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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Стр. 32/72
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Mr.
Tansley
raised
a
hammer
:
swung
it
high
in
air
;
but
realising
,
as
it
descended
,
that
he
could
not
smite
that
butterfly
with
such
an
instrument
as
this
,
said
only
that
he
had
never
been
sick
in
his
life
.
But
in
that
one
sentence
lay
compact
,
like
gunpowder
,
that
his
grandfather
was
a
fisherman
;
his
father
a
chemist
;
that
he
had
worked
his
way
up
entirely
himself
;
that
he
was
proud
of
it
;
that
he
was
Charles
Tansley
--
a
fact
that
nobody
there
seemed
to
realise
;
but
one
of
these
days
every
single
person
would
know
it
.
He
scowled
ahead
of
him
.
He
could
almost
pity
these
mild
cultivated
people
,
who
would
be
blown
sky
high
,
like
bales
of
wool
and
barrels
of
apples
,
one
of
these
days
by
the
gunpowder
that
was
in
him
.
"
Will
you
take
me
,
Mr.
Tansley
?
"
said
Lily
,
quickly
,
kindly
,
for
,
of
course
,
if
Mrs.
Ramsay
said
to
her
,
as
in
effect
she
did
,
"
I
am
drowning
,
my
dear
,
in
seas
of
fire
.
Unless
you
apply
some
balm
to
the
anguish
of
this
hour
and
say
something
nice
to
that
young
man
there
,
life
will
run
upon
the
rocks
--
indeed
I
hear
the
grating
and
the
growling
at
this
minute
.
My
nerves
are
taut
as
fiddle
strings
.
Another
touch
and
they
will
snap
"
--
when
Mrs.
Ramsay
said
all
this
,
as
the
glance
in
her
eyes
said
it
,
of
course
for
the
hundred
and
fiftieth
time
Lily
Briscoe
had
to
renounce
the
experiment
--
what
happens
if
one
is
not
nice
to
that
young
man
there
--
and
be
nice
.
Judging
the
turn
in
her
mood
correctly
--
that
she
was
friendly
to
him
now
--
he
was
relieved
of
his
egotism
,
and
told
her
how
he
had
been
thrown
out
of
a
boat
when
he
was
a
baby
;
how
his
father
used
to
fish
him
out
with
a
boat-hook
;
that
was
how
he
had
learnt
to
swim
.
One
of
his
uncles
kept
the
light
on
some
rock
or
other
off
the
Scottish
coast
,
he
said
.
He
had
been
there
with
him
in
a
storm
.
This
was
said
loudly
in
a
pause
.
They
had
to
listen
to
him
when
he
said
that
he
had
been
with
his
uncle
in
a
lighthouse
in
a
storm
.
Ah
,
thought
Lily
Briscoe
,
as
the
conversation
took
this
auspicious
turn
,
and
she
felt
Mrs.
Ramsay
's
gratitude
(
for
Mrs.
Ramsay
was
free
now
to
talk
for
a
moment
herself
)
,
ah
,
she
thought
,
but
what
have
n't
I
paid
to
get
it
for
you
?
She
had
not
been
sincere
.
She
had
done
the
usual
trick
--
been
nice
.
She
would
never
know
him
.
He
would
never
know
her
.
Human
relations
were
all
like
that
,
she
thought
,
and
the
worst
(
if
it
had
not
been
for
Mr.
Bankes
)
were
between
men
and
women
.
Inevitably
these
were
extremely
insincere
she
thought
.
Then
her
eye
caught
the
salt
cellar
,
which
she
had
placed
there
to
remind
her
,
and
she
remembered
that
next
morning
she
would
move
the
tree
further
towards
the
middle
,
and
her
spirits
rose
so
high
at
the
thought
of
painting
tomorrow
that
she
laughed
out
loud
at
what
Mr.
Tansley
was
saying
.
Let
him
talk
all
night
if
he
liked
it
.
"
But
how
long
do
they
leave
men
on
a
Lighthouse
?
"
she
asked
.
He
told
her
.
He
was
amazingly
well
informed
.
