[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第1章

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Night　and　Day　


by　Virginia　Woolf　


A　Penn　State　Electronic　Classics　Series　
Publication　



Night　and　Day　by　Virginia　Woolf　is　a　publication　of　the　Pennsylvania　State　University。　This　Portable　
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Pennsylvania　State　University　nor　Jim　Manis；　Faculty　Editor；　nor　anyone　associated　with　the　
Pennsylvania　State　University　assumes　any　responsibility　for　the　material　contained　within　the　
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Night　and　Day　by　Virginia　Woolf；　the　Pennsylvania　State　University；　Electronic　Classics　Series；　
Jim　Manis；　Faculty　Editor；　Hazleton；　PA　182021291　is　a　Portable　Document　File　produced　as　
part　of　an　ongoing　student　publication　project　to　bring　classical　works　of　literature；　in　English；　
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Cover　Design：　Jim　Manis　

Copyright　。　2001　The　Pennsylvania　State　University　

The　Pennsylvania　State　University　is　an　equal　opportunity　university。　


Virginia　Woolf　

Night　and　Day　


by　Virginia　Woolf　


CHAPTER　I　

It　was　a　Sunday　evening　in　October；　and　in　mon　with　
many　other　young　ladies　of　her　class；　Katharine　Hilbery　
was　pouring　out　tea。　Perhaps　a　fifth　part　of　her　mind　was　
thus　occupied；　and　the　remaining　parts　leapt　over　the　
little　barrier　of　day　which　interposed　between　Monday　
morning　and　this　rather　subdued　moment；　and　played　
with　the　things　one　does　voluntarily　and　normally　in　the　
daylight。　But　although　she　was　silent；　she　was　evidently　
mistress　of　a　situation　which　was　familiar　enough　to　her；　
and　inclined　to　let　it　take　its　way　for　the　six　hundredth　
time；　perhaps；　without　bringing　into　play　any　of　her　un


occupied　faculties。　A　single　glance　was　enough　to　show　
that　Mrs。　Hilbery　was　so　rich　in　the　gifts　which　make　tea
parties　of　elderly　distinguished　people　successful；　that　
she　scarcely　needed　any　help　from　her　daughter；　provided　
that　the　tiresome　business　of　teacups　and　bread　and　butter　
was　discharged　for　her。　

Considering　that　the　little　party　had　been　seated　round　
the　teatable　for　less　than　twenty　minutes；　the　animation　
observable　on　their　faces；　and　the　amount　of　sound　
they　were　producing　collectively；　were　very　creditable　to　
the　hostess。　It　suddenly　came　into　Katharine’s　mind　that　
if　some　one　opened　the　door　at　this　moment　he　would　
think　that　they　were　enjoying　themselves；　he　would　think；　
“What　an　extremely　nice　house　to　e　into！”　and　instinctively　
she　laughed；　and　said　something　to　increase　
the　noise；　for　the　credit　of　the　house　presumably；　since　
she　herself　had　not　been　feeling　exhilarated。　At　the　very　
same　moment；　rather　to　her　amusement；　the　door　was　
flung　open；　and　a　young　man　entered　the　room。　Katharine；　
as　she　shook　hands　with　him；　asked　him；　in　her　own　
mind；　“Now；　do　you　think　we’re　enjoying　ourselves　enor


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Night　and　Day　

mously？”　…　“Mr。　Denham；　mother；”　she　said　aloud；　for　
she　saw　that　her　mother　had　forgotten　his　name。　

That　fact　was　perceptible　to　Mr。　Denham　also；　and　increased　
the　awkwardness　which　inevitably　attends　the　
entrance　of　a　stranger　into　a　room　full　of　people　much　at　
their　ease；　and　all　launched　upon　sentences。　At　the　same　
time；　it　seemed　to　Mr。　Denham　as　if　a　thousand　softly　
padded　doors　had　closed　between　him　and　the　street　
outside。　A　fine　mist；　the　etherealized　essence　of　the　fog；　
hung　visibly　in　the　wide　and　rather　empty　space　of　the　
drawingroom；　all　silver　where　the　candles　were　grouped　
on　the　teatable；　and　ruddy　again　in　the　firelight。　With　
the　omnibuses　and　cabs　still　running　in　his　head；　and　his　
body　still　tingling　with　his　quick　walk　along　the　streets　
and　in　and　out　of　traffic　and　footpassengers；　this　drawing
room　seemed　very　remote　and　still；　and　the　faces　of　
the　elderly　people　were　mellowed；　at　some　distance　from　
each　other；　and　had　a　bloom　on　them　owing　to　the　fact　
that　the　air　in　the　drawingroom　was　thickened　by　blue　
grains　of　mist。　Mr。　Denham　had　e　in　as　Mr。　Fortescue；　
the　eminent　novelist；　reached　the　middle　of　a　very　long　

sentence。　He　kept　this　suspended　while　the　newer　
sat　down；　and　Mrs。　Hilbery　deftly　joined　the　severed　parts　
by　leaning　towards　him　and　remarking：　

