[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第4部分

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Mr。　Denham　had　recovered　his　selfcontrol；　he　spoke　
with　a　quietness　which　made　Katharine　rather　anxious　
that　he　should　explain　himself；　but　at　the　same　time　she　
wished　to　annoy　him；　to　waft　him　away　from　her　on　some　
light　current　of　ridicule　or　satire；　as　she　was　wont　to　do　
with　these　intermittent　young　men　of　her　father’s。　

“Nobody　ever　does　do　anything　worth　doing　nowadays；”　
she　remarked。　“You　see”—she　tapped　the　volume　of　her　
grandfather’s　poems—”we　don’t　even　print　as　well　as　they　

did；　and　as　for　poets　or　painters　or　novelists—there　are　
none；　so；　at　any　rate；　I’m　not　singular。”　

“No；　we　haven’t　any　great　men；”　Denham　replied。　“I’m　
very　glad　that　we　haven’t。　I　hate　great　men。　The　worship　
of　greatness　in　the　nieenth　century　seems　to　me　to　
explain　the　worthlessness　of　that　generation。”　

Katharine　opened　her　lips　and　drew　in　her　breath；　as　if　
to　reply　with　equal　vigor；　when　the　shutting　of　a　door　in　
the　next　room　withdrew　her　attention；　and　they　both　
became　conscious　that　the　voices；　which　had　been　rising　
and　falling　round　the　teatable；　had　fallen　silent；　the　
light；　even；　seemed　to　have　sunk　lower。　A　moment　later　
Mrs。　Hilbery　appeared　in　the　doorway　of　the　anteroom。　
She　stood　looking　at　them　with　a　smile　of　expectancy　on　
her　face；　as　if　a　scene　from　the　drama　of　the　younger　
generation　were　being　played　for　her　benefit。　She　was　a　
remarkablelooking　woman；　well　advanced　in　the　sixties；　
but　owing　to　the　lightness　of　her　frame　and　the　brightness　
of　her　eyes　she　seemed　to　have　been　wafted　over　
the　surface　of　the　years　without　taking　much　harm　in　the　
passage。　Her　face　was　shrunken　and　aquiline；　but　any　

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Night　and　Day　

hint　of　sharpness　was　dispelled　by　the　large　blue　eyes；　at　
once　sagacious　and　innocent；　which　seemed　to　regard　
the　world　with　an　enormous　desire　that　it　should　behave　
itself　nobly；　and　an　entire　confidence　that　it　could　do　so；　
if　it　would　only　take　the　pains。　

Certain　lines　on　the　broad　forehead　and　about　the　lips　
might　be　taken　to　suggest　that　she　had　known　moments　
of　some　difficulty　and　perplexity　in　the　course　of　her　
career；　but　these　had　not　destroyed　her　trustfulness；　and　
she　was　clearly　still　prepared　to　give　every　one　any　number　
of　fresh　chances　and　the　whole　system　the　benefit　of　
the　doubt。　She　wore　a　great　resemblance　to　her　father；　
and　suggested；　as　he　did；　the　fresh　airs　and　open　spaces　
of　a　younger　world。　

“Well；”　she　said；　“how　do　you　like　our　things；　Mr。　
Denham？”　

Mr。　Denham　rose；　put　his　book　down；　opened　his　
mouth；　but　said　nothing；　as　Katharine　observed；　with　
some　amusement。　

Mrs。　Hilbery　handled　the　book　he　had　laid　down。　

“There　are　some　books　that　live；”　she　mused。　“They　are　

young　with　us；　and　they　grow　old　with　us。　Are　you　fond　
of　poetry；　Mr。　Denham？　But　what　an　absurd　question　to　
ask！　The　truth　is；　dear　Mr。　Fortescue　has　almost　tired　me　
out。　He　is　so　eloquent　and　so　witty；　so　searching　and　so　
profound　that；　after　half　an　hour　or　so；　I　feel　inclined　to　
turn　out　all　the　lights。　But　perhaps　he’d　be　more　wonderful　
than　ever　in　the　dark。　What　d’you　think；　Katharine？　
Shall　we　give　a　little　party　in　plete　darkness？　There’d　
have　to　be　bright　rooms　for　the　bores…　。”　

Here　Mr。　Denham　held　out　his　hand。　

“But　we’ve　any　number　of　things　to　show　you！”　Mrs。　
Hilbery　exclaimed；　taking　no　notice　of　it。　“Books；　pictures；　
china；　manuscripts；　and　the　very　chair　that　Mary　
Queen　of　Scots　sat　in　when　she　heard　of　Darnley’s　murder。　
I　must　lie　down　for　a　little；　and　Katharine　must　change　
her　dress　（though　she’s　wearing　a　very　pretty　one）；　but　if　
you　don’t　mind　being　left　alone；　supper　will　be　at　eight。　
I　dare　say　you’ll　write　a　poem　of　your　own　while　you’re　
waiting。　Ah；　how　I　love　the　firelight！　Doesn’t　our　room　
look　charming？”　

