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第96章

[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第96章


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the direction which led to Rodney’s rooms。 He knocked 
loudly upon his door; but no one answered。 He rang the 
bell。 It took him some time to accept the fact that Rodney 
was out。 When he could no longer pretend that the sound 
of the wind in the old building was the sound of some 
one rising from his chair; he ran downstairs again; as if 
his goal had been altered and only just revealed to him。 
He walked in the direction of Chelsea。 

But physical fatigue; for he had not dined and had 
tramped both far and fast; made him sit for a moment 
upon a seat on the Embankment。 One of the regular occupants 
of those seats; an elderly man who had drunk 
himself; probably; out of work and lodging; drifted up; 
begged a match; and sat down beside him。 It was a windy 
night; he said; times were hard; some long story of bad 
luck and injustice followed; told so often that the man 
seemed to be talking to himself; or; perhaps; the neglect 
of his audience had long made any attempt to catch their 
attention seem scarcely worth while。 When he began to 
speak Ralph had a wild desire to talk to him; to question 
him; to make him understand。 He did; in fact; interrupt 
him at one point; but it was useless。 The ancient story of 
failure; illluck; undeserved disaster; went down the wind; 
disconnected syllables flying past Ralph’s ears with a queer 
alternation of loudness and faintness as if; at certain 
moments; the man’s memory of his wrongs revived and 
then flagged; dying down at last into a grumble of resignation; 
which seemed to represent a final lapse into the 
accustomed despair。 The unhappy voice afflicted Ralph; 

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but it also angered him。 And when the elderly man refused 
to listen and mumbled on; an odd image came to 
his mind of a lighthouse besieged by the flying bodies of 
lost birds; who were dashed senseless; by the gale; against 
the glass。 He had a strange sensation that he was both 
lighthouse and bird; he was steadfast and brilliant; and 
at the same time he was whirled; with all other things; 
senseless against the glass。 He got up; left his tribute of 
silver; and pressed on; with the wind against him。 The 
image of the lighthouse and the storm full of birds persisted; 
taking the place of more definite thoughts; as he 
walked past the Houses of Parliament and down Grosvenor 
Road; by the side of the river。 In his state of physical 
fatigue; details merged themselves in the vaster prospect; 
of which the flying gloom and the intermittent lights 
of lampposts and private houses were the outward token; 
but he never lost his sense of walking in the direction 
of Katharine’s house。 He took it for granted that 
something would then happen; and; as he walked on; his 
mind became more and more full of pleasure and expectancy。 
Within a certain radius of her house the streets 

came under the influence of her presence。 Each house 
had an individuality known to Ralph; because of the tremendous 
individuality of the house in which she lived。 
For some yards before reaching the Hilberys’ door he 
walked in a trance of pleasure; but when he reached it; 
and pushed the gate of the little garden open; he hesitated。 
He did not know what to do next。 There was no 
hurry; however; for the outside of the house held pleasure 
enough to last him some time longer。 He crossed the 
road; and leant against the balustrade of the Embankment; 
fixing his eyes upon the house。 

Lights burnt in the three long windows of the drawing
room。 The space of the room behind became; in Ralph’s 
vision; the center of the dark; flying wilderness of the 
world; the justification for the welter of confusion surrounding 
it; the steady light which cast its beams; like 
those of a lighthouse; with searching posure over the 
trackless waste。 In this little sanctuary were gathered 
together several different people; but their identity was 
dissolved in a general glory of something that might; 
perhaps; be called civilization; at any rate; all dryness; 

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Night and Day 

all safety; all that stood up above the surge and preserved 
a consciousness of its own; was centered in the 
drawingroom of the Hilberys。 Its purpose was beneficent; 
and yet so far above his level as to have something 
austere about it; a light that cast itself out and yet kept 
itself aloof。 Then he began; in his mind; to distinguish 
different individuals within; consciously refusing as yet 
to attack the figure of Katharine。 His thoughts lingered 
over Mrs。 Hilbery and Cassandra; and then he turned to 
Rodney and Mr。 Hilbery。 Physically; he saw them bathed 
in that steady flow of yellow light which filled the long 
oblongs of the windows; in their movements they were 
beautiful; and in their speech he figured a reserve of 
meaning; unspoken; but understood。 At length; after all 
this halfconscious selection and arrangement; he allowed 
himself to approach the figure of Katharine herself; and 
instantly the scene was flooded with excitement。 He did 
not see her in the body; he seemed curiously to see her 
as a shape of light; the light itself; he seemed; simplified 
and exhausted as he was; to be like one of those lost 
birds fascinated by the lighthouse and held to the glass 

by the splendor of the blaze。 

These thoughts drove him to tramp a beat up and down 
the pavement before the Hilberys’ gate。 He did not trouble 
himself to make any plans for the future。 Something of 
an unknown kind would decide both the ing year and 
the ing hour。 Now and again; in his vigil; he sought 
the light in the long windows; or glanced at the ray which 
gilded a few leaves and a few blades of grass in the little 
garden。 For a long time the light burnt without changing。 
He had just reached the limit of his beat and was 
turning; when the front door opened; and the aspect of 
the house was entirely changed。 A black figure came down 
the little pathway and paused at the gate。 Denham understood 
instantly that it was Rodney。 Without hesitation; 
and conscious only of a great friendliness for any 
one ing from that lighted room; he walked straight 
up to him and stopped him。 In the flurry of the wind 
Rodney was taken aback; and for the moment tried to 
press on; muttering something; as if he suspected a demand 
upon his charity。 

“Goodness; Denham; what are you doing here?” he ex


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Virginia Woolf 

claimed; recognizing him。 

Ralph mumbled something about being on his way home。 
They walked on together; though Rodney walked quick 
enough to make it plain that he had no wish for pany。 

He was very unhappy。 That afternoon Cassandra had 
repulsed him; he had tried to explain to her the difficulties 
of the situation; and to suggest the nature of his 
feelings for her without saying anything definite or anything 
offensive to her。 But he had lost his head; under 
the goad of Katharine’s ridicule he had said too much; 
and Cassandra; superb in her dignity and severity; had 
refused to hear another word; and threatened an immediate 
return to her home。 His agitation; after an evening 
spent between the two women; was extreme。 Moreover; 
he could not help suspecting that Ralph was wandering 
near the Hilberys’ house; at this hour; for reasons connected 
with Katharine。 There was probably some understanding 
between them—not that anything of the kind 
mattered to him now。 He was convinced that he had never 
cared for any one save Cassandra; and Katharine’s future 
was no concern of his。 Aloud; he said; shortly; that he 

was very tired and wished to find a cab。 But on Sunday 
night; on the Embankment; cabs were hard to e by; 
and Rodney found himself constrained to walk some distance; 
at any rate; in Denham’s pany。 Denham maintained 
his silence。 Rodney’s irritation lapsed。 He found 
the silence oddly suggestive of the good masculine qualities 
which he much respected; and had at this moment 
great reason to need。 After the mystery; difficulty; and 
uncertainty of dealing with the other sex; intercourse 
with one’s own is apt to have a posing and even 
ennobling influence; since plain speaking is 

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