He wanted something now, some recognition, some sign, some
admission. But she only lay silent and child-like and remote, like a
child that is overcome and cannot understand, only feels lost. He
kissed her again, giving up.
'Shall we go down and have coffee and Kuchen?' he asked.
The twilight was falling slate-blue at the window. She closed her eyes,
closed away the monotonous level of dead wonder, and opened them again
to the every-day world.
'Yes,' she said briefly, regaining her will with a click. She went
again to the window. Blue evening had fallen over the cradle of snow
and over the great pallid slopes. But in the heaven the peaks of snow
were rosy, glistening like transcendent, radiant spikes of blossom in
the heavenly upper-world, so lovely and beyond.
Gudrun saw all their loveliness, she KNEW how immortally beautiful they
were, great pistils of rose-coloured, snow-fed fire in the blue
twilight of the heaven. She could SEE it, she knew it, but she was not
of it. She was divorced, debarred, a soul shut out.
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