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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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- Стр. 49/96
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"
Trust
everything
to
me
,
"
he
said
,
and
dismissed
them
.
Never
,
never
had
Rezia
felt
such
agony
in
her
life
!
She
had
asked
for
help
and
been
deserted
!
He
had
failed
them
!
Sir
William
Bradshaw
was
not
a
nice
man
.
The
upkeep
of
that
motor
car
alone
must
cost
him
quite
a
lot
,
said
Septimus
,
when
they
got
out
into
the
street
.
She
clung
to
his
arm
.
They
had
been
deserted
.
But
what
more
did
she
want
?
To
his
patients
he
gave
three-quarters
of
an
hour
;
and
if
in
this
exacting
science
which
has
to
do
with
what
,
after
all
,
we
know
nothing
about
--
the
nervous
system
,
the
human
brain
--
a
doctor
loses
his
sense
of
proportion
,
as
a
doctor
he
fails
.
Health
we
must
have
;
and
health
is
proportion
;
so
that
when
a
man
comes
into
your
room
and
says
he
is
Christ
(
a
common
delusion
)
,
and
has
a
message
,
as
they
mostly
have
,
and
threatens
,
as
they
often
do
,
to
kill
himself
,
you
invoke
proportion
;
order
rest
in
bed
;
rest
in
solitude
;
silence
and
rest
;
rest
without
friends
,
without
books
,
without
messages
;
six
months
'
rest
;
until
a
man
who
went
in
weighing
seven
stone
six
comes
out
weighing
twelve
.
Proportion
,
divine
proportion
,
Sir
William
's
goddess
,
was
acquired
by
Sir
William
walking
hospitals
,
catching
salmon
,
begetting
one
son
in
Harley
Street
by
Lady
Bradshaw
,
who
caught
salmon
herself
and
took
photographs
scarcely
to
be
distinguished
from
the
work
of
professionals
.
Worshipping
proportion
,
Sir
William
not
only
prospered
himself
but
made
England
prosper
,
secluded
her
lunatics
,
forbade
childbirth
,
penalised
despair
,
made
it
impossible
for
the
unfit
to
propagate
their
views
until
they
,
too
,
shared
his
sense
of
proportion
--
his
,
if
they
were
men
,
Lady
Bradshaw
's
if
they
were
women
(
she
embroidered
,
knitted
,
spent
four
nights
out
of
seven
at
home
with
her
son
)
,
so
that
not
only
did
his
colleagues
respect
him
,
his
subordinates
fear
him
,
but
the
friends
and
relations
of
his
patients
felt
for
him
the
keenest
gratitude
for
insisting
that
these
prophetic
Christs
and
Christesses
,
who
prophesied
the
end
of
the
world
,
or
the
advent
of
God
,
should
drink
milk
in
bed
,
as
Sir
William
ordered
;
Sir
William
with
his
thirty
years
'
experience
of
these
kinds
of
cases
,
and
his
infallible
instinct
,
this
is
madness
,
this
sense
;
in
fact
,
his
sense
of
proportion
.
But
Proportion
has
a
sister
,
less
smiling
,
more
formidable
,
a
Goddess
even
now
engaged
--
in
the
heat
and
sands
of
India
,
the
mud
and
swamp
of
Africa
,
the
purlieus
of
London
,
wherever
in
short
the
climate
or
the
devil
tempts
men
to
fall
from
the
true
belief
which
is
her
own
--
is
even
now
engaged
in
dashing
down
shrines
,
smashing
idols
,
and
setting
up
in
their
place
her
own
stern
countenance
.
Conversion
is
her
name
and
she
feasts
on
the
wills
of
the
weakly
,
loving
to
impress
,
to
impose
,
adoring
her
own
features
stamped
on
the
face
of
the
populace
.
