Gudrunwere
wiping
their
eyes
,
and
the
Professor
was
crying
loudly
.
“
Das
war
ausgezeichnet
,
das
war
famos
—
”
“
Wirklich
famos
,
”
echoed
his
exhausted
daughters
,
faintly
.
“
And
we
couldn’t
understand
it
,
”
cried
Ursula
.
“
Oh
leider
,
leider
!
”
cried
the
Professor
.
“
You
couldn’t
understand
it
?
”
cried
the
Students
,
let
loose
at
last
in
speech
with
the
newcomers
.
“
Ja
,
das
ist
wirklich
schade
,
das
ist
schade
,
gnädige
Frau
.
Wissen
Sie
—
”
The
mixture
was
made
,
the
newcomers
were
stirred
into
the
party
,
like
new
ingredients
,
the
whole
room
was
alive
.
Gerald
was
in
his
element
,
he
talked
freely
and
excitedly
,
his
face
glistened
with
a
strange
amusement
.
Perhaps
even
Birkin
,
in
the
end
,
would
break
forth
.
He
was
shy
and
withheld
,
though
full
of
attention
.
Ursula
was
prevailed
upon
to
sing
“
Annie
Lowrie
,
”
as
the
Professor
called
it
.
There
was
a
hush
of
extreme
deference
.
She
had
never
been
so
flattered
in
her
life
.
Gudrun
accompanied
her
on
the
piano
,
playing
from
memory
.
Ursula
had
a
beautiful
ringing
voice
,
but
usually
no
confidence
,
she
spoiled
everything
.
This
evening
she
felt
conceited
and
untrammelled
.
Birkin
was
well
in
the
background
,
she
shone
almost
in
reaction
,
the
Germans
made
her
feel
fine
and
infallible
,
she
was
liberated
into
overweening
self-confidence
.
She
felt
like
a
bird
flying
in
the
air
,
as
her
voice
soared
out
,
enjoying
herself
extremely
in
the
balance
and
flight
of
the
song
,
like
the
motion
of
a
bird’s
wings
that
is
up
in
the
wind
,
sliding
and
playing
on
the
air
,
she
played
with
sentimentality
,
supported
by
rapturous
attention
.
She
was
very
happy
,
singing
that
song
by
herself
,
full
of
a
conceit
of
emotion
and
power
,
working
upon
all
those
people
,
and
upon
herself
,
exerting
herself
with
gratification
,
giving
immeasurable
gratification
to
the
Germans
.
At
the
end
,
the
Germans
were
all
touched
with
admiring
,
delicious
melancholy
,
they
praised
her
in
soft
,
reverent
voices
,
they
could
not
say
too
much
.
“
Wie
schön
,
wie
rührend
!
Ach
,
die
Schottischen
Lieder
,
sie
haben
so
viel
Stimmung
!
Aber
die
gnädige
Frau
hat
eine
wunderbare
Stimme
;
die
gnädige
Frau
ist
wirklich
eine
Künstlerin
,
aber
wirklich
!
”
She
was
dilated
and
brilliant
,
like
a
flower
in
the
morning
sun
.
She
felt
Birkin
looking
at
her
,
as
if
he
were
jealous
of
her
,
and
her
breasts
thrilled
,
her
veins
were
all
golden
.
She
was
as
happy
as
the
sun
that
has
just
opened
above
clouds
.
And
everybody
seemed
so
admiring
and
radiant
,
it
was
perfect
.
After
dinner
she
wanted
to
go
out
for
a
minute
,
to
look
at
the
world
.
The
company
tried
to
dissuade
her
—
it
was
so
terribly
cold
.
But
just
to
look
,
she
said
.
They
all
four
wrapped
up
warmly
,
and
found
themselves
in
a
vague
,
unsubstantial
outdoors
of
dim
snow
and
ghosts
of
an
upper-world
,
that
made
strange
shadows
before
the
stars
.
It
was
indeed
cold
,
bruisingly
,
frighteningly
,
unnaturally
cold
.
Ursula
could
not
believe
the
air
in
her
nostrils
.
It
seemed
conscious
,
malevolent
,
purposive
in
its
intense
murderous
coldness
.
Yet
it
was
wonderful
,
an
intoxication
,
a
silence
of
dim
,
unrealised
snow
,
of
the
invisible
intervening
between
her
and
the
visible
,
between
her
and
the
flashing
stars
.
She
could
see
Orion
sloping
up
.
How
wonderful
he
was
,
wonderful
enough
to
make
one
cry
aloud
.
And
all
around
was
this
cradle
of
snow
,
and
there
was
firm
snow
underfoot
,
that
struck
with
heavy
cold
through
her
boot-soles
.
It
was
night
,
and
silence
.
She
imagined
she
could
hear
the
stars
.
She
imagined
distinctly
she
could
hear
the
celestial
,
musical
motion
of
the
stars
,
quite
near
at
hand
.
She
seemed
like
a
bird
flying
amongst
their
harmonious
motion
.
And
she
clung
close
to
Birkin
.
Suddenly
she
realised
she
did
not
know
what
he
was
thinking
.
She
did
not
know
where
he
was
ranging
.
“
My
love
!
”
she
said
,
stopping
to
look
at
him
.
His
face
was
pale
,
his
eyes
dark
,
there
was
a
faint
spark
of
starlight
on
them
.
And
he
saw
her
face
soft
and
upturned
to
him
,
very
near
.
He
kissed
her
softly
.
“
What
then
?
”
he
asked
.
“
Do
you
love
me
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Too
much
,
”
he
answered
quietly
.
She
clung
a
little
closer
.
“
Not
too
much
,
”
she
pleaded
.
“
Far
too
much
,
”
he
said
,
almost
sadly
.
“
And
does
it
make
you
sad
,
that
I
am
everything
to
you
?
”
she
asked
,
wistful
.
He
held
her
close
to
him
,
kissing
her
,
and
saying
,
scarcely
audible
:
“
No
,
but
I
feel
like
a
beggar
—
I
feel
poor
.
”
She
was
silent
,
looking
at
the
stars
now
.
Then
she
kissed
him
.
“
Don’t
be
a
beggar
,
”
she
pleaded
,
wistfully
.
“
It
isn’t
ignominious
that
you
love
me
.
”
“
It
is
ignominious
to
feel
poor
,
isn’t
it
?
”
he
replied
.
“
Why
?
Why
should
it
be
?
”
she
asked
.
He
only
stood
still
,
in
the
terribly
cold
air
that
moved
invisibly
over
the
mountain
tops
,
folding
her
round
with
his
arms
.
“
I
couldn’t
bear
this
cold
,
eternal
place
without
you
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
couldn’t
bear
it
,
it
would
kill
the
quick
of
my
life
.
”
She
kissed
him
again
,
suddenly
.
“
Do
you
hate
it
?
”
she
asked
,
puzzled
,
wondering
.
“
If
I
couldn’t
come
near
to
you
,
if
you
weren’t
here
,
I
should
hate
it
.
I
couldn’t
bear
it
,
”
he
answered
.
“
But
the
people
are
nice
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
mean
the
stillness
,
the
cold
,
the
frozen
eternality
,
”
he
said
.
She
wondered
.
Then
her
spirit
came
home
to
him
,
nestling
unconscious
in
him
.
“
Yes
,
it
is
good
we
are
warm
and
together
,
”
she
said
.
And
they
turned
home
again
.
They
saw
the
golden
lights
of
the
hotel
glowing
out
in
the
night
of
snow-silence
,
small
in
the
hollow
,
like
a
cluster
of
yellow
berries
.
It
seemed
like
a
bunch
of
sun-sparks
,
tiny
and
orange
in
the
midst
of
the
snow-darkness
.
Behind
,
was
a
high
shadow
of
a
peak
,
blotting
out
the
stars
,
like
a
ghost
.
They
drew
near
to
their
home
.
