'Yes, Ursula, it IS awful, in most respects. You daren't be anything
that isn't amazingly A TERRE, SO much A TERRE that it is the artistic
creation of ordinariness.'
'It's very dull to create oneself into nothing better,' laughed Ursula.
'Very dull!' retorted Gudrun. 'Really Ursula, it is dull, that's just
the word. One longs to be high-flown, and make speeches like Corneille,
after it.'
Gudrun was becoming flushed and excited over her own cleverness.
'Strut,' said Ursula. 'One wants to strut, to be a swan among geese.'
'Exactly,' cried Gudrun, 'a swan among geese.'
'They are all so busy playing the ugly duckling,' cried Ursula, with
mocking laughter. 'And I don't feel a bit like a humble and pathetic
ugly duckling. I do feel like a swan among geese--I can't help it. They
make one feel so. And I don't care what THEY think of me. FE M'EN
FICHE.'
Gudrun looked up at Ursula with a queer, uncertain envy and dislike.
'Of course, the only thing to do is to despise them all--just all,' she
said.
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