[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第6章

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he　began　to　repeat　what　Mr。　Fortescue　had　said；　in　Mr。　
Fortescue’s　own　manner；　about　Manchester。　His　mind　then　
began　to　wander　about　the　house；　and　he　wondered　
whether　there　were　other　rooms　like　the　drawingroom；　
and　he　thought；　inconsequently；　how　beautiful　the　bathroom　
must　be；　and　how　leisurely　it　was—the　life　of　these　
wellkept　people；　who　were；　no　doubt；　still　sitting　in　the　
same　room；　only　they　had　changed　their　clothes；　and　
little　Mr。　Anning　was　there；　and　the　aunt　who　would　mind　
if　the　glass　of　her　father’s　picture　was　broken。　Miss　Hilbery　
had　changed　her　dress　（“although　she’s　wearing　such　a　
pretty　one；”　he　heard　her　mother　say）；　and　she　was　talk


ing　to　Mr。　Anning；　who　was　well　over　forty；　and　bald　into　
the　bargain；　about　books。　How　peaceful　and　spacious　it　
was；　and　the　peace　possessed　him　so　pletely　that　his　
muscles　slackened；　his　book　drooped　from　his　hand；　and　
he　forgot　that　the　hour　of　work　was　wasting　minute　by　
minute。　

He　was　roused　by　a　creak　upon　the　stair。　With　a　guilty　
start　he　posed　himself；　frowned　and　looked　intently　at　
the　fiftysixth　page　of　his　volume。　A　step　paused　outside　
his　door；　and　he　knew　that　the　person；　whoever　it　might　
be；　was　considering　the　placard；　and　debating　whether　to　
honor　its　decree　or　not。　Certainly；　policy　advised　him　to　sit　
still　in　autocratic　silence；　for　no　custom　can　take　root　in　a　
family　unless　every　breach　of　it　is　punished　severely　for　
the　first　six　months　or　so。　But　Ralph　was　conscious　of　a　
distinct　wish　to　be　interrupted；　and　his　disappointment　
was　perceptible　when　he　heard　the　creaking　sound　rather　
farther　down　the　stairs；　as　if　his　visitor　had　decided　to　
withdraw。　He　rose；　opened　the　door　with　unnecessary　
abruptness；　and　waited　on　the　landing。　The　person　stopped　
simultaneously　half　a　flight　downstairs。　

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Virginia　Woolf　

“Ralph？”　said　a　voice；　inquiringly。　

“Joan？”　

“I　was　ing　up；　but　I　saw　your　notice。”　

“Well；　e　along　in；　then。”　He　concealed　his　desire　
beneath　a　tone　as　grudging　as　he　could　make　it。　

Joan　came　in；　but　she　was　careful　to　show；　by　standing　
upright　with　one　hand　upon　the　mantelpiece；　that　she　
was　only　there　for　a　definite　purpose；　which　discharged；　
she　would　go。　

She　was　older　than　Ralph　by　some　three　or　four　years。　
Her　face　was　round　but　worn；　and　expressed　that　tolerant　
but　anxious　good　humor　which　is　the　special　attribute　of　
elder　sisters　in　large　families。　Her　pleasant　brown　eyes　
resembled　Ralph’s；　save　in　expression；　for　whereas　he　
seemed　to　look　straightly　and　keenly　at　one　object；　she　
appeared　to　be　in　the　habit　of　considering　everything　
from　many　different　points　of　view。　This　made　her　appear　
his　elder　by　more　years　than　existed　in　fact　between　them。　
Her　gaze　rested　for　a　moment　or　two　upon　the　rook。　She　
then　said；　without　any　preface：　

“It’s　about　Charles　and　Uncle　John’s　offer…　。　Mother’s　

been　talking　to　me。　She　says　she　can’t　afford　to　pay　for　
him　after　this　term。　She　says　she’ll　have　to　ask　for　an　
overdraft　as　it　is。”　

“That’s　simply　not　true；”　said　Ralph。　

“No。　I　thought　not。　But　she　won’t　believe　me　when　I　
say　it。”　

Ralph；　as　if　he　could　foresee　the　length　of　this　familiar　
argument；　drew　up　a　chair　for　his　sister　and　sat　down　
himself。　

“I’m　not　interrupting？”　she　inquired。　

Ralph　shook　his　head；　and　for　a　time　they　sat　silent。　
The　lines　curved　themselves　in　semicircles　above　their　
eyes。　

“She　doesn’t　understand　that　one’s　got　to　take　risks；”　
he　observed；　finally。　

“I　believe　mother　would　take　risks　if　she　knew　that　
Charles　was　the　sort　of　boy　to　profit　by　it。”　

“He’s　got　brains；　hasn’t　he？”　said　Ralph。　His　tone　had　
taken　on　that　shade　of　pugnacity　which　suggested　to　his　
sister　that　some　personal　grievance　drove　him　to　take　
the　line　he　did。　She　wondered　what　it　might　be；　but　at　

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Night　and　Day　

once　recalled　her　mind；　and　assented。　

“In　some　ways　he’s　fearfully　backward；　though；　pared　
with　what　you　were　at　his　age。　And　he’s　difficult　at　
home；　too。　He　makes　Molly　slave　for　him。”　