They
saw
a
man
come
from
the
dark
building
,
with
a
lighted
lantern
which
swung
golden
,
and
made
that
his
dark
feet
walked
in
a
halo
of
snow
.
He
was
a
small
,
dark
figure
in
the
darkened
snow
.
He
unlatched
the
door
of
an
outhouse
.
A
smell
of
cows
,
hot
,
animal
,
almost
like
beef
,
came
out
on
the
heavily
cold
air
.
There
was
a
glimpse
of
two
cattle
in
their
dark
stalls
,
then
the
door
was
shut
again
,
and
not
a
chink
of
light
showed
.
It
had
reminded
Ursula
again
of
home
,
of
the
Marsh
,
of
her
childhood
,
and
of
the
journey
to
Brussels
,
and
,
strangely
,
of
Anton
Skrebensky
.
Oh
,
God
,
could
one
bear
it
,
this
past
which
was
gone
down
the
abyss
?
Could
she
bear
,
that
it
ever
had
been
!
She
looked
round
this
silent
,
upper
world
of
snow
and
stars
and
powerful
cold
.
There
was
another
world
,
like
views
on
a
magic
lantern
;
The
Marsh
,
Cossethay
,
Ilkeston
,
lit
up
with
a
common
,
unreal
light
.
There
was
a
shadowy
unreal
Ursula
,
a
whole
shadow-play
of
an
unreal
life
.
It
was
as
unreal
,
and
circumscribed
,
as
a
magic-lantern
show
.
She
wished
the
slides
could
all
be
broken
.
She
wished
it
could
be
gone
for
ever
,
like
a
lantern-slide
which
was
broken
.
She
wanted
to
have
no
past
.
She
wanted
to
have
come
down
from
the
slopes
of
heaven
to
this
place
,
with
Birkin
,
not
to
have
toiled
out
of
the
murk
of
her
childhood
and
her
upbringing
,
slowly
,
all
soiled
.
She
felt
that
memory
was
a
dirty
trick
played
upon
her
.
What
was
this
decree
,
that
she
should
‘remember’
!
Why
not
a
bath
of
pure
oblivion
,
a
new
birth
,
without
any
recollections
or
blemish
of
a
past
life
.
She
was
with
Birkin
,
she
had
just
come
into
life
,
here
in
the
high
snow
,
against
the
stars
.
What
had
she
to
do
with
parents
and
antecedents
?
She
knew
herself
new
and
unbegotten
,
she
had
no
father
,
no
mother
,
no
anterior
connections
,
she
was
herself
,
pure
and
silvery
,
she
belonged
only
to
the
oneness
with
Birkin
,
a
oneness
that
struck
deeper
notes
,
sounding
into
the
heart
of
the
universe
,
the
heart
of
reality
,
where
she
had
never
existed
before
.
Even
Gudrun
was
a
separate
unit
,
separate
,
separate
,
having
nothing
to
do
with
this
self
,
this
Ursula
,
in
her
new
world
of
reality
.
That
old
shadow-world
,
the
actuality
of
the
past
—
ah
,
let
it
go
!
She
rose
free
on
the
wings
of
her
new
condition
.
Gudrun
and
Gerald
had
not
come
in
.
They
had
walked
up
the
valley
straight
in
front
of
the
house
,
not
like
Ursula
and
Birkin
,
on
to
the
little
hill
at
the
right
.
Gudrun
was
driven
by
a
strange
desire
.
She
wanted
to
plunge
on
and
on
,
till
she
came
to
the
end
of
the
valley
of
snow
.
Then
she
wanted
to
climb
the
wall
of
white
finality
,
climb
over
,
into
the
peaks
that
sprang
up
like
sharp
petals
in
the
heart
of
the
frozen
,
mysterious
navel
of
the
world
.
She
felt
that
there
,
over
the
strange
blind
,
terrible
wall
of
rocky
snow
,
there
in
the
navel
of
the
mystic
world
,
among
the
final
cluster
of
peaks
,
there
,
in
the
infolded
navel
of
it
all
,
was
her
consummation
.
If
she
could
but
come
there
,
alone
,
and
pass
into
the
infolded
navel
of
eternal
snow
and
of
uprising
,
immortal
peaks
of
snow
and
rock
,
she
would
be
a
oneness
with
all
,
she
would
be
herself
the
eternal
,
infinite
silence
,
the
sleeping
,
timeless
,
frozen
centre
of
the
All
.
They
went
back
to
the
house
,
to
the
Reunionsaal
.
She
was
curious
to
see
what
was
going
on
.
The
men
there
made
her
alert
,
roused
her
curiosity
.
It
was
a
new
taste
of
life
for
her
,
they
were
so
prostrate
before
her
,
yet
so
full
of
life
.
The
party
was
boisterous
;
they
were
dancing
all
together
,
dancing
the
Schuhplatteln
,
the
Tyrolese
dance
of
the
clapping
hands
and
tossing
the
partner
in
the
air
at
the
crisis
.
The
Germans
were
all
proficient
—
they
were
from
Munich
chiefly
.
Gerald
also
was
quite
passable
.
There
were
three
zithers
twanging
away
in
a
corner
.
It
was
a
scene
of
great
animation
and
confusion
.
The
Professor
was
initiating
Ursula
into
the
dance
,
stamping
,
clapping
,
and
swinging
her
high
,
with
amazing
force
and
zest
.
When
the
crisis
came
even
Birkin
was
behaving
manfully
with
one
of
the
Professor’s
fresh
,
strong
daughters
,
who
was
exceedingly
happy
.
Everybody
was
dancing
,
there
was
the
most
boisterous
turmoil
.
Gudrun
looked
on
with
delight
.
The
solid
wooden
floor
resounded
to
the
knocking
heels
of
the
men
,
the
air
quivered
with
the
clapping
hands
and
the
zither
music
,
there
was
a
golden
dust
about
the
hanging
lamps
.
Suddenly
the
dance
finished
,
Loerke
and
the
students
rushed
out
to
bring
in
drinks
.
There
was
an
excited
clamour
of
voices
,
a
clinking
of
mug-lids
,
a
great
crying
of
“
Prosit
—
Prosit
!
”
Loerke
was
everywhere
at
once
,
like
a
gnome
,
suggesting
drinks
for
the
women
,
making
an
obscure
,
slightly
risky
joke
with
the
men
,
confusing
and
mystifying
the
waiter
.
He
wanted
very
much
to
dance
with
Gudrun
.
From
the
first
moment
he
had
seen
her
,
he
wanted
to
make
a
connection
with
her
.
Instinctively
she
felt
this
,
and
she
waited
for
him
to
come
up
.
But
a
kind
of
sulkiness
kept
him
away
from
her
,
so
she
thought
he
disliked
her
.
“
Will
you
schuhplätteln
,
gnädige
Frau
?
”
said
the
large
,
fair
youth
,
Loerke’s
companion
.
He
was
too
soft
,
too
humble
for
Gudrun’s
taste
.
But
she
wanted
to
dance
,
and
the
fair
youth
,
who
was
called
Leitner
,
was
handsome
enough
in
his
uneasy
,
slightly
abject
fashion
,
a
humility
that
covered
a
certain
fear
.
She
accepted
him
as
a
partner
.
The
zithers
sounded
out
again
,
the
dance
began
.
Gerald
led
them
,
laughing
,
with
one
of
the
Professor’s
daughters
.
Ursula
danced
with
one
of
the
students
,
Birkin
with
the
other
daughter
of
the
Professor
,
the
Professor
with
Frau
Kramer
,
and
the
rest
of
the
men
danced
together
,
with
quite
as
much
zest
as
if
they
had
had
women
partners
.
Because
Gudrun
had
danced
with
the
well-built
,
soft
youth
,
his
companion
,
Loerke
,
was
more
pettish
and
exasperated
than
ever
,
and
would
not
even
notice
her
existence
in
the
room
.
