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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第63部分


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sudden cleavage of spirit; she turned upon him and denounced 
him for his cruelty。 

“But I refuse—I refuse to hate any one;” she said aloud; 
chose the moment to cross the road with circumspection; 
and ten minutes later lunched in the Strand; cutting her 
meat firmly into small pieces; but giving her fellowdiners 
no further cause to judge her eccentric。 Her soliloquy 
crystallized itself into little fragmentary phrases emerging 
suddenly from the turbulence of her thought; particularly 
when she had to exert herself in any way; either 
to move; to count money; or to choose a turning。 “To 
know the truth—to accept without bitterness”—those; 

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perhaps; were the most articulate of her utterances; for 
no one could have made head or tail of the queer gibberish 
murmured in front of the statue of Francis; Duke of 
Bedford; save that the name of Ralph occurred frequently 
in very strange connections; as if; having spoken it; she 
wished; superstitiously; to cancel it by adding some other 
word that robbed the sentence with his name in it of any 
meaning。 

Those champions of the cause of women; Mr。 Clacton 
and Mrs。 Seal; did not perceive anything strange in Mary’s 
behavior; save that she was almost half an hour later than 
usual in ing back to the office。 Happily; their own affairs 
kept them busy; and she was free from their inspection。 
If they had surprised her they would have found her 
lost; apparently; in admiration of the large hotel across 
the square; for; after writing a few words; her pen rested 
upon the paper; and her mind pursued its own journey 
among the sunblazoned windows and the drifts of purplish 
smoke which formed her view。 And; indeed; this background 
was by no means out of keeping with her thoughts。 
She saw to the remote spaces behind the strife of the 

foreground; enabled now to gaze there; since she had renounced 
her own demands; privileged to see the larger 
view; to share the vast desires and sufferings of the mass 
of mankind。 She had been too lately and too roughly mastered 
by facts to take an easy pleasure in the relief of 
renunciation; such satisfaction as she felt came only from 
the discovery that; having renounced everything that made 
life happy; easy; splendid; individual; there remained a hard 
reality; unimpaired by one’s personal adventures; remote 
as the stars; unquenchable as they are。 

While Mary Datchet was undergoing this curious transformation 
from the particular to the universal; Mrs。 Seal 
remembered her duties with regard to the kettle and the 
gasfire。 She was a little surprised to find that Mary had 
drawn her chair to the window; and; having lit the gas; she 
raised herself from a stooping posture and looked at her。 
The most obvious reason for such an attitude in a secretary 
was some kind of indisposition。 But Mary; rousing 
herself with an effort; denied that she was indisposed。 

“I’m frightfully lazy this afternoon;” she added; with a 
glance at her table。 “You must really get another secre


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Night and Day 

tary; Sally。” 

The words were meant to be taken lightly; but something 
in the tone of them roused a jealous fear which 
was always dormant in Mrs。 Seal’s breast。 She was terribly 
afraid that one of these days Mary; the young woman 
who typified so many rather sentimental and enthusiastic 
ideas; who had some sort of visionary existence in 
white with a sheaf of lilies in her hand; would announce; 
in a jaunty way; that she was about to be married。 

“You don’t mean that you’re going to leave us?” she 
said。 

“I’ve not made up my mind about anything;” said Mary— 
a remark which could be taken as a generalization。 

Mrs。 Seal got the teacups out of the cupboard and set 
them on the table。 

“You’re not going to be married; are you?” she asked; 
pronouncing the words with nervous speed。 

“Why are you asking such absurd questions this afternoon; 
Sally?” Mary asked; not very steadily。 “Must we all 
get married?” 

Mrs。 Seal emitted a most peculiar chuckle。 She seemed 

for one moment to acknowledge the terrible side of life 
which is concerned with the emotions; the private lives; 
of the sexes; and then to sheer off from it with all possible 
speed into the shades of her own shivering virginity。 
She was made so unfortable by the turn the conversation 
had taken; that she plunged her head into the 
cupboard; and endeavored to abstract some very obscure 
piece of china。 

“We have our work;” she said; withdrawing her head; 
displaying cheeks more than usually crimson; and placing 
a jampot emphatically upon the table。 But; for the 
moment; she was unable to launch herself upon one of 
those enthusiastic; but inconsequent; tirades upon liberty; 
democracy; the rights of the people; and the iniquities 
of the Government; in which she delighted。 Some 
memory from her own past or from the past of her sex 
rose to her mind and kept her abashed。 She glanced furtively 
at Mary; who still sat by the window with her arm 
upon the sill。 She noticed how young she was and full of 
the promise of womanhood。 The sight made her so uneasy 
that she fidgeted the cups upon their saucers。 

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Virginia Woolf 

“Yes—enough work to last a lifetime;” said Mary; as if 
concluding some passage of thought。 

Mrs。 Seal brightened at once。 She lamented her lack of 
scientific training; and her deficiency in the processes of 
logic; but she set her mind to work at once to make the 
prospects of the cause appear as alluring and important 
as she could。 She delivered herself of an harangue in 
which she asked a great many rhetorical questions and 
answered them with a little bang of one fist upon another。 


“To last a lifetime? My dear child; it will last all our 
lifetimes。 As one falls another steps into the breach。 My 
father; in his generation; a pioneer—I; ing after him; 
do my little best。 What; alas! can one do more? And now 
it’s you young women—we look to you—the future looks 
to you。 Ah; my dear; if I’d a thousand lives; I’d give them 
all to our cause。 The cause of women; d’you say? I say the 
cause of humanity。 And there are some”—she glanced 
fiercely at the window—”who don’t see it! There are some 
who are satisfied to go on; year after year; refusing to 
admit the truth。 And we who have the vision—the kettle 

boiling over? No; no; let me see to it—we who know the 
truth;” she continued; gesticulating with the kettle and 
the teapot。 Owing to these encumbrances; perhaps; she 
lost the thread of her discourse; and concluded; rather 
wistfully; “It’s all so simple。” She referred to a matter 
that was a perpetual source of bewilderment to her—the 
extraordinary incapacity of the human race; in a world 
where the good is so unmistakably divided from the bad; 
of distinguishing one from the other; and embodying what 
ought to be done in a few large; simple Acts of Parliament; 
which would; in a very short time; pletely 
change the lot of humanity。 

“One would have thought;” she said; “that men of University 
training; like Mr。 Asquith—one would have thought that 
an appeal to reason would not be unheard by them。 But 
reason;” she reflected; “what is reason without Reality?” 

Doing homage to the phrase; she repeated it once more; 
and caught the ear of Mr。 Clacton; as he issued from his 
room; and he repeated it a third time; giving it; as he 
was in the habit of doing with Mrs。 Seal’s phrases; a dryly 
humorous intonation。 He was well pleased with the world; 

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Night and Day 

however; and he remarked; in a flattering manner; that 
he would like to see that phrase in large letters at the 
head of a leaflet。 

“But; Mrs。 Seal; we have to aim at a judicious bination 
of the two;” he added in his magisterial way to check 
the unbalanced enthusiasm of the women。 “Reality has to 
be voiced by reason before it can make itself felt。 The 
weak point of all these movements; Miss Datchet;” he continued; 
taking his place at the table and turning to Mary 
as usual when about to deliver h

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