Ralph　made　a　sound　which　belittled　this　particular　argument。　
It　was　plain　to　Joan　that　she　had　struck　one　of　
her　brother’s　perverse　moods；　and　he　was　going　to　oppose　
whatever　his　mother　said。　He　called　her　“she；”　which　
was　a　proof　of　it。　She　sighed　involuntarily；　and　the　sigh　
annoyed　Ralph；　and　he　exclaimed　with　irritation：　

“It’s　pretty　hard　lines　to　stick　a　boy　into　an　office　at　
seventeen！”　

“Nobody　wants　to　stick　him　into　an　office；”　she　said。　

She；　too；　was　being　annoyed。　She　had　spent　the　
whole　of　the　afternoon　discussing　wearisome　details　of　
education　and　expense　with　her　mother；　and　she　had　e　
to　her　brother　for　help；　encouraged；　rather　irrationally；　
to　expect　help　by　the　fact　that　he　had　been　out　somewhere；　
she　didn’t　know　and　didn’t　mean　to　ask　where；　all　
the　afternoon。　

Ralph　was　fond　of　his　sister；　and　her　irritation　made　

him　think　how　unfair　it　was　that　all　these　burdens　should　
be　laid　on　her　shoulders。　

“The　truth　is；”　he　observed　gloomily；　“that　I　ought　to　
have　accepted　Uncle　John’s　offer。　I　should　have　been　
making　six　hundred　a　year　by　this　time。”　

“I　don’t　think　that　for　a　moment；”　Joan　replied　quickly；　
repenting　of　her　annoyance。　“The　question；　to　my　mind；　is；　
whether　we　couldn’t　cut　down　our　expenses　in　some　way。”　

“A　smaller　house？”　

“Fewer　servants；　perhaps。”　

Neither　brother　nor　sister　spoke　with　much　conviction；　
and　after　reflecting　for　a　moment　what　these　proposed　
reforms　in　a　strictly　economical　household　meant；　Ralph　
announced　very　decidedly：　

“It’s　out　of　the　question。”　

It　was　out　of　the　question　that　she　should　put　any　
more　household　work　upon　herself。　No；　the　hardship　must　
fall　on　him；　for　he　was　determined　that　his　family　should　
have　as　many　chances　of　distinguishing　themselves　as　
other　families　had—as　the　Hilberys　had；　for　example。　He　
believed　secretly　and　rather　defiantly；　for　it　was　a　fact　

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Virginia　Woolf　

not　capable　of　proof；　that　there　was　something　very　re


markable　about　his　family。　

“If　mother　won’t　run　risks—”　

“You　really　can’t　expect　her　to　sell　out　again。”　

“She　ought　to　look　upon　it　as　an　investment；　but　if　she　
won’t；　we　must　find　some　other　way；　that’s　all。”　

A　threat　was　contained　in　this　sentence；　and　Joan　knew；　
without　asking；　what　the　threat　was。　In　the　course　of　his　
professional　life；　which　now　extended　over　six　or　seven　
years；　Ralph　had　saved；　perhaps；　three　or　four　hundred　
pounds。　Considering　the　sacrifices　he　had　made　in　order　
to　put　by　this　sum　it　always　amazed　Joan　to　find　that　he　
used　it　to　gamble　with；　buying　shares　and　selling　them　
again；　increasing　it　sometimes；　sometimes　diminishing　
it；　and　always　running　the　risk　of　losing　every　penny　of　it　
in　a　day’s　disaster。　But　although　she　wondered；　she　could　
not　help　loving　him　the　better　for　his　odd　bination　of　
Spartan　selfcontrol　and　what　appeared　to　her　romantic　
and　childish　folly。　Ralph　interested　her　more　than　any　
one　else　in　the　world；　and　she　often　broke　off　in　the　
middle　of　one　of　these　economic　discussions；　in　spite　of　

their　gravity；　to　consider　some　fresh　aspect　of　his　character。　


“I　think　you’d　be　foolish　to　risk　your　money　on　poor　old　
Charles；”　she　observed。　“Fond　as　I　am　of　him；　he　doesn’t　
seem　to　me　exactly　brilliant…　。　Besides；　why　should　you　
be　sacrificed？”　

“My　dear　Joan；”　Ralph　exclaimed；　stretching　himself　
out　with　a　gesture　of　impatience；　“don’t　you　see　that　
we’ve　all　got　to　be　sacrificed？　What’s　the　use　of　denying　
it？　What’s　the　use　of　struggling　against　it？　So　it　always　
has　been；　so　it　always　will　be。　We’ve　got　no　money　and　
we　never　shall　have　any　money。　We　shall　just　turn　round　
in　the　mill　every　day　of　our　lives　until　we　drop　and　die；　
worn　out；　as　most　people　do；　when　one　es　to　think　
of　it。”　

Joan　looked　at　him；　opened　her　lips　as　if　to　speak；　and　
closed　them　again。　Then　she　said；　very　tentatively：　

“Aren’t　you　happy；　Ralph？”　

“No。　Are　you？　Perhaps　I’m　a