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Updated: June 25, 2025
So that, although she wanted to go out with Loerke for the last time into the snow, she did not want to be serious or businesslike. And Loerke was not a serious figure.
'I've not got there yet, so I don't know. Ask Loerke, he's pretty near. He is a good many stages further than either you or I can go. 'Yes, but stages further in what? cried Gerald, irritated. Birkin sighed, and gathered his brows into a knot of anger. 'Stages further in social hatred, he said. 'He lives like a rat, in the river of corruption, just where it falls over into the bottomless pit.
It was over. 'Herr Loerke was giving us a recitation in the Cologne dialect, said the Professor. 'He must forgive us for interrupting him, said Gerald, 'we should like very much to hear it. There was instantly a bowing and an offering of seats. Gudrun and Ursula, Gerald and Birkin sat in the deep sofas against the wall. The room was of naked oiled panelling, like the rest of the house.
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.
But there WERE no new worlds, there were no more MEN, there were only creatures, little, ultimate CREATURES like Loerke. The world was finished now, for her. There was only the inner, individual darkness, sensation within the ego, the obscene religious mystery of ultimate reduction, the mystic frictional activities of diabolic reducing down, disintegrating the vital organic body of life.
That the ultimate purpose might be the perfect and subtle experience of the process of death, the will being kept unimpaired, that was not allowed in him. And this was his limitation. There was a hovering triumph in Loerke, since Gudrun had denied her marriage with Gerald. The artist seemed to hover like a creature on the wing, waiting to settle.
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.
Her one motive was to avoid actual contact with events. She only wrote out a long telegram to Ursula and Birkin. In the afternoon, however, she rose suddenly to look for Loerke. She glanced with apprehension at the door of the room that had been Gerald's. Not for worlds would she enter there. She found Loerke sitting alone in the lounge. She went straight up to him.
He was unconscious of her fighting and struggling. The struggling was her reciprocal lustful passion in this embrace, the more violent it became, the greater the frenzy of delight, till the zenith was reached, the crisis, the struggle was overborne, her movement became softer, appeased. Loerke roused himself on the snow, too dazed and hurt to get up. Only his eyes were conscious.
She might be going to England with Gerald, she might be going to Dresden with Loerke, she might be going to Munich, to a girl-friend she had there. Anything might come to pass on the morrow. And today was the white, snowy iridescent threshold of all possibility.
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