material, is going to be equally and equitably distributed among all the considered parts of the country. But because of this, I would have thought that the ATC, why not that political party for that matter, will not have gone to a mostly Muslim ticket because it is a recipe for disaster. Not just that it is making it difficult for the party to win the next election, but also that when they win the elections, it may be a recipe for political instability in Nigeria because whatever actions that the government might take, whether the action is positive or negative, whether it is meant to benefit people or not, people will always with meaning into it that they are taking such position for the impact on such actions simply because it is the Muslims that are in charge of the running of the country. Furthermore, and this could be very important, is that you will remember that there was a time that a Bukwaram commander was arrested in the permission of the governor's laws in Nigeria. And after he was arrested, he was handed over to a deputy commissioner of police who went there to release him. Who was governor? At that period in time when this Bukwaram man finally says in the governor's laws in Abuja, how did they have access to that governor's laws? If we are able to unravel this, it might be a pointer. Now, some of these people that we think are not having anything to do with this Bukwaram people might actually in fact be the ones that are given audited support, financing, supporting and shielding these Bukwaram people from persecution or from punishment that the laws have prescribed for the activities. So, and also important too, the decision to choose a Muslim-Muslim ticket in my own blue opinion is contemptuous for the Christian community in Nigeria. Before the choice, all the Christian associations that are not have insisted that there must be a balance for them to have peace of mind, for them to be able to get the assurance that Christians in the country will not be victimized from 2023 elections. So, when the political party basically decides to discourage them the sentiment for the millions of Christians that will have all over Nigeria, for me, I think that is not too good enough. It's contemptuous, it's impunity, it's a recipe for disaster in the near future. More than more. Let's just move away from that and pay attention to the Oshoon governorship elections. Now, the police is declaring war on vote buyers and has deployed dictators. We understand how this has crippled the electoral process and our democratic setting as a country, vote buying. This does not happen with the other party. Those who are inducing voters to actually buy votes. But do you think that this is going to put an end to vote buying as we especially with your Oshoon state elections? Look at the matter of security forces that were deployed during the recent confining the way around the voters and purchasing their votes. The answer is no. The truth of the matter is when politicians want to compromise the integrity of the election, they will first buy the security forces and then they will also unleash their military group on the voters before they think about buying the voter. If the voters refuse to be portrayed then their military group will be unleashed on the people either to start planting the ballot boxes or either to start distorting the processes of election where they think their political opponents have massive support or they make the whole process very ungovernable as we have seen in some parts of the country and the past. More importantly I am of the opinion that even the vision of the APC so choose a movement in a syndicate is because they don't know that the voters don't matter when it comes to electioneering in a voting winning election in Nigeria. If you see that the elections are portrayed in the batter or military group are compelled to vote for a particular political party or a political party or the security people will turn their blind eye when representatives of this political party will write back all the ballot boxes and sit in the corner where the voters will be taking place and turn print all the ballot papers and throw into the ballot boxes and then also compile in a official to count those ballot boxes and request it as victory for whatever political party has the most dominant enforcers and military group around that voting environment. So I don't whatever I next plan might be as soon as they take one step forward those who don't want a free and clear election because they know any day we begin to have a clear election in Nigeria they will be out of business they will have taken 5 steps a step of my next to make sure that the voters don't count that the voters are not left behind that you can decide the direction with the pendulum of victory will shrink no matter what the voters might be thinking no matter whom the person they might want to vote for so I don't think I don't see how true will be different from the Kiki stage so that will be money that's interesting analysis from you back to the leadership newspaper the Minnesota Interior Raul Fahrabeshola has been speaking and I'm sure it's not unconnected to what recently happened under his watch in Kuji prison the leadership newspaper front page at the bottom right corner it says 61,000 Boko Haram suspects detained in northeast Raul Fahrabeshola a few lines from that Minnesota Interior Raul Fahrabeshola has said Nigeria is on the path to totally defeating Boko Haram terrorists and other criminals in the country he said many of the terrorists have been arrested especially in the northeast zone the minister made the claim yesterday when he visited Kirikiri maximum and medium security custodial centers in Appapa Lagos state he said quote today a call of the criminal elements in the surgeons across the country are on the path to defeat and they have been heavily degraded over 61,000 of them are in our custody in the northeast he said you think he's feeling the heat from what happened in Kuji that's why he has to say this and honestly speaking I will take with a pinch of salt whatever the minister of the Interior Mr. Raul Fahrabeshola says I take him with a pinch of salt for so many reasons if you look at him without being told he is one man who is also or who can be described as a criminal who is a criminal or who can be described as a religious fundamentalist instead I think he belongs to the tablique group those who saw us had nearly reached their anchor and also remember when he was in our custody it was all his governorship that the issue of the job became a fundamental issue and the beef that was necessary for good education and good governance became to a legal stage when such a man talks about the Boko Haram and then they need for peace and whatever they are making to reign in the Boko Haram I don't believe him I never believe him for the more not too long ago when we had this past which is now which is leader