him.
He
was
really
like
one
of
the
“
little
people’
who
have
no
soul
,
who
has
found
his
mate
in
a
human
being
.
But
he
suffered
in
his
discovery
.
She
too
was
fascinated
by
him
,
fascinated
,
as
if
some
strange
creature
,
a
rabbit
or
a
bat
,
or
a
brown
seal
,
had
begun
to
talk
to
her
.
But
also
,
she
knew
what
he
was
unconscious
of
,
his
tremendous
power
of
understanding
,
of
apprehending
her
living
motion
.
He
did
not
know
his
own
power
.
He
did
not
know
how
,
with
his
full
,
submerged
,
watchful
eyes
,
he
could
look
into
her
and
see
her
,
what
she
was
,
see
her
secrets
.
He
would
only
want
her
to
be
herself
—
he
knew
her
verily
,
with
a
subconscious
,
sinister
knowledge
,
devoid
of
illusions
and
hopes
.
To
Gudrun
,
there
was
in
Loerke
the
rock-bottom
of
all
life
.
Everybody
else
had
their
illusion
,
must
have
their
illusion
,
their
before
and
after
.
But
he
,
with
a
perfect
stoicism
,
did
without
any
before
and
after
,
dispensed
with
all
illusion
.
He
did
not
deceive
himself
in
the
last
issue
.
In
the
last
issue
he
cared
about
nothing
,
he
was
troubled
about
nothing
,
he
made
not
the
slightest
attempt
to
be
at
one
with
anything
.
He
existed
a
pure
,
unconnected
will
,
stoical
and
momentaneous
.
There
was
only
his
work
.
It
was
curious
too
,
how
his
poverty
,
the
degradation
of
his
earlier
life
,
attracted
her
.
There
was
something
insipid
and
tasteless
to
her
,
in
the
idea
of
a
gentleman
,
a
man
who
had
gone
the
usual
course
through
school
and
university
.
A
certain
violent
sympathy
,
however
,
came
up
in
her
for
this
mud-child
.
He
seemed
to
be
the
very
stuff
of
the
underworld
of
life
.
There
was
no
going
beyond
him
.
Ursula
too
was
attracted
by
Loerke
.
In
both
sisters
he
commanded
a
certain
homage
.
But
there
were
moments
when
to
Ursula
he
seemed
indescribably
inferior
,
false
,
a
vulgarism
.
Both
Birkin
and
Gerald
disliked
him
,
Gerald
ignoring
him
with
some
contempt
,
Birkin
exasperated
.
“
What
do
the
women
find
so
impressive
in
that
little
brat
?
”
Gerald
asked
.
“
God
alone
knows
,
”
replied
Birkin
,
“
unless
it’s
some
sort
of
appeal
he
makes
to
them
,
which
flatters
them
and
has
such
a
power
over
them
.
”
Gerald
looked
up
in
surprise
.
“
Does
he
make
an
appeal
to
them
?
”
he
asked
.
“
Oh
yes
,
”
replied
Birkin
.
“
He
is
the
perfectly
subjected
being
,
existing
almost
like
a
criminal
.
And
the
women
rush
towards
that
,
like
a
current
of
air
towards
a
vacuum
.
”
“
Funny
they
should
rush
to
that
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Makes
one
mad
,
too
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
But
he
has
the
fascination
of
pity
and
repulsion
for
them
,
a
little
obscene
monster
of
the
darkness
that
he
is
.
”
Gerald
stood
still
,
suspended
in
thought
.
“
What
do
women
want
,
at
the
bottom
?
”
he
asked
.
Birkin
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
“
God
knows
,
”
he
said
.
“
Some
satisfaction
in
basic
repulsion
,
it
seems
to
me
.
They
seem
to
creep
down
some
ghastly
tunnel
of
darkness
,
and
will
never
be
satisfied
till
they’ve
come
to
the
end
.
”
Gerald
looked
out
into
the
mist
of
fine
snow
that
was
blowing
by
.
Everywhere
was
blind
today
,
horribly
blind
.
“
And
what
is
the
end
?
”
he
asked
.
Birkin
shook
his
head
.
“
I’ve
not
got
there
yet
,
so
I
don’t
know
.
Ask
Loerke
,
he’s
pretty
near
.
He
is
a
good
many
stages
further
than
either
you
or
I
can
go
.
”
“
Yes
,
but
stages
further
in
what
?
”
cried
Gerald
,
irritated
.
Birkin
sighed
,
and
gathered
his
brows
into
a
knot
of
anger
.
“
Stages
further
in
social
hatred
,
”
he
said
.
“
He
lives
like
a
rat
,
in
the
river
of
corruption
,
just
where
it
falls
over
into
the
bottomless
pit
.
He’s
further
on
than
we
are
.
He
hates
the
ideal
more
acutely
.
He
hates
the
ideal
utterly
,
yet
it
still
dominates
him
.
I
expect
he
is
a
Jew
—
or
part
Jewish
.
”
“
Probably
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
He
is
a
gnawing
little
negation
,
gnawing
at
the
roots
of
life
.
”
“
But
why
does
anybody
care
about
him
?
”
cried
Gerald
.
“
Because
they
hate
the
ideal
also
,
in
their
souls
.
They
want
to
explore
the
sewers
,
and
he’s
the
wizard
rat
that
swims
ahead
.
”
Still
Gerald
stood
and
stared
at
the
blind
haze
of
snow
outside
.
“
I
don’t
understand
your
terms
,
really
,
”
he
said
,
in
a
flat
,
doomed
voice
.
“
But
it
sounds
a
rum
sort
of
desire
.
”
“
I
suppose
we
want
the
same
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Only
we
want
to
take
a
quick
jump
downwards
,
in
a
sort
of
ecstasy
—
and
he
ebbs
with
the
stream
,
the
sewer
stream
.
”
Meanwhile
Gudrun
and
Ursula
waited
for
the
next
opportunity
to
talk
to
Loerke
.
It
was
no
use
beginning
when
the
men
were
there
.
Then
they
could
get
into
no
touch
with
the
isolated
little
sculptor
.
He
had
to
be
alone
with
them
.
And
he
preferred
Ursula
to
be
there
,
as
a
sort
of
transmitter
to
Gudrun
.
“
Do
you
do
nothing
but
architectural
sculpture
?
”
Gudrun
asked
him
one
evening
.
“
Not
now
,
”
he
replied
.
“
I
have
done
all
sorts
—
except
portraits
—
I
never
did
portraits
.
But
other
things
—
”
“
What
kind
of
things
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
He
paused
a
moment
,
then
rose
,
and
went
out
of
the
room
.
He
returned
almost
immediately
with
a
little
roll
of
paper
,
which
he
handed
to
her
.
She
unrolled
it
.
It
was
a
photogravure
reproduction
of
a
statuette
,
signed
F
.
Loerke
.
“
That
is
quite
an
early
thing
—
not
mechanical
,
”
he
said
,
“
more
popular
.
”
The
statuette
was
of
a
naked
girl
,
small
,
finely
made
,
sitting
on
a
great
naked
horse
.
The
girl
was
young
and
tender
,
a
mere
bud
.
She
was
sitting
sideways
on
the
horse
,
her
face
in
her
hands
,
as
if
in
shame
and
grief
,
in
a
little
abandon
.
Her
hair
,
which
was
short
and
must
be
flaxen
,
fell
forward
,
divided
,
half
covering
her
hands
.
Her
limbs
were
young
and
tender
.
Her
legs
,
scarcely
formed
yet
,
the
legs
of
a
maiden
just
passing
towards
cruel
womanhood
,
dangled
childishly
over
the
side
of
the
powerful
horse
,
pathetically
,
the
small
feet
folded
one
over
the
other
,
as
if
to
hide
.
