[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第50部分

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city　beneath　her。　The　sight　of　her　gazing　from　his　window　
gave　him　a　peculiar　satisfaction。　When　she　turned；　at　length；　
he　was　still　sitting　motionless　in　his　chair。　

“It　must　be　late；”　she　said。　“I　must　be　going。”　She　
settled　upon　the　arm　of　the　chair　irresolutely；　thinking　
that　she　had　no　wish　to　go　home。　William　would　be　there；　
and　he　would　find　some　way　of　making　things　unpleasant　
for　her；　and　the　memory　of　their　quarrel　came　back　to　her。　
She　had　noticed　Ralph’s　coldness；　too。　She　looked　at　him；　
and　from　his　fixed　stare　she　thought　that　he　must　be　
working　out　some　theory；　some　argument。　He　had　thought；　
perhaps；　of　some　fresh　point　in　his　position；　as　to　the　
bounds　of　personal　liberty。　She　waited；　silently；　thinking　
about　liberty。　

“You’ve　won　again；”　he　said　at　last；　without　moving。　

“I’ve　won？”　she　repeated；　thinking　of　the　argument。　

“I　wish　to　God　I　hadn’t　asked　you　here；”　he　burst　out。　

“What　do　you　mean？”　

“When　you’re　here；　it’s　different—I’m　happy。　You’ve　only　
to　walk　to　the　window—you’ve　only　to　talk　about　liberty。　
When　I　saw　you　down　there　among　them　all—”　He　stopped　
short。　

“You　thought　how　ordinary　I　was。”　

“I　tried　to　think　so。　But　I　thought　you　more　wonderful　
than　ever。”　

An　immense　relief；　and　a　reluctance　to　enjoy　that　relief；　
conflicted　in　her　heart。　

She　slid　down　into　the　chair。　

“I　thought　you　disliked　me；”　she　said。　

“God　knows　I　tried；”　he　replied。　“I’ve　done　my　best　to　
see　you　as　you　are；　without　any　of　this　damned　romantic　
nonsense。　That　was　why　I　asked　you　here；　and　it’s　increased　
my　folly。　When　you’re　gone　I　shall　look　out　of　
that　window　and　think　of　you。　I　shall　waste　the　whole　
evening　thinking　of　you。　I　shall　waste　my　whole　life；　I　
believe。”　

He　spoke　with　such　vehemence　that　her　relief　disappeared；　
she　frowned；　and　her　tone　changed　to　one　almost　
of　severity。　

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“This　is　what　I　foretold。　We　shall　gain　nothing　but　unhappiness。　
Look　at　me；　Ralph。”　He　looked　at　her。　“I　assure　
you　that　I’m　far　more　ordinary　than　I　appear。　Beauty　
means　nothing　whatever。　In　fact；　the　most　beautiful　
women　are　generally　the　most　stupid。　I’m　not　that；　but　
I’m　a　matteroffact；　prosaic；　rather　ordinary　character；　I　
order　the　dinner；　I　pay　the　bills；　I　do　the　accounts；　I　wind　
up　the　clock；　and　I　never　look　at　a　book。”　

“You　forget—”　he　began；　but　she　would　not　let　him　
speak。　

“You　e　and　see　me　among　flowers　and　pictures；　and　
think　me　mysterious；　romantic；　and　all　the　rest　of　it。　Being　
yourself　very　inexperienced　and　very　emotional；　you　
go　home　and　invent　a　story　about　me；　and　now　you　can’t　
separate　me　from　the　person　you’ve　imagined　me　to　be。　
You　call　that；　I　suppose；　being　in　love；　as　a　matter　of　fact　
it’s　being　in　delusion。　All　romantic　people　are　the　same；”　
she　added。　“My　mother　spends　her　life　in　making　stories　
about　the　people　she’s　fond　of。　But　I　won’t　have　you　do　it　
about　me；　if　I　can　help　it。”　

“You　can’t　help　it；”　he　said。　

“I　warn　you　it’s　the　source　of　all　evil。”　

“And　of　all　good；”　he　added。　

“You’ll　find　out　that　I’m　not　what　you　think　me。”　

“Perhaps。　But　I　shall　gain　more　than　I　lose。”　

“If　such　gain’s　worth　having。”　

They　were　silent　for　a　space。　

“That　may　be　what　we　have　to　face；”　he　said。　“There　
may　be　nothing　else。　Nothing　but　what　we　imagine。”　

“The　reason　of　our　loneliness；”　she　mused；　and　they　
were　silent　for　a　time。　

“When　are　you　to　be　married？”　he　asked　abruptly；　with　
a　change　of　tone。　

“Not　till　September；　I　think。　It’s　been　put　off。”　

