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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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- Стр. 6/96
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Everything
had
come
to
a
standstill
.
The
throb
of
the
motor
engines
sounded
like
a
pulse
irregularly
drumming
through
an
entire
body
.
The
sun
became
extraordinarily
hot
because
the
motor
car
had
stopped
outside
Mulberry
's
shop
window
;
old
ladies
on
the
tops
of
omnibuses
spread
their
black
parasols
;
here
a
green
,
here
a
red
parasol
opened
with
a
little
pop
.
Mrs.
Dalloway
,
coming
to
the
window
with
her
arms
full
of
sweet
peas
,
looked
out
with
her
little
pink
face
pursed
in
enquiry
.
Every
one
looked
at
the
motor
car
.
Septimus
looked
.
Boys
on
bicycles
sprang
off
.
Traffic
accumulated
.
And
there
the
motor
car
stood
,
with
drawn
blinds
,
and
upon
them
a
curious
pattern
like
a
tree
,
Septimus
thought
,
and
this
gradual
drawing
together
of
everything
to
one
centre
before
his
eyes
,
as
if
some
horror
had
come
almost
to
the
surface
and
was
about
to
burst
into
flames
,
terrified
him
.
The
world
wavered
and
quivered
and
threatened
to
burst
into
flames
.
It
is
I
who
am
blocking
the
way
,
he
thought
.
Was
he
not
being
looked
at
and
pointed
at
;
was
he
not
weighted
there
,
rooted
to
the
pavement
,
for
a
purpose
?
But
for
what
purpose
?
"
Let
us
go
on
,
Septimus
,
"
said
his
wife
,
a
little
woman
,
with
large
eyes
in
a
sallow
pointed
face
;
an
Italian
girl
.
But
Lucrezia
herself
could
not
help
looking
at
the
motor
car
and
the
tree
pattern
on
the
blinds
.
Was
it
the
Queen
in
there
--
the
Queen
going
shopping
?
The
chauffeur
,
who
had
been
opening
something
,
turning
something
,
shutting
something
,
got
on
to
the
box
.
"
Come
on
,
"
said
Lucrezia
.
But
her
husband
,
for
they
had
been
married
four
,
five
years
now
,
jumped
,
started
,
and
said
,
"
All
right
!
"
angrily
,
as
if
she
had
interrupted
him
.
People
must
notice
;
people
must
see
.
People
,
she
thought
,
looking
at
the
crowd
staring
at
the
motor
car
;
the
English
people
,
with
their
children
and
their
horses
and
their
clothes
,
which
she
admired
in
a
way
;
but
they
were
"
people
"
now
,
because
Septimus
had
said
,
"
I
will
kill
myself
"
;
an
awful
thing
to
say
.
Suppose
they
had
heard
him
?
She
looked
at
the
crowd
.
Help
,
help
!
she
wanted
to
cry
out
to
butchers
'
boys
and
women
.
Help
!
Only
last
autumn
she
and
Septimus
had
stood
on
the
Embankment
wrapped
in
the
same
cloak
and
,
Septimus
reading
a
paper
instead
of
talking
,
she
had
snatched
it
from
him
and
laughed
in
the
old
man
's
face
who
saw
them
!
But
failure
one
conceals
.
She
must
take
him
away
into
some
park
.
"
Now
we
will
cross
,
"
she
said
.
She
had
a
right
to
his
arm
,
though
it
was
without
feeling
.
He
would
give
her
,
who
was
so
simple
,
so
impulsive
,
only
twenty-four
,
without
friends
in
England
,
who
had
left
Italy
for
his
sake
,
a
piece
of
bone
.
