[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第57部分

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minutes　after　she　had　sat　down　by　the　teatable；　and　she　
had　the　happiness　of　receiving　him　alone。　His　greeting　
put　her　doubts　of　his　affection　at　rest；　but　the　first　question　
he　asked　was：　

“Has　Katharine　spoken　to　you？”　

“Yes。　But　she　says　she’s　not　engaged。　She　doesn’t　seem　
to　think　she’s　ever　going　to　be　engaged。”　

William　frowned；　and　looked　annoyed。　

“They　telephoned　this　morning；　and　she　behaves　very　
oddly。　She　forgets　to　help　the　pudding；”　Cassandra　added　
by　way　of　cheering　him。　

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“My　dear　child；　after　what　I　saw　and　heard　last　night；　
it’s　not　a　question　of　guessing　or　suspecting。　Either　she’s　
engaged　to　him—or—”　

He　left　his　sentence　unfinished；　for　at　this　point　
Katharine　herself　appeared。　With　his　recollections　of　the　
scene　the　night　before；　he　was　too　selfconscious　even　to　
look　at　her；　and　it　was　not　until　she　told　him　of　her　
mother’s　visit　to　StratfordonAvon　that　he　raised　his　eyes。　
It　was　clear　that　he　was　greatly　relieved。　He　looked　round　
him　now；　as　if　he　felt　at　his　ease；　and　Cassandra　exclaimed：　


“Don’t　you　think　everything　looks　quite　different？”　

“You’ve　moved　the　sofa？”　he　asked。　

“No。　Nothing’s　been　touched；”　said　Katharine。　
“Everything’s　exactly　the　same。”　But　as　she　said　this；　with　
a　decision　which　seemed　to　make　it　imply　that　more　than　
the　sofa　was　unchanged；　she　held　out　a　cup　into　which　
she　had　forgotten　to　pour　any　tea。　Being　told　of　her　forgetfulness；　
she　frowned　with　annoyance；　and　said　that　
Cassandra　was　demoralizing　her。　The　glance　she　cast　upon　
them；　and　the　resolute　way　in　which　she　plunged　them　

into　speech；　made　William　and　Cassandra　feel　like　children　
who　had　been　caught　prying。　They　followed　her　obediently；　
making　conversation。　Any　one　ing　in　might　
have　judged　them　acquaintances　met；　perhaps；　for　the　
third　time。　If　that　were　so；　one　must　have　concluded　that　
the　hostess　suddenly　bethought　her　of　an　engagement　
pressing　for　fulfilment。　First　Katharine　looked　at　her　watch；　
and　then　she　asked　William　to　tell　her　the　right　time。　
When　told　that　it　was　ten　minutes　to　five　she　rose　at　
once；　and　said：　

“Then　I’m　afraid　I　must　go。”　

She　left　the　room；　holding　her　unfinished　bread　and　
butter　in　her　hand。　William　glanced　at　Cassandra。　

“Well；　she　is　queer！”　Cassandra　exclaimed。　

William　looked　perturbed。　He　knew　more　of　Katharine　
than　Cassandra　did；　but　even　he　could　not　tell—。　In　a　
second　Katharine　was　back　again　dressed　in　outdoor　
things；　still　holding　her　bread　and　butter　in　her　bare　hand。　

“If　I’m　late；　don’t　wait　for　me；”　she　said。　“I　shall　have　
dined；”　and　so　saying；　she　left　them。　

“But　she　can’t—”　William　exclaimed；　as　the　door　shut；　

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Night　and　Day　

“not　without　any　gloves　and　bread　and　butter　in　her　hand！”　
They　ran　to　the　window；　and　saw　her　walking　rapidly　along　
the　street　towards　the　City。　Then　she　vanished。　

“She　must　have　gone　to　meet　Mr。　Denham；”　Cassandra　
exclaimed。　

“Goodness　knows！”　William　interjected。　

The　incident　impressed　them　both　as　having　something　
queer　and　ominous　about　it　out　of　all　proportion　to　its　
surface　strangeness。　

“It’s　the　sort　of　way　Aunt　Maggie　behaves；”　said　
Cassandra；　as　if　in　explanation。　

William　shook　his　head；　and　paced　up　and　down　the　
room　looking　extremely　perturbed。　

“This　is　what　I’ve　been　foretelling；”　he　burst　out。　“Once　
set　the　ordinary　conventions　aside—Thank　Heaven　Mrs。　
Hilbery　is　away。　But　there’s　Mr。　Hilbery。　How　are　we　to　
explain　it　to　him？　I　shall　have　to　leave　you。”　

