'Do you mind if I do Dalcroze to that tune, Hurtler?' she asked in a
curious muted tone, scarce moving her lips.
'What did you say?' asked Ursula, looking up in peaceful surprise.
'Will you sing while I do Dalcroze?' said Gudrun, suffering at having
to repeat herself.
Ursula thought a moment, gathering her straying wits together.
'While you do--?' she asked vaguely.
'Dalcroze movements,' said Gudrun, suffering tortures of
self-consciousness, even because of her sister.
'Oh Dalcroze! I couldn't catch the name. DO--I should love to see you,'
cried Ursula, with childish surprised brightness. 'What shall I sing?'
'Sing anything you like, and I'll take the rhythm from it.'
But Ursula could not for her life think of anything to sing. However,
she suddenly began, in a laughing, teasing voice:
'My love--is a high-born lady--'
Gudrun, looking as if some invisible chain weighed on her hands and
feet, began slowly to dance in the eurythmic manner, pulsing and
fluttering rhythmically with her feet, making slower, regular gestures
with her hands and arms, now spreading her arms wide, now raising them
above her head, now flinging them softly apart, and lifting her face,
her feet all the time beating and running to the measure of the song,
as if it were some strange incantation, her white, rapt form drifting
here and there in a strange impulsive rhapsody, seeming to be lifted on
a breeze of incantation, shuddering with strange little runs.
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