the means
to her end, for she had herself to lash as well as him. And so, once
more, as at the very beginning, hand grew to be a weight in hand,
something alive, electric; and any chance contact might rouse a blast
in them. She neither asked nor Showed mercy. Drop by drop, they drained
each other of vitality, two sufferers, yet each thirsty for the other's
life-blood; for, with this new attitude on her part, an element of
cruelty had entered into their love. When, with her hands on his
shoulders, her insatiable lips apart, Louise put back her head and
looked at him, Maurice was acutely aware of the hostile feeling in her.
But he, too, knew what it was; for, when he tried to urge prudence on
her, she only laughed at him; and this low, reckless laugh, her savage
eyes, and morbid pallor, invariably took from him every jot of concern.

They returned to Leipzig towards the middle of the first week, in order
not to make their absence too conspicuous. But they had arranged to go
away again, on the following Saturday, and, in the present state of
things, the few intervening days seemed endless. Louise shut herself
up, and would see little of him.

The next week, and the next again, were spent in the same fashion. A
fine and mild October ran its course. For the fourth journey, towards
the end of the month, they had planned to return to Rochlitz. At the
last moment, however, Maurice opposed the scheme, and they left the
train at Grimma. It was Friday, and a superb autumn day. They put up,
not in the town itself, but at an inn about a mile and a half distant
from it. This stood on the edge of a wood, was a favourite summer
resort, and had lately been enlarged by an additional wing. Now, it was
empty of guests save themselves. They occupied a large room in the new
part of the building, at the end of a long corridor, which was shut off
by a door from the rest of the house. They were utterly alone; there
was no need for them even to moderate their voices. In the early
morning hours, and on the journey there, Maurice had thought he noticed
something unusual about Louise, and, more than once, he had asked her
if her head ached. But soon he forgot his solicitude.

Next morning, he felt an irresistible inclination to go out: opening
the window, he leaned on the sill. A fresh, pleasant breeze was
blowing; it bent the tops of the pines, and drove the white clouds
smoothly over the sky. He suggested that they should walk to the ruined
c