His soul was filled with her burning recognition, he seemed to
grow more uppish and lordly.
Gerald looked at the small, sculptured feet. They were turned together,
half covering each other in pathetic shyness and fear. He looked at
them a long time, fascinated. Then, in some pain, he put the picture
away from him. He felt full of barrenness.
'What was her name?' Gudrun asked Loerke.
'Annette von Weck,' Loerke replied reminiscent. 'Ja, sie war hubsch.
She was pretty--but she was tiresome. She was a nuisance,--not for a
minute would she keep still--not until I'd slapped her hard and made
her cry--then she'd sit for five minutes.'
He was thinking over the work, his work, the all important to him.
'Did you really slap her?' asked Gudrun, coolly.
He glanced back at her, reading her challenge.
'Yes, I did,' he said, nonchalant, 'harder than I have ever beat
anything in my life. I had to, I had to. It was the only way I got the
work done.'
Gudrun watched him with large, dark-filled eyes, for some moments.
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