But
there
was
no
hiding
.
There
she
was
exposed
naked
on
the
naked
flank
of
the
horse
.
The
horse
stood
stock
still
,
stretched
in
a
kind
of
start
.
It
was
a
massive
,
magnificent
stallion
,
rigid
with
pent-up
power
.
Its
neck
was
arched
and
terrible
,
like
a
sickle
,
its
flanks
were
pressed
back
,
rigid
with
power
.
Gudrun
went
pale
,
and
a
darkness
came
over
her
eyes
,
like
shame
,
she
looked
up
with
a
certain
supplication
,
almost
slave-like
.
He
glanced
at
her
,
and
jerked
his
head
a
little
.
“
How
big
is
it
?
”
she
asked
,
in
a
toneless
voice
,
persisting
in
appearing
casual
and
unaffected
.
“
How
big
?
”
he
replied
,
glancing
again
at
her
.
“
Without
pedestal
—
so
high
—
”
he
measured
with
his
hand
—
“
with
pedestal
,
so
—
”
He
looked
at
her
steadily
.
There
was
a
little
brusque
,
turgid
contempt
for
her
in
his
swift
gesture
,
and
she
seemed
to
cringe
a
little
.
“
And
what
is
it
done
in
?
”
she
asked
,
throwing
back
her
head
and
looking
at
him
with
affected
coldness
.
He
still
gazed
at
her
steadily
,
and
his
dominance
was
not
shaken
.
“
Bronze
—
green
bronze
.
”
“
Green
bronze
!
”
repeated
Gudrun
,
coldly
accepting
his
challenge
.
She
was
thinking
of
the
slender
,
immature
,
tender
limbs
of
the
girl
,
smooth
and
cold
in
green
bronze
.
“
Yes
,
beautiful
,
”
she
murmured
,
looking
up
at
him
with
a
certain
dark
homage
.
He
closed
his
eyes
and
looked
aside
,
triumphant
.
“
Why
,
”
said
Ursula
,
“
did
you
make
the
horse
so
stiff
?
It
is
as
stiff
as
a
block
.
”
“
Stiff
?
”
he
repeated
,
in
arms
at
once
.
“
Yes
.
Look
how
stock
and
stupid
and
brutal
it
is
.
Horses
are
sensitive
,
quite
delicate
and
sensitive
,
really
.
”
He
raised
his
shoulders
,
spread
his
hands
in
a
shrug
of
slow
indifference
,
as
much
as
to
inform
her
she
was
an
amateur
and
an
impertinent
nobody
.
“
Wissen
Sie
,
”
he
said
,
with
an
insulting
patience
and
condescension
in
his
voice
,
“
that
horse
is
a
certain
form
,
part
of
a
whole
form
.
It
is
part
of
a
work
of
art
,
a
piece
of
form
.
It
is
not
a
picture
of
a
friendly
horse
to
which
you
give
a
lump
of
sugar
,
do
you
see
—
it
is
part
of
a
work
of
art
,
it
has
no
relation
to
anything
outside
that
work
of
art
.
”
Ursula
,
angry
at
being
treated
quite
so
insultingly
de
haut
en
bas
,
from
the
height
of
esoteric
art
to
the
depth
of
general
exoteric
amateurism
,
replied
,
hotly
,
flushing
and
lifting
her
face
.
“
But
it
is
a
picture
of
a
horse
,
nevertheless
.
”
He
lifted
his
shoulders
in
another
shrug
.
“
As
you
like
—
it
is
not
a
picture
of
a
cow
,
certainly
.
”
Here
Gudrun
broke
in
,
flushed
and
brilliant
,
anxious
to
avoid
any
more
of
this
,
any
more
of
Ursula’s
foolish
persistence
in
giving
herself
away
.
“
What
do
you
mean
by
‘it
is
a
picture
of
a
horse
?
’
”
she
cried
at
her
sister
.
“
What
do
you
mean
by
a
horse
?
You
mean
an
idea
you
have
in
your
head
,
and
which
you
want
to
see
represented
.
There
is
another
idea
altogether
,
quite
another
idea
.
Call
it
a
horse
if
you
like
,
or
say
it
is
not
a
horse
.
I
have
just
as
much
right
to
say
that
your
horse
isn’t
a
horse
,
that
it
is
a
falsity
of
your
own
make-up
.
”
Ursula
wavered
,
baffled
.
Then
her
words
came
.
“
But
why
does
he
have
this
idea
of
a
horse
?
”
she
said
.
“
I
know
it
is
his
idea
.
I
know
it
is
a
picture
of
himself
,
really
—
”
Loerke
snorted
with
rage
.
“
A
picture
of
myself
!
”
he
repeated
,
in
derision
.
“
Wissen
sie
,
gnädige
Frau
,
that
is
a
Kunstwerk
,
a
work
of
art
.
It
is
a
work
of
art
,
it
is
a
picture
of
nothing
,
of
absolutely
nothing
.
It
has
nothing
to
do
with
anything
but
itself
,
it
has
no
relation
with
the
everyday
world
of
this
and
other
,
there
is
no
connection
between
them
,
absolutely
none
,
they
are
two
different
and
distinct
planes
of
existence
,
and
to
translate
one
into
the
other
is
worse
than
foolish
,
it
is
a
darkening
of
all
counsel
,
a
making
confusion
everywhere
.
Do
you
see
,
you
must
not
confuse
the
relative
work
of
action
,
with
the
absolute
world
of
art
.
That
you
must
not
do
.
”
“
That
is
quite
true
,
”
cried
Gudrun
,
let
loose
in
a
sort
of
rhapsody
.
“
The
two
things
are
quite
and
permanently
apart
,
they
have
nothing
to
do
with
one
another
.
I
and
my
art
,
they
have
nothing
to
do
with
each
other
.
My
art
stands
in
another
world
,
I
am
in
this
world
.
”
Her
face
was
flushed
and
transfigured
.
Loerke
who
was
sitting
with
his
head
ducked
,
like
some
creature
at
bay
,
looked
up
at
her
,
swiftly
,
almost
furtively
,
and
murmured
,
“
Ja
—
so
ist
es
,
so
ist
es
.
”
Ursula
was
silent
after
this
outburst
.
She
was
furious
.
She
wanted
to
poke
a
hole
into
them
both
.
“
It
isn’t
a
word
of
it
true
,
of
all
this
harangue
you
have
made
me
,
”
she
replied
flatly
.
“
The
horse
is
a
picture
of
your
own
stock
,
stupid
brutality
,
and
the
girl
was
a
girl
you
loved
and
tortured
and
then
ignored
.
”
He
looked
up
at
her
with
a
small
smile
of
contempt
in
his
eyes
.
He
would
not
trouble
to
answer
this
last
charge
.
Gudrun
too
was
silent
in
exasperated
contempt
.
Ursula
was
such
an
insufferable
outsider
,
rushing
in
where
angels
would
fear
to
tread
.
But
then
—
fools
must
be
suffered
,
if
not
gladly
.
But
Ursula
was
persistent
too
.
“
As
for
your
world
of
art
and
your
world
of
reality
,
”
she
replied
,
“
you
have
to
separate
the
two
,
because
you
can’t
bear
to
know
what
you
are
.
You
can’t
bear
to
realise
what
a
stock
,
stiff
,
hide-bound
brutality
you
are
really
,
so
you
say
‘it’s
the
world
of
art.’
The
world
of
art
is
only
the
truth
about
the
real
world
,
that’s
all
—
but
you
are
too
far
gone
to
see
it
.
”
She
was
white
and
trembling
,
intent
.
Gudrun
and
Loerke
sat
in
stiff
dislike
of
her
.
