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He did not take the man seriously, he despised him merely, except as he felt in Gudrun's veins the influence of the little creature. It was this that drove Gerald wild, the feeling in Gudrun's veins of Loerke's presence, Loerke's being, flowing dominant through her. 'What makes you so smitten with that little vermin? he asked, really puzzled.
She looked like a vivid Medusa. Her voice was loud and clamorous, the other people in the room were startled. 'Please don't call me Mrs Crich, she cried aloud. The name, in Loerke's mouth particularly, had been an intolerable humiliation and constraint upon her, these many days. The two men looked at her in amazement. Gerald went white at the cheek-bones.
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 schuhplatteln, gnadige Frau? said the large, fair youth, Loerke's companion. He was too soft, too humble for Gudrun's taste.
She had further to go, a further, slow exquisite experience to reap, unthinkable subtleties of sensation to know, before she was finished. Of the last series of subtleties, Gerald was not capable. He could not touch the quick of her. But where his ruder blows could not penetrate, the fine, insinuating blade of Loerke's insect-like comprehension could.
'What shall I say, then? asked Loerke, with soft, mocking insinuation. 'Sagen Sie nur nicht das, she muttered, her cheeks flushed crimson. 'Not that, at least. She saw, by the dawning look on Loerke's face, that he had understood. She was NOT Mrs Crich! So-o-, that explained a great deal. 'Soll ich Fraulein sagen? he asked, malevolently. 'I am not married, she said, with some hauteur.
Or else, Loerke's dream of fear, the world went cold, and snow fell everywhere, and only white creatures, polar-bears, white foxes, and men like awful white snow-birds, persisted in ice cruelty. Apart from these stories, they never talked of the future. They delighted most either in mocking imaginations of destruction, or in sentimental, fine marionette-shows of the past.
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.
'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.
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