And
as
he
was
grateful
,
and
as
he
liked
her
,
and
as
he
was
beginning
to
enjoy
himself
,
so
now
,
Mrs.
Ramsay
thought
,
she
could
return
to
that
dream
land
,
that
unreal
but
fascinating
place
,
the
Mannings
'
drawing-room
at
Marlow
twenty
years
ago
;
where
one
moved
about
without
haste
or
anxiety
,
for
there
was
no
future
to
worry
about
.
She
knew
what
had
happened
to
them
,
what
to
her
.
It
was
like
reading
a
good
book
again
,
for
she
knew
the
end
of
that
story
,
since
it
had
happened
twenty
years
ago
,
and
life
,
which
shot
down
even
from
this
dining-room
table
in
cascades
,
heaven
knows
where
,
was
sealed
up
there
,
and
lay
,
like
a
lake
,
placidly
between
its
banks
.
He
said
they
had
built
a
billiard
room
--
was
it
possible
?
Would
William
go
on
talking
about
the
Mannings
?
She
wanted
him
to
.
But
,
no
--
for
some
reason
he
was
no
longer
in
the
mood
.
She
tried
.
He
did
not
respond
.
She
could
not
force
him
.
She
was
disappointed
.
"
The
children
are
disgraceful
,
"
she
said
,
sighing
.
He
said
something
about
punctuality
being
one
of
the
minor
virtues
which
we
do
not
acquire
until
later
in
life
.
"
If
at
all
,
"
said
Mrs.
Ramsay
merely
to
fill
up
space
,
thinking
what
an
old
maid
William
was
becoming
.
Conscious
of
his
treachery
,
conscious
of
her
wish
to
talk
about
something
more
intimate
,
yet
out
of
mood
for
it
at
present
,
he
felt
come
over
him
the
disagreeableness
of
life
,
sitting
there
,
waiting
.
Perhaps
the
others
were
saying
something
interesting
?
What
were
they
saying
?
That
the
fishing
season
was
bad
;
that
the
men
were
emigrating
.
They
were
talking
about
wages
and
unemployment
.
The
young
man
was
abusing
the
government
.
William
Bankes
,
thinking
what
a
relief
it
was
to
catch
on
to
something
of
this
sort
when
private
life
was
disagreeable
,
heard
him
say
something
about
"
one
of
the
most
scandalous
acts
of
the
present
government
.
"
Lily
was
listening
;
Mrs.
Ramsay
was
listening
;
they
were
all
listening
.
But
already
bored
,
Lily
felt
that
something
was
lacking
;
Mr.
Bankes
felt
that
something
was
lacking
.
Pulling
her
shawl
round
her
Mrs.
Ramsay
felt
that
something
was
lacking
.
All
of
them
bending
themselves
to
listen
thought
,
"
Pray
heaven
that
the
inside
of
my
mind
may
not
be
exposed
,
"
for
each
thought
,
"
The
others
are
feeling
this
.
They
are
outraged
and
indignant
with
the
government
about
the
fishermen
.
Whereas
,
I
feel
nothing
at
all
.
"
But
perhaps
,
thought
Mr.
Bankes
,
as
he
looked
at
Mr.
Tansley
,
here
is
the
man
.
One
was
always
waiting
for
the
man
.
There
was
always
a
chance
.
At
any
moment
the
leader
might
arise
;
the
man
of
genius
,
in
politics
as
in
anything
else
.
Probably
he
will
be
extremely
disagreeable
to
us
old
fogies
,
thought
Mr
Bankes
,
doing
his
best
to
make
allowances
,
for
he
knew
by
some
curious
physical
sensation
,
as
of
nerves
erect
in
his
spine
,
that
he
was
jealous
,
for
himself
partly
,
partly
more
probably
for
his
work
,
for
his
point
of
view
,
for
his
science
;
and
therefore
he
was
not
entirely
open-minded
or
altogether
fair
,
for
Mr.
Tansley
seemed
to
be
saying
,
You
have
wasted
your
lives
.
You
are
all
of
you
wrong
.
Poor
old
fogies
,
you
're
hopelessly
behind
the
times
.
