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Updated: June 25, 2025
The fancies were the reality to both of them, they were both so happy, tossing about the little coloured balls of verbal humour and whimsicality. Their natures seemed to sparkle in full interplay, they were enjoying a pure game. And they wanted to keep it on the level of a game, their relationship: SUCH a fine game. Loerke did not take the toboganning very seriously.
His face was open and clear, with a certain innocent LAISSER-ALLER that troubled Gudrun most, made her almost afraid of him, whilst she disliked him deeply for it. It was after this that Loerke, who had never yet spoken to her personally, began to ask her of her state. 'You are not married at all, are you? he asked. She looked full at him. 'Not in the least, she replied, in her measured way.
They had a curious game with each other, Gudrun and Loerke, of infinite suggestivity, strange and leering, as if they had some esoteric understanding of life, that they alone were initiated into the fearful central secrets, that the world dared not know.
She hated him for the seasoned, semi-paternal animalism with which he regarded her, but she admired his weight of strength. The room was charged with excitement and strong, animal emotion. Loerke was kept away from Gudrun, to whom he wanted to speak, as by a hedge of thorns, and he felt a sardonic ruthless hatred for this young love-companion, Leitner, who was his penniless dependent.
She felt a new lease of life was come upon her, and she was happy like a child, very attractive and beautiful to everybody, with her soft, luxuriant figure, and her happiness. Yet underneath was death itself. In the afternoon she had to go out with Loerke. Her tomorrow was perfectly vague before her. This was what gave her pleasure.
Yet here we are we have the opportunity to make beautiful factories, beautiful machine-houses we have the opportunity Gudrun could only partly understand. She could have cried with vexation. 'What does he say? she asked Ursula. And Ursula translated, stammering and brief. Loerke watched Gudrun's face, to see her judgment. 'And do you think then, said Gudrun, 'that art should serve industry?
She saw the girl art-student, unformed and of pernicious recklessness, too young, her straight flaxen hair cut short, hanging just into her neck, curving inwards slightly, because it was rather thick; and Loerke, the well-known master-sculptor, and the girl, probably well-brought-up, and of good family, thinking herself so great to be his mistress.
Gerald looked at the small, sculptured feet. They were turned together, half covering each other in pathetic shyness and fear. He looked at them a long time, fascinated. Then, in some pain, he put the picture away from him. He felt full of barrenness. 'What was her name? Gudrun asked Loerke. 'Annette von Weck, Loerke replied reminiscent. 'Ja, sie war hubsch. She was pretty but she was tiresome.
'I don't like them any bigger, any older. Then they are beautiful, at sixteen, seventeen, eighteen after that, they are no use to me. There was a moment's pause. 'Why not? asked Gerald. Loerke shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't find them interesting or beautiful they are no good to me, for my work. 'Do you mean to say a woman isn't beautiful after she is twenty? asked Gerald. 'For me, no.
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?
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