[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版- 第64部分

tention　to　him。　First　she　was　annoyed　that　there　was　no　
cab　to　free　her　from　his　pany；　then　she　recalled　vaguely　
something　that　Mary　had　said　to　make　her　think　ill　of　
him；　she　could　not　remember　what；　but　the　recollection；　
bined　with　his　masterful　ways—why　did　he　walk　so　
fast　down　this　side　street？—made　her　more　and　more　
conscious　of　a　person　of　marked；　though　disagreeable；　
force　by　her　side。　She　stopped　and；　looking　round　her　for　
a　cab；　sighted　one　in　the　distance。　He　was　thus　precipitated　
into　speech。　

“Should　you　mind　if　we　walked　a　little　farther？”　he　asked。　
“There’s　something　I　want　to　say　to　you。”　

“Very　well；”　she　replied；　guessing　that　his　request　had　
something　to　do　with　Mary　Datchet。　

“It’s　quieter　by　the　river；”　he　said；　and　instantly　he　
crossed　over。　“I　want　to　ask　you　merely　this；”　he　began。　
But　he　paused　so　long　that　she　could　see　his　head　against　
the　sky；　the　slope　of　his　thin　cheek　and　his　large；　strong　
nose　were　clearly　marked　against　it。　While　he　paused；　
words　that　were　quite　different　from　those　he　intended　
to　use　presented　themselves。　

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Virginia　Woolf　

“I’ve　made　you　my　standard　ever　since　I　saw　you。　I’ve　
dreamt　about　you；　I’ve　thought　of　nothing　but　you；　you　
represent　to　me　the　only　reality　in　the　world。”　

His　words；　and　the　queer　strained　voice　in　which　he　
spoke　them；　made　it　appear　as　if　he　addressed　some　person　
who　was　not　the　woman　beside　him；　but　some　one　
far　away。　

“And　now　things　have　e　to　such　a　pass　that；　unless　
I　can　speak　to　you　openly；　I　believe　I　shall　go　mad。　I　
think　of　you　as　the　most　beautiful；　the　truest　thing　in　
the　world；”　he　continued；　filled　with　a　sense　of　exaltation；　
and　feeling　that　he　had　no　need　now　to　choose　his　
words　with　pedantic　accuracy；　for　what　he　wanted　to　say　
was　suddenly　bee　plain　to　him。　

“I　see　you　everywhere；　in　the　stars；　in　the　river；　to　me　
you’re　everything　that　exists；　the　reality　of　everything。　
Life；　I　tell　you；　would　be　impossible　without　you。　And　
now　I　want—”　

She　had　heard　him　so　far　with　a　feeling　that　she　had　
dropped　some　material　word　which　made　sense　of　the　
rest。　She　could　hear　no　more　of　this　unintelligible　ram


bling　without　checking　him。　She　felt　that　she　was　overhearing　
what　was　meant　for　another。　

“I　don’t　understand；”　she　said。　“You’re　saying　things　
that　you　don’t　mean。”　

“I　mean　every　word　I　say；”　he　replied；　emphatically。　He　
turned　his　head　towards　her。　She　recovered　the　words　she　
was　searching　for　while　he　spoke。　“Ralph　Denham　is　in　
love　with　you。”　They　came　back　to　her　in　Mary　Datchet’s　
voice。　Her　anger　blazed　up　in　her。　

“I　saw　Mary　Datchet　this　afternoon；”　she　exclaimed。　

He　made　a　movement　as　if　he　were　surprised　or　taken　
aback；　but　answered　in　a　moment：　

“She　told　you　that　I　had　asked　her　to　marry　me；　I　suppose？”　


“No！”　Katharine　exclaimed；　in　surprise。　

“I　did　though。　It　was　the　day　I　saw　you　at　Lincoln；”　he　
continued。　“I　had　meant　to　ask　her　to　marry　me；　and　
then　I　looked　out　of　the　window　and　saw　you。　After　that　
I　didn’t　want　to　ask　any　one　to　marry　me。　But　I　did　it；　and　
she　knew　I　was　lying；　and　refused　me。　I　thought　then；　
and　still　think；　that　she　cares　for　me。　I　behaved　very　

