usness come unto her swollen
face, watching the eyes roll back. How ugly she was! What a fulfilment,
what a satisfaction! How good this was, oh how good it was, what a
God-given gratification, at last! 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.

'Monsieur!' he said, in his thin, roused voice: 'Quand vous aurez
fini--'

A revulsion of contempt and disgust came over Gerald's soul. The
disgust went to the very bottom of him, a nausea. Ah, what was he
doing, to what depths was he letting himself go! As if he cared about
her enough to kill her, to have her life on his hands!

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.

'I didn't want it, really,' was the last confession of disgust in his
soul, as he drifted up the slope, weak, finished, only sheering off
unconsciously from any further contact. 'I've had enough--I want to go
to sleep. I've had enough.' He was sunk under a sense of nausea.

He was weak, but he did not want to rest, he wanted to go on and on, to
the end. Never again to stay, till he came to the end, that was all the
desire that remained to him. So he drifted on and on, unconscious and
weak, not thinking of anything, so long as he could keep in action.

The twilight spread a weird, unearthly light overhead, bluish-rose in
colour, the cold blue night sank on the snow. In the valley below,
behind, in the great bed of snow, were two small figures: Gudrun
dropped on her knees, like one executed, and Loerke sitting propped up
near her. That was all.

Gerald stumbled on up the slope of snow, in the bluish darkness, always
climbing, always unconsciously climbing, weary though he was. On his
left was a steep slope with black rocks and fallen masses of rock and
veins of snow slashing in and about the blackness of rock, veins of
snow slashing vaguely in and about the blackness of rock. Yet there was
no sound, all t