奥兰多orlando (英文版)作者:弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙-第12部分

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。　Then；　she　said；　a　woman；　much　muffled；　but　apparently　of　the　peasant　class；　was　drawn　up　by　means　of　a　rope　which　the　man　let　down　to　her　on　to　the　balcony。　There；　the　washer–woman　said；　they　embraced　passionately　‘like　lovers’；　and　went　into　the　room　together；　drawing　the　curtains　so　that　no　more　could　be　seen。

Next　morning；　the　Duke；　as　we　must　now　call　him；　was　found　by　his　secretaries　sunk　in　profound　slumber　amid　bed　clothes　that　were　much　tumbled。　The　room　was　in　some　disorder；　his　coro　having　rolled　on　the　floor；　and　his　cloak　and　garter　being　flung　all　of　a　heap　on　a　chair。　The　table　was　littered　with　papers。　No　suspicion　was　felt　at　first；　as　the　fatigues　of　the　night　had　been　great。　But　when　afternoon　came　and　he　still　slept；　a　doctor　was　summoned。　He　applied　remedies　which　had　been　used　on　the　previous　occasion；　plasters；　tles；　emetics；　etc。；　but　without　success。　Orlando　slept　on。　His　secretaries　then　thought　it　their　duty　to　examine　the　papers　on　the　table。　Many　were　scribbled　over　with　poetry；　in　which　frequent　mention　was　made　of　an　oak　tree。　There　were　also　various　state　papers　and　others　of　a　private　nature　concerning　the　management　of　his　estates　in　England。　But　at　length　they　came　upon　a　document　of　far　greater　significance。　It　was　nothing　less；　indeed；　than　a　deed　of　marriage；　drawn　up；　signed；　and　witnessed　between　his　Lordship；　Orlando；　Knight　of　the　Garter；　etc。；　etc。；　etc。；　and　Rosina　Pepita；　a　dancer；　father　unknown；　but　reputed　a　gipsy；　mother　also　unknown　but　reputed　a　seller　of　old　iron　in　the　market–place　over　against　the　Galata　Bridge。　The　secretaries　looked　at　each　other　in　dismay。　And　still　Orlando　slept。　Morning　and　evening　they　watched　him；　but；　save　that　his　breathing　was　regular　and　his　cheeks　still　flushed　their　habitual　deep　rose；　he　gave　no　sign　of　life。　Whatever　science　or　ingenuity　could　do　to　waken　him　they　did。　But　still　he　slept。

On　the　seventh　day　of　his　trance　（Thursday；　May　the　10th）　the　first　shot　was　fired　of　that　terrible　and　bloody　insurrection　of　which　Lieutenant　Brigge　had　detected　the　first　symptoms。　The　Turks　rose　against　the　Sultan；　set　fire　to　the　town；　and　put　every　foreigner　they　could　find；　either　to　the　sword　or　to　the　bastinado。　A　few　English　managed　to　escape；　but；　as　might　have　been　expected；　the　gentlemen　of　the　British　Embassy　preferred　to　die　in　defence　of　their　red　boxes；　or；　in　extreme　cases；　to　swallow　bunches　of　keys　rather　than　let　them　fall　into　the　hands　of　the　Infidel。　The　rioters　broke　into　Orlando’s　room；　but　seeing　him　stretched　to　all　appearances　dead　they　left　him　untouched；　and　only　robbed　him　of　his　coro　and　the　robes　of　the　Garter。

And　now　again　obscurity　descends；　and　would　indeed　that　it　were　deeper！　Would；　we　almost　have　it　in　our　hearts　to　exclaim；　that　it　were　so　deep　that　we　could　see　nothing　whatever　through　its　opacity！　Would　that　we　might　here　take　the　pen　and　write　Finis　to　our　work！　Would　that　we　might　spare　the　reader　what　is　to　e　and　say　to　him　in　so　many　words；　Orlando　died　and　was　buried。　But　here；　alas；　Truth；　Candour；　and　Honesty；　the　austere　Gods　who　keep　watch　and　ward　by　the　inkpot　of　the　biographer；　cry　No！　Putting　their　silver　trumpets　to　their　lips　they　demand　in　one　blast；　Truth！　And　again　they　cry　Truth！　and　sounding　yet　a　third　time　in　concert　they　peal　forth；　The　Truth　and　nothing　but　the　Truth！

