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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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- Стр. 17/96
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How
many
million
times
she
had
seen
her
face
,
and
always
with
the
same
imperceptible
contraction
!
She
pursed
her
lips
when
she
looked
in
the
glass
.
It
was
to
give
her
face
point
.
That
was
her
self
--
pointed
;
dartlike
;
definite
.
That
was
her
self
when
some
effort
,
some
call
on
her
to
be
her
self
,
drew
the
parts
together
,
she
alone
knew
how
different
,
how
incompatible
and
composed
so
for
the
world
only
into
one
centre
,
one
diamond
,
one
woman
who
sat
in
her
drawing-room
and
made
a
meeting-point
,
a
radiancy
no
doubt
in
some
dull
lives
,
a
refuge
for
the
lonely
to
come
to
,
perhaps
;
she
had
helped
young
people
,
who
were
grateful
to
her
;
had
tried
to
be
the
same
always
,
never
showing
a
sign
of
all
the
other
sides
of
her
--
faults
,
jealousies
,
vanities
,
suspicions
,
like
this
of
Lady
Bruton
not
asking
her
to
lunch
;
which
,
she
thought
(
combing
her
hair
finally
)
,
is
utterly
base
!
Now
,
where
was
her
dress
?
Her
evening
dresses
hung
in
the
cupboard
.
Clarissa
,
plunging
her
hand
into
the
softness
,
gently
detached
the
green
dress
and
carried
it
to
the
window
.
She
had
torn
it
.
Some
one
had
trod
on
the
skirt
.
She
had
felt
it
give
at
the
Embassy
party
at
the
top
among
the
folds
.
By
artificial
light
the
green
shone
,
but
lost
its
colour
now
in
the
sun
.
She
would
mend
it
.
Her
maids
had
too
much
to
do
.
She
would
wear
it
to-night
.
She
would
take
her
silks
,
her
scissors
,
her
--
what
was
it
?
--
her
thimble
,
of
course
,
down
into
the
drawing-room
,
for
she
must
also
write
,
and
see
that
things
generally
were
more
or
less
in
order
.
Strange
,
she
thought
,
pausing
on
the
landing
,
and
assembling
that
diamond
shape
,
that
single
person
,
strange
how
a
mistress
knows
the
very
moment
,
the
very
temper
of
her
house
!
Faint
sounds
rose
in
spirals
up
the
well
of
the
stairs
;
the
swish
of
a
mop
;
tapping
;
knocking
;
a
loudness
when
the
front
door
opened
;
a
voice
repeating
a
message
in
the
basement
;
the
chink
of
silver
on
a
tray
;
clean
silver
for
the
party
.
All
was
for
the
party
.
(
And
Lucy
,
coming
into
the
drawing-room
with
her
tray
held
out
,
put
the
giant
candlesticks
on
the
mantelpiece
,
the
silver
casket
in
the
middle
,
turned
the
crystal
dolphin
towards
the
clock
.
They
would
come
;
they
would
stand
;
they
would
talk
in
the
mincing
tones
which
she
could
imitate
,
ladies
and
gentlemen
.
Of
all
,
her
mistress
was
loveliest
--
mistress
of
silver
,
of
linen
,
of
china
,
for
the
sun
,
the
silver
,
doors
off
their
hinges
,
Rumpelmayer
's
men
,
gave
her
a
sense
,
as
she
laid
the
paper-knife
on
the
inlaid
table
,
of
something
achieved
.
Behold
!
Behold
!
she
said
,
speaking
to
her
old
friends
in
the
baker
's
shop
,
where
she
had
first
seen
service
at
Caterham
,
prying
into
the
glass
.
She
was
Lady
Angela
,
attending
Princess
Mary
,
when
in
came
Mrs.
Dalloway
.
)
"
Oh
Lucy
,
"
she
said
,
"
the
silver
does
look
nice
!
"
"
And
how
,
"
she
said
,
turning
the
crystal
dolphin
to
stand
straight
,
"
how
did
you
enjoy
the
play
last
night
?
"
"
Oh
,
they
had
to
go
before
the
end
!
"
she
said
.
"
They
had
to
be
back
at
ten
!
"
she
said
.
"
So
they
do
n't
know
what
happened
,
"
she
said
.
"
That
does
seem
hard
luck
,
"
she
said
(
for
her
servants
stayed
later
,
if
they
asked
her
)
.
"
That
does
seem
rather
a
shame
,
"
she
said
,
taking
the
old
bald-looking
cushion
in
the
middle
of
the
sofa
and
putting
it
in
Lucy
's
arms
,
and
giving
her
a
little
push
,
and
crying
:
"
Take
it
away
!
Give
it
to
Mrs.
Walker
with
my
compliments
!
Take
it
away
!
"
she
cried
.
And
Lucy
stopped
at
the
drawing-room
door
,
holding
the
cushion
,
and
said
,
very
shyly
,
turning
a
little
pink
,
Could
n't
she
help
to
mend
that
dress
?
