[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第2章

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pair　of　oval；　hazel　eyes　which　were　rather　bright　for　his　
time　of　life；　and　relieved　the　heaviness　of　his　face。　He　
played　constantly　with　a　little　green　stone　attached　to　
his　watchchain；　thus　displaying　long　and　very　sensitive　
fingers；　and　had　a　habit　of　moving　his　head　hither　and　
thither　very　quickly　without　altering　the　position　of　his　
large　and　rather　corpulent　body；　so　that　he　seemed　to　be　
providing　himself　incessantly　with　food　for　amusement　
and　reflection　with　the　least　possible　expenditure　of　energy。　
One　might　suppose　that　he　had　passed　the　time　of　
life　when　his　ambitions　were　personal；　or　that　he　had　
gratified　them　as　far　as　he　was　likely　to　do；　and　now　
employed　his　considerable　acuteness　rather　to　observe　

and　reflect　than　to　attain　any　result。　

Katharine；　so　Denham　decided；　while　Mr。　Fortescue　built　
up　another　rounded　structure　of　words；　had　a　likeness　to　
each　of　her　parents；　but　these　elements　were　rather　oddly　
blended。　She　had　the　quick；　impulsive　movements　of　her　
mother；　the　lips　parting　often　to　speak；　and　closing　again；　
and　the　dark　oval　eyes　of　her　father　brimming　with　light　
upon　a　basis　of　sadness；　or；　since　she　was　too　young　to　
have　acquired　a　sorrowful　point　of　view；　one　might　say　
that　the　basis　was　not　sadness　so　much　as　a　spirit　given　
to　contemplation　and　selfcontrol。　Judging　by　her　hair；　
her　coloring；　and　the　shape　of　her　features；　she　was　striking；　
if　not　actually　beautiful。　Decision　and　posure　
stamped　her；　a　bination　of　qualities　that　produced　a　
very　marked　character；　and　one　that　was　not　calculated　
to　put　a　young　man；　who　scarcely　knew　her；　at　his　ease。　
For　the　rest；　she　was　tall；　her　dress　was　of　some　quiet　
color；　with　old　yellowtinted　lace　for　ornament；　to　which　
the　spark　of　an　ancient　jewel　gave　its　one　red　gleam。　
Denham　noticed　that；　although　silent；　she　kept　sufficient　
control　of　the　situation　to　answer　immediately　her　

6　



Virginia　Woolf　

mother　appealed　to　her　for　help；　and　yet　it　was　obvious　to　
him　that　she　attended　only　with　the　surface　skin　of　her　
mind。　It　struck　him　that　her　position　at　the　teatable；　among　
all　these　elderly　people；　was　not　without　its　difficulties；　
and　he　checked　his　inclination　to　find　her；　or　her　attitude；　
generally　antipathetic　to　him。　The　talk　had　passed　over　
Manchester；　after　dealing　with　it　very　generously。　

“Would　it　be　the　Battle　of　Trafalgar　or　the　Spanish　Armada；　
Katharine？”　her　mother　demanded。　

“Trafalgar；　mother。”　

“Trafalgar；　of　course！　How　stupid　of　me！　Another　cup　of　
tea；　with　a　thin　slice　of　lemon　in　it；　and　then；　dear　Mr。　
Fortescue；　please　explain　my　absurd　little　puzzle。　One　
can’t　help　believing　gentlemen　with　Roman　noses；　even　
if　one　meets　them　in　omnibuses。”　

Mr。　Hilbery　here　interposed　so　far　as　Denham　was　concerned；　
and　talked　a　great　deal　of　sense　about　the　solicitors’　
profession；　and　the　changes　which　he　had　seen　in　
his　lifetime。　Indeed；　Denham　properly　fell　to　his　lot；　owing　
to　the　fact　that　an　article　by　Denham　upon　some　
legal　matter；　published　by　Mr。　Hilbery　in　his　Review；　had　

brought　them　acquainted。　But　when　a　moment　later　Mrs。　
Sutton　Bailey　was　announced；　he　turned　to　her；　and　Mr。　
Denham　found　himself　sitting　silent；　rejecting　possible　
things　to　say；　beside　Katharine；　who　was　silent　too。　Being　
much　about　the　same　age　and　both　under　thirty；　they　
were　prohibited　from　the　use　of　a　great　many　convenient　
phrases　which　launch　conversation　into　smooth　waters。　
They　were　further　silenced　by　Katharine’s　rather　malicious　
determination　not　to　help　this　young　man；　in　whose　
upright　and　resolute　bearing　she　detected　something　
hostile　to　her　surroundings；　by　any　of　the　usual　feminine　
amenities。　They　therefore　sat　silent；　Denham　controlling　
his　desire　to　say　something　abrupt　and　explosive；　which　
should　shock　her　into　life。　But　Mrs。　Hilbery　was　immediately　
sensitive　to　any　silence　in　the　drawingroom；　as　of　
a　dumb　note　in　a　sonorous　scale；　and　leaning　across　the　
table　she　observed；　in　the　curiously　tentative　detached　
manner　which　always　gave　her　phrases　the　likeness　of　
butterflies　flaunting　from　one　sunny　spot　to　another；　
“D’you　know；　Mr。　Denham；　you　remind　me　so　much　of　
dear　Mr。　Ruskin…　。　Is　it　his　tie；　Katharine；　or　his　hair；　or　

