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- Вирджиния Вульф
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Still
she
could
say
nothing
;
the
whole
horizon
seemed
swept
bare
of
objects
to
talk
about
;
could
only
feel
,
amazedly
,
as
Mr.
Ramsay
stood
there
,
how
his
gaze
seemed
to
fall
dolefully
over
the
sunny
grass
and
discolour
it
,
and
cast
over
the
rubicund
,
drowsy
,
entirely
contented
figure
of
Mr.
Carmichael
,
reading
a
French
novel
on
a
deck-chair
,
a
veil
of
crape
,
as
if
such
an
existence
,
flaunting
its
prosperity
in
a
world
of
woe
,
were
enough
to
provoke
the
most
dismal
thoughts
of
all
.
Look
at
him
,
he
seemed
to
be
saying
,
look
at
me
;
and
indeed
,
all
the
time
he
was
feeling
,
Think
of
me
,
think
of
me
.
Ah
,
could
that
bulk
only
be
wafted
alongside
of
them
,
Lily
wished
;
had
she
only
pitched
her
easel
a
yard
or
two
closer
to
him
;
a
man
,
any
man
,
would
staunch
this
effusion
,
would
stop
these
lamentations
.
A
woman
,
she
had
provoked
this
horror
;
a
woman
,
she
should
have
known
how
to
deal
with
it
.
It
was
immensely
to
her
discredit
,
sexually
,
to
stand
there
dumb
.
One
said
--
what
did
one
say
?
--
Oh
,
Mr.
Ramsay
!
Dear
Mr.
Ramsay
!
That
was
what
that
kind
old
lady
who
sketched
,
Mrs.
Beckwith
,
would
have
said
instantly
,
and
rightly
.
But
,
no
.
They
stood
there
,
isolated
from
the
rest
of
the
world
.
His
immense
self-pity
,
his
demand
for
sympathy
poured
and
spread
itself
in
pools
at
their
feet
,
and
all
she
did
,
miserable
sinner
that
she
was
,
was
to
draw
her
skirts
a
little
closer
round
her
ankles
,
lest
she
should
get
wet
.
In
complete
silence
she
stood
there
,
grasping
her
paint
brush
.
Heaven
could
never
be
sufficiently
praised
!
She
heard
sounds
in
the
house
.
James
and
Cam
must
be
coming
.
But
Mr.
Ramsay
,
as
if
he
knew
that
his
time
ran
short
,
exerted
upon
her
solitary
figure
the
immense
pressure
of
his
concentrated
woe
;
his
age
;
his
frailty
:
his
desolation
;
when
suddenly
,
tossing
his
head
impatiently
,
in
his
annoyance
--
for
after
all
,
what
woman
could
resist
him
?
--
he
noticed
that
his
boot-laces
were
untied
.
Remarkable
boots
they
were
too
,
Lily
thought
,
looking
down
at
them
:
sculptured
;
colossal
;
like
everything
that
Mr.
Ramsay
wore
,
from
his
frayed
tie
to
his
half-buttoned
waistcoat
,
his
own
indisputably
.
She
could
see
them
walking
to
his
room
of
their
own
accord
,
expressive
in
his
absence
of
pathos
,
surliness
,
ill-temper
,
charm
.
"
What
beautiful
boots
!
"
she
exclaimed
.
She
was
ashamed
of
herself
.
To
praise
his
boots
when
he
asked
her
to
solace
his
soul
;
when
he
had
shown
her
his
bleeding
hands
,
his
lacerated
heart
,
and
asked
her
to
pity
them
,
then
to
say
,
cheerfully
,
"
Ah
,
but
what
beautiful
boots
you
wear
!
"
deserved
,
she
knew
,
and
she
looked
up
expecting
to
get
it
in
one
of
his
sudden
roars
of
ill-temper
complete
annihilation
.
Instead
,
Mr.
Ramsay
smiled
.
His
pall
,
his
draperies
,
his
infirmities
fell
from
him
.
Ah
,
yes
,
he
said
,
holding
his
foot
up
for
her
to
look
at
,
they
were
first-rate
boots
.
There
was
only
one
man
in
England
who
could
make
boots
like
that
.