This
piqued
her
,
but
she
made
up
to
herself
by
dancing
with
the
Professor
,
who
was
strong
as
a
mature
,
well-seasoned
bull
,
and
as
full
of
coarse
energy
.
She
could
not
bear
him
,
critically
,
and
yet
she
enjoyed
being
rushed
through
the
dance
,
and
tossed
up
into
the
air
,
on
his
coarse
,
powerful
impetus
.
The
Professor
enjoyed
it
too
,
he
eyed
her
with
strange
,
large
blue
eyes
,
full
of
galvanic
fire
.
She
hated
him
for
the
seasoned
,
semi-paternal
animalism
with
which
he
regarded
her
,
but
she
admired
his
weight
of
strength
.
The
room
was
charged
with
excitement
and
strong
,
animal
emotion
.
Loerke
was
kept
away
from
Gudrun
,
to
whom
he
wanted
to
speak
,
as
by
a
hedge
of
thorns
,
and
he
felt
a
sardonic
ruthless
hatred
for
this
young
love-companion
,
Leitner
,
who
was
his
penniless
dependent
.
He
mocked
the
youth
,
with
an
acid
ridicule
,
that
made
Leitner
red
in
the
face
and
impotent
with
resentment
.
Gerald
,
who
had
now
got
the
dance
perfectly
,
was
dancing
again
with
the
younger
of
the
Professor’s
daughters
,
who
was
almost
dying
of
virgin
excitement
,
because
she
thought
Gerald
so
handsome
,
so
superb
.
He
had
her
in
his
power
,
as
if
she
were
a
palpitating
bird
,
a
fluttering
,
flushing
,
bewildered
creature
.
And
it
made
him
smile
,
as
she
shrank
convulsively
between
his
hands
,
violently
,
when
he
must
throw
her
into
the
air
.
At
the
end
,
she
was
so
overcome
with
prostrate
love
for
him
,
that
she
could
scarcely
speak
sensibly
at
all
.
Birkin
was
dancing
with
Ursula
.
There
were
odd
little
fires
playing
in
his
eyes
,
he
seemed
to
have
turned
into
something
wicked
and
flickering
,
mocking
,
suggestive
,
quite
impossible
.
Ursula
was
frightened
of
him
,
and
fascinated
.
Clear
,
before
her
eyes
,
as
in
a
vision
,
she
could
see
the
sardonic
,
licentious
mockery
of
his
eyes
,
he
moved
towards
her
with
subtle
,
animal
,
indifferent
approach
.
The
strangeness
of
his
hands
,
which
came
quick
and
cunning
,
inevitably
to
the
vital
place
beneath
her
breasts
,
and
,
lifting
with
mocking
,
suggestive
impulse
,
carried
her
through
the
air
as
if
without
strength
,
through
blackmagic
,
made
her
swoon
with
fear
.
For
a
moment
she
revolted
,
it
was
horrible
.
She
would
break
the
spell
.
But
before
the
resolution
had
formed
she
had
submitted
again
,
yielded
to
her
fear
.
He
knew
all
the
time
what
he
was
doing
,
she
could
see
it
in
his
smiling
,
concentrated
eyes
.
It
was
his
responsibility
,
she
would
leave
it
to
him
.
When
they
were
alone
in
the
darkness
,
she
felt
the
strange
,
licentiousness
of
him
hovering
upon
her
.
She
was
troubled
and
repelled
.
Why
should
he
turn
like
this
?
“
What
is
it
?
”
she
asked
in
dread
.
But
his
face
only
glistened
on
her
,
unknown
,
horrible
.
And
yet
she
was
fascinated
.
Her
impulse
was
to
repel
him
violently
,
break
from
this
spell
of
mocking
brutishness
.
But
she
was
too
fascinated
,
she
wanted
to
submit
,
she
wanted
to
know
.
What
would
he
do
to
her
?
He
was
so
attractive
,
and
so
repulsive
at
one
.
The
sardonic
suggestivity
that
flickered
over
his
face
and
looked
from
his
narrowed
eyes
,
made
her
want
to
hide
,
to
hide
herself
away
from
him
and
watch
him
from
somewhere
unseen
.
“
Why
are
you
like
this
?
”
she
demanded
again
,
rousing
against
him
with
sudden
force
and
animosity
.
The
flickering
fires
in
his
eyes
concentrated
as
he
looked
into
her
eyes
.
Then
the
lids
drooped
with
a
faint
motion
of
satiric
contempt
.
Then
they
rose
again
to
the
same
remorseless
suggestivity
.
And
she
gave
way
,
he
might
do
as
he
would
.
His
licentiousness
was
repulsively
attractive
.
But
he
was
self-responsible
,
she
would
see
what
it
was
.
They
might
do
as
they
liked
—
this
she
realised
as
she
went
to
sleep
.
How
could
anything
that
gave
one
satisfaction
be
excluded
?
What
was
degrading
?
Who
cared
?
Degrading
things
were
real
,
with
a
different
reality
.
And
he
was
so
unabashed
and
unrestrained
.
Wasn’t
it
rather
horrible
,
a
man
who
could
be
so
soulful
and
spiritual
,
now
to
be
so
—
she
balked
at
her
own
thoughts
and
memories
:
then
she
added
—
so
bestial
?
So
bestial
,
they
two
!
—
so
degraded
!
She
winced
.
But
after
all
,
why
not
?
She
exulted
as
well
.
Why
not
be
bestial
,
and
go
the
whole
round
of
experience
?
She
exulted
in
it
.
She
was
bestial
.
How
good
it
was
to
be
really
shameful
!
There
would
be
no
shameful
thing
she
had
not
experienced
.
Yet
she
was
unabashed
,
she
was
herself
.
Why
not
?
She
was
free
,
when
she
knew
everything
,
and
no
dark
shameful
things
were
denied
her
.
Gudrun
,
who
had
been
watching
Gerald
in
the
Reunionsaal
,
suddenly
thought
:
“
He
should
have
all
the
women
he
can
—
it
is
his
nature
.
It
is
absurd
to
call
him
monogamous
—
he
is
naturally
promiscuous
.
That
is
his
nature
.
”
The
thought
came
to
her
involuntarily
.
It
shocked
her
somewhat
.
It
was
as
if
she
had
seen
some
new
Mene
!
Mene
!
upon
the
wall
.
Yet
it
was
merely
true
.
A
voice
seemed
to
have
spoken
it
to
her
so
clearly
,
that
for
the
moment
she
believed
in
inspiration
.
“
It
is
really
true
,
”
she
said
to
herself
again
.
She
knew
quite
well
she
had
believed
it
all
along
.
She
knew
it
implicitly
.
But
she
must
keep
it
dark
—
almost
from
herself
.
She
must
keep
it
completely
secret
.
It
was
knowledge
for
her
alone
,
and
scarcely
even
to
be
admitted
to
herself
.
The
deep
resolve
formed
in
her
,
to
combat
him
.
One
of
them
must
triumph
over
the
other
.
Which
should
it
be
?
Her
soul
steeled
itself
with
strength
.
Almost
she
laughed
within
herself
,
at
her
confidence
.
It
woke
a
certain
keen
,
half
contemptuous
pity
,
tenderness
for
him
:
she
was
so
ruthless
.
Everybody
retired
early
.
The
Professor
and
Loerke
went
into
a
small
lounge
to
drink
.
They
both
watched
Gudrun
go
along
the
landing
by
the
railing
upstairs
.
“
Ein
schönes
Frauenzimmer
,
”
said
the
Professor
.
“
Ja
!
”
asserted
Loerke
,
shortly
.
Gerald
walked
with
his
queer
,
long
wolf-steps
across
the
bedroom
to
the
window
,
stooped
and
looked
out
,
then
rose
again
,
and
turned
to
Gudrun
,
his
eyes
sharp
with
an
abstract
smile
.
He
seemed
very
tall
to
her
,
she
saw
the
glisten
of
his
whitish
eyebrows
,
that
met
between
his
brows
.
“
How
do
you
like
it
?