7　



Night　and　Day　

the　way　he　sits　in　his　chair？　Do　tell　me；　Mr。　Denham；　are　
you　an　admirer　of　Ruskin？　Some　one；　the　other　day；　said　
to　me；　‘Oh；　no；　we　don’t　read　Ruskin；　Mrs。　Hilbery。’　What　
do　you　read；　I　wonder？—for　you　can’t　spend　all　your　time　
going　up　in　aeroplanes　and　burrowing　into　the　bowels　of　
the　earth。”　

She　looked　benevolently　at　Denham；　who　said　nothing　
articulate；　and　then　at　Katharine；　who　smiled　but　said　
nothing　either；　upon　which　Mrs。　Hilbery　seemed　possessed　
by　a　brilliant　idea；　and　exclaimed：　

“I’m　sure　Mr。　Denham　would　like　to　see　our　things；　
Katharine。　I’m　sure　he’s　not　like　that　dreadful　young　man；　
Mr。　Ponting；　who　told　me　that　he　considered　it　our　duty　
to　live　exclusively　in　the　present。　After　all；　what　IS　the　
present？　Half　of　it’s　the　past；　and　the　better　half；　too；　I　
should　say；”　she　added；　turning　to　Mr。　Fortescue。　

Denham　rose；　half　meaning　to　go；　and　thinking　that　he　
had　seen　all　that　there　was　to　see；　but　Katharine　rose　at　
the　same　moment；　and　saying；　“Perhaps　you　would　like　
to　see　the　pictures；”　led　the　way　across　the　drawing
room　to　a　smaller　room　opening　out　of　it。　

The　smaller　room　was　something　like　a　chapel　in　a　cathedral；　
or　a　grotto　in　a　cave；　for　the　booming　sound　of　
the　traffic　in　the　distance　suggested　the　soft　surge　of　waters；　
and　the　oval　mirrors；　with　their　silver　surface；　were　
like　deep　pools　trembling　beneath　starlight。　But　the　parison　
to　a　religious　temple　of　some　kind　was　the　more　
apt　of　the　two；　for　the　little　room　was　crowded　with　relics。　

As　Katharine　touched　different　spots；　lights　sprang　here　
and　there；　and　revealed　a　square　mass　of　redandgold　
books；　and　then　a　long　skirt　in　blueandwhite　paint　lustrous　
behind　glass；　and　then　a　mahogany　writingtable；　
with　its　orderly　equipment；　and；　finally；　a　picture　above　
the　table；　to　which　special　illumination　was　accorded。　
When　Katharine　had　touched　these　last　lights；　she　stood　
back；　as　much　as　to　say；　“There！”　Denham　found　himself　
looked　down　upon　by　the　eyes　of　the　great　poet；　Richard　
Alardyce；　and　suffered　a　little　shock　which　would　have　
led　him；　had　he　been　wearing　a　hat；　to　remove　it。　The　
eyes　looked　at　him　out　of　the　mellow　pinks　and　yellows　
of　the　paint　with　divine　friendliness；　which　embraced　him；　
and　passed　on　to　contemplate　the　entire　world。　The　paint　

8　



Virginia　Woolf　

had　so　faded　that　very　little　but　the　beautiful　large　eyes　
were　left；　dark　in　the　surrounding　dimness。　

Katharine　waited　as　though　for　him　to　receive　a　full　
impression；　and　then　she　said：　

“This　is　his　writingtable。　He　used　this　pen；”　and　she　
lifted　a　quill　pen　and　laid　it　down　again。　The　writing
table　was　splashed　with　old　ink；　and　the　pen　disheveled　
in　service。　There　lay　the　gigantic　goldrimmed　spectacles；　
ready　to　his　hand；　and　beneath　the　table　was　a　pair　of　
large；　worn　slippers；　one　of　which　Katharine　picked　up；　
remarking：　

“I　think　my　grandfather　must　have　been　at　least　twice　as　
large　as　any　one　is　nowadays。　This；”　she　went　on；　as　if　she　
knew　what　she　had　to　say　by　heart；　“is　the　original　manuscript　
of　the　‘Ode　to　Winter。’　The　early　poems　are　far　less　
corrected　than　the　later。　Would　you　like　to　look　at　it？”　

While　Mr。　Denham　examined　the　manuscript；　she　glanced　
up　at　her　grandfather；　and；　for　the　thousandth　time；　fell　
into　a　pleasant　dreamy　state　in　which　she　seemed　to　be　
the　panion　of　those　giant　men；　of　their　own　lineage；　
at　any　rate；　and　the　insignificant　present　moment　was　

put　to　shame。　That　magnificent　ghostly　head　on　the　canvas；　
surely；　never　beheld　all　the　trivialities　of　a　Sunday　
afternoon；　and　it　did　not　seem　to　matter　what　she　and　
this　young　man　said　to　each　other；　for　they　were　only　
small　people。　

“This　is　a　copy　of　the　first　edition　of　the　poems；”　she　
continued；　without　considering　the　fa