[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第71部分

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moved　as　if　he　were　acting　some　part　to　himself。　He　came　
down　very　slowly；　step　by　step；　with　one　hand　upon　the　
banisters　to　guide　himself。　She　thought　he　looked　as　if　
he　were　in　some　mood　of　high　exaltation；　which　it　made　
her　unfortable　to　witness　any　longer　unseen。　She　

stepped　into　the　hall。　He　gave　a　great　start　upon　seeing　

her　and　stopped。　

“Katharine！”　he　exclaimed。　“You’ve　been　out？”　he　asked。　

“Yes…　。　Are　they　still　up？”　

He　did　not　answer；　and　walked　into　the　groundfloor　
room　through　the　door　which　stood　open。　

“It’s　been　more　wonderful　than　I　can　tell　you；”　he　said；　
“I’m　incredibly　happy—”　

He　was　scarcely　addressing　her；　and　she　said　nothing。　
For　a　moment　they　stood　at　opposite　sides　of　a　table　
saying　nothing。　Then　he　asked　her　quickly；　“But　tell　me；　
how　did　it　seem　to　you？　What　did　you　think；　Katharine？　
Is　there　a　chance　that　she　likes　me？　Tell　me；　Katharine！”　

Before　she　could　answer　a　door　opened　on　the　landing　
above　and　disturbed　them。　It　disturbed　William　excessively。　
He　started　back；　walked　rapidly　into　the　hall；　and　
said　in　a　loud　and　ostentatiously　ordinary　tone：　

“Good　night；　Katharine。　Go　to　bed　now。　I　shall　see　you　
soon。　I　hope　I　shall　be　able　to　e　tomorrow。”　

Next　moment　he　was　gone。　She　went　upstairs　and　found　
Cassandra　on　the　landing。　She　held　two　or　three　books　in　

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her　hand；　and　she　was　stooping　to　look　at　others　in　a　
little　bookcase。　She　said　that　she　could　never　tell　which　
book　she　wanted　to　read　in　bed；　poetry；　biography；　or　
metaphysics。　

“What　do　you　read　in　bed；　Katharine？”　she　asked；　as　
they　walked　upstairs　side　by　side。　

“Sometimes　one　thing—sometimes　another；”　said　
Katharine　vaguely。　Cassandra　looked　at　her。　

“D’you　know；　you’re　extraordinarily　queer；”　she　said。　“Every　
one　seems　to　me　a　little　queer。　Perhaps　it’s　the　effect　
of　London。”　

“Is　William　queer；　too？”　Katharine　asked。　

“Well；　I　think　he　is　a　little；”　Cassandra　replied。　“Queer；　
but　very　fascinating。　I　shall　read　Milton　tonight。　It’s　
been　one　of　the　happiest　nights　of　my　life；　Katharine；”　
she　added；　looking　with　shy　devotion　at　her　cousin’s　beautiful　
face。　

CHAPTER　XXVII　


London；　in　the　first　days　of　spring；　has　buds　that　open　
and　flowers　that　suddenly　shake　their　petals—white；　
purple；　or　crimson—in　petition　with　the　display　in　
the　garden　beds；　although　these　city　flowers　are　merely　
so　many　doors　flung　wide　in　Bond　Street　and　the　neighborhood；　
inviting　you　to　look　at　a　picture；　or　hear　a　symphony；　
or　merely　crowd　and　crush　yourself　among　all　sorts　
of　vocal；　excitable；　brightly　colored　human　beings。　But；　
all　the　same；　it　is　no　mean　rival　to　the　quieter　process　of　
vegetable　florescence。　Whether　or　not　there　is　a　generous　
motive　at　the　root；　a　desire　to　share　and　impart；　or　
whether　the　animation　is　purely　that　of　insensate　fervor　
and　friction；　the　effect；　while　it　lasts；　certainly　encourages　
those　who　are　young；　and　those　who　are　ignorant；　
to　think　the　world　one　great　bazaar；　with　banners　fluttering　
and　divans　heaped　with　spoils　from　every　quarter　of　
the　globe　for　their　delight。　

As　Cassandra　Otway　went　about　London　provided　with　
shillings　that　opened　turnstiles；　or　more　often　with　large　

