[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第8部分

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a　sense　that　Ralph　had　said　something　very　stupid。　So；　
after　three　lessons　in　Latin　grammar；　one　might　correct　a　
fellow　student；　whose　knowledge　did　not　embrace　the　
ablative　of　“mensa。”　

“Picture—what　picture？”　Katharine　asked。　“Oh；　at　home；　
you　mean—that　Sunday　afternoon。　Was　it　the　day　Mr。　
Fortescue　came？　Yes；　I　think　I　remembered　it。”　

The　three　of　them　stood　for　a　moment　awkwardly　silent；　
and　then　Mary　left　them　in　order　to　see　that　the　
great　pitcher　of　coffee　was　properly　handled；　for　beneath　
all　her　education　she　preserved　the　anxieties　of　one　who　
owns　china。　

Ralph　could　think　of　nothing　further　to　say；　but　could　
one　have　stripped　off　his　mask　of　flesh；　one　would　have　
seen　that　his　willpower　was　rigidly　set　upon　a　single　

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Night　and　Day　

object—that　Miss　Hilbery　should　obey　him。　He　wished　
her　to　stay　there　until；　by　some　measures　not　yet　apparent　
to　him；　he　had　conquered　her　interest。　These　states　
of　mind　transmit　themselves　very　often　without　the　use　
of　language；　and　it　was　evident　to　Katharine　that　this　
young　man　had　fixed　his　mind　upon　her。　She　instantly　
recalled　her　first　impressions　of　him；　and　saw　herself　again　
proffering　family　relics。　She　reverted　to　the　state　of　mind　
in　which　he　had　left　her　that　Sunday　afternoon。　She　supposed　
that　he　judged　her　very　severely。　She　argued　naturally　
that；　if　this　were　the　case；　the　burden　of　the　conversation　
should　rest　with　him。　But　she　submitted　so　far　as　
to　stand　perfectly　still；　her　eyes　upon　the　opposite　wall；　
and　her　lips　very　nearly　closed；　though　the　desire　to　laugh　
stirred　them　slightly。　

“You　know　the　names　of　the　stars；　I　suppose？”　Denham　
remarked；　and　from　the　tone　of　his　voice　one　might　have　
thought　that　he　grudged　Katharine　the　knowledge　he　attributed　
to　her。　

She　kept　her　voice　steady　with　some　difficulty。　

“I　know　how　to　find　the　Pole　star　if　I’m　lost。”　

“I　don’t　suppose　that　often　happens　to　you。”　

“No。　Nothing　interesting　ever　happens　to　me；”　she　said。　

“I　think　you　make　a　system　of　saying　disagreeable　things；　
Miss　Hilbery；”　he　broke　out；　again　going　further　than　he　
meant　to。　“I　suppose　it’s　one　of　the　characteristics　of　your　
class。　They　never　talk　seriously　to　their　inferiors。”　

Whether　it　was　that　they　were　meeting　on　neutral　ground　
tonight；　or　whether　the　carelessness　of　an　old　grey　coat　
that　Denham　wore　gave　an　ease　to　his　bearing　that　he　
lacked　in　conventional　dress；　Katharine　certainly　felt　no　
impulse　to　consider　him　outside　the　particular　set　in　which　
she　lived。　

“In　what　sense　are　you　my　inferior？”　she　asked；　looking　
at　him　gravely；　as　though　honestly　searching　for　his　meaning。　
The　look　gave　him　great　pleasure。　For　the　first　time　
he　felt　himself　on　perfectly　equal　terms　with　a　woman　
whom　he　wished　to　think　well　of　him；　although　he　could　
not　have　explained　why　her　opinion　of　him　mattered　one　
way　or　another。　Perhaps；　after　all；　he　only　wanted　to　
have　something　of　her　to　take　home　to　think　about。　But　
he　was　not　destined　to　profit　by　his　advantage。　

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Virginia　Woolf　

“I　don’t　think　I　understand　what　you　mean；”　Katharine　
repeated；　and　then　she　was　obliged　to　stop　and　answer　
some　one　who　wished　to　know　whether　she　would　buy　a　
ticket　for　an　opera　from　them；　at　a　reduction。　Indeed；　
the　temper　of　the　meeting　was　now　unfavorable　to　separate　
conversation；　it　had　bee　rather　debauched　and　
hilarious；　and　people　who　scarcely　knew　each　other　were　
making　use　of　Christian　names　with　apparent　cordiality；　
and　had　reached　that　kind　of　gay　tolerance　and　general　
friendliness　which　human　beings　in　England　only　attain　
after　sitting　together　for　three　hours　or　so；　and　the　first　
cold　blast　in　the　air　of　the　street　freezes　them　into　isolation　
once　more。　Cloaks　were　being　flung　round　the　shoulders；　
hats　swiftly　pinned　to　the　head；　and　Denham　had　
the　mortification　of　seeing　Katharine　helped　to　prepare　
herself　by　the　ridiculous　Rodney。　It　was　not　the　convention　
of　the　meeting　to　say　goodbye；　or　necessarily　even　
to　nod　to　the　person　with　whom　one　was　talking；　but；　
nevertheless；　Denham　was　disappointed　by　the　pleteness　
with　which　Katharine　parted　from　him；　without　any　
attempt　to　finish　her　sentence。　She　left　with　Rodney。　

