[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第39部分

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continued。　“I　had　meant　to　ask　her　to　marry　me；　and　
then　I　looked　out　of　the　window　and　saw　you。　After　that　
I　didn’t　want　to　ask　any　one　to　marry　me。　But　I　did　it；　and　
she　knew　I　was　lying；　and　refused　me。　I　thought　then；　
and　still　think；　that　she　cares　for　me。　I　behaved　very　

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badly。　I　don’t　defend　myself。”　

“No；”　said　Katharine；　“I　should　hope　not。　There’s　no　
defence　that　I　can　think　of。　If　any　conduct　is　wrong；　that　
is。”　She　spoke　with　an　energy　that　was　directed　even　
more　against　herself　than　against　him。　“It　seems　to　me；”　
she　continued；　with　the　same　energy；　“that　people　are　
bound　to　be　honest。　There’s　no　excuse　for　such　behavior。”　
She　could　now　see　plainly　before　her　eyes　the　expression　
on　Mary　Datchet’s　face。　

After　a　short　pause；　he　said：　

“I　am　not　telling　you　that　I　am　in　love　with　you。　I　am　
not　in　love　with　you。”　

“I　didn’t　think　that；”　she　replied；　conscious　of　some　
bewilderment。　

“I　have　not　spoken　a　word　to　you　that　I　do　not　mean；”　
he　added。　

“Tell　me　then　what　it　is　that　you　mean；”　she　said　at　
length。　

As　if　obeying　a　mon　instinct；　they　both　stopped　
and；　bending　slightly　over　the　balustrade　of　the　river；　
looked　into　the　flowing　water。　

“You　say　that　we’ve　got　to　be　honest；”　Ralph　began。　
“Very　well。　I　will　try　to　tell　you　the　facts；　but　I　warn　you；　
you’ll　think　me　mad。　It’s　a　fact；　though；　that　since　I　first　
saw　you　four　or　five　months　ago　I　have　made　you；　in　an　
utterly　absurd　way；　I　expect；　my　ideal。　I’m　almost　ashamed　
to　tell　you　what　lengths　I’ve　gone　to。　It’s　bee　the　
thing　that　matters　most　in　my　life。”　He　checked　himself。　
“Without　knowing　you；　except　that　you’re　beautiful；　and　
all　that；　I’ve　e　to　believe　that　we’re　in　some　sort　of　
agreement；　that　we’re　after　something　together；　that　we　
see　something…　。　I’ve　got　into　the　habit　of　imagining　
you；　I’m　always　thinking　what　you’d　say　or　do；　I　walk　
along　the　street　talking　to　you；　I　dream　of　you。　It’s　merely　
a　bad　habit；　a　schoolboy　habit；　daydreaming；　it’s　a　mon　
experience；　half　one’s　friends　do　the　same；　well；　
those　are　the　facts。”　

Simultaneously；　they　both　walked　on　very　slowly。　

“If　you　were　to　know　me　you　would　feel　none　of　this；”　
she　said。　“We　don’t　know　each　other—we’ve　always　been—　
interrupted…　。　Were　you　going　to　tell　me　this　that　day　
my　aunts　came？”　she　asked；　recollecting　the　whole　scene。　

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He　bowed　his　head。　

“The　day　you　told　me　of　your　engagement；”　he　said。　

She　thought；　with　a　start；　that　she　was　no　longer　engaged。　


“I　deny　that　I　should　cease　to　feel　this　if　I　knew　you；”　
he　went　on。　“I　should　feel　it　more　reasonably—that’s　all。　
I　shouldn’t　talk　the　kind　of　nonsense　I’ve　talked　tonight…　
。　But　it　wasn’t　nonsense。　It　was　the　truth；”　he　said　doggedly。　
“It’s　the　important　thing。　You　can　force　me　to　talk　
as　if　this　feeling　for　you　were　an　hallucination；　but　all　
our　feelings　are　that。　The　best　of　them　are　half　illusions。　
Still；”　he　added；　as　if　arguing　to　himself；　“if　it　weren’t　as　
real　a　feeling　as　I’m　capable　of；　I　shouldn’t　be　changing　
my　life　on　your　account。”　

“What　do　you　mean？”　she　inquired。　

“I　told　you。　I’m　taking　a　cottage。　I’m　giving　up　my　
profession。”　

“On　my　account？”　she　asked；　in　amazement。　

“Yes；　on　your　account；”　he　replied。　He　explained　his　
meaning　no　further。　

“But　I　don’t　know　you　or　your　circumstances；”　she　said　

at　last；　as　he　remained　silent。　

“You　have　no　opinion　about　me　one　way　or　the　other？”　

