[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第73章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


when　by　chance　or　purpose　she　struck　her　hand　against　it。　
No　feeling　of　annoyance　with　Denham　remained；　he　certainly　
did　not　hinder　any　flight　she　might　choose　to　make；　
whether　in　the　direction　of　the　sky　or　of　her　home；　but　
that　her　condition　was　due　to　him；　or　to　anything　that　he　
had　said；　she　had　no　consciousness　at　all。　

They　were　now　within　sight　of　the　stream　of　cabs　and　
omnibuses　crossing　to　and　from　the　Surrey　side　of　the　
river；　the　sound　of　the　traffic；　the　hooting　of　motorhorns；　
and　the　light　chime　of　trambells　sounded　more　and　more　
distinctly；　and；　with　the　increase　of　noise；　they　both　became　
silent。　With　a　mon　instinct　they　slackened　their　
pace；　as　if　to　lengthen　the　time　of　semiprivacy　allowed　
them。　To　Ralph；　the　pleasure　of　these　last　yards　of　the　
walk　with　Katharine　was　so　great　that　he　could　not　look　
beyond　the　present　moment　to　the　time　when　she　should　
have　left　him。　He　had　no　wish　to　use　the　last　moments　of　

260　



Virginia　Woolf　

their　panionship　in　adding　fresh　words　to　what　he　
had　already　said。　Since　they　had　stopped　talking；　she　
had　bee　to　him　not　so　much　a　real　person；　as　the　
very　woman　he　dreamt　of；　but　his　solitary　dreams　had　
never　produced　any　such　keenness　of　sensation　as　that　
which　he　felt　in　her　presence。　He　himself　was　also　strangely　
transfigured。　He　had　plete　mastery　of　all　his　faculties。　
For　the　first　time　he　was　in　possession　of　his　full　
powers。　The　vistas　which　opened　before　him　seemed　to　
have　no　perceptible　end。　But　the　mood　had　none　of　the　
restlessness　or　feverish　desire　to　add　one　delight　to　another　
which　had　hitherto　marked；　and　somewhat　spoilt；　
the　most　rapturous　of　his　imaginings。　It　was　a　mood　that　
took　such　cleareyed　account　of　the　conditions　of　human　
life　that　he　was　not　disturbed　in　the　least　by　the　gliding　
presence　of　a　taxicab；　and　without　agitation　he　perceived　
that　Katharine　was　conscious　of　it　also；　and　turned　her　
head　in　that　direction。　Their　halting　steps　acknowledged　
the　desirability　of　engaging　the　cab；　and　they　stopped　
simultaneously；　and　signed　to　it。　

“Then　you　will　let　me　know　your　decision　as　soon　as　

you　can？”　he　asked；　with　his　hand　on　the　door。　

She　hesitated　for　a　moment。　She　could　not　immediately　
recall　what　the　question　was　that　she　had　to　decide。　

“I　will　write；”　she　said　vaguely。　“No；”　she　added；　in　a　
second；　bethinking　her　of　the　difficulties　of　writing　anything　
decided　upon　a　question　to　which　she　had　paid　no　
attention；　“I　don’t　see　how　to　manage　it。”　

She　stood　looking　at　Denham；　considering　and　hesitating；　
with　her　foot　upon　the　step。　He　guessed　her　difficulties；　
he　knew　in　a　second　that　she　had　heard　nothing；　he　
knew　everything　that　she　felt。　

“There’s　only　one　place　to　discuss　things　satisfactorily　
that　I　know　of；”　he　said　quickly；　“that’s　Kew。”　

“Kew？”　

“Kew；”　he　repeated；　with　immense　decision。　He　shut　
the　door　and　gave　her　address　to　the　driver。　She　instantly　
was　conveyed　away　from　him；　and　her　cab　joined　the　
knotted　stream　of　vehicles；　each　marked　by　a　light；　and　
indistinguishable　one　from　the　other。　He　stood　watching　
for　a　moment；　and　then；　as　if　swept　by　some　fierce　impulse；　
from　the　spot　where　they　had　stood；　he　turned；　

261　



Night　and　Day　

crossed　the　road　at　a　rapid　pace；　and　disappeared。　

He　walked　on　upon　the　impetus　of　this　last　mood　of　
almost　supernatural　exaltation　until　he　reached　a　narrow　
street；　at　this　hour　empty　of　traffic　and　passengers。　Here；　
whether　it　was　the　shops　with　their　shuttered　windows；　
the　smooth　and　silvered　curve　of　the　wood　pavement；　or　
a　natural　ebb　of　feeling；　his　exaltation　slowly　oozed　and　
deserted　him。　He　was　now　conscious　of　the　loss　that　follows　
any　revelation；　he　had　lost　something　in　speaking　
to　Katharine；　for；　after　all；　was　the　Katharine　whom　he　
loved　the　same　as　the　real　Katharine？　She　had　transcended　
her　entirely　at　moments；　her　skirt　had　blown；　her　feather　
waved；　her　voice　spoken；　yes；　but　how　terrible　sometimes　
the　pause　between　the　voice　of　one’s　dreams　and　
the　voice　that　es　from　the　object　of　one’s　dreams！　He　
felt　a　mixture　of　disgust　and　pity　at　the　figure　cut　by　
human　beings　when　they　try　to　carry　out；　in　practice；　
what　they　have　the　power　to　conceive。　How　small　both　
he　and　Katharine　had　appeared　when　they　issued　from　
the　cloud　of　thought　that　enveloped　them！　He　recalled　
the　small；　inexpressive；　monplace　words　in　which　they　

