Page 645 - women-in-love

ter that, they are no use to me.’
There was a moment’s pause.
‘Why not?’ asked Gerald.
Loerke shrugged his shoulders.
‘I don’t find them interesting—or beautiful—they are no
good to me, for my work.’
‘Do you mean to say a woman isn’t beautiful after she is
twenty?’ asked Gerald.
‘For me, no. Before twenty, she is small and fresh and
tender and slight. After that—let her be what she likes, she
has nothing for me. The Venus of Milo is a bourgeoise—so
are they all.’
‘And you don’t care for women at all after twenty?’ asked
Gerald.
‘They are no good to me, they are of no use in my art,’
Loerke repeated impatiently. ‘I don’t find them beautiful.’
‘You are an epicure,’ said Gerald, with a slight sarcastic
laugh.
‘And what about men?’ asked Gudrun suddenly.
‘Yes, they are good at all ages,’ replied Loerke. ‘A man
should be big and powerful—whether he is old or young is
of no account, so he has the size, something of massiveness
and—and stupid form.’
Ursula went out alone into the world of pure, new snow.
But the dazzling whiteness seemed to beat upon her till it
hurt her, she felt the cold was slowly strangling her soul. Her
head felt dazed and numb.
Suddenly she wanted to go away. It occurred to her, like
a miracle, that she might go away into another world. She

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