Gerald
too
,
who
had
come
up
in
the
beginning
of
the
speech
,
stood
looking
at
her
in
complete
disapproval
and
opposition
.
He
felt
she
was
undignified
,
she
put
a
sort
of
vulgarity
over
the
esotericism
which
gave
man
his
last
distinction
.
He
joined
his
forces
with
the
other
two
.
They
all
three
wanted
her
to
go
away
.
But
she
sat
on
in
silence
,
her
soul
weeping
,
throbbing
violently
,
her
fingers
twisting
her
handkerchief
.
The
others
maintained
a
dead
silence
,
letting
the
display
of
Ursula’s
obtrusiveness
pass
by
.
Then
Gudrun
asked
,
in
a
voice
that
was
quite
cool
and
casual
,
as
if
resuming
a
casual
conversation
:
“
Was
the
girl
a
model
?
”
“
Nein
,
sie
war
kein
Modell
.
Sie
war
eine
kleine
Malschülerin
.
”
“
An
art-student
!
”
replied
Gudrun
.
And
how
the
situation
revealed
itself
to
her
!
She
saw
the
girl
art-student
,
unformed
and
of
pernicious
recklessness
,
too
young
,
her
straight
flaxen
hair
cut
short
,
hanging
just
into
her
neck
,
curving
inwards
slightly
,
because
it
was
rather
thick
;
and
Loerke
,
the
well-known
master-sculptor
,
and
the
girl
,
probably
well-brought-up
,
and
of
good
family
,
thinking
herself
so
great
to
be
his
mistress
.
Oh
how
well
she
knew
the
common
callousness
of
it
all
.
Dresden
,
Paris
,
or
London
,
what
did
it
matter
?
She
knew
it
.
“
Where
is
she
now
?
”
Ursula
asked
.
Loerke
raised
his
shoulders
,
to
convey
his
complete
ignorance
and
indifference
.
“
That
is
already
six
years
ago
,
”
he
said
;
“
she
will
be
twenty-three
years
old
,
no
more
good
.
”
Gerald
had
picked
up
the
picture
and
was
looking
at
it
.
It
attracted
him
also
.
He
saw
on
the
pedestal
,
that
the
piece
was
called
“
Lady
Godiva
.
”
“
But
this
isn’t
Lady
Godiva
,
”
he
said
,
smiling
good-humouredly
.
“
She
was
the
middle-aged
wife
of
some
Earl
or
other
,
who
covered
herself
with
her
long
hair
.
”
“
À
la
Maud
Allan
,
”
said
Gudrun
with
a
mocking
grimace
.
“
Why
Maud
Allan
?
”
he
replied
.
“
Isn’t
it
so
?
I
always
thought
the
legend
was
that
.
”
“
Yes
,
Gerald
dear
,
I’m
quite
sure
you’ve
got
the
legend
perfectly
.
”
She
was
laughing
at
him
,
with
a
little
,
mock-caressive
contempt
.
“
To
be
sure
,
I’d
rather
see
the
woman
than
the
hair
,
”
he
laughed
in
return
.
“
Wouldn’t
you
just
!
”
mocked
Gudrun
.
Ursula
rose
and
went
away
,
leaving
the
three
together
.
Gudrun
took
the
picture
again
from
Gerald
,
and
sat
looking
at
it
closely
.
“
Of
course
,
”
she
said
,
turning
to
tease
Loerke
now
,
“
you
understood
your
little
Malschülerin
.
”
He
raised
his
eyebrows
and
his
shoulders
in
a
complacent
shrug
.
“
The
little
girl
?
”
asked
Gerald
,
pointing
to
the
figure
.
Gudrun
was
sitting
with
the
picture
in
her
lap
.
She
looked
up
at
Gerald
,
full
into
his
eyes
,
so
that
he
seemed
to
be
blinded
.
“
Didn’t
he
understand
her
!
”
she
said
to
Gerald
,
in
a
slightly
mocking
,
humorous
playfulness
.
“
You’ve
only
to
look
at
the
feet
—
aren’t
they
darling
,
so
pretty
and
tender
—
oh
,
they’re
really
wonderful
,
they
are
really
—
”
She
lifted
her
eyes
slowly
,
with
a
hot
,
flaming
look
into
Loerke’s
eyes
.
His
soul
was
filled
with
her
burning
recognition
,
he
seemed
to
grow
more
uppish
and
lordly
.
Gerald
looked
at
the
small
,
sculptured
feet
.
They
were
turned
together
,
half
covering
each
other
in
pathetic
shyness
and
fear
.
He
looked
at
them
a
long
time
,
fascinated
.
Then
,
in
some
pain
,
he
put
the
picture
away
from
him
.
He
felt
full
of
barrenness
.
“
What
was
her
name
?
”
Gudrun
asked
Loerke
.
“
Annette
von
Weck
,
”
Loerke
replied
reminiscent
.
“
Ja
,
sie
war
hübsch
.
She
was
pretty
—
but
she
was
tiresome
.
She
was
a
nuisance
,
—
not
for
a
minute
would
she
keep
still
—
not
until
I’d
slapped
her
hard
and
made
her
cry
—
then
she’d
sit
for
five
minutes
.
”
He
was
thinking
over
the
work
,
his
work
,
the
all
important
to
him
.
“
Did
you
really
slap
her
?
”
asked
Gudrun
,
coolly
.
He
glanced
back
at
her
,
reading
her
challenge
.
“
Yes
,
I
did
,
”
he
said
,
nonchalant
,
“
harder
than
I
have
ever
beat
anything
in
my
life
.
I
had
to
,
I
had
to
.
It
was
the
only
way
I
got
the
work
done
.
”
Gudrun
watched
him
with
large
,
dark-filled
eyes
,
for
some
moments
.
She
seemed
to
be
considering
his
very
soul
.
Then
she
looked
down
,
in
silence
.
“
Why
did
you
have
such
a
young
Godiva
then
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
She
is
so
small
,
besides
,
on
the
horse
—
not
big
enough
for
it
—
such
a
child
.
”
A
queer
spasm
went
over
Loerke’s
face
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
don’t
like
them
any
bigger
,
any
older
.
Then
they
are
beautiful
,
at
sixteen
,
seventeen
,
eighteen
—
after
that
,
they
are
no
use
to
me
.
”
There
was
a
moment’s
pause
.
“
Why
not
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
Loerke
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
“
I
don’t
find
them
interesting
—
or
beautiful
—
they
are
no
good
to
me
,
for
my
work
.
”
“
Do
you
mean
to
say
a
woman
isn’t
beautiful
after
she
is
twenty
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
For
me
,
no.
Before
twenty
,
she
is
small
and
fresh
and
tender
and
slight
.
After
that
—
let
her
be
what
she
likes
,
she
has
nothing
for
me
.
The
Venus
of
Milo
is
a
bourgeoise
—
so
are
they
all
.
”
“
And
you
don’t
care
for
women
at
all
after
twenty
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
They
are
no
good
to
me
,
they
are
of
no
use
in
my
art
,
”
Loerke
repeated
impatiently
.
“
I
don’t
find
them
beautiful
.
”
“
You
are
an
epicure
,
”
said
Gerald
,
with
a
slight
sarcastic
laugh
.
“
And
what
about
men
?
”
asked
Gudrun
suddenly
.
“
Yes
,
they
are
good
at
all
ages
,
”
replied
Loerke
.
“
A
man
should
be
big
and
powerful
—
whether
he
is
old
or
young
is
of
no
account
,
so
he
has
the
size
,
something
of
massiveness
and
—
and
stupid
form
.
”
Ursula
went
out
alone
into
the
world
of
pure
,
new
snow
.
But
the
dazzling
whiteness
seemed
to
beat
upon
her
till
it
hurt
her
,
she
felt
the
cold
was
slowly
strangling
her
soul
.