“You　won’t　be　lonely　then；”　he　said。　“According　to　what　
people　say；　marriage　is　a　very　queer　business。　They　say　
it’s　different　from　anything　else。　It　may　be　true。　I’ve　known　
one　or　two　cases　where　it　seems　to　be　true。”　He　hoped　
that　she　would　go　on　with　the　subject。　But　she　made　no　
reply。　He　had　done　his　best　to　master　himself；　and　his　
voice　was　sufficiently　indifferent；　but　her　silence　tormented　
him。　She　would　never　speak　to　him　of　Rodney　of　

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her　own　accord；　and　her　reserve　left　a　whole　continent　of　
her　soul　in　darkness。　

“It　may　be　put　off　even　longer　than　that；”　she　said；　as　
if　by　an　afterthought。　“Some　one　in　the　office　is　ill；　and　
William　has　to　take　his　place。　We　may　put　it　off　for　some　
time　in　fact。”　

“That’s　rather　hard　on　him；　isn’t　it？”　Ralph　asked。　

“He　has　his　work；”　she　replied。　“He　has　lots　of　things　
that　interest　him…　。　I　know　I’ve　been　to　that　place；”　she　
broke　off；　pointing　to　a　photograph。　“But　I　can’t　remember　
where　it　is—oh；　of　course　it’s　Oxford。　Now；　what　about　
your　cottage？”　

“I’m　not　going　to　take　it。”　

“How　you　change　your　mind！”　she　smiled。　

“It’s　not　that；”　he　said　impatiently。　“It’s　that　I　want　to　
be　where　I　can　see　you。”　

“Our　pact　is　going　to　hold　in　spite　of　all　I’ve　said？”　
she　asked。　

“For　ever；　so　far　as　I’m　concerned；”　he　replied。　

“You’re　going　to　go　on　dreaming　and　imagining　and　
making　up　stories　about　me　as　you　walk　along　the　street；　

and　pretending　that　we’re　riding　in　a　forest；　or　landing　
on　an　island—”　

“No。　I　shall　think　of　you　ordering　dinner；　paying　bills；　
doing　the　accounts；　showing　old　ladies　the　relics—”　

“That’s　better；”　she　said。　“You　can　think　of　me　tomorrow　
morning　looking　up　dates　in　the　‘Dictionary　of　National　
Biography。’”　

“And　forgetting　your　purse；”　Ralph　added。　

At　this　she　smiled；　but　in　another　moment　her　smile　
faded；　either　because　of　his　words　or　of　the　way　in　which　
he　spoke　them。　She　was　capable　of　forgetting　things。　He　
saw　that。　But　what　more　did　he　see？　Was　he　not　looking　
at　something　she　had　never　shown　to　anybody？　Was　it　
not　something　so　profound　that　the　notion　of　his　seeing　
it　almost　shocked　her？　Her　smile　faded；　and　for　a　moment　
she　seemed　upon　the　point　of　speaking；　but　looking　at　
him　in　silence；　with　a　look　that　seemed　to　ask　what　she　
could　not　put　into　words；　she　turned　and　bade　him　good　
night。　

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CHAPTER　XXVIII　


Like　a　strain　of　music；　the　effect　of　Katharine’s　presence　
slowly　died　from　the　room　in　which　Ralph　sat　alone。　The　
music　had　ceased　in　the　rapture　of　its　melody。　He　strained　
to　catch　the　faintest　lingering　echoes；　for　a　moment　the　
memory　lulled　him　into　peace；　but　soon　it　failed；　and　he　
paced　the　room　so　hungry　for　the　sound　to　e　again　
that　he　was　conscious　of　no　other　desire　left　in　life。　She　
had　gone　without　speaking；　abruptly　a　chasm　had　been　
cut　in　his　course；　down　which　the　tide　of　his　being　plunged　
in　disorder；　fell　upon　rocks；　flung　itself　to　destruction。　
The　distress　had　an　effect　of　physical　ruin　and　disaster。　
He　trembled；　he　was　white；　he　felt　exhausted；　as　if　by　a　
great　physical　effort。　He　sank　at　last　into　a　chair　standing　
opposite　her　empty　one；　and　marked；　mechanically；　
with　his　eye　upon　the　clock；　how　she　went　farther　and　
farther　from　him；　was　home　now；　and　now；　doubtless；　
again　with　Rodney。　But　it　was　long　before　he　could　realize　
these　facts；　the　immense　desire　for　her　presence　
churned　his　senses　into　foam；　into　froth；　into　a　haze　of　

emotion　that　removed　all　facts　from　his　grasp；　and　gave　
him　a　strange　sense　of　distance；　even　from　the　material　
shapes　of　wall　and　window　by　which　he　was　surrounded。　
The　prospect　of　the　future；　now　that　the　strength　of　his　
passion　was　revealed　to　him；　appalled　him。　

