[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第27部分

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great　makebelieve　game　of　English　social　life　has　been　
invented；　she　spent　most　of　her　time　in　pretending　to　
herself　and　her　neighbors　that　she　was　a　dignified；　important；　
muchoccupied　person；　of　considerable　social　
standing　and　sufficient　wealth。　In　view　of　the　actual　state　
of　things　this　game　needed　a　great　deal　of　skill；　and；　
perhaps；　at　the　age　she　had　reached—she　was　over　sixty—　
she　played　far　more　to　deceive　herself　than　to　deceive　
any　one　else。　Moreover；　the　armor　was　wearing　thin；　she　
forgot　to　keep　up　appearances　more　and　more。　

The　worn　patches　in　the　carpets；　and　the　pallor　of　the　
drawingroom；　where　no　chair　or　cover　had　been　renewed　
for　some　years；　were　due　not　only　to　the　miserable　pension；　
but　to　the　wear　and　tear　of　twelve　children；　eight　of　
whom　were　sons。　As　often　happens　in　these　large　families；　
a　distinct　dividingline　could　be　traced；　about　halfway　
in　the　succession；　where　the　money　for　educational　
purposes　had　run　short；　and　the　six　younger　children　had　
grown　up　far　more　economically　than　the　elder。　If　the　
boys　were　clever；　they　won　scholarships；　and　went　to　

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school；　if　they　were　not　clever；　they　took　what　the　family　
connection　had　to　offer　them。　The　girls　accepted　situations　
occasionally；　but　there　were　always　one　or　two　at　
home；　nursing　sick　animals；　tending　silkworms；　or　playing　
the　flute　in　their　bedrooms。　The　distinction　between　
the　elder　children　and　the　younger　corresponded　almost　
to　the　distinction　between　a　higher　class　and　a　lower　
one；　for　with　only　a　haphazard　education　and　insufficient　
allowances；　the　younger　children　had　picked　up　acplishments；　
friends；　and　points　of　view　which　were　not　to　
be　found　within　the　walls　of　a　public　school　or　of　a　Government　
office。　Between　the　two　divisions　there　was　considerable　
hostility；　the　elder　trying　to　patronize　the　
younger；　the　younger　refusing　to　respect　the　elder；　but　
one　feeling　united　them　and　instantly　closed　any　risk　of　
a　breach—their　mon　belief　in　the　superiority　of　their　
own　family　to　all　others。　Henry　was　the　eldest　of　the　
younger　group；　and　their　leader；　he　bought　strange　books　
and　joined　odd　societies；　he　went　without　a　tie　for　a　
whole　year；　and　had　six　shirts　made　of　black　flannel。　He　
had　long　refused　to　take　a　seat　either　in　a　shipping　office　

or　in　a　teamerchant’s　warehouse；　and　persisted；　in　spite　
of　the　disapproval　of　uncles　and　aunts；　in　practicing　both　
violin　and　piano；　with　the　result　that　he　could　not　perform　
professionally　upon　either。　Indeed；　for　thirtytwo　
years　of　life　he　had　nothing　more　substantial　to　show　
than　a　manuscript　book　containing　the　score　of　half　an　
opera。　In　this　protest　of　his；　Katharine　had　always　given　
him　her　support；　and　as　she　was　generally　held　to　be　an　
extremely　sensible　person；　who　dressed　too　well　to　be　
eccentric；　he　had　found　her　support　of　some　use。　Indeed；　
when　she　came　down　at　Christmas　she　usually　spent　a　
great　part　of　her　time　in　private　conferences　with　Henry　
and　with　Cassandra；　the　youngest　girl；　to　whom　the　silkworms　
belonged。　With　the　younger　section　she　had　a　great　
reputation　for　mon　sense；　and　for　something　that　
they　despised　but　inwardly　respected　and　called　knowledge　
of　the　world—that　is　to　say；　of　the　way　in　which　
respectable　elderly　people；　going　to　their　clubs　and　dining　
out　with　ministers；　think　and　behave。　She　had　more　
than　once　played　the　part　of　ambassador　between　Lady　
Otway　and　her　children。　That　poor　lady；　for　instance；　con


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sulted　her　for　advice　when；　one　day；　she　opened　
Cassandra’s　bedroom　door　on　a　mission　of　discovery；　and　
found　the　ceiling　hung　with　mulberryleaves；　the　windows　
blocked　with　cages；　and　the　tables　stacked　with　
homemade　machines　for　the　manufacture　of　silk　dresses。　

“I　wish　you　could　help　her　to　take　an　interest　in　something　
that　other　people　are　interested　in；　Katharine；”　she　
observed；　rather　plaintively；　detailing　her　grievances。　“It’s　
all　Henry’s　doing；　you　know；　giving　up　her　parties　and　
taking　to　these　nasty　insects。　It　doesn’t　follow　that　if　a　
man　can　do　a　thing　a　woman　may　too。”　

