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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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- Стр. 62/96
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Love
destroyed
too
.
Everything
that
was
fine
,
everything
that
was
true
went
.
Take
Peter
Walsh
now
.
There
was
a
man
,
charming
,
clever
,
with
ideas
about
everything
.
If
you
wanted
to
know
about
Pope
,
say
,
or
Addison
,
or
just
to
talk
nonsense
,
what
people
were
like
,
what
things
meant
,
Peter
knew
better
than
any
one
.
It
was
Peter
who
had
helped
her
;
Peter
who
had
lent
her
books
.
But
look
at
the
women
he
loved
--
vulgar
,
trivial
,
commonplace
.
Think
of
Peter
in
love
--
he
came
to
see
her
after
all
these
years
,
and
what
did
he
talk
about
?
Himself
.
Horrible
passion
!
she
thought
.
Degrading
passion
!
she
thought
,
thinking
of
Kilman
and
her
Elizabeth
walking
to
the
Army
and
Navy
Stores
.
Big
Ben
struck
the
half-hour
.
How
extraordinary
it
was
,
strange
,
yes
,
touching
,
to
see
the
old
lady
(
they
had
been
neighbours
ever
so
many
years
)
move
away
from
the
window
,
as
if
she
were
attached
to
that
sound
,
that
string
.
Gigantic
as
it
was
,
it
had
something
to
do
with
her
.
Down
,
down
,
into
the
midst
of
ordinary
things
the
finger
fell
making
the
moment
solemn
.
She
was
forced
,
so
Clarissa
imagined
,
by
that
sound
,
to
move
,
to
go
--
but
where
?
Clarissa
tried
to
follow
her
as
she
turned
and
disappeared
,
and
could
still
just
see
her
white
cap
moving
at
the
back
of
the
bedroom
.
She
was
still
there
moving
about
at
the
other
end
of
the
room
.
Why
creeds
and
prayers
and
mackintoshes
?
when
,
thought
Clarissa
,
that
's
the
miracle
,
that
's
the
mystery
;
that
old
lady
,
she
meant
,
whom
she
could
see
going
from
chest
of
drawers
to
dressing-table
.
She
could
still
see
her
.
And
the
supreme
mystery
which
Kilman
might
say
she
had
solved
,
or
Peter
might
say
he
had
solved
,
but
Clarissa
did
n't
believe
either
of
them
had
the
ghost
of
an
idea
of
solving
,
was
simply
this
:
here
was
one
room
;
there
another
.
Did
religion
solve
that
,
or
love
?
Love
--
but
here
the
other
clock
,
the
clock
which
always
struck
two
minutes
after
Big
Ben
,
came
shuffling
in
with
its
lap
full
of
odds
and
ends
,
which
it
dumped
down
as
if
Big
Ben
were
all
very
well
with
his
majesty
laying
down
the
law
,
so
solemn
,
so
just
,
but
she
must
remember
all
sorts
of
little
things
besides
--
Mrs.
Marsham
,
Ellie
Henderson
,
glasses
for
ices
--
all
sorts
of
little
things
came
flooding
and
lapping
and
dancing
in
on
the
wake
of
that
solemn
stroke
which
lay
flat
like
a
bar
of
gold
on
the
sea
.
Mrs.
Marsham
,
Ellie
Henderson
,
glasses
for
ices
.
She
must
telephone
now
at
once
.
Volubly
,
troublously
,
the
late
clock
sounded
,
coming
in
on
the
wake
of
Big
Ben
,
with
its
lap
full
of
trifles
.
Beaten
up
,
broken
up
by
the
assault
of
carriages
,
the
brutality
of
vans
,
the
eager
advance
of
myriads
of
angular
men
,
of
flaunting
women
,
the
domes
and
spires
of
offices
and
hospitals
,
the
last
relics
of
this
lap
full
of
odds
and
ends
seemed
to
break
,
like
the
spray
of
an
exhausted
wave
,
upon
the
body
of
Miss
Kilman
standing
still
in
the
street
for
a
moment
to
mutter
"
It
is
the
flesh
.
"
It
was
the
flesh
that
she
must
control
.
Clarissa
Dalloway
had
insulted
her
.
That
she
expected
.
But
she
had
not
triumphed
;
she
had
not
mastered
the
flesh
.
Ugly
,
clumsy
,
Clarissa
Dalloway
had
laughed
at
her
for
being
that
;
and
had
revived
the
fleshly
desires
,
for
she
minded
looking
as
she
did
beside
Clarissa
.
Nor
could
she
talk
as
she
did
.
But
why
wish
to
resemble
her
?
Why
?
She
despised
Mrs.
Dalloway
from
the
bottom
of
her
heart
.
She
was
not
serious
.
She
was
not
good
.
Her
life
was
a
tissue
of
vanity
and
deceit
.
Yet
Doris
Kilman
had
been
overcome
.
She
had
,
as
a
matter
of
fact
,
very
nearly
burst
into
tears
when
Clarissa
Dalloway
laughed
at
her
.
"
It
is
the
flesh
,
it
is
the
flesh
,
"
she
muttered
(
it
being
her
habit
to
talk
aloud
)
trying
to
subdue
this
turbulent
and
painful
feeling
as
she
walked
down
Victoria
Street
.
She
prayed
to
God
.
She
could
not
help
being
ugly
;
she
could
not
afford
to
buy
pretty
clothes
.
Clarissa
Dalloway
had
laughed
--
but
she
would
concentrate
her
mind
upon
something
else
until
she
had
reached
the
pillar-box
.
At
any
rate
she
had
got
Elizabeth
.
But
she
would
think
of
something
else
;
she
would
think
of
Russia
;
until
she
reached
the
pillar-box
.
How
nice
it
must
be
,
she
said
,
in
the
country
,
struggling
,
as
Mr.
Whittaker
had
told
her
,
with
that
violent
grudge
against
the
world
which
had
scorned
her
,
sneered
at
her
,
cast
her
off
,
beginning
with
this
indignity
--
the
infliction
of
her
unlovable
body
which
people
could
not
bear
to
see
.
Do
her
hair
as
she
might
,
her
forehead
remained
like
an
egg
,
bald
,
white
.
No
clothes
suited
her
.
She
might
buy
anything
.
And
for
a
woman
,
of
course
,
that
meant
never
meeting
the
opposite
sex
.
Never
would
she
come
first
with
any
one
.