Her
head
felt
dazed
and
numb
.
Suddenly
she
wanted
to
go
away
.
It
occurred
to
her
,
like
a
miracle
,
that
she
might
go
away
into
another
world
.
She
had
felt
so
doomed
up
here
in
the
eternal
snow
,
as
if
there
were
no
beyond
.
Now
suddenly
,
as
by
a
miracle
she
remembered
that
away
beyond
,
below
her
,
lay
the
dark
fruitful
earth
,
that
towards
the
south
there
were
stretches
of
land
dark
with
orange
trees
and
cypress
,
grey
with
olives
,
that
ilex
trees
lifted
wonderful
plumy
tufts
in
shadow
against
a
blue
sky
.
Miracle
of
miracles
!
—
this
utterly
silent
,
frozen
world
of
the
mountain-tops
was
not
universal
!
One
might
leave
it
and
have
done
with
it
.
One
might
go
away
.
She
wanted
to
realise
the
miracle
at
once
.
She
wanted
at
this
instant
to
have
done
with
the
snow-world
,
the
terrible
,
static
ice-built
mountain
tops
.
She
wanted
to
see
the
dark
earth
,
to
smell
its
earthy
fecundity
,
to
see
the
patient
wintry
vegetation
,
to
feel
the
sunshine
touch
a
response
in
the
buds
.
She
went
back
gladly
to
the
house
,
full
of
hope
.
Birkin
was
reading
,
lying
in
bed
.
“
Rupert
,
”
she
said
,
bursting
in
on
him
.
“
I
want
to
go
away
.
”
He
looked
up
at
her
slowly
.
“
Do
you
?
”
he
replied
mildly
.
She
sat
by
him
und
put
her
arms
round
his
neck
.
It
surprised
her
that
he
was
so
little
surprised
.
“
Don’t
you
?
”
she
asked
troubled
.
“
I
hadn’t
thought
about
it
,
”
he
said
.
“
But
I’m
sure
I
do
.
”
She
sat
up
,
suddenly
erect
.
“
I
hate
it
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
hate
the
snow
,
and
the
unnaturalness
of
it
,
the
unnatural
light
it
throws
on
everybody
,
the
ghastly
glamour
,
the
unnatural
feelings
it
makes
everybody
have
.
”
He
lay
still
and
laughed
,
meditating
.
“
Well
,
”
he
said
,
“
we
can
go
away
—
we
can
go
tomorrow
.
We’ll
go
tomorrow
to
Verona
,
and
find
Romeo
and
Juliet
,
and
sit
in
the
amphitheatre
—
shall
we
?
”
Suddenly
she
hid
her
face
against
his
shoulder
with
perplexity
and
shyness
.
He
lay
so
untrammelled
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
softly
,
filled
with
relief
.
She
felt
her
soul
had
new
wings
,
now
he
was
so
uncaring
.
“
I
shall
love
to
be
Romeo
and
Juliet
,
”
she
said
.
“
My
love
!
”
“
Though
a
fearfully
cold
wind
blows
in
Verona
,
”
he
said
,
“
from
out
of
the
Alps
.
We
shall
have
the
smell
of
the
snow
in
our
noses
.
”
She
sat
up
and
looked
at
him
.
“
Are
you
glad
to
go
?
”
she
asked
,
troubled
.
His
eyes
were
inscrutable
and
laughing
.
She
hid
her
face
against
his
neck
,
clinging
close
to
him
,
pleading
:
“
Don’t
laugh
at
me
—
don’t
laugh
at
me
.
”
“
Why
how’s
that
?
”
he
laughed
,
putting
his
arms
round
her
.
“
Because
I
don’t
want
to
be
laughed
at
,
”
she
whispered
.
He
laughed
more
,
as
he
kissed
her
delicate
,
finely
perfumed
hair
.
“
Do
you
love
me
?
”
she
whispered
,
in
wild
seriousness
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
answered
,
laughing
.
Suddenly
she
lifted
her
mouth
to
be
kissed
.
Her
lips
were
taut
and
quivering
and
strenuous
,
his
were
soft
,
deep
and
delicate
.
He
waited
a
few
moments
in
the
kiss
.
Then
a
shade
of
sadness
went
over
his
soul
.
“
Your
mouth
is
so
hard
,
”
he
said
,
in
faint
reproach
.
“
And
yours
is
so
soft
and
nice
,
”
she
said
gladly
.
“
But
why
do
you
always
grip
your
lips
?
”
he
asked
,
regretful
.
“
Never
mind
,
”
she
said
swiftly
.
“
It
is
my
way
.
”
She
knew
he
loved
her
;
she
was
sure
of
him
.
Yet
she
could
not
let
go
a
certain
hold
over
herself
,
she
could
not
bear
him
to
question
her
.
She
gave
herself
up
in
delight
to
being
loved
by
him
.
She
knew
that
,
in
spite
of
his
joy
when
she
abandoned
herself
,
he
was
a
little
bit
saddened
too
.
She
could
give
herself
up
to
his
activity
.
But
she
could
not
be
herself
,
she
dared
not
come
forth
quite
nakedly
to
his
nakedness
,
abandoning
all
adjustment
,
lapsing
in
pure
faith
with
him
.
She
abandoned
herself
to
him
,
or
she
took
hold
of
him
and
gathered
her
joy
of
him
.
And
she
enjoyed
him
fully
.
But
they
were
never
quite
together
,
at
the
same
moment
,
one
was
always
a
little
left
out
.
Nevertheless
she
was
glad
in
hope
,
glorious
and
free
,
full
of
life
and
liberty
.
And
he
was
still
and
soft
and
patient
,
for
the
time
.
They
made
their
preparations
to
leave
the
next
day
.
First
they
went
to
Gudrun’s
room
,
where
she
and
Gerald
were
just
dressed
ready
for
the
evening
indoors
.
“
Prune
,
”
said
Ursula
,
“
I
think
we
shall
go
away
tomorrow
.
I
can’t
stand
the
snow
any
more
.
It
hurts
my
skin
and
my
soul
.
”
“
Does
it
really
hurt
your
soul
,
Ursula
?
”
asked
Gudrun
,
in
some
surprise
.
“
I
can
believe
quite
it
hurts
your
skin
—
it
is
terrible
.
But
I
thought
it
was
admirable
for
the
soul
.
”
“
No
,
not
for
mine
.
It
just
injures
it
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Really
!
”
cried
Gudrun
.
There
was
a
silence
in
the
room
.
And
Ursula
and
Birkin
could
feel
that
Gudrun
and
Gerald
were
relieved
by
their
going
.
“
You
will
go
south
?
”
said
Gerald
,
a
little
ring
of
uneasiness
in
his
voice
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
Birkin
,
turning
away
.
There
was
a
queer
,
indefinable
hostility
between
the
two
men
,
lately
.
Birkin
was
on
the
whole
dim
and
indifferent
,
drifting
along
in
a
dim
,
easy
flow
,
unnoticing
and
patient
,
since
he
came
abroad
,
whilst
Gerald
on
the
other
hand
,
was
intense
and
gripped
into
white
light
,
agonistes
.
The
two
men
revoked
one
another
.
Gerald
and
Gudrun
were
very
kind
to
the
two
who
were
departing
,
solicitous
for
their
welfare
as
if
they
were
two
children
.
Gudrun
came
to
Ursula’s
bedroom
with
three
pairs
of
the
coloured
stockings
for
which
she
was
notorious
,
and
she
threw
them
on
the
bed
.
But
these
were
thick
silk
stockings
,
vermilion
,
cornflower
blue
,
and
grey
,
bought
in
Paris
.
The
grey
ones
were
knitted
,
seamless
and
heavy
.