“Yes；　I　suppose　I　have　an　opinion—”　she　hesitated。　

He　controlled　his　wish　to　ask　her　to　explain　herself；　
and　much　to　his　pleasure　she　went　on；　appearing　to　search　
her　mind。　

“I　thought　that　you　criticized　me—perhaps　disliked　me。　
I　thought　of　you　as　a　person　who　judges—”　

“No；　I’m　a　person　who　feels；”　he　said；　in　a　low　voice。　

“Tell　me；　then；　what　has　made　you　do　this？”　she　asked；　
after　a　break。　

He　told　her　in　an　orderly　way；　betokening　careful　preparation；　
all　that　he　had　meant　to　say　at　first；　how　he　stood　
with　regard　to　his　brothers　and　sisters；　what　his　mother　
had　said；　and　his　sister　Joan　had　refrained　from　saying；　
exactly　how　many　pounds　stood　in　his　name　at　the　bank；　
what　prospect　his　brother　had　of　earning　a　livelihood　in　
America；　how　much　of　their　ine　went　on　rent；　and　
other　details　known　to　him　by　heart。　She　listened　to　all　
this；　so　that　she　could　have　passed　an　examination　in　it　
by　the　time　Waterloo　Bridge　was　in　sight；　and　yet　she　

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was　no　more　listening　to　it　than　she　was　counting　the　
pavingstones　at　her　feet。　She　was　feeling　happier　than　
she　had　felt　in　her　life。　If　Denham　could　have　seen　how　
visibly　books　of　algebraic　symbols；　pages　all　speckled　with　
dots　and　dashes　and　twisted　bars；　came　before　her　eyes　
as　they　trod　the　Embankment；　his　secret　joy　in　her　attention　
might　have　been　dispersed。　She　went　on；　saying；　
“Yes；　I　see…　。　But　how　would　that　help　you？　…　Your　
brother　has　passed　his　examination？”　so　sensibly；　that　
he　had　constantly　to　keep　his　brain　in　check；　and　all　the　
time　she　was　in　fancy　looking　up　through　a　telescope　at　
white　shadowcleft　disks　which　were　other　worlds；　until　
she　felt　herself　possessed　of　two　bodies；　one　walking　by　
the　river　with　Denham；　the　other　concentrated　to　a　silver　
globe　aloft　in　the　fine　blue　space　above　the　scum　of　
vapors　that　was　covering　the　visible　world。　She　looked　at　
the　sky　once；　and　saw　that　no　star　was　keen　enough　to　
pierce　the　flight　of　watery　clouds　now　coursing　rapidly　
before　the　west　wind。　She　looked　down　hurriedly　again。　
There　was　no　reason；　she　assured　herself；　for　this　feeling　
of　happiness；　she　was　not　free；　she　was　not　alone；　she　

was　still　bound　to　earth　by　a　million　fibres；　every　step　took　
her　nearer　home。　Nevertheless；　she　exulted　as　she　had　never　
exulted　before。　The　air　was　fresher；　the　lights　more　distinct；　
the　cold　stone　of　the　balustrade　colder　and　harder；　
when　by　chance　or　purpose　she　struck　her　hand　against　it。　
No　feeling　of　annoyance　with　Denham　remained；　he　certainly　
did　not　hinder　any　flight　she　might　choose　to　make；　
whether　in　the　direction　of　the　sky　or　of　her　home；　but　
that　her　condition　was　due　to　him；　or　to　anything　that　he　
had　said；　she　had　no　consciousness　at　all。　

They　were　now　within　sight　of　the　stream　of　cabs　and　
omnibuses　crossing　to　and　from　the　Surrey　side　of　the　
river；　the　sound　of　the　traffic；　the　hooting　of　motorhorns；　
and　the　light　chime　of　trambells　sounded　more　and　more　
distinctly；　and；　with　the　increase　of　noise；　they　both　became　
silent。　With　a　mon　instinct　they　slackened　their　
pace；　as　if　to　lengthen　the　time　of　semiprivacy　allowed　
them。　To　Ralph；　the　pleasure　of　these　last　yards　of　the　
walk　with　Katharine　was　so　great　that　he　could　not　look　
beyond　the　present　moment　to　the　time　when　she　should　
have　left　him。　He　had　no　wish　to　use　the　last　moments　of　