“But　Uncle　Trevor　won’t　be　back　for　hours；　William！”　
Cassandra　implored。　

“You　never　can　tell。　He　may　be　on　his　way　already。　Or　
suppose　Mrs。　Milvain—your　Aunt　Celia—or　Mrs。　Cosham；　

or　any　other　of　your　aunts　or　uncles　should　be　shown　in　
and　find　us　alone　together。　You　know　what　they’re　saying　
about　us　already。”　

Cassandra　was　equally　stricken　by　the　sight　of　William’s　
agitation；　and　appalled　by　the　prospect　of　his　desertion。　

“We　might　hide；”　she　exclaimed　wildly；　glancing　at　the　
curtain　which　separated　the　room　with　the　relics。　

“I　refuse　entirely　to　get　under　the　table；”　said　William　
sarcastically。　

She　saw　that　he　was　losing　his　temper　with　the　difficulties　
of　the　situation。　Her　instinct　told　her　that　an　appeal　
to　his　affection；　at　this　moment；　would　be　extremely　
illjudged。　She　controlled　herself；　sat　down；　poured　out　a　
fresh　cup　of　tea；　and　sipped　it　quietly。　This　natural　action；　
arguing　plete　selfmastery；　and　showing　her　in　
one　of　those　feminine　attitudes　which　William　found　adorable；　
did　more　than　any　argument　to　pose　his　agitation。　
It　appealed　to　his　chivalry。　He　accepted　a　cup。　Next　
she　asked　for　a　slice　of　cake。　By　the　time　the　cake　was　
eaten　and　the　tea　drunk　the　personal　question　had　lapsed；　
and　they　were　discussing　poetry。　Insensibly　they　turned　

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from　the　question　of　dramatic　poetry　in　general；　to　the　
particular　example　which　reposed　in　William’s　pocket；　and　
when　the　maid　came　in　to　clear　away　the　teathings；　
William　had　asked　permission　to　read　a　short　passage　
aloud；　“unless　it　bored　her？”　

Cassandra　bent　her　head　in　silence；　but　she　showed　a　
little　of　what　she　felt　in　her　eyes；　and　thus　fortified；　William　
felt　confident　that　it　would　take　more　than　Mrs。　Milvain　
herself　to　rout　him　from　his　position。　He　read　aloud。　

Meanwhile　Katharine　walked　rapidly　along　the　street。　
If　called　upon　to　explain　her　impulsive　action　in　leaving　
the　teatable；　she　could　have　traced　it　to　no　better　cause　
than　that　William　had　glanced　at　Cassandra；　Cassandra　at　
William。　Yet；　because　they　had　glanced；　her　position　was　
impossible。　If　one　forgot　to　pour　out　a　cup　of　tea　they　
rushed　to　the　conclusion　that　she　was　engaged　to　Ralph　
Denham。　She　knew　that　in　half　an　hour　or　so　the　door　
would　open；　and　Ralph　Denham　would　appear。　She　could　
not　sit　there　and　contemplate　seeing　him　with　William’s　
and　Cassandra’s　eyes　upon　them；　judging　their　exact　degree　
of　intimacy；　so　that　they　might　fix　the　weddingday。　

She　promptly　decided　that　she　would　meet　Ralph　out　of　
doors；　she　still　had　time　to　reach　Lincoln’s　Inn　Fields　
before　he　left　his　office。　She　hailed　a　cab；　and　bade　it　
take　her　to　a　shop　for　selling　maps　which　she　remembered　
in　Great　Queen　Street；　since　she　hardly　liked　to　be　
set　down　at　his　door。　Arrived　at　the　shop；　she　bought　a　
large　scale　map　of　Norfolk；　and　thus　provided；　hurried　
into　Lincoln’s　Inn　Fields；　and　assured　herself　of　the　position　
of　Messrs。　Hoper　and　Grateley’s　office。　The　great　gas　
chandeliers　were　alight　in　the　office　windows。　She　conceived　
that　he　sat　at　an　enormous　table　laden　with　papers　
beneath　one　of　them　in　the　front　room　with　the　
three　tall　windows。　Having　settled　his　position　there；　she　
began　walking　to　and　fro　upon　the　pavement。　Nobody　of　
his　build　appeared。　She　scrutinized　each　male　figure　as　it　
approached　and　passed　her。　Each　male　figure　had；　nevertheless；　
a　look　of　him；　due；　perhaps；　to　the　professional　
dress；　the　quick　step；　the　keen　glance　which　they　cast　
upon　her　as　they　hastened　home　after　the　day’s　work。　
The　square　itself；　with　its　immense　houses　all　so　fully　
occupied　and　stern　of　aspect；　its　atmosphere　of　industry　