The　morning　was　sufficiently　bright　to　make　the　chairs　
and　sofas　in　Lady　Otway’s　private　sittingroom　appear　
more　than　usually　shabby；　and　the　gallant　gentlemen；　
her　brothers　and　cousins；　who　had　defended　the　Empire　
and　left　their　bones　on　many　frontiers；　looked　at　the　
world　through　a　film　of　yellow　which　the　morning　light　
seemed　to　have　drawn　across　their　photographs。　Lady　
Otway　sighed；　it　may　be　at　the　faded　relics；　and　turned；　
with　resignation；　to　her　balls　of　wool；　which；　curiously　
and　characteristically；　were　not　an　ivorywhite；　but　rather　

a　tarnished　yellowwhite。　She　had　called　her　niece　in　for　
a　little　chat。　She　had　always　trusted　her；　and　now　more　
than　ever；　since　her　engagement　to　Rodney；　which　seemed　
to　Lady　Otway　extremely　suitable；　and　just　what　one　would　
wish　for　one’s　own　daughter。　Katharine　unwittingly　increased　
her　reputation　for　wisdom　by　asking　to　be　given　
knittingneedles　too。　

“It’s　so　very　pleasant；”　said　Lady　Otway；　“to　knit　while　
one’s　talking。　And　now；　my　dear　Katharine；　tell　me　about　
your　plans。”　

The　emotions　of　the　night　before；　which　she　had　suppressed　
in　such　a　way　as　to　keep　her　awake　till　dawn；　had　
left　Katharine　a　little　jaded；　and　thus　more　matteroffact　
than　usual。　She　was　quite　ready　to　discuss　her　plans—　
houses　and　rents；　servants　and　economy—without　feeling　
that　they　concerned　her　very　much。　As　she　spoke；　knitting　
methodically　meanwhile；　Lady　Otway　noted；　with　approval；　
the　upright；　responsible　bearing　of　her　niece；　to　whom　the　
prospect　of　marriage　had　brought　some　gravity　most　being　
in　a　bride；　and　yet；　in　these　days；　most　rare。　Yes；　
Katharine’s　engagement　had　changed　her　a　little。　

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Night　and　Day　

“What　a　perfect　daughter；　or　daughterinlaw！”　she　
thought　to　herself；　and　could　not　help　contrasting　her　
with　Cassandra；　surrounded　by　innumerable　silkworms　in　
her　bedroom。　

“Yes；”　she　continued；　glancing　at　Katharine；　with　the　
round；　greenish　eyes　which　were　as　inexpressive　as　moist　
marbles；　“Katharine　is　like　the　girls　of　my　youth。　We　took　
the　serious　things　of　life　seriously。”　But　just　as　she　was　
deriving　satisfaction　from　this　thought；　and　was　producing　
some　of　the　hoarded　wisdom　which　none　of　her　own　
daughters；　alas！　seemed　now　to　need；　the　door　opened；　
and　Mrs。　Hilbery　came　in；　or　rather；　did　not　e　in；　but　
stood　in　the　doorway　and　smiled；　having　evidently　mistaken　
the　room。　

“I　never　shall　know　my　way　about　this　house！”　she　exclaimed。　
“I’m　on　my　way　to　the　library；　and　I　don’t　want　
to　interrupt。　You　and　Katharine　were　having　a　little　chat？”　

The　presence　of　her　sisterinlaw　made　Lady　Otway　slightly　
uneasy。　How　could　she　go　on　with　what　she　was　saying　in　
Maggie’s　presence？　for　she　was　saying　something　that　she　
had　never　said；　all　these　years；　to　Maggie　herself。　

“I　was　telling　Katharine　a　few　little　monplaces　about　
marriage；”　she　said；　with　a　little　laugh。　“Are　none　of　my　
children　looking　after　you；　Maggie？”　

“Marriage；”　said　Mrs。　Hilbery；　ing　into　the　room；　
and　nodding　her　head　once　or　twice；　“I　always　say　marriage　
is　a　school。　And　you　don’t　get　the　prizes　unless　you　
go　to　school。　Charlotte　has　won　all　the　prizes；”　she　added；　
giving　her　sisterinlaw　a　little　pat；　which　made　Lady　
Otway　more　unfortable　still。　She　half　laughed；　muttered　
something；　and　ended　on　a　sigh。　

“Aunt　Charlotte　was　saying　that　it’s　no　good　being　married　
unless　you　submit　to　your　husband；”　said　Katharine；　
framing　her　aunt’s　words　into　a　far　more　definite　shape　
than　they　had　really　worn；　and　when　she　spoke　thus　she　
did　not　appear　at　all　oldfashioned。　Lady　Otway　looked　at　
her　and　paused　for　a　moment。　

