They passed the inn with its painted shutters and balcony, a few
cottages, half buried in the snow; then the snow-buried silent sawmill
by the roofed bridge, which crossed the hidden stream, over which they
ran into the very depth of the untouched sheets of snow. It was a
silence and a sheer whiteness exhilarating to madness. But the perfect
silence was most terrifying, isolating the soul, surrounding the heart
with frozen air.
'It's a marvellous place, for all that,' said Gudrun, looking into his
eyes with a strange, meaning look. His soul leapt.
'Good,' he said.
A fierce electric energy seemed to flow over all his limbs, his muscles
were surcharged, his hands felt hard with strength. They walked along
rapidly up the snow-road, that was marked by withered branches of trees
stuck in at intervals. He and she were separate, like opposite poles of
one fierce energy. But they felt powerful enough to leap over the
confines of life into the forbidden places, and back again.
Birkin and Ursula were running along also, over the snow.
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