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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Миссис Дэллоуэй
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- Стр. 74/96
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"
My
dear
lady
,
I
have
come
as
a
friend
,
"
Holmes
was
saying
.
"
No
.
I
will
not
allow
you
to
see
my
husband
,
"
she
said
.
He
could
see
her
,
like
a
little
hen
,
with
her
wings
spread
barring
his
passage
.
But
Holmes
persevered
.
"
My
dear
lady
,
allow
me
...
"
Holmes
said
,
putting
her
aside
(
Holmes
was
a
powerfully
built
man
)
.
Holmes
was
coming
upstairs
.
Holmes
would
burst
open
the
door
.
Holmes
would
say
"
In
a
funk
,
eh
?
"
Holmes
would
get
him
.
But
no
;
not
Holmes
;
not
Bradshaw
.
Getting
up
rather
unsteadily
,
hopping
indeed
from
foot
to
foot
,
he
considered
Mrs.
Filmer
's
nice
clean
bread
knife
with
"
Bread
"
carved
on
the
handle
.
Ah
,
but
one
must
n't
spoil
that
.
The
gas
fire
?
But
it
was
too
late
now
.
Holmes
was
coming
.
Razors
he
might
have
got
,
but
Rezia
,
who
always
did
that
sort
of
thing
,
had
packed
them
.
There
remained
only
the
window
,
the
large
Bloomsbury-lodging
house
window
,
the
tiresome
,
the
troublesome
,
and
rather
melodramatic
business
of
opening
the
window
and
throwing
himself
out
.
It
was
their
idea
of
tragedy
,
not
his
or
Rezia
's
(
for
she
was
with
him
)
.
Holmes
and
Bradshaw
like
that
sort
of
thing
.
(
He
sat
on
the
sill
.
)
But
he
would
wait
till
the
very
last
moment
.
He
did
not
want
to
die
.
Life
was
good
.
The
sun
hot
.
Only
human
beings
--
what
did
THEY
want
?
Coming
down
the
staircase
opposite
an
old
man
stopped
and
stared
at
him
.
Holmes
was
at
the
door
.
"
I
'll
give
it
you
!
"
he
cried
,
and
flung
himself
vigorously
,
violently
down
on
to
Mrs.
Filmer
's
area
railings
.
"
The
coward
!
"
cried
Dr.
Holmes
,
bursting
the
door
open
.
Rezia
ran
to
the
window
,
she
saw
;
she
understood
.
Dr.
Holmes
and
Mrs.
Filmer
collided
with
each
other
.
Mrs.
Filmer
flapped
her
apron
and
made
her
hide
her
eyes
in
the
bedroom
.
There
was
a
great
deal
of
running
up
and
down
stairs
.
Dr.
Holmes
came
in
--
white
as
a
sheet
,
shaking
all
over
,
with
a
glass
in
his
hand
.
She
must
be
brave
and
drink
something
,
he
said
(
What
was
it
?
Something
sweet
)
,
for
her
husband
was
horribly
mangled
,
would
not
recover
consciousness
,
she
must
not
see
him
,
must
be
spared
as
much
as
possible
,
would
have
the
inquest
to
go
through
,
poor
young
woman
.
Who
could
have
foretold
it
?
A
sudden
impulse
,
no
one
was
in
the
least
to
blame
(
he
told
Mrs.
Filmer
)
.
And
why
the
devil
he
did
it
,
Dr.
Holmes
could
not
conceive
.
It
seemed
to
her
as
she
drank
the
sweet
stuff
that
she
was
opening
long
windows
,
stepping
out
into
some
garden
.
But
where
?
The
clock
was
striking
--
one
,
two
,
three
:
how
sensible
the
sound
was
;
compared
with
all
this
thumping
and
whispering
;
like
Septimus
himself
.
She
was
falling
asleep
.
But
the
clock
went
on
striking
,
four
,
five
,
six
and
Mrs.
Filmer
waving
her
apron
(
they
would
n't
bring
the
body
in
here
,
would
they
?
)
seemed
part
of
that
garden
;
or
a
flag
.
She
had
once
seen
a
flag
slowly
rippling
out
from
a
mast
when
she
stayed
with
her
aunt
at
Venice
.
Men
killed
in
battle
were
thus
saluted
,
and
Septimus
had
been
through
the
War
.
Of
her
memories
,
most
were
happy
.
She
put
on
her
hat
,
and
ran
through
cornfields
--
where
could
it
have
been
?
--
on
to
some
hill
,
somewhere
near
the
sea
,
for
there
were
ships
,
gulls
,
butterflies
;
they
sat
on
a
cliff
.