remember what we said in some of the papers that when the leader began to massage him or something we spoke with Allah and Allah began to disgrace or embarrass the man with some of the health challenges that he had so for me he hasn't shown any inspiring leadership look at ordinary passport that is I mean that the immigration is the custom issues to people not too long ago some Nigerian protesters have brought that since he became minister he has not been having access to passport here in Nigeria too I have tried several ways passport in the last one year they are about it's not been easy the cloud is something else when you go to each of the passport office and I don't see myself subjecting myself to the kind of immigration that you go through when you go to get the passport or you go to the needed passport for me now the question is not neutral when it comes to the visuals of how this Islamic issues whatever it says with regard to Pukwara I take it with a pinch of salt and if I shock it to me then Mr. President would appoint such a policy as minister of imperial let's move away to the past sector where there has been a lot of talks as regards generation and distribution and who should be blamed and who should be in control but also see that the federal government is saying on the punch that it's making plans of 3863 megawatts to boost power greed this is according to the report and that's going to be the next 24 months if we look at the capacity currently producing now what we produce is about 4000 megawatts 4000 plus megawatts that's what we're talking about and what we have as a capacity to produce more than 8000 megawatts and the government is saying in the next 24 months we're going to ensure that there's capacity additional 3800 but do you think that this really stops the situation Kofi actually asked me a question of whether I've had constant power supply do you think that this would address the issue of epileptic power supply across the entire country ladies and gentlemen I have you and my brother there exchanging banter with regards to the improvement in power supply in your respective areas and I just laughed why did I laugh it is a Greek gift they wanted to use it to surprise people so either keep you silent with regards to the Muslim Muslim tickets or support coming elections in a huge case so that people will not go to the polls and vote against them and then for the month you will recollect that a few weeks ago the National Electricity Authority has revoked the license of the total power generator and the distribution company I think they have also taken over for modern companies in other parts of the country it is not impossible that that will be a very big fix may have sent details than the spine of some of these other distribution companies that they have now decided to be a little bit more effective in the distribution of power in the last few days furthermore they have been talking about this megawatt 11 megawatt isn't that what they have been talking about in the last 7 years for God's sake isn't that what they have been talking about and what is it 1000 megawatt or 11,000 megawatt in the country that is about 200 million people what is it on there 11,000 megawatt I was watching television because the german people thought they are thinking that Russia may cut off their gas supplies which is going to affect electricity supply they are going to revise all their coal-fired electricity generation plan they have resuscitated them but you know what happened in Nigeria when we built the kanji power dam and shiroro power dam some of these other dams are not that our air life went and cut our coal-generated electricity plan and shiroro there and then what, they want other ones or other parts of the country a nation that has supplies will never do that and it needs a gas supply in the country needs a dam in the country has not been able to guarantee state-of-the-art electricity supply is this 22 years of democracy in Nigeria not enough to resuscitate the coal plants to supply energy to do some of these other alternative energy sources like solar and water I was reading some papers the other day that within three months you can get solar energy to supply you megatons of power you can also use the wind and so many other alternative sources of energy why are we not looking at that direction we are not looking at that direction simply because those who import generators in this country will not want us to have state-of-the-art electricity supply we are not looking in the direction of state-of-the-art electricity in the country simply because when we stop it the consumption of petroleum products will drop and this people will not be able to import petroleum products which they used to do money on the Tokali money approach to pay their clearance fees and buying houses in Monaco in Miami as some of these I have brought to buy countries of the world the Nigeria and the like the political parties whether the PVP or the APC are not interested in resolving the electricity crisis that we have in our house the electricity crisis is not rocketing it's something that can be resolved within one year or two if it's not rocketing you can get energy supply from so many sources coal wind gas hydro and water so don't fall for the great gift this is an improvement in power supply in the last few days it is a great gift either to compare to both of them in Osu state or to overlook their Muslim-Muslim tickets are simply to also divert attention from the onga you're certainly not buying it you're certainly not buying it but maybe this may be an indication your words or comments that maybe the power supply has improved in your part of the country I don't know if you see that it's usually like that also don't forget that during rainy season most of the dam there is improvement in water connection in there and when there is improvement in water connection it's usually translated into improvements in power supply that may be what we are saying all in has been falling for some few weeks now which would have improved the power supply in the water connection in all the dams that we have in the country and which would enable these dams to generate more electricity which could be distributed to different parts of the country okay, okay let's go back to the punch we still with the economy of business stories now this one is talking about the oil price look at the top of that front page this headline oil falls below 100 dollars Nigeria's production hits 1.158 million barrels per day the paper says a Brent which is the international benchmark for crude fell below 100 dollars per barrel on Tuesday as the latest figures released by OPEC shows an increased in Nigeria's oil production from 1.024 million barrels per day to 1.158 million barrels per day of course to remember that this administration from time to time would always to tell you that oil was 100 dollars per barrel in the time