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 heaven, all strangely radiant and
changeless and silent.
'It makes one feel so small and alone,' said Ursula, turning to Birkin
and laying her hand on his arm.
'You're not sorry you've come, are you?' said Gerald to Gudrun.
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