[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第52部分

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not　see　her　in　the　body；　he　seemed　curiously　to　see　her　
as　a　shape　of　light；　the　light　itself；　he　seemed；　simplified　
and　exhausted　as　he　was；　to　be　like　one　of　those　lost　
birds　fascinated　by　the　lighthouse　and　held　to　the　glass　

by　the　splendor　of　the　blaze。　

These　thoughts　drove　him　to　tramp　a　beat　up　and　down　
the　pavement　before　the　Hilberys’　gate。　He　did　not　trouble　
himself　to　make　any　plans　for　the　future。　Something　of　
an　unknown　kind　would　decide　both　the　ing　year　and　
the　ing　hour。　Now　and　again；　in　his　vigil；　he　sought　
the　light　in　the　long　windows；　or　glanced　at　the　ray　which　
gilded　a　few　leaves　and　a　few　blades　of　grass　in　the　little　
garden。　For　a　long　time　the　light　burnt　without　changing。　
He　had　just　reached　the　limit　of　his　beat　and　was　
turning；　when　the　front　door　opened；　and　the　aspect　of　
the　house　was　entirely　changed。　A　black　figure　came　down　
the　little　pathway　and　paused　at　the　gate。　Denham　understood　
instantly　that　it　was　Rodney。　Without　hesitation；　
and　conscious　only　of　a　great　friendliness　for　any　
one　ing　from　that　lighted　room；　he　walked　straight　
up　to　him　and　stopped　him。　In　the　flurry　of　the　wind　
Rodney　was　taken　aback；　and　for　the　moment　tried　to　
press　on；　muttering　something；　as　if　he　suspected　a　demand　
upon　his　charity。　

“Goodness；　Denham；　what　are　you　doing　here？”　he　ex


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claimed；　recognizing　him。　

Ralph　mumbled　something　about　being　on　his　way　home。　
They　walked　on　together；　though　Rodney　walked　quick　
enough　to　make　it　plain　that　he　had　no　wish　for　pany。　

He　was　very　unhappy。　That　afternoon　Cassandra　had　
repulsed　him；　he　had　tried　to　explain　to　her　the　difficulties　
of　the　situation；　and　to　suggest　the　nature　of　his　
feelings　for　her　without　saying　anything　definite　or　anything　
offensive　to　her。　But　he　had　lost　his　head；　under　
the　goad　of　Katharine’s　ridicule　he　had　said　too　much；　
and　Cassandra；　superb　in　her　dignity　and　severity；　had　
refused　to　hear　another　word；　and　threatened　an　immediate　
return　to　her　home。　His　agitation；　after　an　evening　
spent　between　the　two　women；　was　extreme。　Moreover；　
he　could　not　help　suspecting　that　Ralph　was　wandering　
near　the　Hilberys’　house；　at　this　hour；　for　reasons　connected　
with　Katharine。　There　was　probably　some　understanding　
between　them—not　that　anything　of　the　kind　
mattered　to　him　now。　He　was　convinced　that　he　had　never　
cared　for　any　one　save　Cassandra；　and　Katharine’s　future　
was　no　concern　of　his。　Aloud；　he　said；　shortly；　that　he　

was　very　tired　and　wished　to　find　a　cab。　But　on　Sunday　
night；　on　the　Embankment；　cabs　were　hard　to　e　by；　
and　Rodney　found　himself　constrained　to　walk　some　distance；　
at　any　rate；　in　Denham’s　pany。　Denham　maintained　
his　silence。　Rodney’s　irritation　lapsed。　He　found　
the　silence　oddly　suggestive　of　the　good　masculine　qualities　
which　he　much　respected；　and　had　at　this　moment　
great　reason　to　need。　After　the　mystery；　difficulty；　and　
uncertainty　of　dealing　with　the　other　sex；　intercourse　
with　one’s　own　is　apt　to　have　a　posing　and　even　
ennobling　influence；　since　plain　speaking　is　possible　and　
subterfuges　of　no　avail。　Rodney；　too；　was　much　in　need　
of　a　confidant；　Katharine；　despite　her　promises　of　help；　
had　failed　him　at　the　critical　moment；　she　had　gone　off　
with　Denham；　she　was；　perhaps；　tormenting　Denham　as　
she　had　tormented　him。　How　grave　and　stable　he　seemed；　
speaking　little；　and　walking　firmly；　pared　with　what　
Rodney　knew　of　his　own　torments　and　indecisions！　He　
began　to　cast　about　for　some　way　of　telling　the　story　of　
his　relations　with　Katharine　and　Cassandra　that　would　
not　lower　him　in　Denham’s　eyes。　It　then　occurred　to　him　

