Women in Love

'Your thoughts.' Gerald looked like a man coming awake.

'I think I had none,' he said.

'Really!' she said, with grave laughter in her voice.

And to Birkin it was as if she killed Gerald, with that touch.

'Ah but,' cried Gudrun, 'let us drink to Britannia--let us drink to

Britannia.' It seemed there was wild despair in her voice. Gerald laughed, and

filled the glasses.

'I think Rupert means,' he said, 'that NATIONALLY all Englishmen must

die, so that they can exist individually and--' 'Super-nationally--' put in Gudrun, with a slight ironic grimace,

raising her glass.

The next day, they descended at the tiny railway station of

Hohenhausen, at the end of the tiny valley railway. It was snow

everywhere, a white, perfect cradle of snow, new and frozen, sweeping

up an either side, black crags, and white sweeps of silver towards the

blue pale heavens.

As they stepped out on the naked platform, with only snow around and

above, Gudrun shrank as if it chilled her heart.

'My God, Jerry,' she said, turning to Gerald with sudden intimacy,

'you've done it now.' 'What?' She made a faint gesture, indicating the world on either hand.

'Look at it!' She seemed afraid to go on. He laughed.

They were in the heart of the mountains. From high above, on either

side, swept down the white fold of snow, so that one seemed small and

tiny in a valley of pure concrete heaven, all strangely radiant and

changeless and silent.

'It makes one feel so small and alone,' said Ursula, turning to Birkin

and laying her hand on his arm.

'You're not sorry you've come, are you?' said Gerald to Gudrun.

She looked doubtful. They went out of the station between banks of

snow.

'Ah,' said Gerald, sniffing the air in elation, 'this is perfect.

There's our sledge. We'll walk a bit--we'll run up the road.' Gudrun, always doubtful, dropped her heavy coat on the sledge, as he

did his, and they set off. Suddenly she threw up her head and set off

scudding along the road of snow, pulling her cap down over her ears.

Her blue, bright dress fluttered in the wind, her thick scarlet

stockings were brilliant above the whiteness. Gerald watched her: she

seemed to be rushing towards her fate, and leaving him behind. He let

her get some distance, then, loosening his limbs, he went after her.

Everywhere was deep and silent snow. Great snow-eaves weighed down the

broad-roofed Tyrolese houses, that were sunk to the window-sashes in

snow. Peasant-women, full-skirted, wearing each a cross-over shawl, and

thick snow-boots, turned in the way to look at the soft, determined

girl running with such heavy fleetness from the man, who was overtaking

her, but not gaining any power over her.