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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第19部分


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them; and supposing that they had not quite reached 
that degree of subtlety。 She bought herself an evening 
paper; which she read as she ate; looking over the top of 
it again and again at the queer people who were buying 
cakes or imparting their secrets; until some young woman 
whom she knew came in; and she called out; “Eleanor; 
e and sit by me;” and they finished their lunch together; 
parting on the strip of pavement among the different 
lines of traffic with a pleasant feeling that they 
were stepping once more into their separate places in 
the great and eternally moving pattern of human life。 

But; instead of going straight back to the office today; 
Mary turned into the British Museum; and strolled down 
the gallery with the shapes of stone until she found an 
empty seat directly beneath the gaze of the Elgin marbles。 

She looked at them; and seemed; as usual; borne up on 
some wave of exaltation and emotion; by which her life 
at once became solemn and beautiful—an impression 
which was due as much; perhaps; to the solitude and 
chill and silence of the gallery as to the actual beauty of 
the statues。 One must suppose; at least; that her emotions 
were not purely esthetic; because; after she had 
gazed at the Ulysses for a minute or two; she began to 
think about Ralph Denham。 So secure did she feel with 
these silent shapes that she almost yielded to an impulse 
to say “I am in love with you” aloud。 The presence of this 
immense and enduring beauty made her almost alarmingly 
conscious of her desire; and at the same time proud 
of a feeling which did not display anything like the same 
proportions when she was going about her daily work。 

She repressed her impulse to speak aloud; and rose and 
wandered about rather aimlessly among the statues until 
she found herself in another gallery devoted to engraved 
obelisks and winged Assyrian bulls; and her emotion took 
another turn。 She began to picture herself traveling with 
Ralph in a land where these monsters were couchant in 

67 



Night and Day 

the sand。 “For;” she thought to herself; as she gazed fixedly 
at some information printed behind a piece of glass; 
“the wonderful thing about you is that you’re ready for 
anything; you’re not in the least conventional; like most 
clever men。” 

And she conjured up a scene of herself on a camel’s 
back; in the desert; while Ralph manded a whole tribe 
of natives。 

“That is what you can do;” she went on; moving on to the 
next statue。 “You always make people do what you want。” 

A glow spread over her spirit; and filled her eyes with 
brightness。 Nevertheless; before she left the Museum she 
was very far from saying; even in the privacy of her own 
mind; “I am in love with you;” and that sentence might 
very well never have framed itself。 She was; indeed; rather 
annoyed with herself for having allowed such an illconsidered 
breach of her reserve; weakening her powers of 
resistance; she felt; should this impulse return again。 
For; as she walked along the street to her office; the force 
of all her customary objections to being in love with any 
one overcame her。 She did not want to marry at all。 It 

seemed to her that there was something amateurish in 
bringing love into touch with a perfectly straightforward 
friendship; such as hers was with Ralph; which; for two 
years now; had based itself upon mon interests in 
impersonal topics; such as the housing of the poor; or 
the taxation of land values。 

But the afternoon spirit differed intrinsically from the 
morning spirit。 Mary found herself watching the flight of 
a bird; or making drawings of the branches of the plane
trees upon her blottingpaper。 People came in to see Mr。 
Clacton on business; and a seductive smell of cigarette 
smoke issued from his room。 Mrs。 Seal wandered about 
with newspaper cuttings; which seemed to her either 
“quite splendid” or “really too bad for words。” She used 
to paste these into books; or send them to her friends; 
having first drawn a broad bar in blue pencil down the 
margin; a proceeding which signified equally and indistinguishably 
the depths of her reprobation or the heights 
of her approval。 

About four o’clock on that same afternoon Katharine 
Hilbery was walking up Kingsway。 The question of tea 

68 



Virginia Woolf 

presented itself。 The street lamps were being lit already; 
and as she stood still for a moment beneath one of them; 
she tried to think of some neighboring drawingroom 
where there would be firelight and talk congenial to her 
mood。 That mood; owing to the spinning traffic and the 
evening veil of unreality; was illadapted to her home 
surroundings。 Perhaps; on the whole; a shop was the best 
place in which to preserve this queer sense of heightened 
existence。 At the same time she wished to talk。 
Remembering Mary Datchet and her repeated invitations; 
she crossed the road; turned into Russell Square; and 
peered about; seeking for numbers with a sense of adventure 
that was out of all proportion to the deed itself。 
She found herself in a dimly lighted hall; unguarded by a 
porter; and pushed open the first swing door。 But the 
officeboy had never heard of Miss Datchet。 Did she belong 
to the S。R。F。R。? Katharine shook her head with a 
smile of dismay。 A voice from within shouted; “No。 The 
S。G。S。—top floor。” 

Katharine mounted past innumerable glass doors; with 
initials on them; and became steadily more and more 

doubtful of the wisdom of her venture。 At the top she 
paused for a moment to breathe and collect herself。 She 
heard the typewriter and formal professional voices inside; 
not belonging; she thought; to any one she had 
ever spoken to。 She touched the bell; and the door was 
opened almost immediately by Mary herself。 Her face had 
to change its expression entirely when she saw Katharine。 

“You!” she exclaimed。 “We thought you were the printer。” 
Still holding the door open; she called back; “No; Mr。 
Clacton; it’s not Penningtons。 I should ring them up again— 
double three double eight; Central。 Well; this is a surprise。 
e in;” she added。 “You’re just in time for tea。” 

The light of relief shone in Mary’s eyes。 The boredom of 
the afternoon was dissipated at once; and she was glad 
that Katharine had found them in a momentary press of 
activity; owing to the failure of the printer to send back 
certain proofs。 

The unshaded electric light shining upon the table covered 
with papers dazed Katharine for a moment。 After 
the confusion of her twilight walk; and her random 
thoughts; life in this small room appeared extremely con


69 



Night and Day 

centrated and bright。 She turned instinctively to look 
out of the window; which was uncurtained; but Mary immediately 
recalled her。 

“It was very clever of you to find your way;” she said; 
and Katharine wondered; as she stood there; feeling; for 
the moment; entirely detached and unabsorbed; why she 
had e。 She looked; indeed; to Mary’s eyes strangely 
out of place in the office。 Her figure in the long cloak; 
which took deep folds; and her face; which was posed 
into a mask of sensitive apprehension; disturbed 
Mary for a moment with a sense of the presence of some 
one who was of another world; and; therefore; subversive 
of her world。 She became immediately anxious that 
Katharine should be impressed by the importance of her 
world; and hoped that neither Mrs。 Seal nor Mr。 Clacton 
would appear until the impression of importance had been 
received。 But in this she was disappointed。 Mrs。 Seal burst 
into the room holding a kettle in her hand; which she set 
upon the stove; and then; with inefficient haste; she set 
light to the gas; which flared up; exploded; and went 
out。 

“Always the way; always the way;” she muttered。 “Kit 
Markham is the only person who knows how to deal with 
the thing。” 

Mary had to go to her help; and together they spread 
the table; and apologized for the disparity between the 
cups and the plainness of the food。 

“If we had known Miss Hilbery was ing; we should 
have bought a 

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