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their　panionship　in　adding　fresh　words　to　what　he　
had　already　said。　Since　they　had　stopped　talking；　she　
had　bee　to　him　not　so　much　a　real　person；　as　the　
very　woman　he　dreamt　of；　but　his　solitary　dreams　had　
never　produced　any　such　keenness　of　sensation　as　that　
which　he　felt　in　her　presence。　He　himself　was　also　strangely　
transfigured。　He　had　plete　mastery　of　all　his　faculties。　
For　the　first　time　he　was　in　possession　of　his　full　
powers。　The　vistas　which　opened　before　him　seemed　to　
have　no　perceptible　end。　But　the　mood　had　none　of　the　
restlessness　or　feverish　desire　to　add　one　delight　to　another　
which　had　hitherto　marked；　and　somewhat　spoilt；　
the　most　rapturous　of　his　imaginings。　It　was　a　mood　that　
took　such　cleareyed　account　of　the　conditions　of　human　
life　that　he　was　not　disturbed　in　the　least　by　the　gliding　
presence　of　a　taxicab；　and　without　agitation　he　perceived　
that　Katharine　was　conscious　of　it　also；　and　turned　her　
head　in　that　direction。　Their　halting　steps　acknowledged　
the　desirability　of　engaging　the　cab；　and　they　stopped　
simultaneously；　and　signed　to　it。　

“Then　you　will　let　me　know　your　decision　as　soon　as　

you　can？”　he　asked；　with　his　hand　on　the　door。　

She　hesitated　for　a　moment。　She　could　not　immediately　
recall　what　the　question　was　that　she　had　to　decide。　

“I　will　write；”　she　said　vaguely。　“No；”　she　added；　in　a　
second；　bethinking　her　of　the　difficulties　of　writing　anything　
decided　upon　a　question　to　which　she　had　paid　no　
attention；　“I　don’t　see　how　to　manage　it。”　

She　stood　looking　at　Denham；　considering　and　hesitating；　
with　her　foot　upon　the　step。　He　guessed　her　difficulties；　
he　knew　in　a　second　that　she　had　heard　nothing；　he　
knew　everything　that　she　felt。　

“There’s　only　one　place　to　discuss　things　satisfactorily　
that　I　know　of；”　he　said　quickly；　“that’s　Kew。”　

“Kew？”　

“Kew；”　he　repeated；　with　immense　decision。　He　shut　
the　door　and　gave　her　address　to　the　driver。　She　instantly　
was　conveyed　away　from　him；　and　her　cab　joined　the　
knotted　stream　of　vehicles；　each　marked　by　a　light；　and　
indistinguishable　one　from　the　other。　He　stood　watching　
for　a　moment；　and　then；　as　if　swept　by　some　fierce　impulse；　
from　the　spot　where　they　had　stood；　he　turned；　

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crossed　the　road　at　a　rapid　pace；　and　disappeared。　

He　walked　on　upon　the　impetus　of　this　last　mood　of　
almost　supernatural　exaltation　until　he　reached　a　narrow　
street；　at　this　hour　empty　of　traffic　and　passengers。　Here；　
whether　it　was　the　shops　with　their　shuttered　windows；　
the　smooth　and　silvered　curve　of　the　wood　pavement；　or　
a　natural　ebb　of　feeling；　his　exaltation　slowly　oozed　and　
deserted　him。　He　was　now　conscious　of　the　loss　that　follows　
any　revelation；　he　had　lost　something　in　speaking　
to　Katharine；　for；　after　all；　was　the　Katharine　whom　he　
loved　the　same　as　the　real　Katharine？　She　had　transcended　
her　entirely　at　moments；　her　skirt　had　blown；　her　feather　
waved；　her　voice　spoken；　yes；　but　how　terrible　sometimes　
the　pause　between　the　voice　of　one’s　dreams　and　
the　voice　that　es　from　the　object　of　one’s　dreams！　He　
felt　a　mixture　of　disgust　and　pity　at　the　figure　cut　by　
human　beings　when　they　try　to　carry　out；　in　practice；　
what　they　have　the　power　to　conceive。　How　small　both　
he　and　Katharine　had　appeared　when　they　issued　from　
the　cloud　of　thought　that　enveloped　them！　He　recalled　
the　small；　inexpressive；　monplace　words　in　which　they　

had　tried　to　municate　with　each　other；　he　repeated　
them　over　to　himself。　By　repeating　Katharine’s　words；　he　
came　in　a　few　moments　to　such　a　sense　of　her　presence　
that　he　worshipped　her　more　than　ever。　But　she　was　engaged　
to　be　married；　he　remembered　with　a　start。　The　
strength　of　his　feeling　was　revealed　to　him　instantly；　and　
he　gave　himself　up　to　an　irresistible　rage　and　sense　of　
frustration。　The　image　of　Rodney　came　before　him　with　
every　circumstance　of　folly　and　indignity。　That　little　pink
cheeked　dancingmaster　to　marry　Katharine？　that　gibbering　
ass　with　the　face　of　a　monkey　on　an　organ？　that　
posing；　vain；　fantastical　fop？　with　his　tragedies　and　his　
edies；　his　innumerable　spites　and　prides　and　
pettinesses？　Lord！　marry　Rodney！　She　must　be　as　great　a　
fool　as　he　was。　His　bitterness　took　possession　of　him；　
and　as　he　sat　in　the　corner　of　the　underground　carriage；　
he　looked　as　stark　an　image　of　unapproachable　severity　
as　could　be　imagined。　Directly　he　reached　home　he　sat　
down　at　his　table；　and　began　to　write　Katharine　a　long；　
wild；　mad　letter；　begging　her　for　both　their　sakes　to　break　
with　Rodney；　imploring　her　not　to　do　what　would　destroy　