”
he
said
.
He
seemed
to
be
laughing
inside
himself
,
quite
unconsciously
.
She
looked
at
him
.
He
was
a
phenomenon
to
her
,
not
a
human
being
:
a
sort
of
creature
,
greedy
.
“
I
like
it
very
much
,
”
she
replied
.
“
Who
do
you
like
best
downstairs
?
”
he
asked
,
standing
tall
and
glistening
above
her
,
with
his
glistening
stiff
hair
erect
.
“
Who
do
I
like
best
?
”
she
repeated
,
wanting
to
answer
his
question
,
and
finding
it
difficult
to
collect
herself
.
“
Why
I
don’t
know
,
I
don’t
know
enough
about
them
yet
,
to
be
able
to
say
.
Who
do
you
like
best
?
”
“
Oh
,
I
don’t
care
—
I
don’t
like
or
dislike
any
of
them
.
It
doesn’t
matter
about
me
.
I
wanted
to
know
about
you
.
”
“
But
why
?
”
she
asked
,
going
rather
pale
.
The
abstract
,
unconscious
smile
in
his
eyes
was
intensified
.
“
I
wanted
to
know
,
”
he
said
.
She
turned
aside
,
breaking
the
spell
.
In
some
strange
way
,
she
felt
he
was
getting
power
over
her
.
“
Well
,
I
can’t
tell
you
already
,
”
she
said
.
She
went
to
the
mirror
to
take
out
the
hairpins
from
her
hair
.
She
stood
before
the
mirror
every
night
for
some
minutes
,
brushing
her
fine
dark
hair
.
It
was
part
of
the
inevitable
ritual
of
her
life
.
He
followed
her
,
and
stood
behind
her
.
She
was
busy
with
bent
head
,
taking
out
the
pins
and
shaking
her
warm
hair
loose
.
When
she
looked
up
,
she
saw
him
in
the
glass
standing
behind
her
,
watching
unconsciously
,
not
consciously
seeing
her
,
and
yet
watching
,
with
finepupilled
eyes
that
seemed
to
smile
,
and
which
were
not
really
smiling
.
She
started
.
It
took
all
her
courage
for
her
to
continue
brushing
her
hair
,
as
usual
,
for
her
to
pretend
she
was
at
her
ease
.
She
was
far
,
far
from
being
at
her
ease
with
him
.
She
beat
her
brains
wildly
for
something
to
say
to
him
.
“
What
are
your
plans
for
tomorrow
?
”
she
asked
nonchalantly
,
whilst
her
heart
was
beating
so
furiously
,
her
eyes
were
so
bright
with
strange
nervousness
,
she
felt
he
could
not
but
observe
.
But
she
knew
also
that
he
was
completely
blind
,
blind
as
a
wolf
looking
at
her
.
It
was
a
strange
battle
between
her
ordinary
consciousness
and
his
uncanny
,
black-art
consciousness
.
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
he
replied
,
“
what
would
you
like
to
do
?
”
He
spoke
emptily
,
his
mind
was
sunk
away
.
“
Oh
,
”
she
said
,
with
easy
protestation
,
“
I’m
ready
for
anything
—
anything
will
be
fine
for
me
,
I’m
sure
.
”
And
to
herself
she
was
saying
:
“
God
,
why
am
I
so
nervous
—
why
are
you
so
nervous
,
you
fool
.
If
he
sees
it
I’m
done
for
forever
—
you
know
you’re
done
for
forever
,
if
he
sees
the
absurd
state
you’re
in
.
”
And
she
smiled
to
herself
as
if
it
were
all
child’s
play
.
Meanwhile
her
heart
was
plunging
,
she
was
almost
fainting
.
She
could
see
him
,
in
the
mirror
,
as
he
stood
there
behind
her
,
tall
and
over-arching
—
blond
and
terribly
frightening
.
She
glanced
at
his
reflection
with
furtive
eyes
,
willing
to
give
anything
to
save
him
from
knowing
she
could
see
him
.
He
did
not
know
she
could
see
his
reflection
.
He
was
looking
unconsciously
,
glisteningly
down
at
her
head
,
from
which
the
hair
fell
loose
,
as
she
brushed
it
with
wild
,
nervous
hand
.
She
held
her
head
aside
and
brushed
and
brushed
her
hair
madly
.
For
her
life
,
she
could
not
turn
round
and
face
him
.
For
her
life
,
she
could
not
.
And
the
knowledge
made
her
almost
sink
to
the
ground
in
a
faint
,
helpless
,
spent
.
She
was
aware
of
his
frightening
,
impending
figure
standing
close
behind
her
,
she
was
aware
of
his
hard
,
strong
,
unyielding
chest
,
close
upon
her
back
.
And
she
felt
she
could
not
bear
it
any
more
,
in
a
few
minutes
she
would
fall
down
at
his
feet
,
grovelling
at
his
feet
,
and
letting
him
destroy
her
.
The
thought
pricked
up
all
her
sharp
intelligence
and
presence
of
mind
.
She
dared
not
turn
round
to
him
—
and
there
he
stood
motionless
,
unbroken
.
Summoning
all
her
strength
,
she
said
,
in
a
full
,
resonant
,
nonchalant
voice
,
that
was
forced
out
with
all
her
remaining
self-control
:
“
Oh
,
would
you
mind
looking
in
that
bag
behind
there
and
giving
me
my
—
”
Here
her
power
fell
inert
.
“
My
what
—
my
what
—
?
”
she
screamed
in
silence
to
herself
.
But
he
had
started
round
,
surprised
and
startled
that
she
should
ask
him
to
look
in
her
bag
,
which
she
always
kept
so
very
private
to
herself
.
She
turned
now
,
her
face
white
,
her
dark
eyes
blazing
with
uncanny
,
overwrought
excitement
.
She
saw
him
stooping
to
the
bag
,
undoing
the
loosely
buckled
strap
,
unattentive
.
“
Your
what
?
”
he
asked
.
“
Oh
,
a
little
enamel
box
—
yellow
—
with
a
design
of
a
cormorant
plucking
her
breast
—
”
She
went
towards
him
,
stooping
her
beautiful
,
bare
arm
,
and
deftly
turned
some
of
her
things
,
disclosing
the
box
,
which
was
exquisitely
painted
.
“
That
is
it
,
see
,
”
she
said
,
taking
it
from
under
his
eyes
.
And
he
was
baffled
now
.
He
was
left
to
fasten
up
the
bag
,
whilst
she
swiftly
did
up
her
hair
for
the
night
,
and
sat
down
to
unfasten
her
shoes
.
She
would
not
turn
her
back
to
him
any
more
.
He
was
baffled
,
frustrated
,
but
unconscious
.
She
had
the
whip
hand
over
him
now
.
She
knew
he
had
not
realised
her
terrible
panic
.
Her
heart
was
beating
heavily
still
.
Fool
,
fool
that
she
was
,
to
get
into
such
a
state
!
How
she
thanked
God
for
Gerald’s
obtuse
blindness
.
Thank
God
he
could
see
nothing
.
She
sat
slowly
unlacing
her
shoes
,
and
he
too
commenced
to
undress
.
Thank
God
that
crisis
was
over
.
She
felt
almost
fond
of
him
now
,
almost
in
love
with
him
.
“
Ah
,
Gerald
,
”
she
laughed
,
caressively
,
teasingly
,
“
Ah
,
what
a
fine
game
you
played
with
the
Professor’s
daughter
—
didn’t
you
now
?
”
“
What
game
?
”
he
asked
,
looking
round
.
“
Isn’t
she
in
love
with
you
—
oh
dear
,
isn’t
she
in
love
with
you
!
”
said
Gudrun
,
in
her
gayest
,
most
attractive
mood
.
“
I
shouldn’t
think
so
,
”
he
said
.
“
Shouldn’t
think
so
!
”
she
teased
.
“
Why
the
poor
girl
is
lying
at
this
moment
overwhelmed
,
dying
with
love
for
you
.