At　which—Heaven　be　praised！　for　it　affords　us　a　breathing　space—the　doors　gently　open；　as　if　a　breath　of　the　gentlest　and　holiest　zephyr　had　wafted　them　apart；　and　three　figures　enter。　First；　es　our　Lady　of　Purity；　whose　brows　are　bound　with　fillets　of　the　whitest　lamb’s　wool；　whose　hair　is　as　an　avalanche　of　the　driven　snow；　and　in　whose　hand　reposes　the　white　quill　of　a　virgin　goose。　Following　her；　but　with　a　statelier　step；　es　our　Lady　of　Chastity；　on　whose　brow　is　set　like　a　turret　of　burning　but　unwasting　fire　a　diadem　of　icicles；　her　eyes　are　pure　stars；　and　her　fingers；　if　they　touch　you；　freeze　you　to　the　bone。　Close　behind　her；　sheltering　indeed　in　the　shadow　of　her　more　stately　sisters；　es　our　Lady　of　Modesty；　frailest　and　fairest　of　the　three；　whose　face　is　only　shown　as　the　young　moon　shows　when　it　is　thin　and　sickle　shaped　and　half　hidden　among　clouds。　Each　advances　towards　the　centre　of　the　room　where　Orlando　still　lies　sleeping；　and　with　gestures　at　once　appealing　and　manding；　OUR　LADY　OF　PURITY　speaks　first：

‘I　am　the　guardian　of　the　sleeping　fawn；　the　snow　is　dear　to　me；　and　the　moon　rising；　and　the　silver　sea。　With　my　robes　I　cover　the　speckled　hen’s　eggs　and　the　brindled　sea　shell；　I　cover　vice　and　poverty。　On　all　things　frail　or　dark　or　doubtful；　my　veil　descends。　Wherefore；　speak　not；　reveal　not。　Spare；　O　spare！’

Here　the　trumpets　peal　forth。

‘Purity　Avaunt！　Begone　Purity！’

Then　OUR　LADY　OF　CHASTITY　speaks：

‘I　am　she　whose　touch　freezes　and　whose　glance　turns　to　stone。　I　have　stayed　the　star　in　its　dancing；　and　the　wave　as　it　falls。　The　highest　Alps　are　my　dwelling　place；　and　when　I　walk；　the　lightnings　flash　in　my　hair；　where　my　eyes　fall；　they　kill。　Rather　than　let　Orlando　wake；　I　will　freeze　him　to　the　bone。　Spare；　O　spare！’

Here　the　trumpets　peal　forth。

‘Chastity　Avaunt！　Begone　Chastity！’

Then　OUR　LADY　OF　MODESTY　speaks；　so　low　that　one　can　hardly　hear：

‘I　am　she　that　men　call　Modesty。　Virgin　I　am　and　ever　shall　be。　Not　for　me　the　fruitful　fields　and　the　fertile　vineyard。　Increase　is　odious　to　me；　and　when　the　apples　burgeon　or　the　flocks　breed；　I　run；　I　run；　I　let　my　mantle　fall。　My　hair　covers　my　eyes。　I　do　not　see。　Spare；　O　spare！’

Again　the　trumpets　peal　forth：

‘Modesty　Avaunt！　Begone　Modesty！’

With　gestures　of　grief　and　lamentation　the　three　sisters　now　join　hands　and　dance　slowly；　tossing　their　veils　and　singing　as　they　go：

‘Truth　e　not　out　from　your　horrid　den。　Hide　deeper；　fearful　Truth。　For　you　flaunt　in　the　brutal　gaze　of　the　sun　things　that　were　better　unknown　and　undone；　you　unveil　the　shameful；　the　dark　you　make　clear；　Hide！　Hide！　Hide！’

