[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第55章

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the　old　lady；　the　woman　with　the　perambulator；　the　bailiff　
and　the　dissenting　minister；　his　eyes　filled　involun


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Night　and　Day　

tarily　with　tears。　He　would　have　liked　to　lay　his　head　on　
her　shoulder　and　sob；　while　she　parted　his　hair　with　her　
fingers　and　soothed　him　and　said：　

“There；　there。　Don’t　cry！　Tell　me　why　you’re　crying—”；　
and　they　would　clasp　each　other　tight；　and　her　arms　would　
hold　him　like　his　mother’s。　He　felt　that　he　was　very　lonely；　
and　that　he　was　afraid　of　the　other　people　in　the　room。　

“How　damnable　this　all　is！”　he　exclaimed　abruptly。　

“What　are　you　talking　about？”　she　replied；　rather　
vaguely；　still　looking　out　of　the　window。　

He　resented　this　divided　attention　more　than；　perhaps；　
he　knew；　and　he　thought　how　Mary　would　soon　be　on　her　
way　to　America。　

“Mary；”　he　said；　“I　want　to　talk　to　you。　Haven’t　we　
nearly　done？　Why　don’t　they　take　away　these　plates？”　

Mary　felt　his　agitation　without　looking　at　him；　she　felt　
convinced　that　she　knew　what　it　was　that　he　wished　to　
say　to　her。　

“They’ll　e　all　in　good　time；”　she　said；　and　felt　it　
necessary　to　display　her　extreme　calmness　by　lifting　a　
saltcellar　and　sweeping　up　a　little　heap　of　breadcrumbs。　

“I　want　to　apologize；”　Ralph　continued；　not　quite　knowing　
what　he　was　about　to　say；　but　feeling　some　curious　
instinct　which　urged　him　to　mit　himself　irrevocably；　
and　to　prevent　the　moment　of　intimacy　from　passing。　

“I　think　I’ve　treated　you　very　badly。　That　is；　I’ve　told　you　
lies。　Did　you　guess　that　I　was　lying　to　you？　Once　in　Lincoln’s　
Inn　Fields　and　again　today　on　our　walk。　I　am　a　liar；　Mary。　
Did　you　know　that？　Do　you　think　you　do　know　me？”　

“I　think　I　do；”　she　said。　

At　this　point　the　waiter　changed　their　plates。　

“It’s　true　I　don’t　want　you　to　go　to　America；”　he　said；　
looking　fixedly　at　the　tablecloth。　“In　fact；　my　feelings　
towards　you　seem　to　be　utterly　and　damnably　bad；”　he　
said　energetically；　although　forced　to　keep　his　voice　low。　

“If　I　weren’t　a　selfish　beast　I　should　tell　you　to　have　
nothing　more　to　do　with　me。　And　yet；　Mary；　in　spite　of　
the　fact　that　I　believe　what　I’m　saying；　I　also　believe　
that　it’s　good　we　should　know　each　other—the　world　
being　what　it　is；　you　see—”　and　by　a　nod　of　his　head　he　
indicated　the　other　occupants　of　the　room；　“for；　of　course；　
in　an　ideal　state　of　things；　in　a　decent　munity　even；　

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Virginia　Woolf　

there’s　no　doubt　you　shouldn’t　have　anything　to　do　with　
me—seriously；　that　is。”　

“You　forget　that　I’m　not　an　ideal　character；　either；”　
said　Mary；　in　the　same　low　and　very　earnest　tones；　which；　
in　spite　of　being　almost　inaudible；　surrounded　their　table　
with　an　atmosphere　of　concentration　which　was　quite　
perceptible　to　the　other　diners；　who　glanced　at　them　now　
and　then　with　a　queer　mixture　of　kindness；　amusement；　
and　curiosity。　

“I’m　much　more　selfish　than　I　let　on；　and　I’m　worldly　a　
little—more　than　you　think；　anyhow。　I　like　bossing　
things—perhaps　that’s　my　greatest　fault。　I’ve　none　of　
your　passion　for—”　here　she　hesitated；　and　glanced　at　
him；　as　if　to　ascertain　what　his　passion　was　for—”for　the　
truth；”　she　added；　as　if　she　had　found　what　she　sought　
indisputably。　

“I’ve　told　you　I’m　a　liar；”　Ralph　repeated　obstinately。　
“Oh；　in　little　things；　I　dare　say；”　she　said　impatiently。　
“But　not　in　real　ones；　and　that’s　what　matters。　I　dare　say　
I’m　more　truthful　than　you　are　in　small　ways。　But　I　could　
never　care”—she　was　surprised　to　find　herself　speaking　

the　word；　and　had　to　force　herself　to　speak　it　out—”for　
any　one　who　was　a　liar　in　that　way。　I　love　the　truth　a　
certain　amount—a　considerable　amount—but　not　in　the　
way　you　love　it。”　Her　voice　sank；　became　inaudible；　and　
wavered　as　if　she　could　scarcely　keep　herself　from　tears。　

“Good　heavens！”　Ralph　exclaimed　to　himself。　“She　loves　
me！　Why　did　I　never　see　it　before？　She’s　going　to　cry；　no；　
but　she　can’t　speak。”　