She
thinks
you’re
wonderful
—
oh
marvellous
,
beyond
what
man
has
ever
been
.
really
,
isn’t
it
funny
?
”
“
Why
funny
,
what
is
funny
?
”
he
asked
.
“
Why
to
see
you
working
it
on
her
,
”
she
said
,
with
a
half
reproach
that
confused
the
male
conceit
in
him
.
“
Really
Gerald
,
the
poor
girl
—
!
”
“
I
did
nothing
to
her
,
”
he
said
.
“
Oh
,
it
was
too
shameful
,
the
way
you
simply
swept
her
off
her
feet
.
”
“
That
was
Schuhplatteln
,
”
he
replied
,
with
a
bright
grin
.
“
Ha
—
ha
—
ha
!
”
laughed
Gudrun
.
Her
mockery
quivered
through
his
muscles
with
curious
re-echoes
.
When
he
slept
he
seemed
to
crouch
down
in
the
bed
,
lapped
up
in
his
own
strength
,
that
yet
was
hollow
.
And
Gudrun
slept
strongly
,
a
victorious
sleep
.
Suddenly
,
she
was
almost
fiercely
awake
.
The
small
timber
room
glowed
with
the
dawn
,
that
came
upwards
from
the
low
window
.
She
could
see
down
the
valley
when
she
lifted
her
head
:
the
snow
with
a
pinkish
,
half-revealed
magic
,
the
fringe
of
pine-trees
at
the
bottom
of
the
slope
.
And
one
tiny
figure
moved
over
the
vaguely-illuminated
space
.
She
glanced
at
his
watch
;
it
was
seven
o’clock
.
He
was
still
completely
asleep
.
And
she
was
so
hard
awake
,
it
was
almost
frightening
—
a
hard
,
metallic
wakefulness
.
She
lay
looking
at
him
.
He
slept
in
the
subjection
of
his
own
health
and
defeat
.
She
was
overcome
by
a
sincere
regard
for
him
.
Till
now
,
she
was
afraid
before
him
.
She
lay
and
thought
about
him
,
what
he
was
,
what
he
represented
in
the
world
.
A
fine
,
independent
will
,
he
had
.
She
thought
of
the
revolution
he
had
worked
in
the
mines
,
in
so
short
a
time
.
She
knew
that
,
if
he
were
confronted
with
any
problem
,
any
hard
actual
difficulty
,
he
would
overcome
it
.
If
he
laid
hold
of
any
idea
,
he
would
carry
it
through
.
He
had
the
faculty
of
making
order
out
of
confusion
.
Only
let
him
grip
hold
of
a
situation
,
and
he
would
bring
to
pass
an
inevitable
conclusion
.
For
a
few
moments
she
was
borne
away
on
the
wild
wings
of
ambition
.
Gerald
,
with
his
force
of
will
and
his
power
for
comprehending
the
actual
world
,
should
be
set
to
solve
the
problems
of
the
day
,
the
problem
of
industrialism
in
the
modern
world
.
She
knew
he
would
,
in
the
course
of
time
,
effect
the
changes
he
desired
,
he
could
re-organise
the
industrial
system
.
She
knew
he
could
do
it
.
As
an
instrument
,
in
these
things
,
he
was
marvellous
,
she
had
never
seen
any
man
with
his
potentiality
.
He
was
unaware
of
it
,
but
she
knew
.
He
only
needed
to
be
hitched
on
,
he
needed
that
his
hand
should
be
set
to
the
task
,
because
he
was
so
unconscious
.
And
this
she
could
do
.
She
would
marry
him
,
he
would
go
into
Parliament
in
the
Conservative
interest
,
he
would
clear
up
the
great
muddle
of
labour
and
industry
.
He
was
so
superbly
fearless
,
masterful
,
he
knew
that
every
problem
could
be
worked
out
,
in
life
as
in
geometry
.
And
he
would
care
neither
about
himself
nor
about
anything
but
the
pure
working
out
of
the
problem
.
He
was
very
pure
,
really
.
Her
heart
beat
fast
,
she
flew
away
on
wings
of
elation
,
imagining
a
future
.
He
would
be
a
Napoleon
of
peace
,
or
a
Bismarck
—
and
she
the
woman
behind
him
.
She
had
read
Bismarck’s
letters
,
and
had
been
deeply
moved
by
them
.
And
Gerald
would
be
freer
,
more
dauntless
than
Bismarck
.
But
even
as
she
lay
in
fictitious
transport
,
bathed
in
the
strange
,
false
sunshine
of
hope
in
life
,
something
seemed
to
snap
in
her
,
and
a
terrible
cynicism
began
to
gain
upon
her
,
blowing
in
like
a
wind
.
Everything
turned
to
irony
with
her
:
the
last
flavour
of
everything
was
ironical
.
When
she
felt
her
pang
of
undeniable
reality
,
this
was
when
she
knew
the
hard
irony
of
hopes
and
ideas
.
She
lay
and
looked
at
him
,
as
he
slept
.
He
was
sheerly
beautiful
,
he
was
a
perfect
instrument
.
To
her
mind
,
he
was
a
pure
,
inhuman
,
almost
superhuman
instrument
.
His
instrumentality
appealed
so
strongly
to
her
,
she
wished
she
were
God
,
to
use
him
as
a
tool
.
And
at
the
same
instant
,
came
the
ironical
question
:
“
What
for
?
”
She
thought
of
the
colliers’
wives
,
with
their
linoleum
and
their
lace
curtains
and
their
little
girls
in
high-laced
boots
.
She
thought
of
the
wives
and
daughters
of
the
pit-managers
,
their
tennis-parties
,
and
their
terrible
struggles
to
be
superior
each
to
the
other
,
in
the
social
scale
.
There
was
Shortlands
with
its
meaningless
distinction
,
the
meaningless
crowd
of
the
Criches
.
There
was
London
,
the
House
of
Commons
,
the
extant
social
world
.
My
God
!
Young
as
she
was
,
Gudrun
had
touched
the
whole
pulse
of
social
England
.
She
had
no
ideas
of
rising
in
the
world
.
She
knew
,
with
the
perfect
cynicism
of
cruel
youth
,
that
to
rise
in
the
world
meant
to
have
one
outside
show
instead
of
another
,
the
advance
was
like
having
a
spurious
half-crown
instead
of
a
spurious
penny
.
The
whole
coinage
of
valuation
was
spurious
.
Yet
of
course
,
her
cynicism
knew
well
enough
that
,
in
a
world
where
spurious
coin
was
current
,
a
bad
sovereign
was
better
than
a
bad
farthing
.
But
rich
and
poor
,
she
despised
both
alike
.
Already
she
mocked
at
herself
for
her
dreams
.
They
could
be
fulfilled
easily
enough
.
But
she
recognised
too
well
,
in
her
spirit
,
the
mockery
of
her
own
impulses
.
What
did
she
care
,
that
Gerald
had
created
a
richly-paying
industry
out
of
an
old
worn-out
concern
?
What
did
she
care
?
The
worn-out
concern
and
the
rapid
,
splendidly
organised
industry
,
they
were
bad
money
.
Yet
of
course
,
she
cared
a
great
deal
,
outwardly
—
and
outwardly
was
all
that
mattered
,
for
inwardly
was
a
bad
joke
.
Everything
was
intrinsically
a
piece
of
irony
to
her
.
She
leaned
over
Gerald
and
said
in
her
heart
,
with
compassion
:
“
Oh
,
my
dear
,
my
dear
,
the
game
isn’t
worth
even
you
.
You
are
a
fine
thing
really
—
why
should
you
be
used
on
such
a
poor
show
!
”
Her
heart
was
breaking
with
pity
and
grief
for
him
.
And
at
the
same
moment
,
a
grimace
came
over
her
mouth
,
of
mocking
irony
at
her
own
unspoken
tirade
.
Ah
,
what
a
farce
it
was
!