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Night　and　Day　

and　power；　as　if　even　the　sparrows　and　the　children　were　
earning　their　daily　bread；　as　if　the　sky　itself；　with　its　
gray　and　scarlet　clouds；　reflected　the　serious　intention　of　
the　city　beneath　it；　spoke　of　him。　Here　was　the　fit　place　
for　their　meeting；　she　thought；　here　was　the　fit　place　for　
her　to　walk　thinking　of　him。　She　could　not　help　paring　
it　with　the　domestic　streets　of　Chelsea。　With　this　
parison　in　her　mind；　she　extended　her　range　a　little；　
and　turned　into　the　main　road。　The　great　torrent　of　vans　
and　carts　was　sweeping　down　Kingsway；　pedestrians　were　
streaming　in　two　currents　along　the　pavements。　She　stood　
fascinated　at　the　corner。　The　deep　roar　filled　her　ears；　
the　changing　tumult　had　the　inexpressible　fascination　of　
varied　life　pouring　ceaselessly　with　a　purpose　which；　as　
she　looked；　seemed　to　her；　somehow；　the　normal　purpose　
for　which　life　was　framed；　its　plete　indifference　to　
the　individuals；　whom　it　swallowed　up　and　rolled　onwards；　
filled　her　with　at　least　a　temporary　exaltation。　The　blend　
of　daylight　and　of　lamplight　made　her　an　invisible　spectator；　
just　as　it　gave　the　people　who　passed　her　a　semitransparent　
quality；　and　left　the　faces　pale　ivory　ovals　in　

which　the　eyes　alone　were　dark。　They　tended　the　enormous　
rush　of　the　current—the　great　flow；　the　deep　stream；　
the　unquenchable　tide。　She　stood　unobserved　and　absorbed；　
glorying　openly　in　the　rapture　that　had　run　
subterraneously　all　day。　Suddenly　she　was　clutched；　unwilling；　
from　the　outside；　by　the　recollection　of　her　purpose　
in　ing　there。　She　had　e　to　find　Ralph　Denham。　
She　hastily　turned　back　into　Lincoln’s　Inn　Fields；　and　
looked　for　her　landmark—the　light　in　the　three　tall　windows。　
She　sought　in　vain。　The　faces　of　the　houses　had　
now　merged　in　the　general　darkness；　and　she　had　difficulty　
in　determining　which　she　sought。　Ralph’s　three　windows　
gave　back　on　their　ghostly　glass　panels　only　a　reflection　
of　the　gray　and　greenish　sky。　She　rang　the　bell；　
peremptorily；　under　the　painted　name　of　the　firm。　After　
some　delay　she　was　answered　by　a　caretaker；　whose　pail　
and　brush　of　themselves　told　her　that　the　working　day　
was　over　and　the　workers　gone。　Nobody；　save　perhaps　Mr。　
Grateley　himself；　was　left；　she　assured　Katharine；　every　
one　else　had　been　gone　these　ten　minutes。　

The　news　woke　Katharine　pletely。　Anxiety　gained　

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Virginia　Woolf　

upon　her。　She　hastened　back　into　Kingsway；　looking　at　
people　who　had　miraculously　regained　their　solidity。　She　
ran　as　far　as　the　Tube　station；　overhauling　clerk　after　
clerk；　solicitor　after　solicitor。　Not　one　of　them　even　faintly　
resembled　Ralph　Denham。　More　and　more　plainly　did　she　
see　him；　and　more　and　more　did　he　seem　to　her　unlike　
any　one　else。　At　the　door　of　the　station　she　paused；　and　
tried　to　collect　her　thoughts。　He　had　gone　to　her　house。　
By　taking　a　cab　she　could　be　there　probably　in　advance　
of　him。　But　she　pictured　herself　opening　the　drawing
room　door；　and　William　and　Cassandra　looking　up；　and　
Ralph’s　entrance　a　moment　later；　and　the　glances—the　
insinuations。　No；　she　could　not　face　it。　She　would　write　
him　a　letter　and　take　it　at　once　to　his　house。　She　bought　
paper　and　pencil　at　the　bookstall；　and　entered　an　A。B。C。　
shop；　where；　by　ordering　a　cup　of　coffee；　she　secured　an　
empty　table；　and　began　at　vice　to　write：　

“I　came　to　meet　you　and　I　have　missed　you。　I　could　not　
face　William　and　Cassandra。　They　want　us—”　here　she　
paused。　“They　insist　that　we　are　engaged；”　she　substituted；　
“and　we　couldn’t　talk　at　all；　or　explain　anything。　I　