“Well；　I　really　don’t　advise　a　woman　who　wants　to　have　
things　her　own　way　to　get　married；”　she　said；　beginning　
a　fresh　row　rather　elaborately。　

Mrs。　Hilbery　knew　something　of　the　circumstances　which；　
as　she　thought；　had　inspired　this　remark。　In　a　moment　

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Virginia　Woolf　

her　face　was　clouded　with　sympathy　which　she　did　not　
quite　know　how　to　express。　

“What　a　shame　it　was！”　she　exclaimed；　forgetting　that　
her　train　of　thought　might　not　be　obvious　to　her　listeners。　
“But；　Charlotte；　it　would　have　been　much　worse　if　Frank　
had　disgraced　himself　in　any　way。　And　it　isn’t　what　our　
husbands　get；　but　what　they　are。　I　used　to　dream　of　white　
horses　and　palanquins；　too；　but　still；　I　like　the　inkpots　
best。　And　who　knows？”　she　concluded；　looking　at　Katharine；　
“your　father　may　be　made　a　baro　tomorrow。”　

Lady　Otway；　who　was　Mr。　Hilbery’s　sister；　knew　quite　
well　that；　in　private；　the　Hilberys　called　Sir　Francis　“that　
old　Turk；”　and　though　she　did　not　follow　the　drift　of　Mrs。　
Hilbery’s　remarks；　she　knew　what　prompted　them。　

“But　if　you　can　give　way　to　your　husband；”　she　said；　
speaking　to　Katharine；　as　if　there　were　a　separate　understanding　
between　them；　“a　happy　marriage　is　the　happiest　
thing　in　the　world。”　

“Yes；”　said　Katharine；　“but—”　She　did　not　mean　to　finish　
her　sentence；　she　merely　wished　to　induce　her　mother　
and　her　aunt　to　go　on　talking　about　marriage；　for　she　was　

in　the　mood　to　feel　that　other　people　could　help　her　if　
they　would。　She　went　on　knitting；　but　her　fingers　worked　
with　a　decision　that　was　oddly　unlike　the　smooth　and　
contemplative　sweep　of　Lady　Otway’s　plump　hand。　Now　
and　then　she　looked　swiftly　at　her　mother；　then　at　her　
aunt。　Mrs。　Hilbery　held　a　book　in　her　hand；　and　was　on　
her　way；　as　Katharine　guessed；　to　the　library；　where　another　
paragraph　was　to　be　added　to　that　varied　assortment　
of　paragraphs；　the　Life　of　Richard　Alardyce。　Normally；　
Katharine　would　have　hurried　her　mother　downstairs；　
and　seen　that　no　excuse　for　distraction　came　her　
way。　Her　attitude　towards　the　poet’s　life；　however；　had　
changed　with　other　changes；　and　she　was　content　to　forget　
all　about　her　scheme　of　hours。　Mrs。　Hilbery　was　secretly　
delighted。　Her　relief　at　finding　herself　excused　
manifested　itself　in　a　series　of　sidelong　glances　of　sly　
humor　in　her　daughter’s　direction；　and　the　indulgence　
put　her　in　the　best　of　spirits。　Was　she　to　be　allowed　merely　
to　sit　and　talk？　It　was　so　much　pleasanter　to　sit　in　a　nice　
room　filled　with　all　sorts　of　interesting　odds　and　ends　
which　she　hadn’t　looked　at　for　a　year；　at　least；　than　to　

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Night　and　Day　

seek　out　one　date　which　contradicted　another　in　a　dictionary。　


“We’ve　all　had　perfect　husbands；”　she　concluded；　generously　
forgiving　Sir　Francis　all　his　faults　in　a　lump。　“Not　
that　I　think　a　bad　temper　is　really　a　fault　in　a　man。　I　
don’t　mean　a　bad　temper；”　she　corrected　herself；　with　a　
glance　obviously　in　the　direction　of　Sir　Francis。　“I　should　
say　a　quick；　impatient　temper。　Most；　in　fact　ALL　great　
men　have　had　bad　tempers—except　your　grandfather；　
Katharine；”　and　here　she　sighed；　and　suggested　that；　
perhaps；　she　ought　to　go　down　to　the　library。　

“But　in　the　ordinary　marriage；　is　it　necessary　to　give　
way　to　one’s　husband？”　said　Katharine；　taking　no　notice　
of　her　mother’s　suggestion；　blind　even　to　the　depression　
which　had　now　taken　possession　of　her　at　the　thought　of　
her　own　inevitable　death。　