of Jonathan even with this also talking he has been saying when the promise to also was made for that 1.3 trillion era oil was 100 dollars per barrel sometimes we forget that it had gone back to 100 dollars per barrel what are your thoughts on this falling below 100 dollars per barrel up in its production to 1.158 million barrels per day I think the world between Russia and Ukraine is in rather some impact on the supply and demand for oil all over the world that may have had some significant implications for the rise in the prices of petroleum products or crude oil around the world but you and I would know that that is a temporary thing it is not something that will last forever a nation which allies are diligent a nation which allies are pudding a nation which allies ambition would when they have this kind of 1.4 or improvement in in the prices of crude oil around the world they will save whatever effect that they are having they will cost their goods accosting to the size of their clothes but that has never been our attitude as the people when we had the 1.4 era monies were simply made available to the state government to the local government and what did they do with the money rather than invest it the state government bought cars for wives of local government to a man for their supporters and also the bulk of the money for 5 funds are brought to invest in the money in infrastructure in industry in solving the electricity that we have in the country in improving the educational sector the health sector which have become comatose in the recent over a long time now so I am also shocked that in Nigeria continue to talk about petroleum, petroleum, petroleum when the rest of the world is no longer looking in the direction of petroleum most of them are talking about the energy now very soon and you may want to take this down petroleum project will be like a quo most of the advanced countries of the world today what they have been is driving electric cars which doesn't use the petroleum product even if you don't know as non manufactured hydrocar a car that uses very water to power it there are solar cars around the world now and not too long ago I was also living some research being done in South Africa in which the ocean waves are used to power vehicles just like we now use cars to power some of these vehicles and household items but our allies they are indolent they don't have vision they are greed are kind of blinded to the reality so stop thinking about petroleum and look at alternative sources of energy to meet the challenges that we have not just in electricity supply but also in developing our infrastructure I continue to say education is a major cause of development if we want to develop we must invest massively in the educational sector especially the tertiary education because it is from those places the solutions is a fund for the challenges that society is facing whether it be in the health sector whether it be in the electricity supply or whether it be in the area of the infrastructure say for example this is a knocking stone that people now use in their houses it's not this on people in the civil engineering sector that came up with the idea that look if it is difficult it will not last in turning roads or in paving in the access to healthcare and all that why don't we use it a knocking stone and that may have come from many of the investors many of the polytechnic that is what those institutions are established so do provide solutions anytime it's right it's facing challenges the educational sector will rise to those challenges and provide solutions to it but here for us education could as well go to rough it doesn't matter so long as our allies are able to get to their own children that are brought to go and school and then they take photographs of those children when they graduate and start it in our family and ask us to go to health you can do what I advise just before we move away from the paper looking at the big stories this morning just a quick thought on this one on the leadership terrorists we pamper today will kill us tomorrow kachukku is quoted on that if it's like the egyptians you see today you'll see them no more somewhere from the scriptural but does this really mean that anyway indicts the government does he tell that as the government and the people were pampering and harboring this terrorist well it is obvious it's very very obvious I give an example when we began this program that at the time a bookworm commander was arrested in the polluted governor's lodge in abutia after he was apprehended he was handed over to deputy commissioner of police who also released him it was when there was so much pressure on that commissioner of police that this bookworm commander was recalled back and brought him to custody I am sure I think his name was Kabilis Okoto Ozealabao I am sure he would have also escaped running this Kujajel break look at what a batch of a former military officer said one time that anywhere in the world that in security passes for so long for more than one week you could be less assured that some powerful people are aging and have less energy I mean each time this people are arrested rather than bring them to justice in accordance with the law we say we are re-educating them we say we are re-educating them a paper done in this Kujajel break also reported that one bookworm man got recruited into the Nigerian prison service and that bookworm come passing may have facilitated or provided a logistics that made it possible for this Kujajel break or attack to have taken place I have not seen any decisive action in taking against the bookworm or the part of the government there isn't any serial political will with these insurgencies that we have all over the place furthermore when people behave they were allied behave in which they form private armies in which they have military groups with which they compromise the integrity of elections how can they have the security most of the people you find in bookworm especially the ones who left Kujajel who broke out of Kujajel prison and were literally arrested about two of them who have been arrested they were all found with drugs either in climes tramadol or some of these other narcotics if they were religious people if they were just files would they be engaged or indulging themselves with drugs you see they are not simply because they were used as tools in the hands of the politicians we have to bring it to an end now thank you Tunde Kola Walee great insight you have brought this morning as we look through the pages of a national dailies to be precise the front pages we appreciate your time Tunde Kola Walee thanks for having me alright Tunde Kola Walee is a legal practitioner and has been guest this morning and off the press we take a break when we return it will be time for us to head straight to our first conversation but just before then let's tell you what happened today in history