The　marriage　would　take　place　in　September；　she　had　
said；　that　allowed　him；　then；　six　full　months　in　which　to　
undergo　these　terrible　extremes　of　emotion。　Six　months　
of　torture；　and　after　that　the　silence　of　the　grave；　the　
isolation　of　the　insane；　the　exile　of　the　damned；　at　best；　
a　life　from　which　the　chief　good　was　knowingly　and　for　
ever　excluded。　An　impartial　judge　might　have　assured　him　
that　his　chief　hope　of　recovery　lay　in　this　mystic　temper；　
which　identified　a　living　woman　with　much　that　no　human　
beings　long　possess　in　the　eyes　of　each　other；　she　
would　pass；　and　the　desire　for　her　vanish；　but　his　belief　
in　what　she　stood　for；　detached　from　her；　would　remain。　
This　line　of　thought　offered；　perhaps；　some　respite；　and　
possessed　of　a　brain　that　had　its　station　considerably　
above　the　tumult　of　the　senses；　he　tried　to　reduce　the　
vague　and　wandering　incoherency　of　his　emotions　to　or


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der。　The　sense　of　selfpreservation　was　strong　in　him；　
and　Katharine　herself　had　strangely　revived　it　by　convincing　
him　that　his　family　deserved　and　needed　all　his　
strength。　She　was　right；　and　for　their　sake；　if　not　for　his　
own；　this　passion；　which　could　bear　no　fruit；　must　be　cut　
off；　uprooted；　shown　to　be　as　visionary　and　baseless　as　
she　had　maintained。　The　best　way　of　achieving　this　was　
not　to　run　away　from　her；　but　to　face　her；　and　having　
steeped　himself　in　her　qualities；　to　convince　his　reason　
that　they　were；　as　she　assured　him；　not　those　that　he　
imagined。　She　was　a　practical　woman；　a　domestic　wife　
for　an　inferior　poet；　endowed　with　romantic　beauty　by　
some　freak　of　unintelligent　Nature。　No　doubt　her　beauty　
itself　would　not　stand　examination。　He　had　the　means　of　
settling　this　point　at　least。　He　possessed　a　book　of　photographs　
from　the　Greek　statues；　the　head　of　a　goddess；　
if　the　lower　part　were　concealed；　had　often　given　him　
the　ecstasy　of　being　in　Katharine’s　presence。　He　took　it　
down　from　the　shelf　and　found　the　picture。　To　this　he　
added　a　note　from　her；　bidding　him　meet　her　at　the　Zoo。　
He　had　a　flower　which　he　had　picked　at　Kew　to　teach　her　

botany。　Such　were　his　relics。　He　placed　them　before　him；　
and　set　himself　to　visualize　her　so　clearly　that　no　deception　
or　delusion　was　possible。　In　a　second　he　could　see　
her；　with　the　sun　slanting　across　her　dress；　ing　towards　
him　down　the　green　walk　at　Kew。　He　made　her　sit　
upon　the　seat　beside　him。　He　heard　her　voice；　so　low　and　
yet　so　decided　in　its　tone；　she　spoke　reasonably　of　indifferent　
matters。　He　could　see　her　faults；　and　analyze　her　
virtues。　His　pulse　became　quieter；　and　his　brain　increased　
in　clarity。　This　time　she　could　not　escape　him。　The　illusion　
of　her　presence　became　more　and　more　plete。　
They　seemed　to　pass　in　and　out　of　each　other’s　minds；　
questioning　and　answering。　The　utmost　fullness　of　munion　
seemed　to　be　theirs。　Thus　united；　he　felt　himself　
raised　to　an　eminence；　exalted；　and　filled　with　a　power　of　
achievement　such　as　he　had　never　known　in　singleness。　
Once　more　he　told　over　conscientiously　her　faults；　both　
of　face　and　character；　they　were　clearly　known　to　him；　
but　they　merged　themselves　in　the　flawless　union　that　
was　born　of　their　association。　They　surveyed　life　to　its　
uttermost　limits。　How　deep　it　was　when　looked　at　from　

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this　height！　How　sublime！　How　the　monest　things　
moved　him　almost　to　tears！　Thus；　he　forgot　the　inevitable　
limitations；　he　forgot　her　absence；　he　thought　it　of　
no　account　whether　she　married　him　or　another；　nothing　
mattered；　save　that　she　should　exist；　and　that　he　should　
love　her。　Some　words　of　these　reflections　were　uttered　
aloud；　and　it　happened　that　among　them　were　the　words；　
“I　love　her。”　It　was　the　first　time　that　he　had　used　the　
word　“love”　to　describe　his　feeling；　madness；　romance；　
hallucination—he　had　called　it　by　these　names　before；　
but　having；　apparently　by　accident；　stumbled　upon　the　
word　“love；”　he　repeated　it　again　and　again　with　a　sense　
of　revelation。　