want—”　Her　wants　were　so　vast；　now　that　she　was　in　
munication　with　Ralph；　that　the　pencil　was　utterly　
inadequate　to　conduct　them　on　to　the　paper；　it　seemed　
as　if　the　whole　torrent　of　Kingsway　had　to　run　down　her　
pencil。　She　gazed　intently　at　a　notice　hanging　on　the　
goldencrusted　wall　opposite。　“…　to　say　all　kinds　of　
things；”　she　added；　writing　each　word　with　the　painstaking　
of　a　child。　But；　when　she　raised　her　eyes　again　to　
meditate　the　next　sentence；　she　was　aware　of　a　waitress；　
whose　expression　intimated　that　it　was　closing　time；　and；　
looking　round；　Katharine　saw　herself　almost　the　last　person　
left　in　the　shop。　She　took　up　her　letter；　paid　her　bill；　
and　found　herself　once　more　in　the　street。　She　would　
now　take　a　cab　to　Highgate。　But　at　that　moment　it　flashed　
upon　her　that　she　could　not　remember　the　address。　This　
check　seemed　to　let　fall　a　barrier　across　a　very　powerful　
current　of　desire。　She　ransacked　her　memory　in　desperation；　
hunting　for　the　name；　first　by　remembering　the　look　
of　the　house；　and　then　by　trying；　in　memory；　to　retrace　
the　words　she　had　written　once；　at　least；　upon　an　envelope。　
The　more　she　pressed　the　farther　the　words　receded。　

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Night　and　Day　

Was　the　house　an　Orchard　Something；　on　the　street　a　
Hill？　She　gave　it　up。　Never；　since　she　was　a　child；　had　she　
felt　anything　like　this　blankness　and　desolation。　There　
rushed　in　upon　her；　as　if　she　were　waking　from　some　
dream；　all　the　consequences　of　her　inexplicable　indolence。　
She　figured　Ralph’s　face　as　he　turned　from　her　door　without　
a　word　of　explanation；　receiving　his　dismissal　as　a　
blow　from　herself；　a　callous　intimation　that　she　did　not　
wish　to　see　him。　She　followed　his　departure　from　her　
door；　but　it　was　far　more　easy　to　see　him　marching　far　
and　fast　in　any　direction　for　any　length　of　time　than　to　
conceive　that　he　would　turn　back　to　Highgate。　Perhaps　
he　would　try　once　more　to　see　her　in　Cheyne　Walk？　It　was　
proof　of　the　clearness　with　which　she　saw　him；　that　she　
started　forward　as　this　possibility　occurred　to　her；　and　
almost　raised　her　hand　to　beckon　to　a　cab。　No；　he　was　
too　proud　to　e　again；　he　rejected　the　desire　and　walked　
on　and　on；　on　and　on—If　only　she　could　read　the　names　
of　those　visionary　streets　down　which　he　passed！　But　her　
imagination　betrayed　her　at　this　point；　or　mocked　her　
with　a　sense　of　their　strangeness；　darkness；　and　distance。　

Indeed；　instead　of　helping　herself　to　any　decision；　she　
only　filled　her　mind　with　the　vast　extent　of　London　and　
the　impossibility　of　finding　any　single　figure　that　wandered　
off　this　way　and　that　way；　turned　to　the　right　and　
to　the　left；　chose　that　dingy　little　back　street　where　the　
children　were　playing　in　the　road；　and　so—She　roused　
herself　impatiently。　She　walked　rapidly　along　Holborn。　
Soon　she　turned　and　walked　as　rapidly　in　the　other　direction。　
This　indecision　was　not　merely　odious；　but　had　something　
that　alarmed　her　about　it；　as　she　had　been　alarmed　
slightly　once　or　twice　already　that　day；　she　felt　unable　to　
cope　with　the　strength　of　her　own　desires。　To　a　person　
controlled　by　habit；　there　was　humiliation　as　well　as　alarm　
in　this　sudden　release　of　what　appeared　to　be　a　very　
powerful　as　well　as　an　unreasonable　force。　An　aching　in　
the　muscles　of　her　right　hand　now　showed　her　that　she　
was　crushing　her　gloves　and　the　map　of　Norfolk　in　a　grip　
sufficient　to　crack　a　more　solid　object。　She　relaxed　her　
grasp；　she　looked　anxiously　at　the　faces　of　the　passersby　
to　see　whether　their　eyes　rested　on　her　for　a　moment　
longer　than　was　natural；　or　with　any　curiosity。　But　hav


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Virginia　Woolf　

ing　smoothed　out　her　gloves；　and　done　what　she　could　to　
look　as　usual；　she　forgot　spectators；　and　was　once　more　
given　up　to　her　desperate　desire　to　find　Ralph　Denham。　
It　was　a　desire　now—wild；　irrational；　unexplained；　resembling　
something　felt　in　childhood。　Once　more　she　
blamed　herself　bitterly　for　her　carelessness。　But　finding　
herself　opposite　the　Tube　station；　she　pulled　herself　up　
and　took　counsel　swiftly；　as　of　old。　It　flashed　upon　her　
that　she　would　go　at　once　to　Mary　Datchet；　and　ask　her　
to　give　her　Ralph’s　address。　The　decision　was　a　relief；　not　
onl