Here　they　make　as　if　to　cover　Orlando　with　their　draperies。　The　trumpets；　meanwhile；　still　blare　forth；

‘The　Truth　and　nothing　but　the　Truth。’

At　this　the　Sisters　try　to　cast　their　veils　over　the　mouths　of　the　trumpets　so　as　to　muffle　them；　but　in　vain；　for　now　all　the　trumpets　blare　forth　together；

‘Horrid　Sisters；　go！’

The　sisters　bee　distracted　and　wail　in　unison；　still　circling　and　flinging　their　veils　up　and　down。

‘It　has　not　always　been　so！　But　men　want　us　no　longer；　the　women　detest　us。　We　go；　we　go。　I　（PURITY　SAYS　THIS）　to　the　hen　roost。　I　（CHASTITY　SAYS　THIS）　to　the　still　unravished　heights　of　Surrey。　I　（MODESTY　SAYS　THIS）　to　any　cosy　nook　where　there　are　ivy　and　curtains　in　plenty。’

‘For　there；　not　here　（all　speak　together　joining　hands　and　making　gestures　of　farewell　and　despair　towards　the　bed　where　Orlando　lies　sleeping）　dwell　still　in　nest　and　boudoir；　office　and　lawcourt　those　who　love　us；　those　who　honour　us；　virgins　and　city　men；　lawyers　and　doctors；　those　who　prohibit；　those　who　deny；　those　who　reverence　without　knowing　why；　those　who　praise　without　understanding；　the　still　very　numerous　（Heaven　be　praised）　tribe　of　the　respectable；　who　prefer　to　see　not；　desire　to　know　not；　love　the　darkness；　those　still　worship　us；　and　with　reason；　for　we　have　given　them　Wealth；　Prosperity；　fort；　Ease。　To　them　we　go；　you　we　leave。　e；　Sisters；　e！　This　is　no　place　for　us　here。’

They　retire　in　haste；　waving　their　draperies　over　their　heads；　as　if　to　shut　out　something　that　they　dare　not　look　upon　and　close　the　door　behind　them。

We　are；　therefore；　now　left　entirely　alone　in　the　room　with　the　sleeping　Orlando　and　the　trumpeters。　The　trumpeters；　ranging　themselves　side　by　side　in　order；　blow　one　terrific　blast：—

‘THE　TRUTH！

at　which　Orlando　woke。

He　stretched　himself。　He　rose。　He　stood　upright　in　plete　nakedness　before　us；　and　while　the　trumpets　pealed　Truth！　Truth！　Truth！　we　have　no　choice　left　but　confess—he　was　a　woman。






The　sound　of　the　trumpets　died　away　and　Orlando　stood　stark　naked。　No　human　being；　since　the　world　began；　has　ever　looked　more　ravishing。　His　form　bined　in　one　the　strength　of　a　man　and　a　woman’s　grace。　As　he　stood　there；　the　silver　trumpets　prolonged　their　note；　as　if　reluctant　to　leave　the　lovely　sight　which　their　blast　had　called　forth；　and　Chastity；　Purity；　and　Modesty；　inspired；　no　doubt；　by　Curiosity；　peeped　in　at　the　door　and　threw　a　garment　like　a　towel　at　the　naked　form　which；　unfortunately；　fell　short　by　several　inches。　Orlando　looked　himself　up　and　down　in　a　long　looking–glass；　without　showing　any　signs　of　disposure；　and　went；　presumably；　to　his　bath。

