Page 590 - women-in-love

And to Birkin it was as if she killed Gerald, with that
touch.
‘Ah but,’ cried Gudrun, ‘let us drink to Britannia—let us
drink to Britannia.’
It seemed there was wild despair in her voice. Gerald
laughed, and filled the glasses.
‘I think Rupert means,’ he said, ‘that NATIONALLY all
Englishmen must die, so that they can exist individually
and—‘
‘Super-nationally—‘ put in Gudrun, with a slight ironic
grimace, raising her glass.
The next day, they descended at the tiny railway station
of Hohenhausen, at the end of the tiny valley railway. It was
snow everywhere, a white, perfect cradle of snow, new and
frozen, sweeping up an either side, black crags, and white
sweeps of silver towards the blue pale heavens.
As they stepped out on the naked platform, with only
snow around and above, Gudrun shrank as if it chilled her
heart.
‘My God, Jerry,’ she said, turning to Gerald with sudden
intimacy, ‘you’ve done it now.’
‘What?’
She made a faint gesture, indicating the world on either
hand.
‘Look at it!’
She seemed afraid to go on. He laughed.
They were in the heart of the mountains. From high
above, on either side, swept down the white fold of snow, so
that one seemed small and tiny in a valley of pure concrete

590 Women in Love