It was
this that drove Gerald wild, the feeling in Gudrun's veins of Loerke's
presence, Loerke's being, flowing dominant through her.
'What makes you so smitten with that little vermin?' he asked, really
puzzled. For he, man-like, could not see anything attractive or
important AT ALL in Loerke. Gerald expected to find some handsomeness
or nobleness, to account for a woman's subjection. But he saw none
here, only an insect-like repulsiveness.
Gudrun flushed deeply. It was these attacks she would never forgive.
'What do you mean?' she replied. 'My God, what a mercy I am NOT married
to you!'
Her voice of flouting and contempt scotched him. He was brought up
short. But he recovered himself.
'Tell me, only tell me,' he reiterated in a dangerous narrowed
voice--'tell me what it is that fascinates you in him.'
'I am not fascinated,' she said, with cold repelling innocence.
'Yes, you are. You are fascinated by that little dry snake, like a bird
gaping ready to fall down its throat.
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