We　may　take　advantage　of　this　pause　in　the　narrative　to　make　certain　statements。　Orlando　had　bee　a　woman—there　is　no　denying　it。　But　in　every　other　respect；　Orlando　remained　precisely　as　he　had　been。　The　change　of　sex；　though　it　altered　their　future；　did　nothing　whatever　to　alter　their　identity。　Their　faces　remained；　as　their　portraits　prove；　practically　the　same。　His　memory—but　in　future　we　must；　for　convention’s　sake；　say　‘her’　for　‘his；’　and　‘she’　for　‘he’—her　memory　then；　went　back　through　all　the　events　of　her　past　life　without　encountering　any　obstacle。　Some　slight　haziness　there　may　have　been；　as　if　a　few　dark　drops　had　fallen　into　the　clear　pool　of　memory；　certain　things　had　bee　a　little　dimmed；　but　that　was　all。　The　change　seemed　to　have　been　acplished　painlessly　and　pletely　and　in　such　a　way　that　Orlando　herself　showed　no　surprise　at　it。　Many　people；　taking　this　into　account；　and　holding　that　such　a　change　of　sex　is　against　nature；　have　been　at　great　pains　to　prove　（1）　that　Orlando　had　always　been　a　woman；　（2）　that　Orlando　is　at　this　moment　a　man。　Let　biologists　and　psychologists　determine。　It　is　enough　for　us　to　state　the　simple　fact；　Orlando　was　a　man　till　the　age　of　thirty；　when　he　became　a　woman　and　has　remained　so　ever　since。

But　let　other　pens　treat　of　sex　and　sexuality；　we　quit　such　odious　subjects　as　soon　as　we　can。　Orlando　had　now　washed；　and　dressed　herself　in　those　Turkish　coats　and　trousers　which　can　be　worn　indifferently　by　either　sex；　and　was　forced　to　consider　her　position。　That　it　was　precarious　and　embarrassing　in　the　extreme　must　be　the　first　thought　of　every　reader　who　has　followed　her　story　with　sympathy。　Young；　noble；　beautiful；　she　had　woken　to　find　herself　in　a　position　than　which　we　can　conceive　none　more　delicate　for　a　young　lady　of　rank。　We　should　not　have　blamed　her　had　she　rung　the　bell；　screamed；　or　fainted。　But　Orlando　showed　no　such　signs　of　perturbation。　All　her　actions　were　deliberate　in　the　extreme；　and　might　indeed　have　been　thought　to　show　tokens　of　premeditation。　First；　she　carefully　examined　the　papers　on　the　table；　took　such　as　seemed　to　be　written　in　poetry；　and　secreted　them　in　her　bosom；　next　she　called　her　Seleuchi　hound；　which　had　never　left　her　bed　all　these　days；　though　half　famished　with　hunger；　fed　and　bed　him；　then　stuck　a　pair　of　pistols　in　her　belt；　finally　wound　about　her　person　several　strings　of　emeralds　and　pearls　of　the　finest　orient　which　had　formed　part　of　her　Ambassadorial　wardrobe。　This　done；　she　leant　out　of　the　window；　gave　one　low　whistle；　and　descended　the　shattered　and　bloodstained　staircase；　now　strewn　with　the　litter　of　waste–paper　baskets；　treaties；　despatches；　seals；　sealing　wax；　etc。；　and　so　entered　the　courtyard。　There；　in　the　shadow　of　a　giant　fig　tree；　waited　an　old　gipsy　on　a　donkey。　He　led　another　by　the　bridle。　Orlando　swung　her　leg　over　it；　and　thus；　attended　by　a　lean　dog；　riding　a　donkey；　in　pany　of　a　gipsy；　the　Ambassador　of　Great　Britain　at　the　Court　of　the　Sultan　left　Constantinople。