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Night　and　Day　

badly。　I　don’t　defend　myself。”　

“No；”　said　Katharine；　“I　should　hope　not。　There’s　no　
defence　that　I　can　think　of。　If　any　conduct　is　wrong；　that　
is。”　She　spoke　with　an　energy　that　was　directed　even　
more　against　herself　than　against　him。　“It　seems　to　me；”　
she　continued；　with　the　same　energy；　“that　people　are　
bound　to　be　honest。　There’s　no　excuse　for　such　behavior。”　
She　could　now　see　plainly　before　her　eyes　the　expression　
on　Mary　Datchet’s　face。　

After　a　short　pause；　he　said：　

“I　am　not　telling　you　that　I　am　in　love　with　you。　I　am　
not　in　love　with　you。”　

“I　didn’t　think　that；”　she　replied；　conscious　of　some　
bewilderment。　

“I　have　not　spoken　a　word　to　you　that　I　do　not　mean；”　
he　added。　

“Tell　me　then　what　it　is　that　you　mean；”　she　said　at　
length。　

As　if　obeying　a　mon　instinct；　they　both　stopped　
and；　bending　slightly　over　the　balustrade　of　the　river；　
looked　into　the　flowing　water。　

“You　say　that　we’ve　got　to　be　honest；”　Ralph　began。　
“Very　well。　I　will　try　to　tell　you　the　facts；　but　I　warn　you；　
you’ll　think　me　mad。　It’s　a　fact；　though；　that　since　I　first　
saw　you　four　or　five　months　ago　I　have　made　you；　in　an　
utterly　absurd　way；　I　expect；　my　ideal。　I’m　almost　ashamed　
to　tell　you　what　lengths　I’ve　gone　to。　It’s　bee　the　
thing　that　matters　most　in　my　life。”　He　checked　himself。　
“Without　knowing　you；　except　that　you’re　beautiful；　and　
all　that；　I’ve　e　to　believe　that　we’re　in　some　sort　of　
agreement；　that　we’re　after　something　together；　that　we　
see　something…　。　I’ve　got　into　the　habit　of　imagining　
you；　I’m　always　thinking　what　you’d　say　or　do；　I　walk　
along　the　street　talking　to　you；　I　dream　of　you。　It’s　merely　
a　bad　habit；　a　schoolboy　habit；　daydreaming；　it’s　a　mon　
experience；　half　one’s　friends　do　the　same；　well；　
those　are　the　facts。”　

Simultaneously；　they　both　walked　on　very　slowly。　

“If　you　were　to　know　me　you　would　feel　none　of　this；”　
she　said。　“We　don’t　know　each　other—we’ve　always　been—　
interrupted…　。　Were　you　going　to　tell　me　this　that　day　
my　aunts　came？”　she　asked；　recollecting　the　whole　scene。　

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Virginia　Woolf　

He　bowed　his　head。　

“The　day　you　told　me　of　your　engagement；”　he　said。　

She　thought；　with　a　start；　that　she　was　no　longer　engaged。　


“I　deny　that　I　should　cease　to　feel　this　if　I　knew　you；”　
he　went　on。　“I　should　feel　it　more　reasonably—that’s　all。　
I　shouldn’t　talk　the　kind　of　nonsense　I’ve　talked　tonight…　
。　But　it　wasn’t　nonsense。　It　was　the　truth；”　he　said　doggedly。　
“It’s　the　important　thing。　You　can　force　me　to　talk　
as　if　this　feeling　for　you　were　an　hallucination；　but　all　
our　feelings　are　that。　The　best　of　them　are　half　illusions。　
Still；”　he　added；　as　if　arguing　to　himself；　“if　it　weren’t　as　
real　a　feeling　as　I’m　capable　of；　I　shouldn’t　be　changing　
my　life　on　your　account。”　

