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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第55部分


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the old lady; the woman with the perambulator; the bailiff 
and the dissenting minister; his eyes filled involun


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Night and Day 

tarily with tears。 He would have liked to lay his head on 
her shoulder and sob; while she parted his hair with her 
fingers and soothed him and said: 

“There; there。 Don’t cry! Tell me why you’re crying—”; 
and they would clasp each other tight; and her arms would 
hold him like his mother’s。 He felt that he was very lonely; 
and that he was afraid of the other people in the room。 

“How damnable this all is!” he exclaimed abruptly。 

“What are you talking about?” she replied; rather 
vaguely; still looking out of the window。 

He resented this divided attention more than; perhaps; 
he knew; and he thought how Mary would soon be on her 
way to America。 

“Mary;” he said; “I want to talk to you。 Haven’t we 
nearly done? Why don’t they take away these plates?” 

Mary felt his agitation without looking at him; she felt 
convinced that she knew what it was that he wished to 
say to her。 

“They’ll e all in good time;” she said; and felt it 
necessary to display her extreme calmness by lifting a 
saltcellar and sweeping up a little heap of breadcrumbs。 

“I want to apologize;” Ralph continued; not quite knowing 
what he was about to say; but feeling some curious 
instinct which urged him to mit himself irrevocably; 
and to prevent the moment of intimacy from passing。 

“I think I’ve treated you very badly。 That is; I’ve told you 
lies。 Did you guess that I was lying to you? Once in Lincoln’s 
Inn Fields and again today on our walk。 I am a liar; Mary。 
Did you know that? Do you think you do know me?” 

“I think I do;” she said。 

At this point the waiter changed their plates。 

“It’s true I don’t want you to go to America;” he said; 
looking fixedly at the tablecloth。 “In fact; my feelings 
towards you seem to be utterly and damnably bad;” he 
said energetically; although forced to keep his voice low。 

“If I weren’t a selfish beast I should tell you to have 
nothing more to do with me。 And yet; Mary; in spite of 
the fact that I believe what I’m saying; I also believe 
that it’s good we should know each other—the world 
being what it is; you see—” and by a nod of his head he 
indicated the other occupants of the room; “for; of course; 
in an ideal state of things; in a decent munity even; 

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Virginia Woolf 

there’s no doubt you shouldn’t have anything to do with 
me—seriously; that is。” 

“You forget that I’m not an ideal character; either;” 
said Mary; in the same low and very earnest tones; which; 
in spite of being almost inaudible; surrounded their table 
with an atmosphere of concentration which was quite 
perceptible to the other diners; who glanced at them now 
and then with a queer mixture of kindness; amusement; 
and curiosity。 

“I’m much more selfish than I let on; and I’m worldly a 
little—more than you think; anyhow。 I like bossing 
things—perhaps that’s my greatest fault。 I’ve none of 
your passion for—” here she hesitated; and glanced at 
him; as if to ascertain what his passion was for—”for the 
truth;” she added; as if she had found what she sought 
indisputably。 

“I’ve told you I’m a liar;” Ralph repeated obstinately。 
“Oh; in little things; I dare say;” she said impatiently。 
“But not in real ones; and that’s what matters。 I dare say 
I’m more truthful than you are in small ways。 But I could 
never care”—she was surprised to find herself speaking 

the word; and had to force herself to speak it out—”for 
any one who was a liar in that way。 I love the truth a 
certain amount—a considerable amount—but not in the 
way you love it。” Her voice sank; became inaudible; and 
wavered as if she could scarcely keep herself from tears。 

“Good heavens!” Ralph exclaimed to himself。 “She loves 
me! Why did I never see it before? She’s going to cry; no; 
but she can’t speak。” 

The certainty overwhelmed him so that he scarcely knew 
what he was doing; the blood rushed to his cheeks; and 
although he had quite made up his mind to ask her to 
marry him; the certainty that she loved him seemed to 
change the situation so pletely that he could not do 
it。 He did not dare to look at her。 If she cried; he did not 
know what he should do。 It seemed to him that something 
of a terrible and devastating nature had happened。 
The waiter changed their plates once more。 

In his agitation Ralph rose; turned his back upon Mary; 
and looked out of the window。 The people in the street 
seemed to him only a dissolving and bining pattern 
of black particles; which; for the moment; represented 

197 



Night and Day 

very well the involuntary procession of feelings and 
thoughts which formed and dissolved in rapid succession 
in his own mind。 At one moment he exulted in the thought 
that Mary loved him; at the next; it seemed that he was 
without feeling for her; her love was repulsive to him。 
Now he felt urged to marry her at once; now to disappear 
and never see her again。 In order to control this disorderly 
race of thought he forced himself to read the name 
on the chemist’s shop directly opposite him; then to examine 
the objects in the shop windows; and then to focus 
his eyes exactly upon a little group of women looking 
in at the great windows of a large draper’s shop。 This 
discipline having given him at least a superficial control 
of himself; he was about to turn and ask the waiter to 
bring the bill; when his eye was caught by a tall figure 
walking quickly along the opposite pavement—a tall figure; 
upright; dark; and manding; much detached from 
her surroundings。 She held her gloves in her left hand; 
and the left hand was bare。 All this Ralph noticed and 
enumerated and recognized before he put a name to the 
whole—Katharine Hilbery。 She seemed to be looking for 

somebody。 Her eyes; in fact; scanned both sides of the 
street; and for one second were raised directly to the 
bow window in which Ralph stood; but she looked away 
again instantly without giving any sign that she had seen 
him。 This sudden apparition had an extraordinary effect 
upon him。 It was as if he had thought of her so intensely 
that his mind had formed the shape of her; rather than 
that he had seen her in the flesh outside in the street。 
And yet he had not been thinking of her at all。 The impression 
was so intense that he could not dismiss it; nor 
even think whether he had seen her or merely imagined 
her。 He sat down at once; and said; briefly and strangely; 
rather to himself than to Mary: 

“That was Katharine Hilbery。” 

“Katharine Hilbery? What do you mean?” she asked; 
hardly understanding from his manner whether he had 
seen her or not。 

“Katharine Hilbery;” he repeated。 “But she’s gone now。” 

“Katharine Hilbery!” Mary thought; in an instant of 
blinding revelation; “I’ve always known it was Katharine 
Hilbery!” She knew it all now。 

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Virginia Woolf 

After a moment of downcast stupor; she raised her eyes; 
looked steadily at Ralph; and caught his fixed and dreamy 
gaze leveled at a point far beyond their surroundings; a 
point that she had never reached in all the time that she 
had known him。 She noticed the lips just parted; the 
fingers loosely clenched; the whole attitude of rapt contemplation; 
which fell like a veil between them。 She noticed 
everything about him; if there had been other signs 
of his utter alienation she would have sought them out; 
too; for she felt that it was only by heaping one truth 
upon another that she could keep herself sitting there; 
upright。 The truth seemed to support her; it struck her; 
even as she looked at his face; that the light of truth was 
shining far away beyond him; the light of truth; she 
seemed to frame the words as she rose to go; shines on a 
world not to be shaken by our personal calamities。 

Ralph handed her her coat and her stick。 She took them; 
fastened the coat securely; grasped the stick firmly。 The 
ivy spray was still twisted about the

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