[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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“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。　

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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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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