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第97章

[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第97章


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with one’s own is apt to have a posing and even 
ennobling influence; since plain speaking is possible and 
subterfuges of no avail。 Rodney; too; was much in need 
of a confidant; Katharine; despite her promises of help; 
had failed him at the critical moment; she had gone off 
with Denham; she was; perhaps; tormenting Denham as 
she had tormented him。 How grave and stable he seemed; 
speaking little; and walking firmly; pared with what 
Rodney knew of his own torments and indecisions! He 
began to cast about for some way of telling the story of 
his relations with Katharine and Cassandra that would 
not lower him in Denham’s eyes。 It then occurred to him 

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that; perhaps; Katharine herself had confided in Denham; 
they had something in mon; it was likely that they 
had discussed him that very afternoon。 The desire to discover 
what they had said of him now came uppermost in 
his mind。 He recalled Katharine’s laugh; he remembered 
that she had gone; laughing; to walk with Denham。 

“Did you stay long after we’d left?” he asked abruptly。 

“No。 We went back to my house。” 

This seemed to confirm Rodney’s belief that he had 
been discussed。 He turned over the unpalatable idea for 
a while; in silence。 

“Women are inprehensible creatures; Denham!” he 
then exclaimed。 

“Um;” said Denham; who seemed to himself possessed 
of plete understanding; not merely of women; but of 
the entire universe。 He could read Rodney; too; like a 
book。 He knew that he was unhappy; and he pitied him; 
and wished to help him。 

“You say something and they—fly into a passion。 Or 
for no reason at all; they laugh。 I take it that no amount 
of education will—” The remainder of the sentence was 

lost in the high wind; against which they had to struggle; 
but Denham understood that he referred to Katharine’s 
laughter; and that the memory of it was still hurting him。 
In parison with Rodney; Denham felt himself very 
secure; he saw Rodney as one of the lost birds dashed 
senseless against the glass; one of the flying bodies of 
which the air was full。 But he and Katharine were alone 
together; aloft; splendid; and luminous with a twofold 
radiance。 He pitied the unstable creature beside him; he 
felt a desire to protect him; exposed without the knowledge 
which made his own way so direct。 They were united 
as the adventurous are united; though one reaches the 
goal and the other perishes by the way。 

“You couldn’t laugh at some one you cared for。” 

This sentence; apparently addressed to no other human 
being; reached Denham’s ears。 The wind seemed to muffle 
it and fly away with it directly。 Had Rodney spoken those 
words? 

“You love her。” Was that his own voice; which seemed 
to sound in the air several yards in front of him? 

“I’ve suffered tortures; Denham; tortures!” 

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Virginia Woolf 

“Yes; yes; I know that。” 

“She’s laughed at me。” 

“Never—to me。” 

The wind blew a space between the words—blew them 
so far away that they seemed unspoken。 

“How I’ve loved her!” 

This was certainly spoken by the man at Denham’s side。 
The voice had all the marks of Rodney’s character; and 
recalled; with; strange vividness; his personal appearance。 
Denham could see him against the blank buildings 
and towers of the horizon。 He saw him dignified; exalted; 
and tragic; as he might have appeared thinking of 
Katharine alone in his rooms at night。 

“I am in love with Katharine myself。 That is why I am 
here tonight。” 

Ralph spoke distinctly and deliberately; as if Rodney’s 
confession had made this statement necessary。 

Rodney exclaimed something inarticulate。 

“Ah; I’ve always known it;” he cried; “I’ve known it 
from the first。 You’ll marry her!” 

The cry had a note of despair in it。 Again the wind 

intercepted their words。 They said no more。 At length 
they drew up beneath a lamppost; simultaneously。 

“My God; Denham; what fools we both are!” Rodney 
exclaimed。 They looked at each other; queerly; in the light 
of the lamp。 Fools! They seemed to confess to each other 
the extreme depths of their folly。 For the moment; under 
the lamppost; they seemed to be aware of some mon 
knowledge which did away with the possibility of 
rivalry; and made them feel more sympathy for each other 
than for any one else in the world。 Giving simultaneously 
a little nod; as if in confirmation of this understanding; 
they parted without speaking again。 

347 



Night and Day 

CHAPTER XXIX 


Between twelve and one that Sunday night Katharine lay 
in bed; not asleep; but in that twilight region where a 
detached and humorous view of our own lot is possible; 
or if we must be serious; our seriousness is tempered by 
the swift one of slumber and oblivion。 She saw the 
forms of Ralph; William; Cassandra; and herself; as if they 
were all equally unsubstantial; and; in putting off reality; 
had gained a kind of dignity which rested upon each 
impartially。 Thus rid of any unfortable warmth of partisanship 
or load of obligation; she was dropping off to 
sleep when a light tap sounded upon her door。 A moment 
later Cassandra stood beside her; holding a candle and 
speaking in the low tones proper to the time of night。 

“Are you awake; Katharine?” 

“Yes; I’m awake。 What is it?” 

She roused herself; sat up; and asked what in Heaven’s 
name Cassandra was doing? 

“I couldn’t sleep; and I thought I’d e and speak to 
you—only for a moment; though。 I’m going home to


morrow。” 

“Home? Why; what has happened?” 

“Something happened today which makes it impossible 
for me to stay here。” 

Cassandra spoke formally; almost solemnly; the announcement 
was clearly prepared and marked a crisis of 
the utmost gravity。 She continued what seemed to be 
part of a set speech。 

“I have decided to tell you the whole truth; Katharine。 
William allowed himself to behave in a way which made 
me extremely unfortable today。” 

Katharine seemed to waken pletely; and at once to 
be in control of herself。 

“At the Zoo?” she asked。 

“No; on the way home。 When we had tea。” 

As if foreseeing that the interview might be long; and 
the night chilly; Katharine advised Cassandra to wrap herself 
in a quilt。 Cassandra did so with unbroken solemnity。 

“There’s a train at eleven;” she said。 “I shall tell Aunt 
Maggie that I have to go suddenly… 。 I shall make Violet’s 
visit an excuse。 But; after thinking it over; I don’t see 

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Virginia Woolf 

how I can go without telling you the truth。” 

She was careful to abstain from looking in Katharine’s 
direction。 There was a slight pause。 

“But I don’t see the least reason why you should go;” 
said Katharine eventually。 Her voice sounded so astonishingly 
equable that Cassandra glanced at her。 It was 
impossible to suppose that she was either indignant or 
surprised; she seemed; on the contrary; sitting up in bed; 
with her arms clasped round her knees and a little frown 
on her brow; to be thinking closely upon a matter of 
indifference to her。 

“Because I can’t allow any man to behave to me in that 
way;” Cassandra replied; and she added; “particularly when 
I know that he is engaged to some one else。” 

“But you like him; don’t you?” Katharine inquired。 

“That’s got nothing to do with it;” Cassandra exclaimed 
indignantly。 “I consider his conduct; under the circumstances; 
most disgraceful。” 

This was the last of the sentences of her premeditated 
speech; and having spoken it she was left unprovided 
with any more to say in that particular style。 When 

Katharine remarked: 

“I should say it had everything to do with it;” Cassandra’s 
selfpossession deserted her。 

“I don’t understand you in the least; Katharine。 How 
can you behave as you behave? Ever since I came here 
I’ve been amazed by you!” 

“You’ve enjoyed yourself; haven’t you?” Katharine asked。 

“Yes; I have;” Cassandra admitted。 

“Anyhow; my behavior hasn’t spoiled your visit。” 

“No;” Cassandra allowed once 

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