As the golden swim of light overhead died out, the moon gained brightness, and seemed to begin to smile forth her ascendancy.The dark woods on the opposite shore melted into universal shadow.And amid this universal under-shadow, there was a scattered intrusion of lights.Far down the lake were fantastic pale strings of colour, like beads of wan fire, green and red and yellow.
The music came out in a little puff, as the launch, all illuminated, veered into the great shadow, stirring her outlines of half-living lights, puffing out her music in little drifts.
All were lighting up.Here and there, close against the faint water, and at the far end of the lake, where the water lay milky in the last whiteness of the sky, and there was no shadow, solitary, frail flames of lanterns floated from the unseen boats.There was a sound of oars, and a boat passed from the pallor into the darkness under the wood, where her lanterns seemed to kindle into fire, hanging in ruddy lovely globes.And again, in the lake, shadowy red gleams hovered in reflection about the boat.Everywhere were these noiseless ruddy creatures of fire drifting near the surface of the water, caught at by the rarest, scarce visible reflections.
Birkin brought the lanterns from the bigger boat, and the four shadowy white figures gathered round, to light them.Ursula held up the first, Birkin lowered the light from the rosy, glowing cup of his hands, into the depths of the lantern.It was kindled, and they all stood back to look at the great blue moon of light that hung from Ursula's hand, casting a strange gleam on her face.It flickered, and Birkin went bending over the well of light.His face shone out like an apparition, so unconscious, and again, something demoniacal.Ursula was dim and veiled, looming over him.
`That is all right,' said his voice softly.
She held up the lantern.It had a flight of storks streaming through a turquoise sky of light, over a dark earth.
`This is beautiful,' she said.
`Lovely,' echoed Gudrun, who wanted to hold one also, and lift it up full of beauty.
`Light one for me,' she said.Gerald stood by her, incapacitated.Birkin lit the lantern she held up.Her heart beat with anxiety, to see how beautiful it would be.It was primrose yellow, with tall straight flowers growing darkly from their dark leaves, lifting their heads into the primrose day, while butterflies hovered about them, in the pure clear light.
Gudrun gave a little cry of excitement, as if pierced with delight.
`Isn't it beautiful, oh, isn't it beautiful!'
Her soul was really pierced with beauty, she was translated beyond herself.
Gerald leaned near to her, into her zone of light, as if to see.He came close to her, and stood touching her, looking with her at the primrose-shining globe.And she turned her face to his, that was faintly bright in the light of the lantern, and they stood together in one luminous union, close together and ringed round with light, all the rest excluded.
Birkin looked away, and went to light Ursula's second lantern.It had a pale ruddy sea-bottom, with black crabs and sea-weed moving sinuously under a transparent sea, that passed into flamy ruddiness above.
`You've got the heavens above, and the waters under the earth,' said Birkin to her.
`Anything but the earth itself,' she laughed, watching his live hands that hovered to attend to the light.
`I'm dying to see what my second one is,' cried Gudrun, in a vibrating rather strident voice, that seemed to repel the others from her.
Birkin went and kindled it.It was of a lovely deep blue colour, with a red floor, and a great white cuttle-fish flowing in white soft streams all over it.The cuttle-fish had a face that stared straight from the heart of the light, very fixed and coldly intent.
`How truly terrifying!' exclaimed Gudrun, in a voice of horror.Gerald, at her side, gave a low laugh.
`But isn't it really fearful!' she cried in dismay.
Again he laughed, and said:
`Change it with Ursula, for the crabs.'
Gudrun was silent for a moment.
`Ursula,' she said, `could you bear to have this fearful thing?'
`I think the colouring is lovely ,' said Ursula.
`So do I,' said Gudrun.`But could you bear to have it swinging to your boat? Don't you want to destroy it at once? '
`Oh no,' said Ursula.`I don't want to destroy it.'
`Well do you mind having it instead of the crabs? Are you sure you don't mind?'
Gudrun came forward to exchange lanterns.
`No,' said Ursula, yielding up the crabs and receiving the cuttle-fish.
Yet she could not help feeling rather resentful at the way in which Gudrun and Gerald should assume a right over her, a precedence.
`Come then,' said Birkin.`I'll put them on the boats.'
He and Ursula were moving away to the big boat.
`I suppose you'll row me back, Rupert,' said Gerald, out of the pale shadow of the evening.
`Won't you go with Gudrun in the canoe?' said Birkin.`It'll be more interesting.'
There was a moment's pause.Birkin and Ursula stood dimly, with their swinging lanterns, by the water's edge.The world was all illusive.
`Is that all right?' said Gudrun to him.
`It'll suit me very well,' he said.`But what about you, and the rowing? I don't see why you should pull me.'
`Why not?' she said.`I can pull you as well as I could pull Ursula.'
By her tone he could tell she wanted to have him in the boat to herself, and that she was subtly gratified that she should have power over them both.He gave himself, in a strange, electric submission.
She handed him the lanterns, whilst she went to fix the cane at the end of the canoe.He followed after her, and stood with the lanterns dangling against his white-flannelled thighs, emphasising the shadow around.
`Kiss me before we go,' came his voice softly from out of the shadow above.
She stopped her work in real, momentary astonishment.
`But why?' she exclaimed, in pure surprise.
`Why?' he echoed, ironically.