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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Стр. 64/81
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'
(
'
Yet
,
Louis
,
'
said
Rhoda
,
'
how
short
a
time
silence
lasts
.
Already
they
are
beginning
to
smooth
their
napkins
by
the
side
of
their
plates
.
"
Who
comes
?
"
says
Jinny
;
and
Neville
sighs
,
remembering
that
Percival
comes
no
more
.
Jinny
has
taken
out
her
looking-glass
.
Surveying
her
face
like
an
artist
,
she
draws
a
powder-puff
down
her
nose
,
and
after
one
moment
of
deliberation
has
given
precisely
that
red
to
the
lips
that
the
lips
need
.
Susan
,
who
feels
scorn
and
fear
at
the
sight
of
these
preparations
,
fastens
the
top
button
of
her
coat
,
and
unfastens
it
.
What
is
she
making
ready
for
?
For
something
,
but
something
different
.
'
'
They
are
saying
to
themselves
,
'
said
Louis
,
'
"
It
is
time
.
I
am
still
vigorous
,
"
they
are
saying
.
"
My
face
shall
be
cut
against
the
black
of
infinite
space
.
"
They
do
not
finish
their
sentences
.
"
It
is
time
,
"
they
keep
saying
.
"
The
gardens
will
be
shut
.
"
And
going
with
them
,
Rhoda
,
swept
into
their
current
,
we
shall
perhaps
drop
a
little
behind
.
'
'
Like
conspirators
who
have
something
to
whisper
,
'
said
Rhoda
.
)
'
It
is
true
,
and
I
know
for
a
fact
,
'
said
Bernard
,
'
as
we
walk
down
this
avenue
,
that
a
King
,
riding
,
fell
over
a
molehill
here
.
But
how
strange
it
seems
to
set
against
the
whirling
abysses
of
infinite
space
a
little
figure
with
a
golden
teapot
on
his
head
.
Soon
one
recovers
belief
in
figures
:
but
not
at
once
in
what
they
put
on
their
heads
.
Our
English
past
--
one
inch
of
light
.
Then
people
put
teapots
on
their
heads
and
say
,
"
I
am
a
King
!
"
No
,
I
try
to
recover
,
as
we
walk
,
the
sense
of
time
,
but
with
that
streaming
darkness
in
my
eyes
I
have
lost
my
grip
.
This
Palace
seems
light
as
a
cloud
set
for
a
moment
on
the
sky
.
It
is
a
trick
of
the
mind
--
to
put
Kings
on
their
thrones
,
one
following
another
,
with
crowns
on
their
heads
.
And
we
ourselves
,
walking
six
abreast
,
what
do
we
oppose
,
with
this
random
flicker
of
light
in
us
that
we
call
brain
and
feeling
,
how
can
we
do
battle
against
this
flood
;
what
has
permanence
?
Our
lives
too
stream
away
,
down
the
unlighted
avenues
,
past
the
strip
of
time
,
unidentified
.
Once
Neville
threw
a
poem
at
my
head
.
Feeling
a
sudden
conviction
of
immortality
,
I
said
,
"
I
too
know
what
Shakespeare
knew
.
"
But
that
has
gone
.
'
'
Unreasonably
,
ridiculously
,
'
said
Neville
,
'
as
we
walk
,
time
comes
back
.
A
dog
does
it
,
prancing
.
The
machine
works
.
Age
makes
hoary
that
gateway
.
Three
hundred
years
now
seem
no
more
than
a
moment
vanished
against
that
dog
.
King
William
mounts
his
horse
wearing
a
wig
,
and
the
court
ladies
sweep
the
turf
with
their
embroidered
panniers
.
I
am
beginning
to
be
convinced
,
as
we
walk
,
that
the
fate
of
Europe
is
of
immense
importance
,
and
,
ridiculous
as
it
still
seems
,
that
all
depends
upon
the
battle
of
Blenheim
.
Yes
;
I
declare
,
as
we
pass
through
this
gateway
,
it
is
the
present
moment
;
I
am
become
a
subject
of
King
George
.
'
'
While
we
advance
down
this
avenue
,
'
said
Louis
,
'
I
leaning
slightly
upon
Jinny
,
Bernard
arm-in-arm
with
Neville
,
and
Susan
with
her
hand
in
mine
,
it
is
difficult
not
to
weep
,
calling
ourselves
little
children
,
praying
that
God
may
keep
us
safe
while
we
sleep
.
It
is
sweet
to
sing
together
,
clasping
hands
,
afraid
of
the
dark
,
while
Miss
Curry
plays
the
harmonium
.
'
'
The
iron
gates
have
rolled
back
,
'
said
Jinny
.
'
Time
's
fangs
have
ceased
their
devouring
.
We
have
triumphed
over
the
abysses
of
space
,
with
rouge
,
with
powder
,
with
flimsy
pocket-handkerchiefs
.
'