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white　cards　that　disregarded　turnstiles；　the　city　seemed　
to　her　the　most　lavish　and　hospitable　of　hosts。　After　visiting　
the　National　Gallery；　or　Hertford　House；　or　hearing　
Brahms　or　Beethoven　at　the　Bechstein　Hall；　she　would　
e　back　to　find　a　new　person　awaiting　her；　in　whose　
soul　were　imbedded　some　grains　of　the　invaluable　substance　
which　she　still　called　reality；　and　still　believed　
that　she　could　find。　The　Hilberys；　as　the　saying　is；　“knew　
every　one；”　and　that　arrogant　claim　was　certainly　upheld　
by　the　number　of　houses　which；　within　a　certain　area；　lit　
their　lamps　at　night；　opened　their　doors　after　3　p。　m。；　
and　admitted　the　Hilberys　to　their　diningrooms；　say；　once　
a　month。　An　indefinable　freedom　and　authority　of　manner；　
shared　by　most　of　the　people　who　lived　in　these　
houses；　seemed　to　indicate　that　whether　it　was　a　question　
of　art；　music；　or　government；　they　were　well　within　
the　gates；　and　could　smile　indulgently　at　the　vast　mass　
of　humanity　which　is　forced　to　wait　and　struggle；　and　
pay　for　entrance　with　mon　coin　at　the　door。　The　gates　
opened　instantly　to　admit　Cassandra。　She　was　naturally　
critical　of　what　went　on　inside；　and　inclined　to　quote　

what　Henry　would　have　said；　but　she　often　succeeded　in　
contradicting　Henry；　in　his　absence；　and　invariably　paid　
her　partner　at　dinner；　or　the　kind　old　lady　who　remembered　
her　grandmother；　the　pliment　of　believing　that　
there　was　meaning　in　what　they　said。　For　the　sake　of　the　
light　in　her　eager　eyes；　much　crudity　of　expression　and　
some　untidiness　of　person　were　forgiven　her。　It　was　generally　
felt　that；　given　a　year　or　two　of　experience；　introduced　
to　good　dressmakers；　and　preserved　from　bad　influences；　
she　would　be　an　acquisition。　Those　elderly　ladies；　
who　sit　on　the　edge　of　ballrooms　sampling　the　stuff　
of　humanity　between　finger　and　thumb　and　breathing　so　
evenly　that　the　necklaces；　which　rise　and　fall　upon　their　
breasts；　seem　to　represent　some　elemental　force；　such　as　
the　waves　upon　the　ocean　of　humanity；　concluded；　a　little　
smilingly；　that　she　would　do。　They　meant　that　she　would　
in　all　probability　marry　some　young　man　whose　mother　
they　respected。　

William　Rodney　was　fertile　in　suggestions。　He　knew　of　
little　galleries；　and　select　concerts；　and　private　performances；　
and　somehow　made　time　to　meet　Katharine　and　

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Cassandra；　and　to　give　them　tea　or　dinner　or　supper　in　
his　rooms　afterwards。　Each　one　of　her　fourteen　days　thus　
promised　to　bear　some　bright　illumination　in　its　sober　
text。　But　Sunday　approached。　The　day　is　usually　dedicated　
to　Nature。　The　weather　was　almost　kindly　enough　
for　an　expedition。　But　Cassandra　rejected　Hampton　Court；　
Greenwich；　Richmond；　and　Kew　in　favor　of　the　Zoological　
Gardens。　She　had　once　trifled　with　the　psychology　of　
animals；　and　still　knew　something　about　inherited　characteristics。　
On　Sunday　afternoon；　therefore；　Katharine；　
Cassandra；　and　William　Rodney　drove　off　to　the　Zoo。　As　
their　cab　approached　the　entrance；　Katharine　bent　forward　
and　waved　her　hand　to　a　young　man　who　was　walking　
rapidly　in　the　same　direction。　

“There’s　Ralph　Denham！”　she　exclaimed。　“I　told　him　to　
meet　us　here；”　she　added。　She　had　even　e　provided　
with　a　ticket　for　him。　William’s　objection　that　he　would　
not　be　admitted　was；　therefore；　silenced　directly。　But　the　
way　in　which　the　two　men　greeted　each　other　was　significant　
of　what　was　going　to　happen。　As　soon　as　they　
had　admired　the　little　birds　in　the　large　cage　William　and　