The　certainty　overwhelmed　him　so　that　he　scarcely　knew　
what　he　was　doing；　the　blood　rushed　to　his　cheeks；　and　
although　he　had　quite　made　up　his　mind　to　ask　her　to　
marry　him；　the　certainty　that　she　loved　him　seemed　to　
change　the　situation　so　pletely　that　he　could　not　do　
it。　He　did　not　dare　to　look　at　her。　If　she　cried；　he　did　not　
know　what　he　should　do。　It　seemed　to　him　that　something　
of　a　terrible　and　devastating　nature　had　happened。　
The　waiter　changed　their　plates　once　more。　

In　his　agitation　Ralph　rose；　turned　his　back　upon　Mary；　
and　looked　out　of　the　window。　The　people　in　the　street　
seemed　to　him　only　a　dissolving　and　bining　pattern　
of　black　particles；　which；　for　the　moment；　represented　

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Night　and　Day　

very　well　the　involuntary　procession　of　feelings　and　
thoughts　which　formed　and　dissolved　in　rapid　succession　
in　his　own　mind。　At　one　moment　he　exulted　in　the　thought　
that　Mary　loved　him；　at　the　next；　it　seemed　that　he　was　
without　feeling　for　her；　her　love　was　repulsive　to　him。　
Now　he　felt　urged　to　marry　her　at　once；　now　to　disappear　
and　never　see　her　again。　In　order　to　control　this　disorderly　
race　of　thought　he　forced　himself　to　read　the　name　
on　the　chemist’s　shop　directly　opposite　him；　then　to　examine　
the　objects　in　the　shop　windows；　and　then　to　focus　
his　eyes　exactly　upon　a　little　group　of　women　looking　
in　at　the　great　windows　of　a　large　draper’s　shop。　This　
discipline　having　given　him　at　least　a　superficial　control　
of　himself；　he　was　about　to　turn　and　ask　the　waiter　to　
bring　the　bill；　when　his　eye　was　caught　by　a　tall　figure　
walking　quickly　along　the　opposite　pavement—a　tall　figure；　
upright；　dark；　and　manding；　much　detached　from　
her　surroundings。　She　held　her　gloves　in　her　left　hand；　
and　the　left　hand　was　bare。　All　this　Ralph　noticed　and　
enumerated　and　recognized　before　he　put　a　name　to　the　
whole—Katharine　Hilbery。　She　seemed　to　be　looking　for　

somebody。　Her　eyes；　in　fact；　scanned　both　sides　of　the　
street；　and　for　one　second　were　raised　directly　to　the　
bow　window　in　which　Ralph　stood；　but　she　looked　away　
again　instantly　without　giving　any　sign　that　she　had　seen　
him。　This　sudden　apparition　had　an　extraordinary　effect　
upon　him。　It　was　as　if　he　had　thought　of　her　so　intensely　
that　his　mind　had　formed　the　shape　of　her；　rather　than　
that　he　had　seen　her　in　the　flesh　outside　in　the　street。　
And　yet　he　had　not　been　thinking　of　her　at　all。　The　impression　
was　so　intense　that　he　could　not　dismiss　it；　nor　
even　think　whether　he　had　seen　her　or　merely　imagined　
her。　He　sat　down　at　once；　and　said；　briefly　and　strangely；　
rather　to　himself　than　to　Mary：　

“That　was　Katharine　Hilbery。”　

“Katharine　Hilbery？　What　do　you　mean？”　she　asked；　
hardly　understanding　from　his　manner　whether　he　had　
seen　her　or　not。　

“Katharine　Hilbery；”　he　repeated。　“But　she’s　gone　now。”　

“Katharine　Hilbery！”　Mary　thought；　in　an　instant　of　
blinding　revelation；　“I’ve　always　known　it　was　Katharine　
Hilbery！”　She　knew　it　all　now。　

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Virginia　Woolf　

After　a　moment　of　downcast　stupor；　she　raised　her　eyes；　
looked　steadily　at　Ralph；　and　caught　his　fixed　and　dreamy　
gaze　leveled　at　a　point　far　beyond　their　surroundings；　a　
point　that　she　had　never　reached　in　all　the　time　that　she　
had　known　him。　She　noticed　the　lips　just　parted；　the　
fingers　loosely　clenched；　the　whole　attitude　of　rapt　contemplation；　
which　fell　like　a　veil　between　them。　She　noticed　
everything　about　him；　if　there　had　been　other　signs　
of　his　utter　alienation　she　would　have　sought　them　out；　
too；　for　she　felt　that　it　was　only　by　heaping　one　truth　
upon　another　that　she　could　keep　herself　sitting　there；　
upright。　The　truth　seemed　to　support　her；　it　struck　her；　
even　as　she　looked　at　his　face；　that　the　light　of　truth　was　
shining　far　away　beyond　him；　the　light　of　truth；　she　
seemed　to　frame　the　words　as　she　rose　to　go；　shines　on　a　
world　not　to　be　shaken　by　our　personal　calamities。　

Ralph　handed　her　her　coat　and　her　stick。　She　took　them；　
fastened　the　coat　securely；　grasped　the　stick　firmly。　The　
ivy　spray　was　still　twisted　about　the