“I　should　say　yes；　certainly；”　said　Lady　Otway；　with　a　
decision　most　unusual　for　her。　

“Then　one　ought　to　make　up　one’s　mind　to　that　before　
one　is　married；”　Katharine　mused；　seeming　to　address　
herself。　

Mrs。　Hilbery　was　not　much　interested　in　these　remarks；　
which　seemed　to　have　a　melancholy　tendency；　and　to　
revive　her　spirits　she　had　recourse　to　an　infallible　rem
edy—she　looked　out　of　the　window。　

“Do　look　at　that　lovely　little　blue　bird！”　she　exclaimed；　
and　her　eye　looked　with　extreme　pleasure　at　the　soft　sky。　
at　the　trees；　at　the　green　fields　visible　behind　those　trees；　
and　at　the　leafless　branches　which　surrounded　the　body　
of　the　small　blue　tit。　Her　sympathy　with　nature　was　exquisite。　


“Most　women　know　by　instinct　whether　they　can　give　it　
or　not；”　Lady　Otway　slipped　in　quickly；　in　rather　a　low　
voice；　as　if　she　wanted　to　get　this　said　while　her　sisterin
law’s　attention　was　diverted。　“And　if　not—well　then；　
my　advice　would　be—don’t　marry。”　

“Oh；　but　marriage　is　the　happiest　life　for　a　woman；”　
said　Mrs。　Hilbery；　catching　the　word　marriage；　as　she　
brought　her　eyes　back　to　the　room　again。　Then　she　turned　
her　mind　to　what　she　had　said。　

“It’s　the　most　interesting　life；”　she　corrected　herself。　
She　looked　at　her　daughter　with　a　look　of　vague　alarm。　It　

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was　the　kind　of　maternal　scrutiny　which　suggests　that；　in　
looking　at　her　daughter　a　mother　is　really　looking　at　herself。　
She　was　not　altogether　satisfied；　but　she　purposely　
made　no　attempt　to　break　down　the　reserve　which；　as　a　
matter　of　fact；　was　a　quality　she　particularly　admired　and　
depended　upon　in　her　daughter。　But　when　her　mother　
said　that　marriage　was　the　most　interesting　life；　Katharine　
felt；　as　she　was　apt　to　do　suddenly；　for　no　definite　reason；　
that　they　understood　each　other；　in　spite　of　differing　
in　every　possible　way。　Yet　the　wisdom　of　the　old　seems　
to　apply　more　to　feelings　which　we　have　in　mon　with　
the　rest　of　the　human　race　than　to　our　feelings　as　individuals；　
and　Katharine　knew　that　only　some　one　of　her　
own　age　could　follow　her　meaning。　Both　these　elderly　
women　seemed　to　her　to　have　been　content　with　so　little　
happiness；　and　at　the　moment　she　had　not　sufficient　force　
to　feel　certain　that　their　version　of　marriage　was　the　
wrong　one。　In　London；　certainly；　this　temperate　attitude　
toward　her　own　marriage　had　seemed　to　her　just。　Why　
had　she　now　changed？　Why　did　it　now　depress　her？　It　
never　occurred　to　her　that　her　own　conduct　could　be　any


thing　of　a　puzzle　to　her　mother；　or　that　elder　people　are　
as　much　affected　by　the　young　as　the　young　are　by　them。　
And　yet　it　was　true　that　love—passion　—whatever　one　
chose　to　call　it；　had　played　far　less　part　in　Mrs。　Hilbery’s　
life　than　might　have　seemed　likely；　judging　from　her　enthusiastic　
and　imaginative　temperament。　She　had　always　
been　more　interested　by　other　things。　Lady　Otway；　strange　
though　it　seemed；　guessed　more　accurately　at　Katharine’s　
state　of　mind　than　her　mother　did。　

“Why　don’t　we　all　live　in　the　country？”　exclaimed　Mrs。　
Hilbery；　once　more　looking　out　of　the　window。　“I’m　sure　
one　would　think　such　beautiful　things　if　one　lived　in　the　
country。　No　horrid　slum　houses　to　depress　one；　no　trams　
or　motorcars；　and　the　people　all　looking　so　plump　and　
cheerful。　Isn’t　there　some　little　cottage　near　you；　Charlotte；　
which　would　do　for　us；　with　a　spare　room；　perhaps；　
in　case　we　asked　a　friend　down？　And　we　should　save　so　
much　money　that　we　should　be　able　to　travel—”　

“Yes。　You　would　find　it　very　nice　for　a　week　or　two；　no　
doubt；”　said　Lady　Otway。　“But　what　hour　would　you　like　the　
carriage　this　morning？”　she　continued；　touching　the　bell。　

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Night　and　Day　

“Katharine　shall　decide；”　said　Mrs。　Hilber