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that；　perhaps；　Katharine　herself　had　confided　in　Denham；　
they　had　something　in　mon；　it　was　likely　that　they　
had　discussed　him　that　very　afternoon。　The　desire　to　discover　
what　they　had　said　of　him　now　came　uppermost　in　
his　mind。　He　recalled　Katharine’s　laugh；　he　remembered　
that　she　had　gone；　laughing；　to　walk　with　Denham。　

“Did　you　stay　long　after　we’d　left？”　he　asked　abruptly。　

“No。　We　went　back　to　my　house。”　

This　seemed　to　confirm　Rodney’s　belief　that　he　had　
been　discussed。　He　turned　over　the　unpalatable　idea　for　
a　while；　in　silence。　

“Women　are　inprehensible　creatures；　Denham！”　he　
then　exclaimed。　

“Um；”　said　Denham；　who　seemed　to　himself　possessed　
of　plete　understanding；　not　merely　of　women；　but　of　
the　entire　universe。　He　could　read　Rodney；　too；　like　a　
book。　He　knew　that　he　was　unhappy；　and　he　pitied　him；　
and　wished　to　help　him。　

“You　say　something　and　they—fly　into　a　passion。　Or　
for　no　reason　at　all；　they　laugh。　I　take　it　that　no　amount　
of　education　will—”　The　remainder　of　the　sentence　was　

lost　in　the　high　wind；　against　which　they　had　to　struggle；　
but　Denham　understood　that　he　referred　to　Katharine’s　
laughter；　and　that　the　memory　of　it　was　still　hurting　him。　
In　parison　with　Rodney；　Denham　felt　himself　very　
secure；　he　saw　Rodney　as　one　of　the　lost　birds　dashed　
senseless　against　the　glass；　one　of　the　flying　bodies　of　
which　the　air　was　full。　But　he　and　Katharine　were　alone　
together；　aloft；　splendid；　and　luminous　with　a　twofold　
radiance。　He　pitied　the　unstable　creature　beside　him；　he　
felt　a　desire　to　protect　him；　exposed　without　the　knowledge　
which　made　his　own　way　so　direct。　They　were　united　
as　the　adventurous　are　united；　though　one　reaches　the　
goal　and　the　other　perishes　by　the　way。　

“You　couldn’t　laugh　at　some　one　you　cared　for。”　

This　sentence；　apparently　addressed　to　no　other　human　
being；　reached　Denham’s　ears。　The　wind　seemed　to　muffle　
it　and　fly　away　with　it　directly。　Had　Rodney　spoken　those　
words？　

“You　love　her。”　Was　that　his　own　voice；　which　seemed　
to　sound　in　the　air　several　yards　in　front　of　him？　

“I’ve　suffered　tortures；　Denham；　tortures！”　

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“Yes；　yes；　I　know　that。”　

“She’s　laughed　at　me。”　

“Never—to　me。”　

The　wind　blew　a　space　between　the　words—blew　them　
so　far　away　that　they　seemed　unspoken。　

“How　I’ve　loved　her！”　

This　was　certainly　spoken　by　the　man　at　Denham’s　side。　
The　voice　had　all　the　marks　of　Rodney’s　character；　and　
recalled；　with；　strange　vividness；　his　personal　appearance。　
Denham　could　see　him　against　the　blank　buildings　
and　towers　of　the　horizon。　He　saw　him　dignified；　exalted；　
and　tragic；　as　he　might　have　appeared　thinking　of　
Katharine　alone　in　his　rooms　at　night。　

“I　am　in　love　with　Katharine　myself。　That　is　why　I　am　
here　tonight。”　

Ralph　spoke　distinctly　and　deliberately；　as　if　Rodney’s　
confession　had　made　this　statement　necessary。　

Rodney　exclaimed　something　inarticulate。　

“Ah；　I’ve　always　known　it；”　he　cried；　“I’ve　known　it　
from　the　first。　You’ll　marry　her！”　

The　cry　had　a　note　of　despair　in　it。　Again　the　wind　

intercepted　their　words。　They　said　no　more。　At　length　
they　drew　up　beneath　a　lamppost；　simultaneously。　

“My　God；　Denham；　what　fools　we　both　are！”　Rodney　
exclaimed。　They　looked　at　each　other；　queerly；　in　the　light　
of　the　lamp。　Fools！　They　seemed　to　confess　to　each　other　
the　extreme　depths　of　their　folly。　For　the　moment；　under　
the　lamppost；　they　seemed　to　be　aware　of　some　mon　
knowledge　which　did　away　with　the　possibility　of　
rivalry；　and　made　them　feel　more　sympathy　for　each　other　
than　for　any　one　else　in　the　world。　Giving　simultaneously　
a　little　nod；　as　if　in　confirmation　of　this　understanding；　
they　parted　without　speaking　again。　

