Women in Love

She was rather piqued by the simplicity of Gerald's demeanour this

evening. He did not seem angry or disgusted, only he looked curiously

innocent and pure, really beautiful. Sometimes it came upon him, this

look of clear distance, and it always fascinated her.

She waited, troubled, throughout the evening. She thought he would

avoid her, or give some sign. But he spoke to her simply and

unemotionally, as he would to anyone else in the room. A certain peace,

an abstraction possessed his soul.

She went to his room, hotly, violently in love with him. He was so

beautiful and inaccessible. He kissed her, he was a lover to her. And

she had extreme pleasure of him. But he did not come to, he remained

remote and candid, unconscious. She wanted to speak to him. But this

innocent, beautiful state of unconsciousness that had come upon him

prevented her. She felt tormented and dark.

In the morning, however, he looked at her with a little aversion, some

horror and some hatred darkening into his eyes. She withdrew on to her

old ground. But still he would not gather himself together, against

her.

Loerke was waiting for her now. The little artist, isolated in his own

complete envelope, felt that here at last was a woman from whom he

could get something. He was uneasy all the while, waiting to talk with

her, subtly contriving to be near her. Her presence filled him with

keenness and excitement, he gravitated cunningly towards her, as if she

had some unseen force of attraction.

He was not in the least doubtful of himself, as regards Gerald. Gerald

was one of the outsiders. Loerke only hated him for being rich and

proud and of fine appearance. All these things, however, riches, pride

of social standing, handsome physique, were externals. When it came to

the relation with a woman such as Gudrun, he, Loerke, had an approach

and a power that Gerald never dreamed of.

How should Gerald hope to satisfy a woman of Gudrun's calibre? Did he

think that pride or masterful will or physical strength would help him?

Loerke knew a secret beyond these things. The greatest power is the one

that is subtle and adjusts itself, not one which blindly attacks. And

he, Loerke, had understanding where Gerald was a calf. He, Loerke,

could penetrate into depths far out of Gerald's knowledge. Gerald was

left behind like a postulant in the ante-room of this temple of

mysteries, this woman. But he Loerke, could he not penetrate into the

inner darkness, find the spirit of the woman in its inner recess, and

wrestle with it there, the central serpent that is coiled at the core

of life.