-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Вирджиния Вульф
-
- Миссис Дэллоуэй
-
- Стр. 84/96
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Lolloping
on
the
waves
and
braiding
her
tresses
she
seemed
,
having
that
gift
still
;
to
be
;
to
exist
;
to
sum
it
all
up
in
the
moment
as
she
passed
;
turned
,
caught
her
scarf
in
some
other
woman
's
dress
,
unhitched
it
,
laughed
,
all
with
the
most
perfect
ease
and
air
of
a
creature
floating
in
its
element
.
But
age
had
brushed
her
;
even
as
a
mermaid
might
behold
in
her
glass
the
setting
sun
on
some
very
clear
evening
over
the
waves
.
There
was
a
breath
of
tenderness
;
her
severity
,
her
prudery
,
her
woodenness
were
all
warmed
through
now
,
and
she
had
about
her
as
she
said
good-bye
to
the
thick
gold-laced
man
who
was
doing
his
best
,
and
good
luck
to
him
,
to
look
important
,
an
inexpressible
dignity
;
an
exquisite
cordiality
;
as
if
she
wished
the
whole
world
well
,
and
must
now
,
being
on
the
very
verge
and
rim
of
things
,
take
her
leave
.
So
she
made
him
think
.
(
But
he
was
not
in
love
.
)
Indeed
,
Clarissa
felt
,
the
Prime
Minister
had
been
good
to
come
.
And
,
walking
down
the
room
with
him
,
with
Sally
there
and
Peter
there
and
Richard
very
pleased
,
with
all
those
people
rather
inclined
,
perhaps
,
to
envy
,
she
had
felt
that
intoxication
of
the
moment
,
that
dilatation
of
the
nerves
of
the
heart
itself
till
it
seemed
to
quiver
,
steeped
,
upright
;
--
yes
,
but
after
all
it
was
what
other
people
felt
,
that
;
for
,
though
she
loved
it
and
felt
it
tingle
and
sting
,
still
these
semblances
,
these
triumphs
(
dear
old
Peter
,
for
example
,
thinking
her
so
brilliant
)
,
had
a
hollowness
;
at
arm
's
length
they
were
,
not
in
the
heart
;
and
it
might
be
that
she
was
growing
old
but
they
satisfied
her
no
longer
as
they
used
;
and
suddenly
,
as
she
saw
the
Prime
Minister
go
down
the
stairs
,
the
gilt
rim
of
the
Sir
Joshua
picture
of
the
little
girl
with
a
muff
brought
back
Kilman
with
a
rush
;
Kilman
her
enemy
.
That
was
satisfying
;
that
was
real
.
Ah
,
how
she
hated
her
--
hot
,
hypocritical
,
corrupt
;
with
all
that
power
;
Elizabeth
's
seducer
;
the
woman
who
had
crept
in
to
steal
and
defile
(
Richard
would
say
,
What
nonsense
!
)
.
She
hated
her
:
she
loved
her
.
It
was
enemies
one
wanted
,
not
friends
--
not
Mrs.
Durrant
and
Clara
,
Sir
William
and
Lady
Bradshaw
,
Miss
Truelock
and
Eleanor
Gibson
(
whom
she
saw
coming
upstairs
)
.
They
must
find
her
if
they
wanted
her
.
She
was
for
the
party
!
There
was
her
old
friend
Sir
Harry
.
"
Dear
Sir
Harry
!
"
she
said
,
going
up
to
the
fine
old
fellow
who
had
produced
more
bad
pictures
than
any
other
two
Academicians
in
the
whole
of
St.
John
's
Wood
(
they
were
always
of
cattle
,
standing
in
sunset
pools
absorbing
moisture
,
or
signifying
,
for
he
had
a
certain
range
of
gesture
,
by
the
raising
of
one
foreleg
and
the
toss
of
the
antlers
,
"
the
Approach
of
the
Stranger
"
--
all
his
activities
,
dining
out
,
racing
,
were
founded
on
cattle
standing
absorbing
moisture
in
sunset
pools
)
.
"
What
are
you
laughing
at
?
"
she
asked
him
.
For
Willie
Titcomb
and
Sir
Harry
and
Herbert
Ainsty
were
all
laughing
.
But
no
.
Sir
Harry
could
not
tell
Clarissa
Dalloway
(
much
though
he
liked
her
;
of
her
type
he
thought
her
perfect
,
and
threatened
to
paint
her
)
his
stories
of
the
music
hall
stage
.
He
chaffed
her
about
her
party
.
He
missed
his
brandy
.
These
circles
,
he
said
,
were
above
him
.
But
he
liked
her
;
respected
her
,
in
spite
of
her
damnable
,
difficult
upper-class
refinement
,
which
made
it
impossible
to
ask
Clarissa
Dalloway
to
sit
on
his
knee
.
And
up
came
that
wandering
will-o
'
-
the-wisp
,
that
vagulous
phosphorescence
,
old
Mrs.
Hilbery
,
stretching
her
hands
to
the
blaze
of
his
laughter
(
about
the
Duke
and
the
Lady
)
,
which
,
as
she
heard
it
across
the
room
,
seemed
to
reassure
her
on
a
point
which
sometimes
bothered
her
if
she
woke
early
in
the
morning
and
did
not
like
to
call
her
maid
for
a
cup
of
tea
;
how
it
is
certain
we
must
die
.
"
They
wo
n't
tell
us
their
stories
,
"
said
Clarissa
.
"
Dear
Clarissa
!
"
exclaimed
Mrs.
Hilbery
.
She
looked
to-night
,
she
said
,
so
like
her
mother
as
she
first
saw
her
walking
in
a
garden
in
a
grey
hat
.
And
really
Clarissa
's
eyes
filled
with
tears
.
Her
mother
,
walking
in
a
garden
!
But
alas
,
she
must
go
.