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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Стр. 16/72
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"
The
man
's
heart
grew
heavy
,
"
she
read
aloud
,
"
and
he
would
not
go
.
He
said
to
himself
,
'
It
is
not
right
,
'
and
yet
he
went
.
And
when
he
came
to
the
sea
the
water
was
quite
purple
and
dark
blue
,
and
grey
and
thick
,
and
no
longer
so
green
and
yellow
,
but
it
was
still
quiet
.
And
he
stood
there
and
said
--
"
Mrs.
Ramsay
could
have
wished
that
her
husband
had
not
chosen
that
moment
to
stop
.
Why
had
he
not
gone
as
he
said
to
watch
the
children
playing
cricket
?
But
he
did
not
speak
;
he
looked
;
he
nodded
;
he
approved
;
he
went
on
.
He
slipped
,
seeing
before
him
that
hedge
which
had
over
and
over
again
rounded
some
pause
,
signified
some
conclusion
,
seeing
his
wife
and
child
,
seeing
again
the
urns
with
the
trailing
of
red
geraniums
which
had
so
often
decorated
processes
of
thought
,
and
bore
,
written
up
among
their
leaves
,
as
if
they
were
scraps
of
paper
on
which
one
scribbles
notes
in
the
rush
of
reading
--
he
slipped
,
seeing
all
this
,
smoothly
into
speculation
suggested
by
an
article
in
THE
TIMES
about
the
number
of
Americans
who
visit
Shakespeare
's
house
every
year
.
If
Shakespeare
had
never
existed
,
he
asked
,
would
the
world
have
differed
much
from
what
it
is
today
?
Does
the
progress
of
civilization
depend
upon
great
men
?
Is
the
lot
of
the
average
human
being
better
now
than
in
the
time
of
the
Pharaohs
?
Is
the
lot
of
the
average
human
being
,
however
,
he
asked
himself
,
the
criterion
by
which
we
judge
the
measure
of
civilization
?
Possibly
not
.
Possibly
the
greatest
good
requires
the
existence
of
a
slave
class
.
The
liftman
in
the
Tube
is
an
eternal
necessity
.
The
thought
was
distasteful
to
him
.
He
tossed
his
head
.
To
avoid
it
,
he
would
find
some
way
of
snubbing
the
predominance
of
the
arts
.
He
would
argue
that
the
world
exists
for
the
average
human
being
;
that
the
arts
are
merely
a
decoration
imposed
on
the
top
of
human
life
;
they
do
not
express
it
.
Nor
is
Shakespeare
necessary
to
it
.
Not
knowing
precisely
why
it
was
that
he
wanted
to
disparage
Shakespeare
and
come
to
the
rescue
of
the
man
who
stands
eternally
in
the
door
of
the
lift
,
he
picked
a
leaf
sharply
from
the
hedge
.
All
this
would
have
to
be
dished
up
for
the
young
men
at
Cardiff
next
month
,
he
thought
;
here
,
on
his
terrace
,
he
was
merely
foraging
and
picnicking
(
he
threw
away
the
leaf
that
he
had
picked
so
peevishly
)
like
a
man
who
reaches
from
his
horse
to
pick
a
bunch
of
roses
,
or
stuffs
his
pockets
with
nuts
as
he
ambles
at
his
ease
through
the
lanes
and
fields
of
a
country
known
to
him
from
boyhood
.
It
was
all
familiar
;
this
turning
,
that
stile
,
that
cut
across
the
fields
.
Hours
he
would
spend
thus
,
with
his
pipe
,
of
an
evening
,
thinking
up
and
down
and
in
and
out
of
the
old
familiar
lanes
and
commons
,
which
were
all
stuck
about
with
the
history
of
that
campaign
there
,
the
life
of
this
statesman
here
,
with
poems
and
with
anecdotes
,
with
figures
too
,
this
thinker
,
that
soldier
;
all
very
brisk
and
clear
;
but
at
length
the
lane
,
the
field
,
the
common
,
the
fruitful
nut-tree
and
the
flowering
hedge
led
him
on
to
that
further
turn
of
the
road
where
he
dismounted
always
,
tied
his
horse
to
a
tree
,
and
proceeded
on
foot
alone
.
He
reached
the
edge
of
the
lawn
and
looked
out
on
the
bay
beneath
.
It
was
his
fate
,
his
peculiarity
,
whether
he
wished
it
or
not
,
to
come
out
thus
on
a
spit
of
land
which
the
sea
is
slowly
eating
away
,
and
there
to
stand
,
like
a
desolate
sea-bird
,
alone
.