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Night　and　Day　

CHAPTER　XXIX　


Between　twelve　and　one　that　Sunday　night　Katharine　lay　
in　bed；　not　asleep；　but　in　that　twilight　region　where　a　
detached　and　humorous　view　of　our　own　lot　is　possible；　
or　if　we　must　be　serious；　our　seriousness　is　tempered　by　
the　swift　one　of　slumber　and　oblivion。　She　saw　the　
forms　of　Ralph；　William；　Cassandra；　and　herself；　as　if　they　
were　all　equally　unsubstantial；　and；　in　putting　off　reality；　
had　gained　a　kind　of　dignity　which　rested　upon　each　
impartially。　Thus　rid　of　any　unfortable　warmth　of　partisanship　
or　load　of　obligation；　she　was　dropping　off　to　
sleep　when　a　light　tap　sounded　upon　her　door。　A　moment　
later　Cassandra　stood　beside　her；　holding　a　candle　and　
speaking　in　the　low　tones　proper　to　the　time　of　night。　

“Are　you　awake；　Katharine？”　

“Yes；　I’m　awake。　What　is　it？”　

She　roused　herself；　sat　up；　and　asked　what　in　Heaven’s　
name　Cassandra　was　doing？　

“I　couldn’t　sleep；　and　I　thought　I’d　e　and　speak　to　
you—only　for　a　moment；　though。　I’m　going　home　to


morrow。”　

“Home？　Why；　what　has　happened？”　

“Something　happened　today　which　makes　it　impossible　
for　me　to　stay　here。”　

Cassandra　spoke　formally；　almost　solemnly；　the　announcement　
was　clearly　prepared　and　marked　a　crisis　of　
the　utmost　gravity。　She　continued　what　seemed　to　be　
part　of　a　set　speech。　

“I　have　decided　to　tell　you　the　whole　truth；　Katharine。　
William　allowed　himself　to　behave　in　a　way　which　made　
me　extremely　unfortable　today。”　

Katharine　seemed　to　waken　pletely；　and　at　once　to　
be　in　control　of　herself。　

“At　the　Zoo？”　she　asked。　

“No；　on　the　way　home。　When　we　had　tea。”　

As　if　foreseeing　that　the　interview　might　be　long；　and　
the　night　chilly；　Katharine　advised　Cassandra　to　wrap　herself　
in　a　quilt。　Cassandra　did　so　with　unbroken　solemnity。　

“There’s　a　train　at　eleven；”　she　said。　“I　shall　tell　Aunt　
Maggie　that　I　have　to　go　suddenly…　。　I　shall　make　Violet’s　
visit　an　excuse。　But；　after　thinking　it　over；　I　don’t　see　

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how　I　can　go　without　telling　you　the　truth。”　

She　was　careful　to　abstain　from　looking　in　Katharine’s　
direction。　There　was　a　slight　pause。　

“But　I　don’t　see　the　least　reason　why　you　should　go；”　
said　Katharine　eventually。　Her　voice　sounded　so　astonishingly　
equable　that　Cassandra　glanced　at　her。　It　was　
impossible　to　suppose　that　she　was　either　indignant　or　
surprised；　she　seemed；　on　the　contrary；　sitting　up　in　bed；　
with　her　arms　clasped　round　her　knees　and　a　little　frown　
on　her　brow；　to　be　thinking　closely　upon　a　matter　of　
indifference　to　her。　

“Because　I　can’t　allow　any　man　to　behave　to　me　in　that　
way；”　Cassandra　replied；　and　she　added；　“particularly　when　
I　know　that　he　is　engaged　to　some　one　else。”　

“But　you　like　him；　don’t　you？”　Katharine　inquired。　

“That’s　got　nothing　to　do　with　it；”　Cassandra　exclaimed　
indignantly。　“I　consider　his　conduct；　under　the　circumstances；　
most　disgraceful。”　

This　was　the　last　of　the　sentences　of　her　premeditated　
speech；　and　having　spoken　it　she　was　left　unprovided　
with　any　more　to　say　in　that　particular　style。　When　

Katharine　remarked：　

“I　should　say　it　had　everything　to　do　with　it；”　Cassandra’s　
selfpossession　deserted　her。　

“I　don’t　understand　you　in　the　least；　Katharine。　How　
can　you　behave　as　you　behave？　Ever　since　I　came　here　
I’ve　been　amazed　by　you！”　

“You’ve　enjoyed　yourself；　haven’t　you？”　Katharine　asked。　

“Yes；　I　have；”　Cassandra　admitted。　

“Anyhow；　my　behavior　hasn’t　spoiled　your　visit。”　