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for　ever　the　one　beauty；　the　one　truth；　the　one　hope；　not　
to　be　a　traitor；　not　to　be　a　deserter；　for　if　she　were—and　
he　wound　up　with　a　quiet　and　brief　assertion　that；　whatever　
she　did　or　left　undone；　he　would　believe　to　be　the　
best；　and　accept　from　her　with　gratitude。　He　covered　sheet　
after　sheet；　and　heard　the　early　carts　starting　for　London　
before　he　went　to　bed。　

CHAPTER　XXIV　


The　first　signs　of　spring；　even　such　as　make　themselves　
felt　towards　the　middle　of　February；　not　only　produce　
little　white　and　violet　flowers　in　the　more　sheltered　corners　
of　woods　and　gardens；　but　bring　to　birth　thoughts　
and　desires　parable　to　those　faintly　colored　and　
sweetly　scented　petals　in　the　minds　of　men　and　women。　
Lives　frozen　by　age；　so　far　as　the　present　is　concerned；　to　
a　hard　surface；　which　neither　reflects　nor　yields；　at　this　
season　bee　soft　and　fluid；　reflecting　the　shapes　and　
colors　of　the　present；　as　well　as　the　shapes　and　colors　of　
the　past。　In　the　case　of　Mrs。　Hilbery；　these　early　spring　
days　were　chiefly　upsetting　inasmuch　as　they　caused　a　
general　quickening　of　her　emotional　powers；　which；　as　
far　as　the　past　was　concerned；　had　never　suffered　much　
diminution。　But　in　the　spring　her　desire　for　expression　
invariably　increased。　She　was　haunted　by　the　ghosts　of　
phrases。　She　gave　herself　up　to　a　sensual　delight　in　the　
binations　of　words。　She　sought　them　in　the　pages　of　
her　favorite　authors。　She　made　them　for　herself　on　scraps　

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of　paper；　and　rolled　them　on　her　tongue　when　there　
seemed　no　occasion　for　such　eloquence。　She　was　upheld　
in　these　excursions　by　the　certainty　that　no　language　
could　outdo　the　splendor　of　her　father’s　memory；　and　although　
her　efforts　did　not　notably　further　the　end　of　his　
biography；　she　was　under　the　impression　of　living　more　
in　his　shade　at　such　times　than　at　others。　No　one　can　
escape　the　power　of　language；　let　alone　those　of　English　
birth　brought　up　from　childhood；　as　Mrs。　Hilbery　had　been；　
to　disport　themselves　now　in　the　Saxon　plainness；　now　in　
the　Latin　splendor　of　the　tongue；　and　stored　with　memories；　
as　she　was；　of　old　poets　exuberating　in　an　infinity　of　
vocables。　Even　Katharine　was　slightly　affected　against　
her　better　judgment　by　her　mother’s　enthusiasm。　Not　that　
her　judgment　could　altogether　acquiesce　in　the　necessity　
for　a　study　of　Shakespeare’s　sons　as　a　preliminary　to　
the　fifth　chapter　of　her　grandfather’s　biography。　Beginning　
with　a　perfectly　frivolous　jest；　Mrs。　Hilbery　had　
evolved　a　theory　that　Anne　Hathaway　had　a　way；　among　
other　things；　of　writing　Shakespeare’s　sons；　the　idea；　
struck　out　to　enliven　a　party　of　professors；　who　forwarded　

a　number　of　privately　printed　manuals　within　the　next　
few　days　for　her　instruction；　had　submerged　her　in　a　flood　
of　Elizabethan　literature；　she　had　e　half　to　believe　in　
her　joke；　which　was；　she　said；　at　least　as　good　as　other　
people’s　facts；　and　all　her　fancy　for　the　time　being　centered　
upon　StratfordonAvon。　She　had　a　plan；　she　told　
Katharine；　when；　rather　later　than　usual；　Katharine　came　
into　the　room　the　morning　after　her　walk　by　the　river；　for　
visiting　Shakespeare’s　tomb。　Any　fact　about　the　poet　had　
bee；　for　the　moment；　of　far　greater　interest　to　her　
than　the　immediate　present；　and　the　certainty　that　there　
was　existing　in　England　a　spot　of　ground　where　
Shakespeare　had　undoubtedly　stood；　where　his　very　bones　
lay　directly　be