ut this
innocent, beautiful state of unconsciousness that had come upon him
prevented her. She felt tormented and dark.

In the morning, however, he looked at her with a little aversion, some
horror and some hatred darkening into his eyes. She withdrew on to her
old ground. But still he would not gather himself together, against
her.

Loerke was waiting for her now. The little artist, isolated in his own
complete envelope, felt that here at last was a woman from whom he
could get something. He was uneasy all the while, waiting to talk with
her, subtly contriving to be near her. Her presence filled him with
keenness and excitement, he gravitated cunningly towards her, as if she
had some unseen force of attraction.

He was not in the least doubtful of himself, as regards Gerald. Gerald
was one of the outsiders. Loerke only hated him for being rich and
proud and of fine appearance. 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?
Loerke knew a secret beyond these things. The greatest power is the one
that is subtle and adjusts itself, not one which blindly attacks. And
he, Loerke, had understanding where Gerald was a calf. He, Loerke,
could penetrate into depths far out of Gerald's knowledge. Gerald was
left behind like a postulant in the ante-room of this temple of
mysteries, this woman. But he Loerke, could he not penetrate into the
inner darkness, find the spirit of the woman in its inner recess, and
wrestle with it there, the central serpent that is coiled at the core
of life.

What was it, after all, that a woman wanted? Was it mere social effect,
fulfilment of ambition in the social world, in the community of
mankind? Was it even a union in love and goodness? Did she want
'goodness'? Who but a fool would accept this of Gudrun? This was but
the street view of her wants. Cross the threshold, and you found her
completely, completely cynical about the social world and its
advantages. Once inside the house of her soul and there was a pungent
atmosphere of corrosion, an inflamed darkness of sensation, and a
vivid, subtle, critical consciousness, that saw the world distorted,
horrific.

What then, what