“What　do　you　mean？”　she　inquired。　

“I　told　you。　I’m　taking　a　cottage。　I’m　giving　up　my　
profession。”　

“On　my　account？”　she　asked；　in　amazement。　

“Yes；　on　your　account；”　he　replied。　He　explained　his　
meaning　no　further。　

“But　I　don’t　know　you　or　your　circumstances；”　she　said　

at　last；　as　he　remained　silent。　

“You　have　no　opinion　about　me　one　way　or　the　other？”　

“Yes；　I　suppose　I　have　an　opinion—”　she　hesitated。　

He　controlled　his　wish　to　ask　her　to　explain　herself；　
and　much　to　his　pleasure　she　went　on；　appearing　to　search　
her　mind。　

“I　thought　that　you　criticized　me—perhaps　disliked　me。　
I　thought　of　you　as　a　person　who　judges—”　

“No；　I’m　a　person　who　feels；”　he　said；　in　a　low　voice。　

“Tell　me；　then；　what　has　made　you　do　this？”　she　asked；　
after　a　break。　

He　told　her　in　an　orderly　way；　betokening　careful　preparation；　
all　that　he　had　meant　to　say　at　first；　how　he　stood　
with　regard　to　his　brothers　and　sisters；　what　his　mother　
had　said；　and　his　sister　Joan　had　refrained　from　saying；　
exactly　how　many　pounds　stood　in　his　name　at　the　bank；　
what　prospect　his　brother　had　of　earning　a　livelihood　in　
America；　how　much　of　their　ine　went　on　rent；　and　
other　details　known　to　him　by　heart。　She　listened　to　all　
this；　so　that　she　could　have　passed　an　examination　in　it　
by　the　time　Waterloo　Bridge　was　in　sight；　and　yet　she　

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Night　and　Day　

was　no　more　listening　to　it　than　she　was　counting　the　
pavingstones　at　her　feet。　She　was　feeling　happier　than　
she　had　felt　in　her　life。　If　Denham　could　have　seen　how　
visibly　books　of　algebraic　symbols；　pages　all　speckled　with　
dots　and　dashes　and　twisted　bars；　came　before　her　eyes　
as　they　trod　the　Embankment；　his　secret　joy　in　her　attention　
might　have　been　dispersed。　She　went　on；　saying；　
“Yes；　I　see…　。　But　how　would　that　help　you？　…　Your　
brother　has　passed　his　examination？”　so　sensibly；　that　
he　had　constantly　to　keep　his　brain　in　check；　and　all　the　
time　she　was　in　fancy　looking　up　through　a　telescope　at　
white　shadowcleft　disks　which　were　other　worlds；　until　
she　felt　herself　possessed　of　two　bodies；　one　walking　by　
the　river　with　Denham；　the　other　concentrated　to　a　silver　
globe　aloft　in　the　fine　blue　space　above　the　scum　of　
vapors　that　was　covering　the　visible　world。　She　looked　at　
the　sky　once；　and　saw　that　no　star　was　keen　enough　to　
pierce　the　flight　of　watery　clouds　now　coursing　rapidly　
before　the　west　wind。　She　looked　down　hurriedly　again。　
There　was　no　reason；　she　assured　herself；　for　this　feeling　
of　happiness；　she　was　not　free；　she　was　not　alone；　she　

was　still　bound　to　earth　by　a　million　fibres；　every　step　took　
her　nearer　home。　Nevertheless；　she　exulted　as　she　had　never　
exulted　before。　The　air　was　fresher；　the　lights　more　distinct；　
the　cold　stone　of　the　balustrade　colder　and　harder；　
when　by　chance　or　purpose　she　struck　her　hand　against　it。　
No　feeling　of　annoyance　with　Denham　rem