They　rode　for　several　days　and　nights　and　met　with　a　variety　of　adventures；　some　at　the　hands　of　men；　some　at　the　hands　of　nature；　in　all　of　which　Orlando　acquitted　herself　with　courage。　Within　a　week　they　reached　the　high　ground　outside　Broussa；　which　was　then　the　chief　camping　ground　of　the　gipsy　tribe　to　which　Orlando　had　allied　herself。　Often　she　had　looked　at　those　mountains　from　her　balcony　at　the　Embassy；　often　had　longed　to　be　there；　and　to　find　oneself　where　one　has　longed　to　be　always；　to　a　reflective　mind；　gives　food　for　thought。　For　some　time；　however；　she　was　too　well　pleased　with　the　change　to　spoil　it　by　thinking。　The　pleasure　of　having　no　documents　to　seal　or　sign；　no　flourishes　to　make；　no　calls　to　pay；　was　enough。　The　gipsies　followed　the　grass；　when　it　was　grazed　down；　on　they　moved　again。　She　washed　in　streams　if　she　washed　at　all；　no　boxes；　red；　blue；　or　green；　were　presented　to　her；　there　was　not　a　key；　let　alone　a　golden　key；　in　the　whole　camp；　as　for　‘visiting’；　the　word　was　unknown。　She　milked　the　goats；　she　collected　brushwood；　she　stole　a　hen’s　egg　now　and　then；　but　always　put　a　coin　or　a　pearl　in　place　of　it；　she　herded　cattle；　she　stripped　vines；　she　trod　the　grape；　she　filled　the　goat–skin　and　drank　from　it；　and　when　she　remembered　how；　at　about　this　time　of　day；　she　should　have　been　making　the　motions　of　drinking　and　smoking　over　an　empty　coffee–cup　and　a　pipe　which　lacked　tobacco；　she　laughed　aloud；　cut　herself　another　hunch　of　bread；　and　begged　for　a　puff　from　old　Rustum’s　pipe；　filled　though　it　was　with　cow　dung。

The　gipsies；　with　whom　it　is　obvious　that　she　must　have　been　in　secret　munication　before　the　revolution；　seem　to　have　looked　upon　her　as　one　of　themselves　（which　is　always　the　highest　pliment　a　people　can　pay）；　and　her　dark　hair　and　dark　plexion　bore　out　the　belief　that　she　was；　by　birth；　one　of　them　and　had　been　snatched　by　an　English　Duke　from　a　nut　tree　when　she　was　a　baby　and　taken　to　that　barbarous　land　where　people　live　in　houses　because　they　are　too　feeble　and　diseased　to　stand　the　open　air。　Thus；　though　in　many　ways　inferior　to　them；　they　were　willing　to　help　her　to　bee　more　like　them；　taught　her　their　arts　of　cheese–making　and　basket–weaving；　their　science　of　stealing　and　bird–snaring；　and　were　even　prepared　to　consider　letting　her　marry　among　them。

But　Orlando　had　contracted　in　England　some　of　the　customs　or　diseases　（whatever　you　choose　to　consider　them）　which　cannot；　it　seems；　be　expelled。　One　evening；　when　they　were　all　sitting　round　the　camp　fire　and　the　sunset　was　blazing　over　the　Thessalian　hills；　Orlando　exclaimed：

‘How　good　to　eat！’

（The　gipsies　have　no　word　for　‘beautiful’。　This　is　the　nearest。）

All　the　young　men　and　women　burst　out　laughing　uproariously。　The　sky　good　to　eat；　indeed！　The　elders；　however；　who　had　seen　more　of　foreigners　than　they　had；　became　suspicious。　They　noticed　that　Orlando　often　sat　for　whole　hours　doing　nothing　whatever；　except　look　here　and　then　there；　they　would　e　upon　her　on　some　hill–top　staring　straight　in　front　of　her；　no　matter　whether　the　goats　were　grazing　or　straying。　They　began　to　suspect　that　she　had　other　beliefs　than　their　own；　and　the　older　men　and　women　thought　it　probable　that　she　had　fallen　into　the　clutches　of　the　vilest　and　cruellest　among　all　the　Gods；　which　is　Nature。　Nor　were　they　far　wrong。　The　English　disease；　a　love　of　Nature；　was　inborn　in　her；　and　here；　where　Nature　was　so　much　larger　and　more　powerful　than　in　England；　she　fell　into　its　hands　as　she　had　never　done　before。　The　malady　is　too　well　known；　and　has　been；　alas；　too　often　described　to　need　descr