It
was
his
power
,
his
gift
,
suddenly
to
shed
all
superfluities
,
to
shrink
and
diminish
so
that
he
looked
barer
and
felt
sparer
,
even
physically
,
yet
lost
none
of
his
intensity
of
mind
,
and
so
to
stand
on
his
little
ledge
facing
the
dark
of
human
ignorance
,
how
we
know
nothing
and
the
sea
eats
away
the
ground
we
stand
on
--
that
was
his
fate
,
his
gift
.
But
having
thrown
away
,
when
he
dismounted
,
all
gestures
and
fripperies
,
all
trophies
of
nuts
and
roses
,
and
shrunk
so
that
not
only
fame
but
even
his
own
name
was
forgotten
by
him
,
kept
even
in
that
desolation
a
vigilance
which
spared
no
phantom
and
luxuriated
in
no
vision
,
and
it
was
in
this
guise
that
he
inspired
in
William
Bankes
(
intermittently
)
and
in
Charles
Tansley
(
obsequiously
)
and
in
his
wife
now
,
when
she
looked
up
and
saw
him
standing
at
the
edge
of
the
lawn
,
profoundly
,
reverence
,
and
pity
,
and
gratitude
too
,
as
a
stake
driven
into
the
bed
of
a
channel
upon
which
the
gulls
perch
and
the
waves
beat
inspires
in
merry
boat-loads
a
feeling
of
gratitude
for
the
duty
it
is
taking
upon
itself
of
marking
the
channel
out
there
in
the
floods
alone
.
"
But
the
father
of
eight
children
has
no
choice
.
"
Muttering
half
aloud
,
so
he
broke
off
,
turned
,
sighed
,
raised
his
eyes
,
sought
the
figure
of
his
wife
reading
stories
to
his
little
boy
,
filled
his
pipe
.
He
turned
from
the
sight
of
human
ignorance
and
human
fate
and
the
sea
eating
the
ground
we
stand
on
,
which
,
had
he
been
able
to
contemplate
it
fixedly
might
have
led
to
something
;
and
found
consolation
in
trifles
so
slight
compared
with
the
august
theme
just
now
before
him
that
he
was
disposed
to
slur
that
comfort
over
,
to
deprecate
it
,
as
if
to
be
caught
happy
in
a
world
of
misery
was
for
an
honest
man
the
most
despicable
of
crimes
.
It
was
true
;
he
was
for
the
most
part
happy
;
he
had
his
wife
;
he
had
his
children
;
he
had
promised
in
six
weeks
'
time
to
talk
"
some
nonsense
"
to
the
young
men
of
Cardiff
about
Locke
,
Hume
,
Berkeley
,
and
the
causes
of
the
French
Revolution
.
But
this
and
his
pleasure
in
it
,
his
glory
in
the
phrases
he
made
,
in
the
ardour
of
youth
,
in
his
wife
's
beauty
,
in
the
tributes
that
reached
him
from
Swansea
,
Cardiff
,
Exeter
,
Southampton
,
Kidderminster
,
Oxford
,
Cambridge
--
all
had
to
be
deprecated
and
concealed
under
the
phrase
"
talking
nonsense
,
"
because
,
in
effect
,
he
had
not
done
the
thing
he
might
have
done
.
It
was
a
disguise
;
it
was
the
refuge
of
a
man
afraid
to
own
his
own
feelings
,
who
could
not
say
,
This
is
what
I
like
--
this
is
what
I
am
;
and
rather
pitiable
and
distasteful
to
William
Bankes
and
Lily
Briscoe
,
who
wondered
why
such
concealments
should
be
necessary
;
why
he
needed
always
praise
;
why
so
brave
a
man
in
thought
should
be
so
timid
in
life
;
how
strangely
he
was
venerable
and
laughable
at
one
and
the
same
time
.
Teaching
and
preaching
is
beyond
human
power
,
Lily
suspected
.
(
She
was
putting
away
her
things
.
)
If
you
are
exalted
you
must
somehow
come
a
cropper
.
Mrs.
Ramsay
gave
him
what
he
asked
too
easily
.
Then
the
change
must
be
so
upsetting
,
Lily
said
.
He
comes
in
from
his
books
and
finds
us
all
playing
games
and
talking
nonsense
.
Imagine
what
a
change
from
the
things
he
thinks
about
,
she
said
.
