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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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- Стр. 29/96
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He
woke
with
extreme
suddenness
,
saying
to
himself
,
"
The
death
of
the
soul
.
"
"
Lord
,
Lord
!
"
he
said
to
himself
out
loud
,
stretching
and
opening
his
eyes
.
"
The
death
of
the
soul
.
"
The
words
attached
themselves
to
some
scene
,
to
some
room
,
to
some
past
he
had
been
dreaming
of
.
It
became
clearer
;
the
scene
,
the
room
,
the
past
he
had
been
dreaming
of
.
It
was
at
Bourton
that
summer
,
early
in
the
'
nineties
,
when
he
was
so
passionately
in
love
with
Clarissa
.
There
were
a
great
many
people
there
,
laughing
and
talking
,
sitting
round
a
table
after
tea
and
the
room
was
bathed
in
yellow
light
and
full
of
cigarette
smoke
.
They
were
talking
about
a
man
who
had
married
his
housemaid
,
one
of
the
neighbouring
squires
,
he
had
forgotten
his
name
.
He
had
married
his
housemaid
,
and
she
had
been
brought
to
Bourton
to
call
--
an
awful
visit
it
had
been
.
She
was
absurdly
over-dressed
,
"
like
a
cockatoo
,
"
Clarissa
had
said
,
imitating
her
,
and
she
never
stopped
talking
.
On
and
on
she
went
,
on
and
on
.
Clarissa
imitated
her
.
Then
somebody
said
--
Sally
Seton
it
was
--
did
it
make
any
real
difference
to
one
's
feelings
to
know
that
before
they
'd
married
she
had
had
a
baby
?
(
In
those
days
,
in
mixed
company
,
it
was
a
bold
thing
to
say
.
)
He
could
see
Clarissa
now
,
turning
bright
pink
;
somehow
contracting
;
and
saying
,
"
Oh
,
I
shall
never
be
able
to
speak
to
her
again
!
"
Whereupon
the
whole
party
sitting
round
the
tea-table
seemed
to
wobble
.
It
was
very
uncomfortable
.
He
had
n't
blamed
her
for
minding
the
fact
,
since
in
those
days
a
girl
brought
up
as
she
was
,
knew
nothing
,
but
it
was
her
manner
that
annoyed
him
;
timid
;
hard
;
something
arrogant
;
unimaginative
;
prudish
.
"
The
death
of
the
soul
.
"
He
had
said
that
instinctively
,
ticketing
the
moment
as
he
used
to
do
--
the
death
of
her
soul
.
Every
one
wobbled
;
every
one
seemed
to
bow
,
as
she
spoke
,
and
then
to
stand
up
different
.
He
could
see
Sally
Seton
,
like
a
child
who
has
been
in
mischief
,
leaning
forward
,
rather
flushed
,
wanting
to
talk
,
but
afraid
,
and
Clarissa
did
frighten
people
.
(
She
was
Clarissa
's
greatest
friend
,
always
about
the
place
,
totally
unlike
her
,
an
attractive
creature
,
handsome
,
dark
,
with
the
reputation
in
those
days
of
great
daring
and
he
used
to
give
her
cigars
,
which
she
smoked
in
her
bedroom
.
She
had
either
been
engaged
to
somebody
or
quarrelled
with
her
family
and
old
Parry
disliked
them
both
equally
,
which
was
a
great
bond
.
)
Then
Clarissa
,
still
with
an
air
of
being
offended
with
them
all
,
got
up
,
made
some
excuse
,
and
went
off
,
alone
.
As
she
opened
the
door
,
in
came
that
great
shaggy
dog
which
ran
after
sheep
.
She
flung
herself
upon
him
,
went
into
raptures
.
It
was
as
if
she
said
to
Peter
--
it
was
all
aimed
at
him
,
he
knew
--
"
I
know
you
thought
me
absurd
about
that
woman
just
now
;
but
see
how
extraordinarily
sympathetic
I
am
;
see
how
I
love
my
Rob
!
"
They
had
always
this
queer
power
of
communicating
without
words
.
She
knew
directly
he
criticised
her
.
Then
she
would
do
something
quite
obvious
to
defend
herself
,
like
this
fuss
with
the
dog
--
but
it
never
took
him
in
,
he
always
saw
through
Clarissa
.
Not
that
he
said
anything
,
of
course
;
just
sat
looking
glum
.
It
was
the
way
their
quarrels
often
began
.
She
shut
the
door
.
At
once
he
became
extremely
depressed
.
It
all
seemed
useless
--
going
on
being
in
love
;
going
on
quarrelling
;
going
on
making
it
up
,
and
he
wandered
off
alone
,
among
outhouses
,
stables
,
looking
at
the
horses
.
(
The
place
was
quite
a
humble
one
;
the
Parrys
were
never
very
well
off
;
but
there
were
always
grooms
and
stable-boys
about
--
Clarissa
loved
riding
--
and
an
old
coachman
--
what
was
his
name
?
--
an
old
nurse
,
old
Moody
,
old
Goody
,
some
such
name
they
called
her
,
whom
one
was
taken
to
visit
in
a
little
room
with
lots
of
photographs
,
lots
of
bird-cages
.
)
It
was
an
awful
evening
!
He
grew
more
and
more
gloomy
,
not
about
that
only
;
about
everything
.
And
he
could
n't
see
her
;
could
n't
explain
to
her
;
could
n't
have
it
out
.
There
were
always
people
about
--
she
'd
go
on
as
if
nothing
had
happened
.
That
was
the
devilish
part
of
her
--
this
coldness
,
this
woodenness
,
something
very
profound
in
her
,
which
he
had
felt
again
this
morning
talking
to
her
;
an
impenetrability
.
Yet
Heaven
knows
he
loved
her
.
She
had
some
queer
power
of
fiddling
on
one
's
nerves
,
turning
one
's
nerves
to
fiddle-strings
,
yes
.