She
thought
of
Parnell
and
Katherine
O’Shea
.
Parnell
!
After
all
,
who
can
take
the
nationalisation
of
Ireland
seriously
?
Who
can
take
political
Ireland
really
seriously
,
whatever
it
does
?
And
who
can
take
political
England
seriously
?
Who
can
?
Who
can
care
a
straw
,
really
,
how
the
old
patched-up
Constitution
is
tinkered
at
any
more
?
Who
cares
a
button
for
our
national
ideas
,
any
more
than
for
our
national
bowler
hat
?
Aha
,
it
is
all
old
hat
,
it
is
all
old
bowler
hat
!
That’s
all
it
is
,
Gerald
,
my
young
hero
.
At
any
rate
we’ll
spare
ourselves
the
nausea
of
stirring
the
old
broth
any
more
.
You
be
beautiful
,
my
Gerald
,
and
reckless
.
There
are
perfect
moments
.
Wake
up
,
Gerald
,
wake
up
,
convince
me
of
the
perfect
moments
.
Oh
,
convince
me
,
I
need
it
.
He
opened
his
eyes
,
and
looked
at
her
.
She
greeted
him
with
a
mocking
,
enigmatic
smile
in
which
was
a
poignant
gaiety
.
Over
his
face
went
the
reflection
of
the
smile
,
he
smiled
,
too
,
purely
unconsciously
.
That
filled
her
with
extraordinary
delight
,
to
see
the
smile
cross
his
face
,
reflected
from
her
face
.
She
remembered
that
was
how
a
baby
smiled
.
It
filled
her
with
extraordinary
radiant
delight
.
“
You’ve
done
it
,
”
she
said
.
“
What
?
”
he
asked
,
dazed
.
“
Convinced
me
.
”
And
she
bent
down
,
kissing
him
passionately
,
passionately
,
so
that
he
was
bewildered
.
He
did
not
ask
her
of
what
he
had
convinced
her
,
though
he
meant
to
.
He
was
glad
she
was
kissing
him
.
She
seemed
to
be
feeling
for
his
very
heart
to
touch
the
quick
of
him
.
And
he
wanted
her
to
touch
the
quick
of
his
being
,
he
wanted
that
most
of
all
.
Outside
,
somebody
was
singing
,
in
a
manly
,
reckless
handsome
voice
:
Gudrun
knew
that
that
song
would
sound
through
her
eternity
,
sung
in
a
manly
,
reckless
,
mocking
voice
.
It
marked
one
of
her
supreme
moments
,
the
supreme
pangs
of
her
nervous
gratification
.
There
it
was
,
fixed
in
eternity
for
her
.
The
day
came
fine
and
bluish
.
There
was
a
light
wind
blowing
among
the
mountain
tops
,
keen
as
a
rapier
where
it
touched
,
carrying
with
it
a
fine
dust
of
snow-powder
.
Gerald
went
out
with
the
fine
,
blind
face
of
a
man
who
is
in
his
state
of
fulfilment
.
Gudrun
and
he
were
in
perfect
static
unity
this
morning
,
but
unseeing
and
unwitting
.
They
went
out
with
a
toboggan
,
leaving
Ursula
and
Birkin
to
follow
.
Gudrun
was
all
scarlet
and
royal
blue
—
a
scarlet
jersey
and
cap
,
and
a
royal
blue
skirt
and
stockings
.
She
went
gaily
over
the
white
snow
,
with
Gerald
beside
her
,
in
white
and
grey
,
pulling
the
little
toboggan
.
They
grew
small
in
the
distance
of
snow
,
climbing
the
steep
slope
.
For
Gudrun
herself
,
she
seemed
to
pass
altogether
into
the
whiteness
of
the
snow
,
she
became
a
pure
,
thoughtless
crystal
.
When
she
reached
the
top
of
the
slope
,
in
the
wind
,
she
looked
round
,
and
saw
peak
beyond
peak
of
rock
and
snow
,
bluish
,
transcendent
in
heaven
.
And
it
seemed
to
her
like
a
garden
,
with
the
peaks
for
pure
flowers
,
and
her
heart
gathering
them
.
She
had
no
separate
consciousness
for
Gerald
.
She
held
on
to
him
as
they
went
sheering
down
over
the
keen
slope
.
She
felt
as
if
her
senses
were
being
whetted
on
some
fine
grindstone
,
that
was
keen
as
flame
.
The
snow
sprinted
on
either
side
,
like
sparks
from
a
blade
that
is
being
sharpened
,
the
whiteness
round
about
ran
swifter
,
swifter
,
in
pure
flame
the
white
slope
flew
against
her
,
and
she
fused
like
one
molten
,
dancing
globule
,
rushed
through
a
white
intensity
.
Then
there
was
a
great
swerve
at
the
bottom
,
when
they
swung
as
it
were
in
a
fall
to
earth
,
in
the
diminishing
motion
.
They
came
to
rest
.
But
when
she
rose
to
her
feet
,
she
could
not
stand
.
She
gave
a
strange
cry
,
turned
and
clung
to
him
,
sinking
her
face
on
his
breast
,
fainting
in
him
.
Utter
oblivion
came
over
her
,
as
she
lay
for
a
few
moments
abandoned
against
him
.
“
What
is
it
?
”
he
was
saying
.
“
Was
it
too
much
for
you
?
”
But
she
heard
nothing
.
When
she
came
to
,
she
stood
up
and
looked
round
,
astonished
.
Her
face
was
white
,
her
eyes
brilliant
and
large
.
“
What
is
it
?
”
he
repeated
.
“
Did
it
upset
you
?
”
She
looked
at
him
with
her
brilliant
eyes
that
seemed
to
have
undergone
some
transfiguration
,
and
she
laughed
,
with
a
terrible
merriment
.
“
No
,
”
she
cried
,
with
triumphant
joy
.
“
It
was
the
complete
moment
of
my
life
.
”
And
she
looked
at
him
with
her
dazzling
,
overweening
laughter
,
like
one
possessed
.
A
fine
blade
seemed
to
enter
his
heart
,
but
he
did
not
care
,
or
take
any
notice
.
But
they
climbed
up
the
slope
again
,
and
they
flew
down
through
the
white
flame
again
,
splendidly
,
splendidly
.
Gudrun
was
laughing
and
flashing
,
powdered
with
snow-crystals
,
Gerald
worked
perfectly
.
He
felt
he
could
guide
the
toboggan
to
a
hair-breadth
,
almost
he
could
make
it
pierce
into
the
air
and
right
into
the
very
heart
of
the
sky
.
It
seemed
to
him
the
flying
sledge
was
but
his
strength
spread
out
,
he
had
but
to
move
his
arms
,
the
motion
was
his
own
.
They
explored
the
great
slopes
,
to
find
another
slide
.
He
felt
there
must
be
something
better
than
they
had
known
.
And
he
found
what
he
desired
,
a
perfect
long
,
fierce
sweep
,
sheering
past
the
foot
of
a
rock
and
into
the
trees
at
the
base
.
It
was
dangerous
,
he
knew
.
But
then
he
knew
also
he
would
direct
the
sledge
between
his
fingers
.
The
first
days
passed
in
an
ecstasy
of
physical
motion
,
sleighing
,
skiing
,
skating
,
moving
in
an
intensity
of
speed
and
white
light
that
surpassed
life
itself
,
and
carried
the
souls
of
the
human
beings
beyond
into
an
inhuman
abstraction
of
velocity
and
weight
and
eternal
,
frozen
snow
.
Gerald’s
eyes
became
hard
and
strange
,
and
as
he
went
by
on
his
skis
he
was
more
like
some
powerful
,
fateful
sigh
than
a
man
,
his
muscles
elastic
in
a
perfect
,
soaring
trajectory
,
his
body
projected
in
pure
flight
,
mindless
,
soulless
,
whirling
along
one
perfect
line
of
force
.