Boots
are
among
the
chief
curses
of
mankind
,
he
said
.
"
Bootmakers
make
it
their
business
,
"
he
exclaimed
,
"
to
cripple
and
torture
the
human
foot
.
"
They
are
also
the
most
obstinate
and
perverse
of
mankind
.
It
had
taken
him
the
best
part
of
his
youth
to
get
boots
made
as
they
should
be
made
.
He
would
have
her
observe
(
he
lifted
his
right
foot
and
then
his
left
)
that
she
had
never
seen
boots
made
quite
that
shape
before
.
They
were
made
of
the
finest
leather
in
the
world
,
also
.
Most
leather
was
mere
brown
paper
and
cardboard
.
He
looked
complacently
at
his
foot
,
still
held
in
the
air
.
They
had
reached
,
she
felt
,
a
sunny
island
where
peace
dwelt
,
sanity
reigned
and
the
sun
for
ever
shone
,
the
blessed
island
of
good
boots
.
Her
heart
warmed
to
him
.
"
Now
let
me
see
if
you
can
tie
a
knot
,
"
he
said
.
He
pooh-poohed
her
feeble
system
.
He
showed
her
his
own
invention
.
Once
you
tied
it
,
it
never
came
undone
.
Three
times
he
knotted
her
shoe
;
three
times
he
unknotted
it
.
Why
,
at
this
completely
inappropriate
moment
,
when
he
was
stooping
over
her
shoe
,
should
she
be
so
tormented
with
sympathy
for
him
that
,
as
she
stooped
too
,
the
blood
rushed
to
her
face
,
and
,
thinking
of
her
callousness
(
she
had
called
him
a
play-actor
)
she
felt
her
eyes
swell
and
tingle
with
tears
?
Thus
occupied
he
seemed
to
her
a
figure
of
infinite
pathos
.
He
tied
knots
.
He
bought
boots
.
There
was
no
helping
Mr.
Ramsay
on
the
journey
he
was
going
.
But
now
just
as
she
wished
to
say
something
,
could
have
said
something
,
perhaps
,
here
they
were
--
Cam
and
James
.
They
appeared
on
the
terrace
.
They
came
,
lagging
,
side
by
side
,
a
serious
,
melancholy
couple
.
But
why
was
it
like
THAT
that
they
came
?
She
could
not
help
feeling
annoyed
with
them
;
they
might
have
come
more
cheerfully
;
they
might
have
given
him
what
,
now
that
they
were
off
,
she
would
not
have
the
chance
of
giving
him
.
For
she
felt
a
sudden
emptiness
;
a
frustration
.
Her
feeling
had
come
too
late
;
there
it
was
ready
;
but
he
no
longer
needed
it
.
He
had
become
a
very
distinguished
,
elderly
man
,
who
had
no
need
of
her
whatsoever
.
She
felt
snubbed
.
He
slung
a
knapsack
round
his
shoulders
.
He
shared
out
the
parcels
--
there
were
a
number
of
them
,
ill
tied
in
brown
paper
.
He
sent
Cam
for
a
cloak
.
He
had
all
the
appearance
of
a
leader
making
ready
for
an
expedition
.
Then
,
wheeling
about
,
he
led
the
way
with
his
firm
military
tread
,
in
those
wonderful
boots
,
carrying
brown
paper
parcels
,
down
the
path
,
his
children
following
him
.
They
looked
,
she
thought
,
as
if
fate
had
devoted
them
to
some
stern
enterprise
,
and
they
went
to
it
,
still
young
enough
to
be
drawn
acquiescent
in
their
father
's
wake
,
obediently
,
but
with
a
pallor
in
their
eyes
which
made
her
feel
that
they
suffered
something
beyond
their
years
in
silence
.
So
they
passed
the
edge
of
the
lawn
,
and
it
seemed
to
Lily
that
she
watched
a
procession
go
,
drawn
on
by
some
stress
of
common
feeling
which
made
it
,
faltering
and
flagging
as
it
was
,
a
little
company
bound
together
and
strangely
impressive
to
her
.
Politely
,
but
very
distantly
,
Mr.
Ramsay
raised
his
hand
and
saluted
her
as
they
passed
.