had　tried　to　municate　with　each　other；　he　repeated　
them　over　to　himself。　By　repeating　Katharine’s　words；　he　
came　in　a　few　moments　to　such　a　sense　of　her　presence　
that　he　worshipped　her　more　than　ever。　But　she　was　engaged　
to　be　married；　he　remembered　with　a　start。　The　
strength　of　his　feeling　was　revealed　to　him　instantly；　and　
he　gave　himself　up　to　an　irresistible　rage　and　sense　of　
frustration。　The　image　of　Rodney　came　before　him　with　
every　circumstance　of　folly　and　indignity。　That　little　pink
cheeked　dancingmaster　to　marry　Katharine？　that　gibbering　
ass　with　the　face　of　a　monkey　on　an　organ？　that　
posing；　vain；　fantastical　fop？　with　his　tragedies　and　his　
edies；　his　innumerable　spites　and　prides　and　
pettinesses？　Lord！　marry　Rodney！　She　must　be　as　great　a　
fool　as　he　was。　His　bitterness　took　possession　of　him；　
and　as　he　sat　in　the　corner　of　the　underground　carriage；　
he　looked　as　stark　an　image　of　unapproachable　severity　
as　could　be　imagined。　Directly　he　reached　home　he　sat　
down　at　his　table；　and　began　to　write　Katharine　a　long；　
wild；　mad　letter；　begging　her　for　both　their　sakes　to　break　
with　Rodney；　imploring　her　not　to　do　what　would　destroy　

262　



Virginia　Woolf　

for　ever　the　one　beauty；　the　one　truth；　the　one　hope；　not　
to　be　a　traitor；　not　to　be　a　deserter；　for　if　she　were—and　
he　wound　up　with　a　quiet　and　brief　assertion　that；　whatever　
she　did　or　left　undone；　he　would　believe　to　be　the　
best；　and　accept　from　her　with　gratitude。　He　covered　sheet　
after　sheet；　and　heard　the　early　carts　starting　for　London　
before　he　went　to　bed。　

CHAPTER　XXIV　


The　first　signs　of　spring；　even　such　as　make　themselves　
felt　towards　the　middle　of　February；　not　only　produce　
little　white　and　violet　flowers　in　the　more　sheltered　corners　
of　woods　and　gardens；　but　bring　to　birth　thoughts　
and　desires　parable　to　those　faintly　colored　and　
sweetly　scented　petals　in　the　minds　of　men　and　women。　
Lives　frozen　by　age；　so　far　as　the　present　is　concerned；　to　
a　hard　surface；　which　neither　reflects　nor　yields；　at　this　
season　bee　soft　and　fluid；　reflecting　the　shapes　and　
colors　of　the　present；　as　well　as　the　shapes　and　colors　of　
the　past。　In　the　case　of　Mrs。　Hilbery；　these　early　spring　
days　were　chiefly　upsetting　inasmuch　as　they　caused　a　
general　quickening　of　her　emotional　powers；　which；　as　
far　as　the　past　was　concerned；　had　never　suffered　much　
diminution。　But　in　the　spring　her　desire　for　expression　
invariably　increased。　She　was　haunted　by　the　ghosts　of　
phrases。　She　gave　herself　up　to　a　sensual　delight　in　the　
binations　of　words。　She　sought　them　in　the　pages　of　
her　favorite　authors。　She　made　them　for　herself　on　scraps　

263　



Night　and　Day　

of　paper；　and　rolled　them　on　her　tongue　when　there　
seemed　no　occasion　for　such　eloquence。　She　was　upheld　
in　these　excursions　by　the　certainty　that　no　language　
could　outdo　the　splendor　of　her　father’s　memory；　and　although　
her　efforts　did　not　notably　further　the　end　of　his　
biography；　she　was　under　the　impression　of　living　more　
in　his　shade　at　such　times　than　at　others。　No　one　can　
escape　the　power　of　language；　let　alone　those　of　English　
birth　brought　up　from　childhood；　as　Mrs。　Hilbery　had　been；　
to　disport　themselves　now　in　the　Saxon　plainness；　now　in　
the　Latin　splendor　of　the　tongue；　and　stored　with　memories；　
as　she　was；　of　old　poets　exuberating　in　an　infinity　of　
vocables。　Even　Katharine　was　slightly　affected　against　
her　better　judgment　by　her　mother’s　enthusiasm。　Not　that　
her　judgment　could　altogether　acquiesce　in　the　necessity　
for　a　study　of　Shakespeare’s　sons　as　a　preliminary　to　
the　fifth　chapter　of　her　grandfather’s　biography。　Beginning