we are not the beginning,' he said.

'Yes we are,' she said. 'The beginning comes out of the end.'

'After it, not out of it. After us, not out of us.'

'You are a devil, you know, really,' she said. 'You want to destroy our
hope. You WANT US to be deathly.'

'No,' he said, 'I only want us to KNOW what we are.'

'Ha!' she cried in anger. 'You only want us to know death.'

'You're quite right,' said the soft voice of Gerald, out of the dusk
behind.

Birkin rose. Gerald and Gudrun came up. They all began to smoke, in the
moments of silence. One after another, Birkin lighted their cigarettes.
The match flickered in the twilight, and they were all smoking
peacefully by the water-side. The lake was dim, the light dying from
off it, in the midst of the dark land. The air all round was
intangible, neither here nor there, and there was an unreal noise of
banjoes, or suchlike music.

As the golden swim of light overhead died out, the moon gained
brightness, and seemed to begin to smile forth her ascendancy. The dark
woods on the opposite shore melted into universal shadow. And amid this
universal under-shadow, there was a scattered intrusion of lights. Far
down the lake were fantastic pale strings of colour, like beads of wan
fire, green and red and yellow. The music came out in a little puff, as
the launch, all illuminated, veered into the great shadow, stirring her
outlines of half-living lights, puffing out her music in little drifts.

All were lighting up. Here and there, close against the faint water,
and at the far end of the lake, where the water lay milky in the last
whiteness of the sky, and there was no shadow, solitary, frail flames
of lanterns floated from the unseen boats. There was a sound of oars,
and a boat passed from the pallor into the darkness under the wood,
where her lanterns seemed to kindle into fire, hanging in ruddy lovely
globes. And again, in the lake, shadowy red gleams hovered in
reflection about the boat. Everywhere were these noiseless ruddy
creatures of fire drifting near the surface of the water, caught at by
the rarest, scarce visible reflections.

Birkin brought the lanterns from the bigger boat, and the four shadowy
white figures gathered round, to light them. Ursula held up the first,
Birkin lowered the light from the rosy, glowing cup of his hands, into
the depths of the lantern. It was kindled, and they all stood back to
look at the great blue moon of light that hung from Ursula