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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Стр. 14/81
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I
bind
my
hair
with
a
white
ribbon
,
so
that
when
I
leap
across
the
court
the
ribbon
will
stream
out
in
a
flash
,
yet
curl
round
my
neck
,
perfectly
in
its
place
.
Not
a
hair
shall
be
untidy
.
'
'
That
is
my
face
,
'
said
Rhoda
,
'
in
the
looking-glass
behind
Susan
's
shoulder
--
that
face
is
my
face
.
But
I
will
duck
behind
her
to
hide
it
,
for
I
am
not
here
.
I
have
no
face
.
Other
people
have
faces
;
Susan
and
Jinny
have
faces
;
they
are
here
.
Their
world
is
the
real
world
.
The
things
they
lift
are
heavy
.
They
say
Yes
,
they
say
No
;
whereas
I
shift
and
change
and
am
seen
through
in
a
second
.
If
they
meet
a
housemaid
she
looks
at
them
without
laughing
.
But
she
laughs
at
me
.
They
know
what
to
say
if
spoken
to
.
They
laugh
really
;
they
get
angry
really
;
while
I
have
to
look
first
and
do
what
other
people
do
when
they
have
done
it
.
'S
ee
now
with
what
extraordinary
certainty
Jinny
pulls
on
her
stockings
,
simply
to
play
tennis
.
That
I
admire
.
But
I
like
Susan
's
way
better
,
for
she
is
more
resolute
,
and
less
ambitious
of
distinction
than
Jinny
.
Both
despise
me
for
copying
what
they
do
;
but
Susan
sometimes
teaches
me
,
for
instance
,
how
to
tie
a
bow
,
while
Jinny
has
her
own
knowledge
but
keeps
it
to
herself
.
They
have
friends
to
sit
by
.
They
have
things
to
say
privately
in
corners
.
But
I
attach
myself
only
to
names
and
faces
;
and
hoard
them
like
amulets
against
disaster
.
I
choose
out
across
the
hall
some
unknown
face
and
can
hardly
drink
my
tea
when
she
whose
name
I
do
not
know
sits
opposite
.
I
choke
.
I
am
rocked
from
side
to
side
by
the
violence
of
my
emotion
.
I
imagine
these
nameless
,
these
immaculate
people
,
watching
me
from
behind
bushes
.
I
leap
high
to
excite
their
admiration
.
At
night
,
in
bed
,
I
excite
their
complete
wonder
.
I
often
die
pierced
with
arrows
to
win
their
tears
.
If
they
should
say
,
or
I
should
see
from
a
label
on
their
boxes
,
that
they
were
in
Scarborough
last
holidays
,
the
whole
town
runs
gold
,
the
whole
pavement
is
illuminated
.
Therefore
I
hate
looking-glasses
which
show
me
my
real
face
.
Alone
,
I
often
fall
down
into
nothingness
.
I
must
push
my
foot
stealthily
lest
I
should
fall
off
the
edge
of
the
world
into
nothingness
.
I
have
to
bang
my
head
against
some
hard
door
to
call
myself
back
to
the
body
.
'
'
We
are
late
,
'
said
Susan
.
We
must
wait
our
turn
to
play
.
We
will
pitch
here
in
the
long
grass
and
pretend
to
watch
Jinny
and
Clara
,
Betty
and
Mavis
.
But
we
will
not
watch
them
.
I
hate
watching
other
people
play
games
.
I
will
make
images
of
all
the
things
I
hate
most
and
bury
them
in
the
ground
.
This
shiny
pebble
is
Madame
Carlo
,
and
I
will
bury
her
deep
because
of
her
fawning
and
ingratiating
manners
,
because
of
the
sixpence
she
gave
me
for
keeping
my
knuckles
flat
when
I
played
my
scales
.
I
buried
her
sixpence
.
I
would
bury
the
whole
school
:
the
gymnasium
;
the
classroom
;
the
dining-room
that
always
smells
of
meat
;
and
the
chapel
.
I
would
bury
the
red-brown
tiles
and
the
oily
portraits
of
old
men
--
benefactors
,
founders
of
schools
.