Ursula
was
in
raptures
.
She
knew
Gudrun
must
be
feeling
very
loving
,
to
give
away
such
treasures
.
“
I
can’t
take
them
from
you
,
Prune
,
”
she
cried
.
“
I
can’t
possibly
deprive
you
of
them
—
the
jewels
.
”
“
Aren’t
they
jewels
!
”
cried
Gudrun
,
eyeing
her
gifts
with
an
envious
eye
.
“
Aren’t
they
real
lambs
!
”
“
Yes
,
you
must
keep
them
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
I
don’t
want
them
,
I’ve
got
three
more
pairs
.
I
want
you
to
keep
them
—
I
want
you
to
have
them
.
They’re
yours
,
there
—
”
And
with
trembling
,
excited
hands
she
put
the
coveted
stockings
under
Ursula’s
pillow
.
“
One
gets
the
greatest
joy
of
all
out
of
really
lovely
stockings
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
One
does
,
”
replied
Gudrun
;
“
the
greatest
joy
of
all
.
”
And
she
sat
down
in
the
chair
.
It
was
evident
she
had
come
for
a
last
talk
.
Ursula
,
not
knowing
what
she
wanted
,
waited
in
silence
.
“
Do
you
feel
,
Ursula
,
”
Gudrun
began
,
rather
sceptically
,
that
you
are
going-away-for-ever
,
never-to-return
,
sort
of
thing
?
”
“
Oh
,
we
shall
come
back
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
It
isn’t
a
question
of
train-journeys
.
”
“
Yes
,
I
know
.
But
spiritually
,
so
to
speak
,
you
are
going
away
from
us
all
?
”
Ursula
quivered
.
“
I
don’t
know
a
bit
what
is
going
to
happen
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
only
know
we
are
going
somewhere
.
”
Gudrun
waited
.
“
And
you
are
glad
?
”
she
asked
.
Ursula
meditated
for
a
moment
.
“
I
believe
I
am
very
glad
,
”
she
replied
.
But
Gudrun
read
the
unconscious
brightness
on
her
sister’s
face
,
rather
than
the
uncertain
tones
of
her
speech
.
“
But
don’t
you
think
you’ll
want
the
old
connection
with
the
world
—
father
and
the
rest
of
us
,
and
all
that
it
means
,
England
and
the
world
of
thought
—
don’t
you
think
you’ll
need
that
,
really
to
make
a
world
?
”
Ursula
was
silent
,
trying
to
imagine
.
“
I
think
,
”
she
said
at
length
,
involuntarily
,
“
that
Rupert
is
right
—
one
wants
a
new
space
to
be
in
,
and
one
falls
away
from
the
old
.
”
Gudrun
watched
her
sister
with
impassive
face
and
steady
eyes
.
“
One
wants
a
new
space
to
be
in
,
I
quite
agree
,
”
she
said
.
“
But
I
think
that
a
new
world
is
a
development
from
this
world
,
and
that
to
isolate
oneself
with
one
other
person
,
isn’t
to
find
a
new
world
at
all
,
but
only
to
secure
oneself
in
one’s
illusions
.
”
Ursula
looked
out
of
the
window
.
In
her
soul
she
began
to
wrestle
,
and
she
was
frightened
.
She
was
always
frightened
of
words
,
because
she
knew
that
mere
word-force
could
always
make
her
believe
what
she
did
not
believe
.
“
Perhaps
,
”
she
said
,
full
of
mistrust
,
of
herself
and
everybody
.
“
But
,
”
she
added
,
“
I
do
think
that
one
can’t
have
anything
new
whilst
one
cares
for
the
old
—
do
you
know
what
I
mean
?
—
even
fighting
the
old
is
belonging
to
it
.
I
know
,
one
is
tempted
to
stop
with
the
world
,
just
to
fight
it
.
But
then
it
isn’t
worth
it
.
”
Gudrun
considered
herself
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
.
“
In
a
way
,
one
is
of
the
world
if
one
lives
in
it
.
But
isn’t
it
really
an
illusion
to
think
you
can
get
out
of
it
?
After
all
,
a
cottage
in
the
Abruzzi
,
or
wherever
it
may
be
,
isn’t
a
new
world
.
No
,
the
only
thing
to
do
with
the
world
,
is
to
see
it
through
.
”
Ursula
looked
away
.
She
was
so
frightened
of
argument
.
“
But
there
can
be
something
else
,
can’t
there
?
”
she
said
.
“
One
can
see
it
through
in
one’s
soul
,
long
enough
before
it
sees
itself
through
in
actuality
.
And
then
,
when
one
has
seen
one’s
soul
,
one
is
something
else
.
”
“
Can
one
see
it
through
in
one’s
soul
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
“
If
you
mean
that
you
can
see
to
the
end
of
what
will
happen
,
I
don’t
agree
.
I
really
can’t
agree
.
And
anyhow
,
you
can’t
suddenly
fly
off
on
to
a
new
planet
,
because
you
think
you
can
see
to
the
end
of
this
.
”
Ursula
suddenly
straightened
herself
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
.
“
Yes
—
one
knows
.
One
has
no
more
connections
here
.
One
has
a
sort
of
other
self
,
that
belongs
to
a
new
planet
,
not
to
this
.
You’ve
got
to
hop
off
.
”
Gudrun
reflected
for
a
few
moments
.
Then
a
smile
of
ridicule
,
almost
of
contempt
,
came
over
her
face
.
“
And
what
will
happen
when
you
find
yourself
in
space
?
”
she
cried
in
derision
.
“
After
all
,
the
great
ideas
of
the
world
are
the
same
there
.
You
above
everybody
can’t
get
away
from
the
fact
that
love
,
for
instance
,
is
the
supreme
thing
,
in
space
as
well
as
on
earth
.
”
“
No
,
”
said
Ursula
,
“
it
isn’t
.
Love
is
too
human
and
little
.
I
believe
in
something
inhuman
,
of
which
love
is
only
a
little
part
.
I
believe
what
we
must
fulfil
comes
out
of
the
unknown
to
us
,
and
it
is
something
infinitely
more
than
love
.
It
isn’t
so
merely
human
.
”
Gudrun
looked
at
Ursula
with
steady
,
balancing
eyes
.
She
admired
and
despised
her
sister
so
much
,
both
!
Then
,
suddenly
she
averted
her
face
,
saying
coldly
,
uglily
:
“
Well
,
I’ve
got
no
further
than
love
,
yet
.
”
Over
Ursula’s
mind
flashed
the
thought
:
“
Because
you
never
have
loved
,
you
can’t
get
beyond
it
.
”
Gudrun
rose
,
came
over
to
Ursula
and
put
her
arm
round
her
neck
.
“
Go
and
find
your
new
world
,
dear
,
”
she
said
,
her
voice
clanging
with
false
benignity
.
“
After
all
,
the
happiest
voyage
is
the
quest
of
Rupert’s
Blessed
Isles
.
”
Her
arm
rested
round
Ursula’s
neck
,
her
fingers
on
Ursula’s
cheek
for
a
few
moments
.
Ursula
was
supremely
uncomfortable
meanwhile
.
There
was
an
insult
in
Gudrun’s
protective
patronage
that
was
really
too
hurting
.
Feeling
her
sister’s
resistance
,
Gudrun
drew
awkwardly
away
,
turned
over
the
pillow
,
and
disclosed
the
stockings
again
.
“
Ha
—
ha
!
”
she
laughed
,
rather
hollowly
.
“
How
we
do
talk
indeed
—
new
worlds
and
old
—
!
”
And
they
passed
to
the
familiar
worldly
subjects
.
Gerald
and
Birkin
had
walked
on
ahead
,
waiting
for
the
sledge
to
overtake
them
,
conveying
the
departing
guests
.