CHAPTER　V　


Denham　had　no　conscious　intention　of　following　Katharine；　
but；　seeing　her　depart；　he　took　his　hat　and　ran　rather　
more　quickly　down　the　stairs　than　he　would　have　done　if　
Katharine　had　not　been　in　front　of　him。　He　overtook　a　
friend　of　his；　by　name　Harry　Sandys；　who　was　going　the　
same　way；　and　they　walked　together　a　few　paces　behind　
Katharine　and　Rodney。　

The　night　was　very　still；　and　on　such　nights；　when　the　
traffic　thins　away；　the　walker　bees　conscious　of　the　
moon　in　the　street；　as　if　the　curtains　of　the　sky　had　been　
drawn　apart；　and　the　heaven　lay　bare；　as　it　does　in　the　
country。　The　air　was　softly　cool；　so　that　people　who　had　
been　sitting　talking　in　a　crowd　found　it　pleasant　to　walk　
a　little　before　deciding　to　stop　an　omnibus　or　encounter　
light　again　in　an　underground　railway。　Sandys；　who　was　a　
barrister　with　a　philosophic　tendency；　took　out　his　pipe；　
lit　it；　murmured　“hum”　and　“ha；”　and　was　silent。　The　
couple　in　front　of　them　kept　their　distance　accurately；　
and　appeared；　so　far　as　Denham　could　judge　by　the　way　

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Night　and　Day　

they　turned　towards　each　other；　to　be　talking　very　constantly。　
He　observed　that　when　a　pedestrian　going　the　
opposite　way　forced　them　to　part　they　came　together　
again　directly　afterwards。　Without　intending　to　watch　
them　he　never　quite　lost　sight　of　the　yellow　scarf　twisted　
round　Katharine’s　head；　or　the　light　overcoat　which　made　
Rodney　look　fashionable　among　the　crowd。　At　the　Strand　
he　supposed　that　they　would　separate；　but　instead　they　
crossed　the　road；　and　took　their　way　down　one　of　the　
narrow　passages　which　lead　through　ancient　courts　to　
the　river。　Among　the　crowd　of　people　in　the　big　thoroughfares　
Rodney　seemed　merely　to　be　lending　Katharine　
his　escort；　but　now；　when　passengers　were　rare　and　the　
footsteps　of　the　couple　were　distinctly　heard　in　the　silence；　
Denham　could　not　help　picturing　to　himself　some　
change　in　their　conversation。　The　effect　of　the　light　and　
shadow；　which　seemed　to　increase　their　height；　was　to　
make　them　mysterious　and　significant；　so　that　Denham　
had　no　feeling　of　irritation　with　Katharine；　but　rather　a　
halfdreamy　acquiescence　in　the　course　of　the　world。　Yes；　
she　did　very　well　to　dream　about—but　Sandys　had　sud


denly　begun　to　talk。　He　was　a　solitary　man　who　had　made　
his　friends　at　college　and　always　addressed　them　as　if　
they　were　still　undergraduates　arguing　in　his　room；　though　
many　months　or　even　years　had　passed　in　some　cases　
between　the　last　sentence　and　the　present　one。　The　
method　was　a　little　singular；　but　very　restful；　for　it　seemed　
to　ignore　pletely　all　accidents　of　human　life；　and　to　
span　very　deep　abysses　with　a　few　simple　words。　

On　this　occasion　he　began；　while　they　waited　for　a　
minute　on　the　edge　of　the　Strand：　

“I　hear　that　Bent　has　given　up　his　theory　of　truth。”　

Denham　returned　a　suitable　answer；　and　he　proceeded　
to　explain　how　this　decision　had　been　arrived　at；　and　
what　changes　it　involved　in　the　philosophy　which　they　
both　accepted。　Meanwhile　Katharine　and　Rodney　drew　
further　ahead；　and　Denham　kept；　if　that　is　the　right　expression　
for　an　involuntary　action；　one　filament　of　his　
mind　upon　them；　while　with　the　rest　of　his　intelligence　
he　sought　to　understand　what　Sandys　was　saying。　

As　they　passed　through　the　courts　thus　talking；　Sandys　
laid　the　tip　of　his　stick　upon　one　of　the　stones　forming　a　