“Now；　what　would　you　do　if　you　were　married　to　an　
engineer；　and　had　to　live　in　Manchester；　Mr。　Denham？”　

“Surely　she　could　learn　Persian；”　broke　in　a　thin；　elderly　
gentleman。　“Is　there　no　retired　schoolmaster　or　man　
of　letters　in　Manchester　with　whom　she　could　read　Persian？”　


“A　cousin　of　ours　has　married　and　gone　to　live　in　
Manchester；”　Katharine　explained。　Mr。　Denham　muttered　
something；　which　was　indeed　all　that　was　required　of　
him；　and　the　novelist　went　on　where　he　had　left　off。　
Privately；　Mr。　Denham　cursed　himself　very　sharply　for　
having　exchanged　the　freedom　of　the　street　for　this　sophisticated　
drawingroom；　where；　among　other　
disagreeables；　he　certainly　would　not　appear　at　his　best。　
He　glanced　round　him；　and　saw　that；　save　for　Katharine；　
they　were　all　over　forty；　the　only　consolation　being　that　
Mr。　Fortescue　was　a　considerable　celebrity；　so　that　tomorrow　
one　might　be　glad　to　have　met　him。　

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Virginia　Woolf　

“Have　you　ever　been　to　Manchester？”　he　asked　
Katharine。　

“Never；”　she　replied。　

“Why　do　you　object　to　it；　then？”　

Katharine　stirred　her　tea；　and　seemed　to　speculate；　so　
Denham　thought；　upon　the　duty　of　filling　somebody　else’s　
cup；　but　she　was　really　wondering　how　she　was　going　to　
keep　this　strange　young　man　in　harmony　with　the　rest。　
She　observed　that　he　was　pressing　his　teacup；　so　
that　there　was　danger　lest　the　thin　china　might　cave　
inwards。　She　could　see　that　he　was　nervous；　one　would　
expect　a　bony　young　man　with　his　face　slightly　reddened　
by　the　wind；　and　his　hair　not　altogether　smooth；　to　be　
nervous　in　such　a　party。　Further；　he　probably　disliked　this　
kind　of　thing；　and　had　e　out　of　curiosity；　or　because　
her　father　had　invited　him—anyhow；　he　would　not　be　
easily　bined　with　the　rest。　

“I　should　think　there　would　be　no　one　to　talk　to　in　
Manchester；”　she　replied　at　random。　Mr。　Fortescue　had　
been　observing　her　for　a　moment　or　two；　as　novelists　are　
inclined　to　observe；　and　at　this　remark　he　smiled；　and　

made　it　the　text　for　a　little　further　speculation。　

“In　spite　of　a　slight　tendency　to　exaggeration；　Katharine　
decidedly　hits　the　mark；”　he　said；　and　lying　back　in　his　
chair；　with　his　opaque　contemplative　eyes　fixed　on　the　
ceiling；　and　the　tips　of　his　fingers　pressed　together；　he　
depicted；　first　the　horrors　of　the　streets　of　Manchester；　
and　then　the　bare；　immense　moors　on　the　outskirts　of　the　
town；　and　then　the　scrubby　little　house　in　which　the　girl　
would　live；　and　then　the　professors　and　the　miserable　young　
students　devoted　to　the　more　strenuous　works　of　our　
younger　dramatists；　who　would　visit　her；　and　how　her　appearance　
would　change　by　degrees；　and　how　she　would　fly　
to　London；　and　how　Katharine　would　have　to　lead　her　about；　
as　one　leads　an　eager　dog　on　a　chain；　past　rows　of　clamorous　
butchers’　shops；　poor　dear　creature。　

“Oh；　Mr。　Fortescue；”　exclaimed　Mrs。　Hilbery；　as　he　finished；　
“I　had　just　written　to　say　how　I　envied　her！　I　was　
thinking　of　the　big　gardens　and　the　dear　old　ladies　in　
mittens；　who　read　nothing　but　the　“Spectator；”　and　snuff　
the　candles。　Have　they　ALL　disappeared？　I　told　her　she　
would　find　the　nice　things　of　London　without　the　horrid　

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Night　and　Day　

streets　that　depress　one　so。”　

“There　is　the　University；”　said　the　thin　gentleman；　who　
had　previously　insisted　upon　the　existence　of　people　knowing　
Persian。　

“I　know　there　are　moors　there；　because　I　read　about　
them　in　a　book　the　other　day；”　said　Katharine。　

“I　am　grieved　and　amazed　at　the　ignorance　of　my　family；”　
Mr。　Hilbery　remarked。　He　was　an　elderly　man；　with　a　
pair　of　oval；　hazel　eyes　which　were　rather　bright　for　his　
time　of　life；　and　relieved　the