Cassandra　lagged　behind；　and　Ralph　and　Katharine　pressed　
on　rather　in　advance。　It　was　an　arrangement　in　which　
William　took　his　part；　and　one　that　suited　his　convenience；　
but　he　was　annoyed　all　the　same。　He　thought　
that　Katharine　should　have　told　him　that　she　had　invited　
Denham　to　meet　them。　

“One　of　Katharine’s　friends；”　he　said　rather　sharply。　It　
was　clear　that　he　was　irritated；　and　Cassandra　felt　for　his　
annoyance。　They　were　standing　by　the　pen　of　some　Oriental　
hog；　and　she　was　prodding　the　brute　gently　with　
the　point　of　her　umbrella；　when　a　thousand　little　observations　
seemed；　in　some　way；　to　collect　in　one　center。　
The　center　was　one　of　intense　and　curious　emotion。　Were　
they　happy？　She　dismissed　the　question　as　she　asked　it；　
scorning　herself　for　applying　such　simple　measures　to　
the　rare　and　splendid　emotions　of　so　unique　a　couple。　
Nevertheless；　her　manner　became　immediately　different；　
as　if；　for　the　first　time；　she　felt　consciously　womanly；　and　
as　if　William　might　conceivably　wish　later　on　to　confide　
in　her。　She　forgot　all　about　the　psychology　of　animals；　
and　the　recurrence　of　blue　eyes　and　brown；　and　became　

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instantly　engrossed　in　her　feelings　as　a　woman　who　could　
administer　consolation；　and　she　hoped　that　Katharine　
would　keep　ahead　with　Mr。　Denham；　as　a　child　who　plays　
at　being　grownup　hopes　that　her　mother　won’t　e　in　
just　yet；　and　spoil　the　game。　Or　was　it　not　rather　that　she　
had　ceased　to　play　at　being　grownup；　and　was　conscious；　
suddenly；　that　she　was　alarmingly　mature　and　in　earnest？　

There　was　still　unbroken　silence　between　Katharine　and　
Ralph　Denham；　but　the　occupants　of　the　different　cages　
served　instead　of　speech。　

“What　have　you　been　doing　since　we　met？”　Ralph　asked　
at　length。　

“Doing？”　she　pondered。　“Walking　in　and　out　of　other　
people’s　houses。　I　wonder　if　these　animals　are　happy？”　
she　speculated；　stopping　before　a　gray　bear；　who　was　
philosophically　playing　with　a　tassel　which　once；　perhaps；　
formed　part　of　a　lady’s　parasol。　

“I’m　afraid　Rodney　didn’t　like　my　ing；”　Ralph　remarked。　


“No。　But　he’ll　soon　get　over　that；”　she　replied。　The　detachment　
expressed　by　her　voice　puzzled　Ralph；　and　he　

would　have　been　glad　if　she　had　explained　her　meaning　
further。　But　he　was　not　going　to　press　her　for　explanations。　
Each　moment　was　to　be；　as　far　as　he　could　make　it；　
plete　in　itself；　owing　nothing　of　its　happiness　to　explanations；　
borrowing　neither　bright　nor　dark　tints　from　
the　future。　

“The　bears　seem　happy；”　he　remarked。　“But　we　must　
buy　them　a　bag　of　something。　There’s　the　place　to　buy　
buns。　Let’s　go　and　get　them。”　They　walked　to　the　counter　
piled　with　little　paper　bags；　and　each　simultaneously　produced　
a　shilling　and　pressed　it　upon　the　young　lady；　who　
did　not　know　whether　to　oblige　the　lady　or　the　gentleman；　
but　decided；　from　conventional　reasons；　that　it　was　
the　part　of　the　gentleman　to　pay。　

“I　wish　to　pay；”　said　Ralph　peremptorily；　refusing　the　
coin　which　Katharine　tendered。　“I　have　a　reason　for　what　
I　do；”　he　added；　seeing　her　smile　at　his　tone　of　decision。　

“I　believe　you　have　a　reason　for　everything；”　she　agreed；　
breaking　the　bun　into　parts　and　tossing　them　down　the　
bears’　throats；　“but　I　can’t　be