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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Стр. 48/72
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Visions
of
joy
there
must
have
been
at
the
wash-tub
,
say
with
her
children
(
yet
two
had
been
base-born
and
one
had
deserted
her
)
,
at
the
public-house
,
drinking
;
turning
over
scraps
in
her
drawers
.
Some
cleavage
of
the
dark
there
must
have
been
,
some
channel
in
the
depths
of
obscurity
through
which
light
enough
issued
to
twist
her
face
grinning
in
the
glass
and
make
her
,
turning
to
her
job
again
,
mumble
out
the
old
music
hall
song
.
The
mystic
,
the
visionary
,
walking
the
beach
on
a
fine
night
,
stirring
a
puddle
,
looking
at
a
stone
,
asking
themselves
"
What
am
I
,
"
"
What
is
this
?
"
had
suddenly
an
answer
vouchsafed
them
:
(
they
could
not
say
what
it
was
)
so
that
they
were
warm
in
the
frost
and
had
comfort
in
the
desert
.
But
Mrs.
McNab
continued
to
drink
and
gossip
as
before
.
The
Spring
without
a
leaf
to
toss
,
bare
and
bright
like
a
virgin
fierce
in
her
chastity
,
scornful
in
her
purity
,
was
laid
out
on
fields
wide-eyed
and
watchful
and
entirely
careless
of
what
was
done
or
thought
by
the
beholders
.
[
Prue
Ramsay
,
leaning
on
her
father
's
arm
,
was
given
in
marriage
.
What
,
people
said
,
could
have
been
more
fitting
?
And
,
they
added
,
how
beautiful
she
looked
!
]
As
summer
neared
,
as
the
evenings
lengthened
,
there
came
to
the
wakeful
,
the
hopeful
,
walking
the
beach
,
stirring
the
pool
,
imaginations
of
the
strangest
kind
--
of
flesh
turned
to
atoms
which
drove
before
the
wind
,
of
stars
flashing
in
their
hearts
,
of
cliff
,
sea
,
cloud
,
and
sky
brought
purposely
together
to
assemble
outwardly
the
scattered
parts
of
the
vision
within
.
In
those
mirrors
,
the
minds
of
men
,
in
those
pools
of
uneasy
water
,
in
which
clouds
for
ever
turn
and
shadows
form
,
dreams
persisted
,
and
it
was
impossible
to
resist
the
strange
intimation
which
every
gull
,
flower
,
tree
,
man
and
woman
,
and
the
white
earth
itself
seemed
to
declare
(
but
if
questioned
at
once
to
withdraw
)
that
good
triumphs
,
happiness
prevails
,
order
rules
;
or
to
resist
the
extraordinary
stimulus
to
range
hither
and
thither
in
search
of
some
absolute
good
,
some
crystal
of
intensity
,
remote
from
the
known
pleasures
and
familiar
virtues
,
something
alien
to
the
processes
of
domestic
life
,
single
,
hard
,
bright
,
like
a
diamond
in
the
sand
,
which
would
render
the
possessor
secure
.
Moreover
,
softened
and
acquiescent
,
the
spring
with
her
bees
humming
and
gnats
dancing
threw
her
cloak
about
her
,
veiled
her
eyes
,
averted
her
head
,
and
among
passing
shadows
and
flights
of
small
rain
seemed
to
have
taken
upon
her
a
knowledge
of
the
sorrows
of
mankind
.
[
Prue
Ramsay
died
that
summer
in
some
illness
connected
with
childbirth
,
which
was
indeed
a
tragedy
,
people
said
,
everything
,
they
said
,
had
promised
so
well
.
]
And
now
in
the
heat
of
summer
the
wind
sent
its
spies
about
the
house
again
.
Flies
wove
a
web
in
the
sunny
rooms
;
weeds
that
had
grown
close
to
the
glass
in
the
night
tapped
methodically
at
the
window
pane
.
When
darkness
fell
,
the
stroke
of
the
Lighthouse
,
which
had
laid
itself
with
such
authority
upon
the
carpet
in
the
darkness
,
tracing
its
pattern
,
came
now
in
the
softer
light
of
spring
mixed
with
moonlight
gliding
gently
as
if
it
laid
its
caress
and
lingered
stealthily
and
looked
and
came
lovingly
again
.
But
in
the
very
lull
of
this
loving
caress
,
as
the
long
stroke
leant
upon
the
bed
,
the
rock
was
rent
asunder
;
another
fold
of
the
shawl
loosened
;
there
it
hung
,
and
swayed
.
Through
the
short
summer
nights
and
the
long
summer
days
,
when
the
empty
rooms
seemed
to
murmur
with
the
echoes
of
the
fields
and
the
hum
of
flies
,
the
long
streamer
waved
gently
,
swayed
aimlessly
;
while
the
sun
so
striped
and
barred
the
rooms
and
filled
them
with
yellow
haze
that
Mrs.
McNab
,
when
she
broke
in
and
lurched
about
,
dusting
,
sweeping
,
looked
like
a
tropical
fish
oaring
its
way
through
sun-lanced
waters
.
But
slumber
and
sleep
though
it
might
there
came
later
in
the
summer
ominous
sounds
like
the
measured
blows
of
hammers
dulled
on
felt
,
which
,
with
their
repeated
shocks
still
further
loosened
the
shawl
and
cracked
the
tea-cups
.
Now
and
again
some
glass
tinkled
in
the
cupboard
as
if
a
giant
voice
had
shrieked
so
loud
in
its
agony
that
tumblers
stood
inside
a
cupboard
vibrated
too
.
Then
again
silence
fell
;
and
then
,
night
after
night
,
and
sometimes
in
plain
mid-day
when
the
roses
were
bright
and
light
turned
on
the
wall
its
shape
clearly
there
seemed
to
drop
into
this
silence
,
this
indifference
,
this
integrity
,
the
thud
of
something
falling
.
[
A
shell
exploded
.
Twenty
or
thirty
young
men
were
blown
up
in
France
,
among
them
Andrew
Ramsay
,
whose
death
,
mercifully
,
was
instantaneous
.
]
At
that
season
those
who
had
gone
down
to
pace
the
beach
and
ask
of
the
sea
and
sky
what
message
they
reported
or
what
vision
they
affirmed
had
to
consider
among
the
usual
tokens
of
divine
bounty
--
the
sunset
on
the
sea
,
the
pallor
of
dawn
,
the
moon
rising
,
fishing-boats
against
the
moon
,
and
children
making
mud
pies
or
pelting
each
other
with
handfuls
of
grass
,
something
out
of
harmony
with
this
jocundity
and
this
serenity
.
There
was
the
silent
apparition
of
an
ashen-coloured
ship
for
instance
,
come
,
gone
;
there
was
a
purplish
stain
upon
the
bland
surface
of
the
sea
as
if
something
had
boiled
and
bled
,
invisibly
,
beneath
.
This
intrusion
into
a
scene
calculated
to
stir
the
most
sublime
reflections
and
lead
to
the
most
comfortable
conclusions
stayed
their
pacing
It
was
difficult
blandly
to
overlook
them
;
to
abolish
their
significance
in
the
landscape
;
to
continue
,
as
one
walked
by
the
sea
,
to
marvel
how
beauty
outside
mirrored
beauty
within
.