Luckily
there
came
a
day
of
snow
,
when
they
must
all
stay
indoors
:
otherwise
Birkin
said
,
they
would
all
lose
their
faculties
,
and
begin
to
utter
themselves
in
cries
and
shrieks
,
like
some
strange
,
unknown
species
of
snow-creatures
.
It
happened
in
the
afternoon
that
Ursula
sat
in
the
Reunionsaal
talking
to
Loerke
.
The
latter
had
seemed
unhappy
lately
.
He
was
lively
and
full
of
mischievous
humour
,
as
usual
.
But
Ursula
had
thought
he
was
sulky
about
something
.
His
partner
,
too
,
the
big
,
fair
,
good-looking
youth
,
was
ill
at
ease
,
going
about
as
if
he
belonged
to
nowhere
,
and
was
kept
in
some
sort
of
subjection
,
against
which
he
was
rebelling
.
Loerke
had
hardly
talked
to
Gudrun
.
His
associate
,
on
the
other
hand
,
had
paid
her
constantly
a
soft
,
over-deferential
attention
.
Gudrun
wanted
to
talk
to
Loerke
.
He
was
a
sculptor
,
and
she
wanted
to
hear
his
view
of
his
art
.
And
his
figure
attracted
her
.
There
was
the
look
of
a
little
wastrel
about
him
,
that
intrigued
her
,
and
an
old
man’s
look
,
that
interested
her
,
and
then
,
beside
this
,
an
uncanny
singleness
,
a
quality
of
being
by
himself
,
not
in
contact
with
anybody
else
,
that
marked
out
an
artist
to
her
.
He
was
a
chatterer
,
a
magpie
,
a
maker
of
mischievous
word-jokes
,
that
were
sometimes
very
clever
,
but
which
often
were
not
.
And
she
could
see
in
his
brown
,
gnome’s
eyes
,
the
black
look
of
inorganic
misery
,
which
lay
behind
all
his
small
buffoonery
.
His
figure
interested
her
—
the
figure
of
a
boy
,
almost
a
street
arab
.
He
made
no
attempt
to
conceal
it
.
He
always
wore
a
simple
loden
suit
,
with
knee
breeches
.
His
legs
were
thin
,
and
he
made
no
attempt
to
disguise
the
fact
:
which
was
of
itself
remarkable
,
in
a
German
.
And
he
never
ingratiated
himself
anywhere
,
not
in
the
slightest
,
but
kept
to
himself
,
for
all
his
apparent
playfulness
.
Leitner
,
his
companion
,
was
a
great
sportsman
,
very
handsome
with
his
big
limbs
and
his
blue
eyes
.
Loerke
would
go
toboganning
or
skating
,
in
little
snatches
,
but
he
was
indifferent
.
And
his
fine
,
thin
nostrils
,
the
nostrils
of
a
pure-bred
street
arab
,
would
quiver
with
contempt
at
Leitner’s
splothering
gymnastic
displays
.
It
was
evident
that
the
two
men
who
had
travelled
and
lived
together
,
sharing
the
same
bedroom
,
had
now
reached
the
stage
of
loathing
.
Leitner
hated
Loerke
with
an
injured
,
writhing
,
impotent
hatred
,
and
Loerke
treated
Leitner
with
a
fine-quivering
contempt
and
sarcasm
.
Soon
the
two
would
have
to
go
apart
.
Already
they
were
rarely
together
.
Leitner
ran
attaching
himself
to
somebody
or
other
,
always
deferring
,
Loerke
was
a
good
deal
alone
.
Out
of
doors
he
wore
a
Westphalian
cap
,
a
close
brown-velvet
head
with
big
brown
velvet
flaps
down
over
his
ears
,
so
that
he
looked
like
a
lop-eared
rabbit
,
or
a
troll
.
His
face
was
brown-red
,
with
a
dry
,
bright
skin
,
that
seemed
to
crinkle
with
his
mobile
expressions
.
His
eyes
were
arresting
—
brown
,
full
,
like
a
rabbit’s
,
or
like
a
troll’s
,
or
like
the
eyes
of
a
lost
being
,
having
a
strange
,
dumb
,
depraved
look
of
knowledge
,
and
a
quick
spark
of
uncanny
fire
.
Whenever
Gudrun
had
tried
to
talk
to
him
he
had
shied
away
unresponsive
,
looking
at
her
with
his
watchful
dark
eyes
,
but
entering
into
no
relation
with
her
.
He
had
made
her
feel
that
her
slow
French
and
her
slower
German
,
were
hateful
to
him
.
As
for
his
own
inadequate
English
,
he
was
much
too
awkward
to
try
it
at
all
.
But
he
understood
a
good
deal
of
what
was
said
,
nevertheless
.
And
Gudrun
,
piqued
,
left
him
alone
.
This
afternoon
,
however
,
she
came
into
the
lounge
as
he
was
talking
to
Ursula
.
His
fine
,
black
hair
somehow
reminded
her
of
a
bat
,
thin
as
it
was
on
his
full
,
sensitive-looking
head
,
and
worn
away
at
the
temples
.
He
sat
hunched
up
,
as
if
his
spirit
were
bat-like
.
And
Gudrun
could
see
he
was
making
some
slow
confidence
to
Ursula
,
unwilling
,
a
slow
,
grudging
,
scanty
self-revelation
.
She
went
and
sat
by
her
sister
.
He
looked
at
her
,
then
looked
away
again
,
as
if
he
took
no
notice
of
her
.
But
as
a
matter
of
fact
,
she
interested
him
deeply
.
“
Isn’t
it
interesting
,
Prune
,
”
said
Ursula
,
turning
to
her
sister
,
“
Herr
Loerke
is
doing
a
great
frieze
for
a
factory
in
Cologne
,
for
the
outside
,
the
street
.
”
She
looked
at
him
,
at
his
thin
,
brown
,
nervous
hands
,
that
were
prehensile
,
and
somehow
like
talons
,
like
“
griffes
,
”
inhuman
.
“
What
in
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Aus
was
?
”
repeated
Ursula
.
“
Granit
,
”
he
replied
.
It
had
become
immediately
a
laconic
series
of
question
and
answer
between
fellow
craftsmen
.
“
What
is
the
relief
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
“
Alto
relievo
.
”
“
And
at
what
height
?
”
It
was
very
interesting
to
Gudrun
to
think
of
his
making
the
great
granite
frieze
for
a
great
granite
factory
in
Cologne
.
She
got
from
him
some
notion
of
the
design
.
It
was
a
representation
of
a
fair
,
with
peasants
and
artisans
in
an
orgy
of
enjoyment
,
drunk
and
absurd
in
their
modern
dress
,
whirling
ridiculously
in
roundabouts
,
gaping
at
shows
,
kissing
and
staggering
and
rolling
in
knots
,
swinging
in
swing-boats
,
and
firing
down
shooting
galleries
,
a
frenzy
of
chaotic
motion
.
There
was
a
swift
discussion
of
technicalities
.
Gudrun
was
very
much
impressed
.
“
But
how
wonderful
,
to
have
such
a
factory
!
”
cried
Ursula
.
“
Is
the
whole
building
fine
?
”
“
Oh
yes
,
”
he
replied
.
“
The
frieze
is
part
of
the
whole
architecture
.
Yes
,
it
is
a
colossal
thing
.
”
Then
he
seemed
to
stiffen
,
shrugged
his
shoulders
,
and
went
on
:
“
Sculpture
and
architecture
must
go
together
.
The
day
for
irrelevant
statues
,
as
for
wall
pictures
,
is
over
.
As
a
matter
of
fact
sculpture
is
always
part
of
an
architectural
conception
.
And
since
churches
are
all
museum
stuff
,
since
industry
is
our
business
,
now
,
then
let
us
make
our
places
of
industry
our
art
—
our
factory-area
our
Parthenon
,
ecco
!
”
Ursula
pondered
.
“
I
suppose
,
”
she
said
,
“
there
is
no
need
for
our
great
works
to
be
so
hideous
.