“
How
much
longer
will
you
stay
here
?
”
asked
Birkin
,
glancing
up
at
Gerald’s
very
red
,
almost
blank
face
.
“
Oh
,
I
can’t
say
,
”
Gerald
replied
.
“
Till
we
get
tired
of
it
.
”
“
You’re
not
afraid
of
the
snow
melting
first
?
”
asked
Birkin
.
Gerald
laughed
.
“
Does
it
melt
?
”
he
said
.
“
Things
are
all
right
with
you
then
?
”
said
Birkin
.
Gerald
screwed
up
his
eyes
a
little
.
“
All
right
?
”
he
said
.
“
I
never
know
what
those
common
words
mean
.
All
right
and
all
wrong
,
don’t
they
become
synonymous
,
somewhere
?
”
“
Yes
,
I
suppose
.
How
about
going
back
?
”
asked
Birkin
.
“
Oh
,
I
don’t
know
.
We
may
never
get
back
.
I
don’t
look
before
and
after
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Nor
pine
for
what
is
not
,
”
said
Birkin
.
Gerald
looked
into
the
distance
,
with
the
small-pupilled
,
abstract
eyes
of
a
hawk
.
“
No.
There’s
something
final
about
this
.
And
Gudrun
seems
like
the
end
,
to
me
.
I
don’t
know
—
but
she
seems
so
soft
,
her
skin
like
silk
,
her
arms
heavy
and
soft
.
And
it
withers
my
consciousness
,
somehow
,
it
burns
the
pith
of
my
mind
.
”
He
went
on
a
few
paces
,
staring
ahead
,
his
eyes
fixed
,
looking
like
a
mask
used
in
ghastly
religions
of
the
barbarians
.
“
It
blasts
your
soul’s
eye
,
”
he
said
,
“
and
leaves
you
sightless
.
Yet
you
want
to
be
sightless
,
you
want
to
be
blasted
,
you
don’t
want
it
any
different
.
”
He
was
speaking
as
if
in
a
trance
,
verbal
and
blank
.
Then
suddenly
he
braced
himself
up
with
a
kind
of
rhapsody
,
and
looked
at
Birkin
with
vindictive
,
cowed
eyes
,
saying
:
“
Do
you
know
what
it
is
to
suffer
when
you
are
with
a
woman
?
She’s
so
beautiful
,
so
perfect
,
you
find
her
so
good
,
it
tears
you
like
a
silk
,
and
every
stroke
and
bit
cuts
hot
—
ha
,
that
perfection
,
when
you
blast
yourself
,
you
blast
yourself
!
And
then
—
”
he
stopped
on
the
snow
and
suddenly
opened
his
clenched
hands
—
“
it’s
nothing
—
your
brain
might
have
gone
charred
as
rags
—
and
—
”
he
looked
round
into
the
air
with
a
queer
histrionic
movement
“
it’s
blasting
—
you
understand
what
I
mean
—
it
is
a
great
experience
,
something
final
—
and
then
—
you’re
shrivelled
as
if
struck
by
electricity
.
”
He
walked
on
in
silence
.
It
seemed
like
bragging
,
but
like
a
man
in
extremity
bragging
truthfully
.
“
Of
course
,
”
he
resumed
,
“
I
wouldn’t
not
have
had
it
!
It’s
a
complete
experience
.
And
she’s
a
wonderful
woman
.
But
—
how
I
hate
her
somewhere
!
It’s
curious
—
”
Birkin
looked
at
him
,
at
his
strange
,
scarcely
conscious
face
.
Gerald
seemed
blank
before
his
own
words
.
“
But
you’ve
had
enough
now
?
”
said
Birkin
.
“
You
have
had
your
experience
.
Why
work
on
an
old
wound
?
”
“
Oh
,
”
said
Gerald
,
“
I
don’t
know
.
It’s
not
finished
—
”
And
the
two
walked
on
.
“
I’ve
loved
you
,
as
well
as
Gudrun
,
don’t
forget
,
”
said
Birkin
bitterly
.
Gerald
looked
at
him
strangely
,
abstractedly
.
“
Have
you
?
”
he
said
,
with
icy
scepticism
.
“
Or
do
you
think
you
have
?
”
He
was
hardly
responsible
for
what
he
said
.
The
sledge
came
.
Gudrun
dismounted
and
they
all
made
their
farewell
.
They
wanted
to
go
apart
,
all
of
them
.
Birkin
took
his
place
,
and
the
sledge
drove
away
leaving
Gudrun
and
Gerald
standing
on
the
snow
,
waving
.
Something
froze
Birkin’s
heart
,
seeing
them
standing
there
in
the
isolation
of
the
snow
,
growing
smaller
and
more
isolated
.
CHAPTER
XXX
.
SNOWED
UP
When
Ursula
and
Birkin
were
gone
,
Gudrun
felt
herself
free
in
her
contest
with
Gerald
.
As
they
grew
more
used
to
each
other
,
he
seemed
to
press
upon
her
more
and
more
.
At
first
she
could
manage
him
,
so
that
her
own
will
was
always
left
free
.
But
very
soon
,
he
began
to
ignore
her
female
tactics
,
he
dropped
his
respect
for
her
whims
and
her
privacies
,
he
began
to
exert
his
own
will
blindly
,
without
submitting
to
hers
.
Already
a
vital
conflict
had
set
in
,
which
frightened
them
both
.
But
he
was
alone
,
whilst
already
she
had
begun
to
cast
round
for
external
resource
.
When
Ursula
had
gone
,
Gudrun
felt
her
own
existence
had
become
stark
and
elemental
.
She
went
and
crouched
alone
in
her
bedroom
,
looking
out
of
the
window
at
the
big
,
flashing
stars
.
In
front
was
the
faint
shadow
of
the
mountain-knot
.
That
was
the
pivot
.
She
felt
strange
and
inevitable
,
as
if
she
were
centred
upon
the
pivot
of
all
existence
,
there
was
no
further
reality
.
Presently
Gerald
opened
the
door
.
She
knew
he
would
not
be
long
before
he
came
.
She
was
rarely
alone
,
he
pressed
upon
her
like
a
frost
,
deadening
her
.
“
Are
you
alone
in
the
dark
?
”
he
said
.
And
she
could
tell
by
his
tone
he
resented
it
,
he
resented
this
isolation
she
had
drawn
round
herself
.
Yet
,
feeling
static
and
inevitable
,
she
was
kind
towards
him
.
“
Would
you
like
to
light
the
candle
?
”
she
asked
.
He
did
not
answer
,
but
came
and
stood
behind
her
,
in
the
darkness
.
“
Look
,
”
she
said
,
“
at
that
lovely
star
up
there
.
Do
you
know
its
name
?
”
He
crouched
beside
her
,
to
look
through
the
low
window
.
“
No
,
”
he
said
.
“
It
is
very
fine
.
”
“
Isn’t
it
beautiful
!
Do
you
notice
how
it
darts
different
coloured
fires
—
it
flashes
really
superbly
—
”
They
remained
in
silence
.
With
a
mute
,
heavy
gesture
she
put
her
hand
on
his
knee
,
and
took
his
hand
.
“
Are
you
regretting
Ursula
?
”
he
asked
.
“
No
,
not
at
all
,
”
she
said
.
Then
,
in
a
slow
mood
,
she
asked
:
“
How
much
do
you
love
me
?
”
He
stiffened
himself
further
against
her
.
“
How
much
do
you
think
I
do
?
”
he
asked
.
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
she
replied
.
“
But
what
is
your
opinion
?
”
he
asked
.
There
was
a
pause
.