She　stepped　back　and　bade　them　contemplate　the　empty　

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Virginia　Woolf　

drawingroom；　with　its　rich；　irregular　lights；　as　the　flames　
leapt　and　wavered。　

“Dear　things！”　she　exclaimed。　“Dear　chairs　and　tables！　
How　like　old　friends　they　are—faithful；　silent　friends。　
Which　reminds　me；　Katharine；　little　Mr。　Anning　is　ing　
tonight；　and　Tite　Street；　and　Cadogan　Square…　。　Do　
remember　to　get　that　drawing　of　your　greatuncle　glazed。　
Aunt　Millicent　remarked　it　last　time　she　was　here；　and　I　
know　how　it　would　hurt　me　to　see　MY　father　in　a　broken　
glass。”　

It　was　like　tearing　through　a　maze　of　diamondglittering　
spiders’　webs　to　say　goodbye　and　escape；　for　at　each　
movement　Mrs。　Hilbery　remembered　something　further　
about　the　villainies　of　pictureframers　or　the　delights　of　
poetry；　and　at　one　time　it　seemed　to　the　young　man　that　
he　would　be　hypnotized　into　doing　what　she　pretended　
to　want　him　to　do；　for　he　could　not　suppose　that　she　
attached　any　value　whatever　to　his　presence。　Katharine；　
however；　made　an　opportunity　for　him　to　leave；　and　for　
that　he　was　grateful　to　her；　as　one　young　person　is　grateful　
for　the　understanding　of　another。　

CHAPTER　II　


The　young　man　shut　the　door　with　a　sharper　slam　than　
any　visitor　had　used　that　afternoon；　and　walked　up　the　
street　at　a　great　pace；　cutting　the　air　with　his　walkingstick。　
He　was　glad　to　find　himself　outside　that　drawing
room；　breathing　raw　fog；　and　in　contact　with　unpolished　
people　who　only　wanted　their　share　of　the　pavement　allowed　
them。　He　thought　that　if　he　had　had　Mr。　or　Mrs。　or　
Miss　Hilbery　out　here　he　would　have　made　them；　somehow；　
feel　his　superiority；　for　he　was　chafed　by　the　memory　
of　halting　awkward　sentences　which　had　failed　to　give　
even　the　young　woman　with　the　sad；　but　inwardly　ironical　
eyes　a　hint　of　his　force。　He　tried　to　recall　the　actual　
words　of　his　little　outburst；　and　unconsciously　supplemented　
them　by　so　many　words　of　greater　expressiveness　
that　the　irritation　of　his　failure　was　somewhat　assuaged。　
Sudden　stabs　of　the　unmitigated　truth　assailed　him　now　
and　then；　for　he　was　not　inclined　by　nature　to　take　a　rosy　
view　of　his　conduct；　but　what　with　the　beat　of　his　foot　
upon　the　pavement；　and　the　glimpse　which　halfdrawn　

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Night　and　Day　

curtains　offered　him　of　kitchens；　diningrooms；　and　draw
ingrooms；　illustrating　with　mute　power　different　scenes　
from　different　lives；　his　own　experience　lost　its　sharpness。　

His　own　experience　underwent　a　curious　change。　His　
speed　slackened；　his　head　sank　a　little　towards　his　breast；　
and　the　lamplight　shone　now　and　again　upon　a　face　grown　
strangely　tranquil。　His　thought　was　so　absorbing　that　
when　it　became　necessary　to　verify　the　name　of　a　street；　
he　looked　at　it　for　a　time　before　he　read　it；　when　he　came　
to　a　crossing；　he　seemed　to　have　to　reassure　himself　by　
two　or　three　taps；　such　as　a　blind　man　gives；　upon　the　
curb；　and；　reaching　the　Underground　station；　he　blinked　
in　the　bright　circle　of　light；　glanced　at　his　watch；　decided　
that　he　might　still　indulge　himself　in　darkness；　and　
walked　straight　on。　

And　yet　the　thought　was　the　thought　with　which　he　
had　started。　He　was　still　thinking　about　the　people　in　the　
house　which　he　had　left；　but　instead　of　remembering；　
with　whatever　accuracy　he　could；　their　looks　and　sayings；　
he　had　consciously　taken　leave　of　the　literal　truth。　
A　turn　of　the　street；　a　firelit　room；　something　monumen


tal　in　the　procession　of　the　lampposts；　who　shall　say　
what　accident　of　light　or　shape　had　suddenly　changed　
the　prospect　within　his　mind；　and　led　him　to　murmur　
aloud：　

“She’ll　do…　。　Yes；　Katharine　Hilbery’ll　do…　。　I’ll　take　
Katharine　Hilbery。”　

As　soon　as　he　had　said　this；　his　pace　slackened；　his　
head　fell；　his　eyes　became　fixed。　The　desire　to　justify　
himself；　which　had　been　so　urgent；　ceased　to　torment　
him；　and；　as　if　released　from　constraint；　so　that　they　
worked　without　friction　or　bidding；　his　faculties　leapt　
forward　and　fixed；　as　a　matter　of　course；　upon　the　form　
of　Katharine　Hilbery。　It　was　marvellous　how　much　they　
found　to　feed　upon；　considering　the　destructive　nature　
of　Denham’s　criticism　in　her　presence。　The　charm；　which　
he　had　tried　to　disown；　when　under　the　effect　of　it；　the　
beauty；　the