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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版-第41部分


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and all the others that puzzled her。 Meanwhile; she 
thought; drawing her feet up on to the fender; life was 
full of plexity; life was a thing one must love to the 
last fiber of it。 

She had sat there for five minutes or so; and her thoughts 
had had time to grow dim; when there came a ring at her 
bell。 Her eye brightened; she felt immediately convinced 
that Ralph had e to visit her。 Accordingly; she waited 
a moment before opening the door; she wanted to feel 
her hands secure upon the reins of all the troublesome 

emotions which the sight of Ralph would certainly arouse。 
She posed herself unnecessarily; however; for she had 
to admit; not Ralph; but Katharine and William Rodney。 
Her first impression was that they were both extremely 
well dressed。 She felt herself shabby and slovenly beside 
them; and did not know how she should entertain them; 
nor could she guess why they had e。 She had heard 
nothing of their engagement。 But after the first disappointment; 
she was pleased; for she felt instantly that 
Katharine was a personality; and; moreover; she need not 
now exercise her selfcontrol。 

“We were passing and saw a light in your window; so we 
came up;” Katharine explained; standing and looking very 
tall and distinguished and rather absentminded。 

“We have been to see some pictures;” said William。 “Oh; 
dear;” he exclaimed; looking about him; “this room reminds 
me of one of the worst hours in my existence— 
when I read a paper; and you all sat round and jeered at 
me。 Katharine was the worst。 I could feel her gloating over 
every mistake I made。 Miss Datchet was kind。 Miss Datchet 
just made it possible for me to get through; I remember。” 

146 



Virginia Woolf 

Sitting down; he drew off his light yellow gloves; and 
began slapping his knees with them。 His vitality was pleasant; 
Mary thought; although he made her laugh。 The very 
look of him was inclined to make her laugh。 His rather 
prominent eyes passed from one young woman to the 
other; and his lips perpetually formed words which remained 
unspoken。 

“We have been seeing old masters at the Grafton Gallery;” 
said Katharine; apparently paying no attention to 
William; and accepting a cigarette which Mary offered 
her。 She leant back in her chair; and the smoke which 
hung about her face seemed to withdraw her still further 
from the others。 

“Would you believe it; Miss Datchet;” William continued; 
“Katharine doesn’t like Titian。 She doesn’t like apricots; 
she doesn’t like peaches; she doesn’t like green peas。 
She likes the Elgin marbles; and gray days without any 
sun。 She’s a typical example of the cold northern nature。 
I e from Devonshire—” 

Had they been quarreling; Mary wondered; and had they; 
for that reason; sought refuge in her room; or were they 

engaged; or had Katharine just refused him? She was 
pletely baffled。 

Katharine now reappeared from her veil of smoke; 
knocked the ash from her cigarette into the fireplace; 
and looked; with an odd expression of solicitude; at the 
irritable man。 

“Perhaps; Mary;” she said tentatively; “you wouldn’t mind 
giving us some tea? We did try to get some; but the shop 
was so crowded; and in the next one there was a band 
playing; and most of the pictures; at any rate; were very 
dull; whatever you may say; William。” She spoke with a 
kind of guarded gentleness。 

Mary; accordingly; retired to make preparations in the 
pantry。 

“What in the world are they after?” she asked of her 
own reflection in the little lookingglass which hung there。 
She was not left to doubt much longer; for; on ing 
back into the sittingroom with the teathings; Katharine 
informed her; apparently having been instructed so to do 
by William; of their engagement。 

“William;” she said; “thinks that perhaps you don’t know。 

147 



Night and Day 

We are going to be married。” 

Mary found herself shaking William’s hand; and addressing 
her congratulations to him; as if Katharine were inaccessible; 
she had; indeed; taken hold of the teakettle。 

“Let me see;” Katharine said; “one puts hot water into 
the cups first; doesn’t one? You have some dodge of your 
own; haven’t you; William; about making tea?” 

Mary was half inclined to suspect that this was said in 
order to conceal nervousness; but if so; the concealment 
was unusually perfect。 Talk of marriage was dismissed。 
Katharine might have been seated in her own drawing
room; controlling a situation which presented no sort of 
difficulty to her trained mind。 Rather to her surprise; Mary 
found herself making conversation with William about 
old Italian pictures; while Katharine poured out tea; cut 
cake; kept William’s plate supplied; without joining more 
than was necessary in the conversation。 She seemed to 
have taken possession of Mary’s room; and to handle the 
cups as if they belonged to her。 But it was done so naturally 
that it bred no resentment in Mary; on the contrary; 
she found herself putting her hand on Katharine’s knee; 

affectionately; for an instant。 Was there something maternal 
in this assumption of control? And thinking of 
Katharine as one who would soon be married; these maternal 
airs filled Mary’s mind with a new tenderness; and 
even with awe。 Katharine seemed very much older and 
more experienced than she was。 

Meanwhile Rodney talked。 If his appearance was superficially 
against him; it had the advantage of making his 
solid merits something of a surprise。 He had kept notebooks; 
he knew a great deal about pictures。 He could pare 
different examples in different galleries; and his authoritative 
answers to intelligent questions gained not a 
little; Mary felt; from the smart taps which he dealt; as he 
delivered them; upon the lumps of coal。 She was impressed。 

“Your tea; William;” said Katharine gently。 

He paused; gulped it down; obediently; and continued。 

And then it struck Mary that Katharine; in the shade of 
her broadbrimmed hat; and in the midst of the smoke; 
and in the obscurity of her character; was; perhaps; smiling 
to herself; not altogether in the maternal spirit。 What 
she said was very simple; but her words; even “Your tea; 

148 



Virginia Woolf 

William;” were set down as gently and cautiously and 
exactly as the feet of a Persian cat stepping among China 
ornaments。 For the second time that day Mary felt herself 
baffled by something inscrutable in the character of a 
person to whom she felt herself much attracted。 She 
thought that if she were engaged to Katharine; she; too; 
would find herself very soon using those fretful questions 
with which William evidently teased his bride。 And 
yet Katharine’s voice was humble。 

“I wonder how you find the time to know all about 
pictures as well as books?” she asked。 

“How do I find the time?” William answered; delighted; 
Mary guessed; at this little pliment。 “Why; I always 
travel with a notebook。 And I ask my way to the picture 
gallery the very first thing in the morning。 And then I 
meet men; and talk to them。 There’s a man in my office 
who knows all about the Flemish school。 I was telling 
Miss Datchet about the Flemish school。 I picked up a lot 
of it from him—it’s a way men have—Gibbons; his name 
is。 You must meet him。 We’ll ask him to lunch。 And this 
not caring about art;” he explained; turning to Mary; “it’s 

one of Katharine’s poses; Miss Datchet。 Did you know she 
posed? She pretends that she’s never read Shakespeare。 
And why should she read Shakespeare; since she IS 
Shakespeare—Rosalind; you know;” and he gave his queer 
little chuckle。 Somehow this pliment appeared very 
oldfashioned and almost in bad taste。 Mary actually felt 
herself blush; as if he had said “the sex” or “the ladies。” 
Constrained; perhaps; by nervousness; Rodney continued 
in the same vein。 

“She knows enough—enough for all decent purposes。 
What do you women want with learning; when you have 
so much else—everything; I should say—everything。 
Leave us something; eh; Katharine?” 

“Leave you something?” said Kathar

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