There
are
some
trees
I
like
;
the
cherry
tree
with
lumps
of
clear
gum
on
the
bark
;
and
one
view
from
the
attic
towards
some
far
hills
.
Save
for
these
,
I
would
bury
it
all
as
I
bury
these
ugly
stones
that
are
always
scattered
about
this
briny
coast
,
with
its
piers
and
its
trippers
.
At
home
,
the
waves
are
mile
long
.
On
winter
nights
we
hear
them
booming
.
Last
Christmas
a
man
was
drowned
sitting
alone
in
his
cart
.
'
'
When
Miss
Lambert
passes
,
'
said
Rhoda
,
'
talking
to
the
clergyman
,
the
others
laugh
and
imitate
her
hunch
behind
her
back
;
yet
everything
changes
and
becomes
luminous
.
Jinny
leaps
higher
too
when
Miss
Lambert
passes
.
Suppose
she
saw
that
daisy
,
it
would
change
.
Wherever
she
goes
,
things
are
changed
under
her
eyes
;
and
yet
when
she
has
gone
is
not
the
thing
the
same
again
?
Miss
Lambert
is
taking
the
clergyman
through
the
wicket-gate
to
her
private
garden
;
and
when
she
comes
to
the
pond
,
she
sees
a
frog
on
a
leaf
,
and
that
will
change
.
All
is
solemn
,
all
is
pale
where
she
stands
,
like
a
statue
in
a
grove
.
She
lets
her
tasselled
silken
cloak
slip
down
,
and
only
her
purple
ring
still
glows
,
her
vinous
,
her
amethystine
ring
.
There
is
this
mystery
about
people
when
they
leave
us
.
When
they
leave
us
I
can
companion
them
to
the
pond
and
make
them
stately
.
When
Miss
Lambert
passes
,
she
makes
the
daisy
change
;
and
everything
runs
like
streaks
of
fire
when
she
carves
the
beef
.
Month
by
month
things
are
losing
their
hardness
;
even
my
body
now
lets
the
light
through
;
my
spine
is
soft
like
wax
near
the
flame
of
the
candle
.
I
dream
;
I
dream
.
'
'
I
have
won
the
game
,
'
said
Jinny
.
'N
ow
it
is
your
turn
.
I
must
throw
myself
on
the
ground
and
pant
.
I
am
out
of
breath
with
running
,
with
triumph
.
Everything
in
my
body
seems
thinned
out
with
running
and
triumph
.
My
blood
must
be
bright
red
,
whipped
up
,
slapping
against
my
ribs
.
My
soles
tingle
,
as
if
wire
rings
opened
and
shut
in
my
feet
.
I
see
every
blade
of
grass
very
clear
.
But
the
pulse
drums
so
in
my
forehead
,
behind
my
eyes
,
that
everything
dances
--
the
net
,
the
grass
;
your
faces
leap
like
butterflies
;
the
trees
seem
to
jump
up
and
down
.
There
is
nothing
staid
,
nothing
settled
,
in
this
universe
.
All
is
rippling
,
all
is
dancing
;
all
is
quickness
and
triumph
.
Only
,
when
I
have
lain
alone
on
the
hard
ground
,
watching
you
play
your
game
,
I
begin
to
feel
the
wish
to
be
singled
out
;
to
be
summoned
,
to
be
called
away
by
one
person
who
comes
to
find
me
,
who
is
attracted
towards
me
,
who
can
not
keep
himself
from
me
,
but
comes
to
where
I
sit
on
my
gilt
chair
,
with
my
frock
billowing
round
me
like
a
flower
.
And
withdrawing
into
an
alcove
,
sitting
alone
on
a
balcony
we
talk
together
.
'N
ow
the
tide
sinks
.
Now
the
trees
come
to
earth
;
the
brisk
waves
that
slap
my
ribs
rock
more
gently
,
and
my
heart
rides
at
anchor
,
like
a
sailing-boat
whose
sails
slide
slowly
down
on
to
the
white
deck
.
The
game
is
over
.
We
must
go
to
tea
now
.
'