”
Instantly
he
broke
into
motion
.
“
There
you
are
!
”
he
cried
,
“
there
you
are
!
There
is
not
only
no
need
for
our
places
of
work
to
be
ugly
,
but
their
ugliness
ruins
the
work
,
in
the
end
.
Men
will
not
go
on
submitting
to
such
intolerable
ugliness
.
In
the
end
it
will
hurt
too
much
,
and
they
will
wither
because
of
it
.
And
this
will
wither
the
work
as
well
.
They
will
think
the
work
itself
is
ugly
:
the
machines
,
the
very
act
of
labour
.
Whereas
the
machinery
and
the
acts
of
labour
are
extremely
,
maddeningly
beautiful
.
But
this
will
be
the
end
of
our
civilisation
,
when
people
will
not
work
because
work
has
become
so
intolerable
to
their
senses
,
it
nauseates
them
too
much
,
they
would
rather
starve
.
Then
we
shall
see
the
hammer
used
only
for
smashing
,
then
we
shall
see
it
.
Yet
here
we
are
—
we
have
the
opportunity
to
make
beautiful
factories
,
beautiful
machine-houses
—
we
have
the
opportunity
—
”
Gudrun
could
only
partly
understand
.
She
could
have
cried
with
vexation
.
“
What
does
he
say
?
”
she
asked
Ursula
.
And
Ursula
translated
,
stammering
and
brief
.
Loerke
watched
Gudrun’s
face
,
to
see
her
judgment
.
“
And
do
you
think
then
,
”
said
Gudrun
,
“
that
art
should
serve
industry
?
”
“
Art
should
interpret
industry
,
as
art
once
interpreted
religion
,
”
he
said
.
“
But
does
your
fair
interpret
industry
?
”
she
asked
him
.
“
Certainly
.
What
is
man
doing
,
when
he
is
at
a
fair
like
this
?
He
is
fulfilling
the
counterpart
of
labour
—
the
machine
works
him
,
instead
of
he
the
machine
.
He
enjoys
the
mechanical
motion
,
in
his
own
body
.
”
“
But
is
there
nothing
but
work
—
mechanical
work
?
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
Nothing
but
work
!
”
he
repeated
,
leaning
forward
,
his
eyes
two
darknesses
,
with
needle-points
of
light
.
“
No
,
it
is
nothing
but
this
,
serving
a
machine
,
or
enjoying
the
motion
of
a
machine
—
motion
,
that
is
all
.
You
have
never
worked
for
hunger
,
or
you
would
know
what
god
governs
us
.
”
Gudrun
quivered
and
flushed
.
For
some
reason
she
was
almost
in
tears
.
“
No
,
I
have
not
worked
for
hunger
,
”
she
replied
,
“
but
I
have
worked
!
”
“
Travaillé
—
lavorato
?
”
he
asked
.
“
E
che
lavoro
—
che
lavoro
?
Quel
travail
est-ce
que
vous
avez
fait
?
”
He
broke
into
a
mixture
of
Italian
and
French
,
instinctively
using
a
foreign
language
when
he
spoke
to
her
.
“
You
have
never
worked
as
the
world
works
,
”
he
said
to
her
,
with
sarcasm
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
have
.
And
I
do
—
I
work
now
for
my
daily
bread
.
”
He
paused
,
looked
at
her
steadily
,
then
dropped
the
subject
entirely
.
She
seemed
to
him
to
be
trifling
.
“
But
have
you
ever
worked
as
the
world
works
?
”
Ursula
asked
him
.
He
looked
at
her
untrustful
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
replied
,
with
a
surly
bark
.
“
I
have
known
what
it
was
to
lie
in
bed
for
three
days
,
because
I
had
nothing
to
eat
.
”
Gudrun
was
looking
at
him
with
large
,
grave
eyes
,
that
seemed
to
draw
the
confession
from
him
as
the
marrow
from
his
bones
.
All
his
nature
held
him
back
from
confessing
.
And
yet
her
large
,
grave
eyes
upon
him
seemed
to
open
some
valve
in
his
veins
,
and
involuntarily
he
was
telling
.
“
My
father
was
a
man
who
did
not
like
work
,
and
we
had
no
mother
.
We
lived
in
Austria
,
Polish
Austria
.
How
did
we
live
?
Ha
!
—
somehow
!
Mostly
in
a
room
with
three
other
families
—
one
set
in
each
corner
—
and
the
W.C.
in
the
middle
of
the
room
—
a
pan
with
a
plank
on
it
—
ha
!
I
had
two
brothers
and
a
sister
—
and
there
might
be
a
woman
with
my
father
.
He
was
a
free
being
,
in
his
way
—
would
fight
with
any
man
in
the
town
—
a
garrison
town
—
and
was
a
little
man
too
.
But
he
wouldn’t
work
for
anybody
—
set
his
heart
against
it
,
and
wouldn’t
.
”
“
And
how
did
you
live
then
?
”
asked
Ursula
.
He
looked
at
her
—
then
,
suddenly
,
at
Gudrun
.
“
Do
you
understand
?
”
he
asked
.
“
Enough
,
”
she
replied
.
Their
eyes
met
for
a
moment
.
Then
he
looked
away
.
He
would
say
no
more
.
“
And
how
did
you
become
a
sculptor
?
”
asked
Ursula
.
“
How
did
I
become
a
sculptor
—
”
he
paused
.
“
Dunque
—
”
he
resumed
,
in
a
changed
manner
,
and
beginning
to
speak
French
—
“
I
became
old
enough
—
I
used
to
steal
from
the
market-place
.
Later
I
went
to
work
—
imprinted
the
stamp
on
clay
bottles
,
before
they
were
baked
.
It
was
an
earthenware-bottle
factory
.
There
I
began
making
models
.
One
day
,
I
had
had
enough
.
I
lay
in
the
sun
and
did
not
go
to
work
.
Then
I
walked
to
Munich
—
then
I
walked
to
Italy
—
begging
,
begging
everything
.
”
“
The
Italians
were
very
good
to
me
—
they
were
good
and
honourable
to
me
.
From
Bozen
to
Rome
,
almost
every
night
I
had
a
meal
and
a
bed
,
perhaps
of
straw
,
with
some
peasant
.
I
love
the
Italian
people
,
with
all
my
heart
.
“
Dunque
,
adesso
—
maintenant
—
I
earn
a
thousand
pounds
in
a
year
,
or
I
earn
two
thousand
—
”
He
looked
down
at
the
ground
,
his
voice
tailing
off
into
silence
.
Gudrun
looked
at
his
fine
,
thin
,
shiny
skin
,
reddish-brown
from
the
sun
,
drawn
tight
over
his
full
temples
;
and
at
his
thin
hair
—
and
at
the
thick
,
coarse
,
brush-like
moustache
,
cut
short
about
his
mobile
,
rather
shapeless
mouth
.
“
How
old
are
you
?
”
she
asked
.
He
looked
up
at
her
with
his
full
,
elfin
eyes
startled
.
“
Wie
alt
?
”
he
repeated
.
And
he
hesitated
.
It
was
evidently
one
of
his
reticencies
.
“
How
old
are
you
?
”
he
replied
,
without
answering
.
“
I
am
twenty-six
,
”
she
answered
.
“
Twenty-six
,
”
he
repeated
,
looking
into
her
eyes
.
He
paused
.
Then
he
said
:
“
Und
Ihr
Herr
Gemahl
,
wie
alt
ist
er
?
”
“
Who
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
“
Your
husband
,
”
said
Ursula
,
with
a
certain
irony
.
“
I
haven’t
got
a
husband
,
”
said
Gudrun
in
English
.
In
German
she
answered
,
“
He
is
thirty-one
.
”
But
Loerke
was
watching
closely
,
with
his
uncanny
,
full
,
suspicious
eyes
.
Something
in
Gudrun
seemed
to
accord
with
