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Updated: June 8, 2025
'You wouldn't think there was all that force in a rabbit, he said, looking at Gudrun. And he saw her eyes black as night in her pallid face, she looked almost unearthly. The scream of the rabbit, after the violent tussle, seemed to have torn the veil of her consciousness. He looked at her, and the whitish, electric gleam in his face intensified. 'I don't really like him, Winifred was crooning.
'Shall we get him now? she chuckled wickedly to herself. They unlocked the door of the hutch. Gudrun thrust in her arm and seized the great, lusty rabbit as it crouched still, she grasped its long ears. It set its four feet flat, and thrust back.
'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.
'Are we going to stay here? asked Gudrun. 'I was only resting a minute, said Ursula, getting up as if rebuked. 'We will stand in the corner by the fives-court, we shall see everything from there. For the moment, the sunshine fell brightly into the churchyard, there was a vague scent of sap and of spring, perhaps of violets from off the graves. Some white daisies were out, bright as angels.
'They all feel they ought to behave in some unnatural fashion, said Birkin. 'When people are in grief, they would do better to cover their faces and keep in retirement, as in the old days. 'Certainly! cried Gudrun, flushed and inflammable. 'What can be worse than this public grief what is more horrible, more false! If GRIEF is not private, and hidden, what is? 'Exactly, he said.
There she found her father sitting on his bed, knitting a seaman's mitten, crooning an old ditty the while: Far from out the wilderness Comes raging the cold wind; And the bonds of heaven's king It doth still tighter bind. Gudrun leaned over her father and kissed him. Is that you, Gunna dear? he asked. Yes papa, she said, at the same time slipping a flask of brandy into the bosom of his shirt.
'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?
Second, or Old, Gudrun Lay, is also late. It contains more kennings than are usual in Eddic poetry, and the picture of Gudrun's sojourn in Denmark and the tapestry she wrought with Thora Halfdan's daughter, together with the descriptions of her suitors, belong to a period which had a taste for colour and elaboration of detail.
A weakness ran over his body, a terrible relaxing, a thaw, a decay of strength. Without knowing, he had let go his grip, and Gudrun had fallen to her knees. Must he see, must he know? A fearful weakness possessed him, his joints were turned to water. He drifted, as on a wind, veered, and went drifting away.
Laughing went Gudrun To the bower of good gear, Kings' crested helms From chests she drew, And wide-wrought byrnies Bore to her sons: Then on their horses Load laid the heroes. Then spake Hamdir, The high-hearted "Never cometh again His mother to see The spear-god laid low In the land of the Goths. That one arvel mayst thou For all of us drink, For sister Swanhild, And us thy sons."
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