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Virginia　Woolf　

timeworn　arch；　and　struck　it　meditatively　two　or　three　
times　in　order　to　illustrate　something　very　obscure　about　
the　plex　nature　of　one’s　apprehension　of　facts。　During　
the　pause　which　this　necessitated；　Katharine　and　
Rodney　turned　the　corner　and　disappeared。　For　a　moment　
Denham　stopped　involuntarily　in　his　sentence；　and　continued　
it　with　a　sense　of　having　lost　something。　

Unconscious　that　they　were　observed；　Katharine　and　
Rodney　had　e　out　on　the　Embankment。　When　they　
had　crossed　the　road；　Rodney　slapped　his　hand　upon　the　
stone　parapet　above　the　river　and　exclaimed：　

“I　promise　I　won’t　say　another　word　about　it；　Katharine！　
But　do　stop　a　minute　and　look　at　the　moon　upon　the　
water。”　

Katharine　paused；　looked　up　and　down　the　river；　and　
snuffed　the　air。　

“I’m　sure　one　can　smell　the　sea；　with　the　wind　blowing　
this　way；”　she　said。　

They　stood　silent　for　a　few　moments　while　the　river　
shifted　in　its　bed；　and　the　silver　and　red　lights　which　
were　laid　upon　it　were　torn　by　the　current　and　joined　

together　again。　Very　far　off　up　the　river　a　steamer　hooted　
with　its　hollow　voice　of　unspeakable　melancholy；　as　if　
from　the　heart　of　lonely　mistshrouded　voyagings。　

“Ah！”　Rodney　cried；　striking　his　hand　once　more　upon　
the　balustrade；　“why　can’t　one　say　how　beautiful　it　all　is？　
Why　am　I　condemned　for　ever；　Katharine；　to　feel　what　I　
can’t　express？　And　the　things　I　can　give　there’s　no　use　in　
my　giving。　Trust　me；　Katharine；”　he　added　hastily；　“I　won’t　
speak　of　it　again。　But　in　the　presence　of　beauty—look　at　
the　iridescence　round　the　moon！—one　feels—one　feels—　
Perhaps　if　you　married　me—I’m　half　a　poet；　you　see；　and　
I　can’t　pretend　not　to　feel　what　I　do　feel。　If　I　could　
write—ah；　that　would　be　another　matter。　I　shouldn’t　
bother　you　to　marry　me　then；　Katharine。”　

He　spoke　these　disconnected　sentences　rather　abruptly；　
with　his　eyes　alternately　upon　the　moon　and　upon　the　
stream。　

“But　for　me　I　suppose　you　would　remend　marriage？”　
said　Katharine；　with　her　eyes　fixed　on　the　moon。　

“Certainly　I　should。　Not　for　you　only；　but　for　all　women。　
Why；　you’re　nothing　at　all　without　it；　you’re　only　half　

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Night　and　Day　

alive；　using　only　half　your　faculties；　you　must　feel　that　
for　yourself。　That　is　why—”　Here　he　stopped　himself；　and　
they　began　to　walk　slowly　along　the　Embankment；　the　
moon　fronting　them。

　“With　how　sad　steps　she　climbs　the　sky；

　How　silently　and　with　how　wan　a　face；”　

Rodney　quoted。　

“I’ve　been　told　a　great　many　unpleasant　things　about　
myself　tonight；”　Katharine　stated；　without　attending　to　
him。　“Mr。　Denham　seems　to　think　it　his　mission　to　lecture　
me；　though　I　hardly　know　him。　By　the　way；　William；　
you　know　him；　tell　me；　what　is　he　like？”　

William　drew　a　deep　sigh。　

“We　may　lecture　you　till　we’re　blue　in　the　face—”　

“Yes—but　what’s　he　like？”　

“And　we　write　sons　to　your　eyebrows；　you　cruel　practical　
creature。　Denham？”　he　added；　as　Katharine　remained　
silent。　“A　good　fellow；　I　should　think。　He　cares；　naturally；　
for　the　right　sort　of　things；　I　expect。　But　you　mustn’t　

marry　him；　though。　He　scolded　you；　did　he—what　did　he　
say？”　

“What　happens　with　Mr。　Denham　is　this：　He　es　to　
tea。　I　do　all　I　can　to　put　him　at　his　ease。　He　merely　sits　
and　scowls　at　me。　Then　I　show　him　our　manuscripts。　At　
this　he　bees　really　angry；　and　tells　me　I’ve　no　business　
to　call　myself　a　middleclass　woman。　So　we　part　in　a　
huff；　and　next　time　we　meet；　which　was　tonight；　he　
walks　straight　up　to　me；　and　says；　‘Go　to　the　Devil！’　That’s　
the　sort　of　behavior　my　mother　plains　of。　I　want　to　
know；　what　does　it　mean？”　