“No；”　Cassandra　allowed　once　more。　She　was　pletely　
at　a　loss。　In　her　forecast　of　the　interview　she　had　taken　it　
for　granted　that　Katharine；　after　an　outburst　of　incredulity；　
would　agree　that　Cassandra　must　return　home　as　
soon　as　possible。　But　Katharine；　on　the　contrary；　accepted　
her　statement　at　once；　seemed　neither　shocked　nor　surprised；　
and　merely　looked　rather　more　thoughtful　than　
usual。　From　being　a　mature　woman　charged　with　an　important　
mission；　Cassandra　shrunk　to　the　stature　of　an　
inexperienced　child。　

“Do　you　think　I’ve　been　very　foolish　about　it？”　she　
asked。　

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Katharine　made　no　answer；　but　still　sat　deliberating　silently；　
and　a　certain　feeling　of　alarm　took　possession　of　
Cassandra。　Perhaps　her　words　had　struck　far　deeper　than　
she　had　thought；　into　depths　beyond　her　reach；　as　so　much　
of　Katharine　was　beyond　her　reach。　She　thought　suddenly　
that　she　had　been　playing　with　very　dangerous　tools。　

Looking　at　her　at　length；　Katharine　asked　slowly；　as　if　
she　found　the　question　very　difficult　to　ask。　

“But　do　you　care　for　William？”　

She　marked　the　agitation　and　bewilderment　of　the　girl’s　
expression；　and　how　she　looked　away　from　her。　

“Do　you　mean；　am　I　in　love　with　him？”　Cassandra　asked；　
breathing　quickly；　and　nervously　moving　her　hands。　

“Yes；　in　love　with　him；”　Katharine　repeated。　

“How　can　I　love　the　man　you’re　engaged　to　marry？”　
Cassandra　burst　out。　

“He　may　be　in　love　with　you。”　

“I　don’t　think　you’ve　any　right　to　say　such　things；　
Katharine；”　Cassandra　exclaimed。　“Why　do　you　say　them？　
Don’t　you　mind　in　the　least　how　William　behaves　to　other　
women？　If　I　were　engaged；　I　couldn’t　bear　it！”　

“We’re　not　engaged；”　said　Katharine；　after　a　pause。　

“Katharine！”　Cassandra　cried。　

“No；　we’re　not　engaged；”　Katharine　repeated。　“But　no　
one　knows　it　but　ourselves。”　

“But　why—I　don’t　understand—you’re　not　engaged！”　
Cassandra　said　again。　“Oh；　that　explains　it！　You’re　not　in　
love　with　him！　You　don’t　want　to　marry　him！”　

“We　aren’t　in　love　with　each　other　any　longer；”　said　
Katharine；　as　if　disposing　of　something　for　ever　and　ever。　

“How　queer；　how　strange；　how　unlike　other　people　you　
are；　Katharine；”　Cassandra　said；　her　whole　body　and　voice　
seeming　to　fall　and　collapse　together；　and　no　trace　of　anger　
or　excitement　remaining；　but　only　a　dreamy　quietude。　

“You’re　not　in　love　with　him？”　

“But　I　love　him；”　said　Katharine。　

Cassandra　remained　bowed；　as　if　by　the　weight　of　the　
revelation；　for　some　little　while　longer。　Nor　did　Katharine　
speak。　Her　attitude　was　that　of　some　one　who　wishes　to　
be　concealed　as　much　as　possible　from　observation。　She　
sighed　profoundly；　she　was　absolutely　silent；　and　apparently　
overe　by　her　thoughts。　

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“D’you　know　what　time　it　is？”　she　said　at　length；　and　
shook　her　pillow；　as　if　making　ready　for　sleep。　

Cassandra　rose　obediently；　and　once　more　took　up　her　
candle。　Perhaps　the　white　dressinggown；　and　the　loosened　
hair；　and　something　unseeing　in　the　expression　of　
the　eyes　gave　her　a　likeness　to　a　woman　walking　in　her　
sleep。　Katharine；　at　least；　thought　so。　

“There’s　no　reason　why　I　should　go　home；　then？”　
Cassandra　said；　pausing。　“Unless　you　want　me　to　go；　
Katharine？　What　do　you　want　me　to　do？”　

For　the　first　time　their　eyes　met。　

“You　wanted　us　to　fall　in　love；”　Cassandra　exclaimed；　as　
if　she　read　the　certainty　there。　But　as　she　looked　she　saw　
a　sight　that　surprised　her。　The　tears　rose　slowly　in　
Katharine’s　eyes　and　stood　there；　brimming　but　contained—
the　tears　of　some　profound　emotion；　happiness；　
grief；　renunciation；　an　emotion　so　plex　in　its　nature　
that　to　express　it　was　impossible；　and　Cassandra；　bending　
her　head　and　receiving　the　tears　upon　her　cheek；　
accepted　them　in　silence　as　the　consecration　of　her　love。　

“Please；　miss；”　said　the　maid；　about　eleven　o’clock　on　

the　following　morning；　“Mrs。　Milvain　is　in　the　kitchen。”　

A　long　wick