“But　I’m　in　love　with　you！”　he　exclaimed；　with　something　
like　dismay。　He　leant　against　the　windowsill；　looking　
over　the　city　as　she　had　looked。　Everything　had　bee　
miraculously　different　and　pletely　distinct。　His　
feelings　were　justified　and　needed　no　further　explanation。　
But　he　must　impart　them　to　some　one；　because　his　
discovery　was　so　important　that　it　concerned　other　people　
too。　Shutting　the　book　of　Greek　photographs；　and　hiding　

his　relics；　he　ran　downstairs；　snatched　his　coat；　and　passed　
out　of　doors。　

The　lamps　were　being　lit；　but　the　streets　were　dark　
enough　and　empty　enough　to　let　him　walk　his　fastest；　
and　to　talk　aloud　as　he　walked。　He　had　no　doubt　where　
he　was　going。　He　was　going　to　find　Mary　Datchet。　The　
desire　to　share　what　he　felt；　with　some　one　who　understood　
it；　was　so　imperious　that　he　did　not　question　it。　He　
was　soon　in　her　street。　He　ran　up　the　stairs　leading　to　her　
flat　two　steps　at　a　time；　and　it　never　crossed　his　mind　
that　she　might　not　be　at　home。　As　he　rang　her　bell；　he　
seemed　to　himself　to　be　announcing　the　presence　of　something　
wonderful　that　was　separate　from　himself；　and　gave　
him　power　and　authority　over　all　other　people。　Mary　came　
to　the　door　after　a　moment’s　pause。　He　was　perfectly　
silent；　and　in　the　dusk　his　face　looked　pletely　white。　
He　followed　her　into　her　room。　

“Do　you　know　each　other？”　she　said；　to　his　extreme　
surprise；　for　he　had　counted　on　finding　her　alone。　A　young　
man　rose；　and　said　that　he　knew　Ralph　by　sight。　

“We　were　just　going　through　some　papers；”　said　Mary。　

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“Mr。　Bast　has　to　help　me；　because　I　don’t　know　much　
about　my　work　yet。　It’s　the　new　society；”　she　explained。　
“I’m　the　secretary。　I’m　no　longer　at　Russell　Square。”　

The　voice　in　which　she　gave　this　information　was　so　
constrained　as　to　sound　almost　harsh。　

“What　are　your　aims？”　said　Ralph。　He　looked　neither　at　
Mary　nor　at　Mr。　Bast。　Mr。　Bast　thought　he　had　seldom　
seen　a　more　disagreeable　or　formidable　man　than　
this　friend　of　Mary’s；　this　sarcasticlooking；　whitefaced　
Mr。　Denham；　who　seemed　to　demand；　as　if　by　right；　an　
account　of　their　proposals；　and　to　criticize　them　before　
he　had　heard　them。　Nevertheless；　he　explained　his　projects　
as　clearly　as　he　could；　and　knew　that　he　wished　Mr。　Denham　
to　think　well　of　them。　

“I　see；”　said　Ralph；　when　he　had　done。　“D’you　know；　
Mary；”　he　suddenly　remarked；　“I　believe　I’m　in　for　a　cold。　
Have　you　any　quinine？”　The　look　which　he　cast　at　her　
frightened　her；　it　expressed　mutely；　perhaps　without　his　
own　consciousness；　something　deep；　wild；　and　passionate。　
She　left　the　room　at　once。　Her　heart　beat　fast　at　the　
knowledge　of　Ralph’s　presence；　but　it　beat　with　pain；　

and　with　an　extraordinary　fear。　She　stood　listening　for　a　
moment　to　the　voices　in　the　next　room。　

“Of　course；　I　agree　with　you；”　she　heard　Ralph　say；　in　
this　strange　voice；　to　Mr。　Bast。　“But　there’s　more　that　
might　be　done。　Have　you　seen　Judson；　for　instance？　You　
should　make　a　point　of　getting　him。”　

Mary　returned　with　the　quinine。　

“Judson’s　address？”　Mr。　Bast　inquired；　pulling　out　
his　notebook　and　preparing　to　write。　For　twenty　minutes；　
perhaps；　he　wrote　down　names；　addresses；　and　other　suggestions　
that　Ralph　dictated　to　him。　Then；　when　Ralph　
fell　silent；　Mr。　Bast　felt　that　his　presence　was　not　
desired；　and　thanking　Ralph　for　his　help；　with　a　sense　
that　he　was　very　young　and　ignorant　pared　with　him；　
he　said　goodbye。　

“Mary；”　said　Ralph；　directly　Mr。　Bast　had　shut　the　
door　and　they　were　alone　together。　“Mary；”　he　repeat