At
length
,
in
the
darkness
,
came
her
voice
,
hard
and
indifferent
:
“
Very
little
indeed
,
”
she
said
coldly
,
almost
flippant
.
His
heart
went
icy
at
the
sound
of
her
voice
.
“
Why
don’t
I
love
you
?
”
he
asked
,
as
if
admitting
the
truth
of
her
accusation
,
yet
hating
her
for
it
.
“
I
don’t
know
why
you
don’t
—
I’ve
been
good
to
you
.
You
were
in
a
fearful
state
when
you
came
to
me
.
”
Her
heart
was
beating
to
suffocate
her
,
yet
she
was
strong
and
unrelenting
.
“
When
was
I
in
a
fearful
state
?
”
he
asked
.
“
When
you
first
came
to
me
.
I
had
to
take
pity
on
you
.
But
it
was
never
love
.
”
It
was
that
statement
“
It
was
never
love
,
”
which
sounded
in
his
ears
with
madness
.
“
Why
must
you
repeat
it
so
often
,
that
there
is
no
love
?
”
he
said
in
a
voice
strangled
with
rage
.
“
Well
you
don’t
think
you
love
,
do
you
?
”
she
asked
.
He
was
silent
with
cold
passion
of
anger
.
“
You
don’t
think
you
can
love
me
,
do
you
?
”
she
repeated
almost
with
a
sneer
.
“
No
,
”
he
said
.
“
You
know
you
never
have
loved
me
,
don’t
you
?
”
“
I
don’t
know
what
you
mean
by
the
word
“
love
,
”
he
replied
.
“
Yes
,
you
do
.
You
know
all
right
that
you
have
never
loved
me
.
Have
you
,
do
you
think
?
”
“
No
,
”
he
said
,
prompted
by
some
barren
spirit
of
truthfulness
and
obstinacy
.
“
And
you
never
will
love
me
,
”
she
said
finally
,
“
will
you
?
”
There
was
a
diabolic
coldness
in
her
,
too
much
to
bear
.
“
No
,
”
he
said
.
“
Then
,
”
she
replied
,
“
what
have
you
against
me
!
”
He
was
silent
in
cold
,
frightened
rage
and
despair
.
“
If
only
I
could
kill
her
,
”
his
heart
was
whispering
repeatedly
.
“
If
only
I
could
kill
her
—
I
should
be
free
.
”
It
seemed
to
him
that
death
was
the
only
severing
of
this
Gordian
knot
.
“
Why
do
you
torture
me
?
”
he
said
.
She
flung
her
arms
round
his
neck
.
“
Ah
,
I
don’t
want
to
torture
you
,
”
she
said
pityingly
,
as
if
she
were
comforting
a
child
.
The
impertinence
made
his
veins
go
cold
,
he
was
insensible
.
She
held
her
arms
round
his
neck
,
in
a
triumph
of
pity
.
And
her
pity
for
him
was
as
cold
as
stone
,
its
deepest
motive
was
hate
of
him
,
and
fear
of
his
power
over
her
,
which
she
must
always
counterfoil
.
“
Say
you
love
me
,
”
she
pleaded
.
“
Say
you
will
love
me
for
ever
—
won’t
you
—
won’t
you
?
”
But
it
was
her
voice
only
that
coaxed
him
.
Her
senses
were
entirely
apart
from
him
,
cold
and
destructive
of
him
.
It
was
her
overbearing
will
that
insisted
.
“
Won’t
you
say
you’ll
love
me
always
?
”
she
coaxed
.
“
Say
it
,
even
if
it
isn’t
true
—
say
it
Gerald
,
do
.
”
“
I
will
love
you
always
,
”
he
repeated
,
in
real
agony
,
forcing
the
words
out
.
She
gave
him
a
quick
kiss
.
“
Fancy
your
actually
having
said
it
,
”
she
said
with
a
touch
of
raillery
.
He
stood
as
if
he
had
been
beaten
.
“
Try
to
love
me
a
little
more
,
and
to
want
me
a
little
less
,
”
she
said
,
in
a
half
contemptuous
,
half
coaxing
tone
.
The
darkness
seemed
to
be
swaying
in
waves
across
his
mind
,
great
waves
of
darkness
plunging
across
his
mind
.
It
seemed
to
him
he
was
degraded
at
the
very
quick
,
made
of
no
account
.
“
You
mean
you
don’t
want
me
?
”
he
said
.
“
You
are
so
insistent
,
and
there
is
so
little
grace
in
you
,
so
little
fineness
.
You
are
so
crude
.
You
break
me
—
you
only
waste
me
—
it
is
horrible
to
me
.
”
“
Horrible
to
you
?
”
he
repeated
.
“
Yes
.
Don’t
you
think
I
might
have
a
room
to
myself
,
now
Ursula
has
gone
?
You
can
say
you
want
a
dressing
room
.
”
“
You
do
as
you
like
—
you
can
leave
altogether
if
you
like
,
”
he
managed
to
articulate
.
“
Yes
,
I
know
that
,
”
she
replied
.
“
So
can
you
.
You
can
leave
me
whenever
you
like
—
without
notice
even
.
”
The
great
tides
of
darkness
were
swinging
across
his
mind
,
he
could
hardly
stand
upright
.
A
terrible
weariness
overcame
him
,
he
felt
he
must
lie
on
the
floor
.
Dropping
off
his
clothes
,
he
got
into
bed
,
and
lay
like
a
man
suddenly
overcome
by
drunkenness
,
the
darkness
lifting
and
plunging
as
if
he
were
lying
upon
a
black
,
giddy
sea
.
He
lay
still
in
this
strange
,
horrific
reeling
for
some
time
,
purely
unconscious
.
At
length
she
slipped
from
her
own
bed
and
came
over
to
him
.
He
remained
rigid
,
his
back
to
her
.
He
was
all
but
unconscious
.
She
put
her
arms
round
his
terrifying
,
insentient
body
,
and
laid
her
cheek
against
his
hard
shoulder
.
“
Gerald
,
”
she
whispered
.
“
Gerald
.
”
There
was
no
change
in
him
.
She
caught
him
against
her
.
She
pressed
her
breasts
against
his
shoulders
,
she
kissed
his
shoulder
,
through
the
sleeping
jacket
.
Her
mind
wondered
,
over
his
rigid
,
unliving
body
.
She
was
bewildered
,
and
insistent
,
only
her
will
was
set
for
him
to
speak
to
her
.
“
Gerald
,
my
dear
!
”
she
whispered
,
bending
over
him
,
kissing
his
ear
.
Her
warm
breath
playing
,
flying
rhythmically
over
his
ear
,
seemed
to
relax
the
tension
.
She
could
feel
his
body
gradually
relaxing
a
little
,
losing
its
terrifying
,
unnatural
rigidity
.
Her
hands
clutched
his
limbs
,
his
muscles
,
going
over
him
spasmodically
.
The
hot
blood
began
to
flow
again
through
his
veins
,
his
limbs
relaxed
.
“
Turn
round
to
me
,
”
she
whispered
,
forlorn
with
insistence
and
triumph
.
So
at
last
he
was
given
again
,
warm
and
flexible
.
He
turned
and
gathered
her
in
his
arms
.
And
feeling
her
soft
against
him
,
so
perfectly
and
wondrously
soft
and
recipient
,
his
arms
tightened
on
her
.
She
was
as
if
crushed
,
powerless
in
him
.
His
brain
seemed
hard
and
invincible
now
like
a
jewel
,
there
was
no
resisting
him
.
His
passion
was
awful
to
her
,
tense
and
ghastly
,
and
impersonal
,
like
a
destruction
,
ultimate
.
She
felt
it
would
kill
her
.
She
was
being
killed
.
