always houses passing.
This was an old world she was still journeying through, winter-heavy
and dreary. There was plough-land and pasture, and copses of bare
trees, copses of bushes, and homesteads naked and work-bare. No new
earth had come to pass.
She looked at Birkin's face. It was white and still and eternal, too
eternal. She linked her fingers imploringly in his, under the cover of
her rug. His fingers responded, his eyes looked back at her. How dark,
like a night, his eyes were, like another world beyond! Oh, if he were
the world as well, if only the world were he! If only he could call a
world into being, that should be their own world!
The Belgians left, the train ran on, through Luxembourg, through
Alsace-Lorraine, through Metz. But she was blind, she could see no
more. Her soul did not look out.
They came at last to Basle, to the hotel. It was all a drifting trance,
from which she never came to. They went out in the morning, before the
train departed. She saw the street, the river, she stood on the bridge.
But it all meant nothing. She remembered some shops--one full of
pictures, one with orange velvet and ermine. But what did these
signify?--nothing.
She was not at ease till they were in the train again. Then she was
relieved. So long as they were moving onwards, she was satisfied. They
came to Zurich, then, before very long, ran under the mountains, that
were deep in snow. At last she was drawing near. This was the other
world now.
Innsbruck was wonderful, deep in snow, and evening. They drove in an
open sledge over the snow: the train had been so hot and stifling. And
the hotel, with the golden light glowing under the porch, seemed like a
home.
They laughed with pleasure when they were in the hall. The place seemed
full and busy.
'Do you know if Mr and Mrs Crich--English--from Paris, have arrived?'
Birkin asked in German.
The porter reflected a moment, and was just going to answer, when
Ursula caught sight of Gudrun sauntering down the stairs, wearing her
dark glossy coat, with grey fur.
'Gudrun! Gudrun!' she called, waving up the well of the staircase.
'Shu-hu!'
Gudrun looked over the rail, and immediately lost her sauntering,
diffident air. Her eyes flashed.
'Really--Ursula!' she cried. And she began to move downstairs as Ursula
ran up. They met at a turn and kissed with laughter and exclamations
inarticulate and stirring.
'But!' cried Gudrun, mortified. 'We thought it was TOMORROW you were
coming! I wanted to come to the station.'
'No, we've come today!' cried Ursula. 'Isn't it lovely here!'
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