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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Стр. 66/81
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'
A
weight
has
dropped
into
the
night
,
'
said
Rhoda
,
'd
ragging
it
down
.
Every
tree
is
big
with
a
shadow
that
is
not
the
shadow
of
the
tree
behind
it
.
We
hear
a
drumming
on
the
roofs
of
a
fasting
city
when
the
Turks
are
hungry
and
uncertain
tempered
.
We
hear
them
crying
with
sharp
,
stag-like
barks
,
"
Open
,
open
.
"
Listen
to
the
trams
squealing
and
to
the
flashes
from
the
electric
rails
.
We
hear
the
beech
trees
and
the
birch
trees
raise
their
branches
as
if
the
bride
had
let
her
silken
nightdress
fall
and
come
to
the
doorway
saying
"
Open
,
open
"
.
'
'
All
seems
alive
,
'
said
Louis
.
'
I
can
not
hear
death
anywhere
tonight
.
Stupidity
,
on
that
man
's
face
,
age
,
on
that
woman
's
,
would
be
strong
enough
,
one
would
think
,
to
resist
the
incantation
,
and
bring
in
death
.
But
where
is
death
tonight
?
All
the
crudity
,
odds
and
ends
,
this
and
that
,
have
been
crushed
like
glass
splinters
into
the
blue
,
the
red-fringed
tide
,
which
,
drawing
into
the
shore
,
fertile
with
innumerable
fish
,
breaks
at
our
feet
.
'
'
If
we
could
mount
together
,
if
we
could
perceive
from
a
sufficient
height
,
'
said
Rhoda
,
'
if
we
could
remain
untouched
without
any
support
--
but
you
,
disturbed
by
faint
clapping
sounds
of
praise
and
laughter
,
and
I
,
resenting
compromise
and
right
and
wrong
on
human
lips
,
trust
only
in
solitude
and
the
violence
of
death
and
thus
are
divided
.
'
'
For
ever
,
'
said
Louis
,
'd
ivided
.
We
have
sacrificed
the
embrace
among
the
ferns
,
and
love
,
love
,
love
by
the
lake
,
standing
,
like
conspirators
who
have
drawn
apart
to
share
some
secret
,
by
the
urn
.
But
now
look
,
as
we
stand
here
,
a
ripple
breaks
on
the
horizon
.
The
net
is
raised
higher
and
higher
.
It
comes
to
the
top
of
the
water
.
The
water
is
broken
by
silver
,
by
quivering
little
fish
.
Now
leaping
,
now
lashing
,
they
are
laid
on
shore
.
Life
tumbles
its
catch
upon
the
grass
.
There
are
figures
coming
towards
us
.
Are
they
men
or
are
they
women
?
They
still
wear
the
ambiguous
draperies
of
the
flowing
tide
in
which
they
have
been
immersed
.
'
'N
ow
,
'
said
Rhoda
,
'
as
they
pass
that
tree
,
they
regain
their
natural
size
.
They
are
only
men
,
only
women
.
Wonder
and
awe
change
as
they
put
off
the
draperies
of
the
flowing
tide
.
Pity
returns
,
as
they
emerge
into
the
moonlight
,
like
the
relics
of
an
army
,
our
representatives
,
going
every
night
(
here
or
in
Greece
)
to
battle
,
and
coming
back
every
night
with
their
wounds
,
their
ravaged
faces
.
Now
light
falls
on
them
again
.
They
have
faces
.
They
become
Susan
and
Bernard
,
Jinny
and
Neville
,
people
we
know
.
Now
what
a
shrinkage
takes
place
!
Now
what
a
shrivelling
,
what
an
humiliation
!
The
old
shivers
run
through
me
,
hatred
and
terror
,
as
I
feel
myself
grappled
to
one
spot
by
these
hooks
they
cast
on
us
;
these
greetings
,
recognitions
,
pluckings
of
the
finger
and
searchings
of
the
eyes
.
Yet
they
have
only
to
speak
,
and
their
first
words
,
with
the
remembered
tone
and
the
perpetual
deviation
from
what
one
expects
,
and
their
hands
moving
and
making
a
thousand
past
days
rise
again
in
the
darkness
,
shake
my
purpose
.
'
'S
omething
flickers
and
dances
,
'
said
Louis
.
'
Illusion
returns
as
they
approach
down
the
avenue
.
Rippling
and
questioning
begin
.
What
do
I
think
of
you
--
what
do
you
think
of
me
?
Who
are
you
?
Who
am
I
?
--
that
quivers
again
its
uneasy
air
over
us
,
and
the
pulse
quickens
and
the
eye
brightens
and
all
the
insanity
of
personal
existence
without
which
life
would
fall
flat
and
die
,
begins
again
.
They
are
on
us
.
The
southern
sun
flickers
over
this
urn
;
we
push
off
in
to
the
tide
of
the
violent
and
cruel
sea
.
Lord
help
us
to
act
our
parts
as
we
greet
them
returning
--
Susan
and
Bernard
,
Neville
and
Jinny
.
'
'
We
have
destroyed
something
by
our
presence
,
'
said
Bernard
,
'
a
world
perhaps
.
'