She　paused　and；　slackening　her　steps；　looked　at　the　
lighted　train　drawing　itself　smoothly　over　Hungerford　
Bridge。　

“It　means；　I　should　say；　that　he　finds　you　chilly　and　
unsympathetic。”　

Katharine　laughed　with　round；　separate　notes　of　genuine　
amusement。　

“It’s　time　I　jumped　into　a　cab　and　hid　myself　in　my　own　
house；”　she　exclaimed。　

“Would　your　mother　object　to　my　being　seen　with　you？　

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Virginia　Woolf　

No　one　could　possibly　recognize　us；　could　they？”　Rodney　
inquired；　with　some　solicitude。　

Katharine　looked　at　him；　and　perceiving　that　his　solicitude　
was　genuine；　she　laughed　again；　but　with　an　ironical　
note　in　her　laughter。　

“You　may　laugh；　Katharine；　but　I　can　tell　you　that　if　
any　of　your　friends　saw　us　together　at　this　time　of　night　
they　would　talk　about　it；　and　I　should　find　that　very　
disagreeable。　But　why　do　you　laugh？”　

“I　don’t　know。　Because　you’re　such　a　queer　mixture；　I　
think。　You’re　half　poet　and　half　old　maid。”　

“I　know　I　always　seem　to　you　highly　ridiculous。　But　I　
can’t　help　having　inherited　certain　traditions　and　trying　
to　put　them　into　practice。”　

“Nonsense；　William。　You　may　e　of　the　oldest　family　
in　Devonshire；　but　that’s　no　reason　why　you　should　mind　
being　seen　alone　with　me　on　the　Embankment。”　

“I’m　ten　years　older　than　you　are；　Katharine；　and　I　know　
more　of　the　world　than　you　do。”　

“Very　well。　Leave　me　and　go　home。”　

Rodney　looked　back　over　his　shoulder　and　perceived　

that　they　were　being　followed　at　a　short　distance　by　a　
taxicab；　which　evidently　awaited　his　summons。　Katharine　
saw　it；　too；　and　exclaimed：　

“Don’t　call　that　cab　for　me；　William。　I　shall　walk。”　

“Nonsense；　Katharine；　you’ll　do　nothing　of　the　kind。　It’s　
nearly　twelve　o’clock；　and　we’ve　walked　too　far　as　it　is。”　

Katharine　laughed　and　walked　on　so　quickly　that　both　
Rodney　and　the　taxicab　had　to　increase　their　pace　to　
keep　up　with　her。　

“Now；　William；”　she　said；　“if　people　see　me　racing　along　
the　Embankment　like　this　they　will　talk。　You　had　far　better　
say　goodnight；　if　you　don’t　want　people　to　talk。”　

At　this　William　beckoned；　with　a　despotic　gesture；　to　
the　cab　with　one　hand；　and　with　the　other　he　brought　
Katharine　to　a　standstill。　

“Don’t　let　the　man　see　us　struggling；　for　God’s　sake！”　
he　murmured。　Katharine　stood　for　a　moment　quite　still。　

“There’s　more　of　the　old　maid　in　you　than　the　poet；”　
she　observed　briefly。　

William　shut　the　door　sharply；　gave　the　address　to　the　
driver；　and　turned　away；　lifting　his　hat　punctiliously　high　

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Night　and　Day　

in　farewell　to　the　invisible　lady。　

He　looked　back　after　the　cab　twice；　suspiciously；　half　
expecting　that　she　would　stop　it　and　dismount；　but　it　
bore　her　swiftly　on；　and　was　soon　out　of　sight。　William　
felt　in　the　mood　for　a　short　soliloquy　of　indignation；　for　
Katharine　had　contrived　to　exasperate　him　in　more　ways　
than　one。　

“Of　all　the　unreasonable；　inconsiderate　creatures　I’ve　
ever　known；　she’s　the　worst！”　he　exclaimed　to　himself；　
striding　back　along　the　Embankment。　“Heaven　forbid　that　
I　should　ever　make　a　fool　of　myself　with　her　again。　Why；　
I’d　sooner　marry　the　daughter　of　my　landlady　than　
Katharine　Hilbery！　She’d　leave　me　not　a　moment’s　peace—　
and　she’d　never　understand　me—never；　never；　never！”　

Uttered　aloud　and　with　vehemence　so　that　the　stars　of　
Heaven　might　hear；　for　there　was　no　human　being　at　hand；　
these　sentiments　sounded　satisfactorily　irrefutable。　
Rodney　quieted　down；　and　walked　on　in　silence；　until　he　
perceived　some　one　approaching　him；　who　had　something；　
either　in　his　walk　or　his　dress；　which　proclaimed　
that　he　was　one　of　William’s　acquaintances　before　it　was　

possible　to　t