“
My
God
,
my
God
,
”
she
cried
,
in
anguish
,
in
his
embrace
,
feeling
her
life
being
killed
within
her
.
And
when
he
was
kissing
her
,
soothing
her
,
her
breath
came
slowly
,
as
if
she
were
really
spent
,
dying
.
“
Shall
I
die
,
shall
I
die
?
”
she
repeated
to
herself
.
And
in
the
night
,
and
in
him
,
there
was
no
answer
to
the
question
.
And
yet
,
next
day
,
the
fragment
of
her
which
was
not
destroyed
remained
intact
and
hostile
,
she
did
not
go
away
,
she
remained
to
finish
the
holiday
,
admitting
nothing
.
He
scarcely
ever
left
her
alone
,
but
followed
her
like
a
shadow
,
he
was
like
a
doom
upon
her
,
a
continual
“
thou
shalt
,
”
“
thou
shalt
not
.
”
Sometimes
it
was
he
who
seemed
strongest
,
whist
she
was
almost
gone
,
creeping
near
the
earth
like
a
spent
wind
;
sometimes
it
was
the
reverse
.
But
always
it
was
this
eternal
see-saw
,
one
destroyed
that
the
other
might
exist
,
one
ratified
because
the
other
was
nulled
.
“
In
the
end
,
”
she
said
to
herself
,
“
I
shall
go
away
from
him
.
”
“
I
can
be
free
of
her
,
”
he
said
to
himself
in
his
paroxysms
of
suffering
.
And
he
set
himself
to
be
free
.
He
even
prepared
to
go
away
,
to
leave
her
in
the
lurch
.
But
for
the
first
time
there
was
a
flaw
in
his
will
.
“
Where
shall
I
go
?
”
he
asked
himself
.
“
Can’t
you
be
self-sufficient
?
”
he
replied
to
himself
,
putting
himself
upon
his
pride
.
“
Self-sufficient
!
”
he
repeated
.
It
seemed
to
him
that
Gudrun
was
sufficient
unto
herself
,
closed
round
and
completed
,
like
a
thing
in
a
case
.
In
the
calm
,
static
reason
of
his
soul
,
he
recognised
this
,
and
admitted
it
was
her
right
,
to
be
closed
round
upon
herself
,
self-complete
,
without
desire
.
He
realised
it
,
he
admitted
it
,
it
only
needed
one
last
effort
on
his
own
part
,
to
win
for
himself
the
same
completeness
.
He
knew
that
it
only
needed
one
convulsion
of
his
will
for
him
to
be
able
to
turn
upon
himself
also
,
to
close
upon
himself
as
a
stone
fixes
upon
itself
,
and
is
impervious
,
self-completed
,
a
thing
isolated
.
This
knowledge
threw
him
into
a
terrible
chaos
.
Because
,
however
much
he
might
mentally
will
to
be
immune
and
self-complete
,
the
desire
for
this
state
was
lacking
,
and
he
could
not
create
it
.
He
could
see
that
,
to
exist
at
all
,
he
must
be
perfectly
free
of
Gudrun
,
leave
her
if
she
wanted
to
be
left
,
demand
nothing
of
her
,
have
no
claim
upon
her
.
But
then
,
to
have
no
claim
upon
her
,
he
must
stand
by
himself
,
in
sheer
nothingness
.
And
his
brain
turned
to
nought
at
the
idea
.
It
was
a
state
of
nothingness
.
On
the
other
hand
,
he
might
give
in
,
and
fawn
to
her
.
Or
,
finally
,
he
might
kill
her
.
Or
he
might
become
just
indifferent
,
purposeless
,
dissipated
,
momentaneous
.
But
his
nature
was
too
serious
,
not
gay
enough
or
subtle
enough
for
mocking
licentiousness
.
A
strange
rent
had
been
torn
in
him
;
like
a
victim
that
is
torn
open
and
given
to
the
heavens
,
so
he
had
been
torn
apart
and
given
to
Gudrun
.
How
should
he
close
again
?
This
wound
,
this
strange
,
infinitely-sensitive
opening
of
his
soul
,
where
he
was
exposed
,
like
an
open
flower
,
to
all
the
universe
,
and
in
which
he
was
given
to
his
complement
,
the
other
,
the
unknown
,
this
wound
,
this
disclosure
,
this
unfolding
of
his
own
covering
,
leaving
him
incomplete
,
limited
,
unfinished
,
like
an
open
flower
under
the
sky
,
this
was
his
cruellest
joy
.
Why
then
should
he
forego
it
?
Why
should
he
close
up
and
become
impervious
,
immune
,
like
a
partial
thing
in
a
sheath
,
when
he
had
broken
forth
,
like
a
seed
that
has
germinated
,
to
issue
forth
in
being
,
embracing
the
unrealised
heavens
.
He
would
keep
the
unfinished
bliss
of
his
own
yearning
even
through
the
torture
she
inflicted
upon
him
.
A
strange
obstinacy
possessed
him
.
He
would
not
go
away
from
her
whatever
she
said
or
did
.
A
strange
,
deathly
yearning
carried
him
along
with
her
.
She
was
the
determinating
influence
of
his
very
being
,
though
she
treated
him
with
contempt
,
repeated
rebuffs
,
and
denials
,
still
he
would
never
be
gone
,
since
in
being
near
her
,
even
,
he
felt
the
quickening
,
the
going
forth
in
him
,
the
release
,
the
knowledge
of
his
own
limitation
and
the
magic
of
the
promise
,
as
well
as
the
mystery
of
his
own
destruction
and
annihilation
.
She
tortured
the
open
heart
of
him
even
as
he
turned
to
her
.
And
she
was
tortured
herself
.
It
may
have
been
her
will
was
stronger
.
She
felt
,
with
horror
,
as
if
he
tore
at
the
bud
of
her
heart
,
tore
it
open
,
like
an
irreverent
persistent
being
.
Like
a
boy
who
pulls
off
a
fly’s
wings
,
or
tears
open
a
bud
to
see
what
is
in
the
flower
,
he
tore
at
her
privacy
,
at
her
very
life
,
he
would
destroy
her
as
an
immature
bud
,
torn
open
,
is
destroyed
.
She
might
open
towards
him
,
a
long
while
hence
,
in
her
dreams
,
when
she
was
a
pure
spirit
.
But
now
she
was
not
to
be
violated
and
ruined
.
She
closed
against
him
fiercely
.
They
climbed
together
,
at
evening
,
up
the
high
slope
,
to
see
the
sunset
.
In
the
finely
breathing
,
keen
wind
they
stood
and
watched
the
yellow
sun
sink
in
crimson
and
disappear
.
Then
in
the
east
the
peaks
and
ridges
glowed
with
living
rose
,
incandescent
like
immortal
flowers
against
a
brown-purple
sky
,
a
miracle
,
whilst
down
below
the
world
was
a
bluish
shadow
,
and
above
,
like
an
annunciation
,
hovered
a
rosy
transport
in
mid-air
.
To
her
it
was
so
beautiful
,
it
was
a
delirium
,
she
wanted
to
gather
the
glowing
,
eternal
peaks
to
her
breast
,
and
die
.
He
saw
them
,
saw
they
were
beautiful
.
But
there
arose
no
clamour
in
his
breast
,
only
a
bitterness
that
was
visionary
in
itself
.
He
wished
the
peaks
were
grey
and
unbeautiful
,
so
that
she
should
not
get
her
support
from
them
.
Why
did
she
betray
the
two
of
them
so
terribly
,
in
embracing
the
glow
of
the
evening
?
Why
did
she
leave
him
standing
there
,
with
the
ice-wind
blowing
through
his
heart
,
like
death
,
to
gratify
herself
among
the
rosy
snow-tips
?
“
What
does
the
twilight
matter
?
”
he
