-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Вирджиния Вульф
-
- На маяк
-
- Стр. 61/72
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
At
that
all
her
being
,
even
her
beauty
,
became
for
a
moment
,
dusty
and
out
of
date
.
For
a
moment
Lily
,
standing
there
,
with
the
sun
hot
on
her
back
,
summing
up
the
Rayleys
,
triumphed
over
Mrs.
Ramsay
,
who
would
never
know
how
Paul
went
to
coffee-houses
and
had
a
mistress
;
how
he
sat
on
the
ground
and
Minta
handed
him
his
tools
;
how
she
stood
here
painting
,
had
never
married
,
not
even
William
Bankes
.
Mrs.
Ramsay
had
planned
it
.
Perhaps
,
had
she
lived
,
she
would
have
compelled
it
.
Already
that
summer
he
was
"
the
kindest
of
men
.
"
He
was
"
the
first
scientist
of
his
age
,
my
husband
says
.
"
He
was
also
"
poor
William
--
it
makes
me
so
unhappy
,
when
I
go
to
see
him
,
to
find
nothing
nice
in
his
house
--
no
one
to
arrange
the
flowers
.
"
So
they
were
sent
for
walks
together
,
and
she
was
told
,
with
that
faint
touch
of
irony
that
made
Mrs.
Ramsay
slip
through
one
's
fingers
,
that
she
had
a
scientific
mind
;
she
liked
flowers
;
she
was
so
exact
.
What
was
this
mania
of
hers
for
marriage
?
Lily
wondered
,
stepping
to
and
fro
from
her
easel
.
(
Suddenly
,
as
suddenly
as
a
star
slides
in
the
sky
,
a
reddish
light
seemed
to
burn
in
her
mind
,
covering
Paul
Rayley
,
issuing
from
him
.
It
rose
like
a
fire
sent
up
in
token
of
some
celebration
by
savages
on
a
distant
beach
.
She
heard
the
roar
and
the
crackle
.
The
whole
sea
for
miles
round
ran
red
and
gold
.
Some
winey
smell
mixed
with
it
and
intoxicated
her
,
for
she
felt
again
her
own
headlong
desire
to
throw
herself
off
the
cliff
and
be
drowned
looking
for
a
pearl
brooch
on
a
beach
.
And
the
roar
and
the
crackle
repelled
her
with
fear
and
disgust
,
as
if
while
she
saw
its
splendour
and
power
she
saw
too
how
it
fed
on
the
treasure
of
the
house
,
greedily
,
disgustingly
,
and
she
loathed
it
.
But
for
a
sight
,
for
a
glory
it
surpassed
everything
in
her
experience
,
and
burnt
year
after
year
like
a
signal
fire
on
a
desert
island
at
the
edge
of
the
sea
,
and
one
had
only
to
say
"
in
love
"
and
instantly
,
as
happened
now
,
up
rose
Paul
's
fire
again
.
And
it
sank
and
she
said
to
herself
,
laughing
,
"
The
Rayleys
"
;
how
Paul
went
to
coffee-houses
and
played
chess
.
)
She
had
only
escaped
by
the
skin
of
her
teeth
though
,
she
thought
.
She
had
been
looking
at
the
table-cloth
,
and
it
had
flashed
upon
her
that
she
would
move
the
tree
to
the
middle
,
and
need
never
marry
anybody
,
and
she
had
felt
an
enormous
exultation
.
She
had
felt
,
now
she
could
stand
up
to
Mrs.
Ramsay
--
a
tribute
to
the
astonishing
power
that
Mrs.
Ramsay
had
over
one
.
Do
this
,
she
said
,
and
one
did
it
.
Even
her
shadow
at
the
window
with
James
was
full
of
authority
.
She
remembered
how
William
Bankes
had
been
shocked
by
her
neglect
of
the
significance
of
mother
and
son
.
Did
she
not
admire
their
beauty
?
he
said
.
But
William
,
she
remembered
,
had
listened
to
her
with
his
wise
child
's
eyes
when
she
explained
how
it
was
not
irreverence
:
how
a
light
there
needed
a
shadow
there
and
so
on
.
She
did
not
intend
to
disparage
a
subject
which
,
they
agreed
,
Raphael
had
treated
divinely
.
She
was
not
cynical
.
Quite
the
contrary
.
Thanks
to
his
scientific
mind
he
understood
--
a
proof
of
disinterested
intelligence
which
had
pleased
her
and
comforted
her
enormously
.
One
could
talk
of
painting
then
seriously
to
a
man
.
Indeed
,
his
friendship
had
been
one
of
the
pleasures
of
her
life
.
She
loved
William
Bankes
.
They
went
to
Hampton
Court
and
he
always
left
her
,
like
the
perfect
gentleman
he
was
,
plenty
of
time
to
wash
her
hands
,
while
he
strolled
by
the
river
.
That
was
typical
of
their
relationship
.
Many
things
were
left
unsaid
.
Then
they
strolled
through
the
courtyards
,
and
admired
,
summer
after
summer
,
the
proportions
and
the
flowers
,
and
he
would
tell
her
things
,
about
perspective
,
about
architecture
,
as
they
walked
,
and
he
would
stop
to
look
at
a
tree
,
or
the
view
over
the
lake
,
and
admire
a
child
--
(
it
was
his
great
grief
--
he
had
no
daughter
)
in
the
vague
aloof
way
that
was
natural
to
a
man
who
spent
so
much
time
in
laboratories
that
the
world
when
he
came
out
seemed
to
dazzle
him
,
so
that
he
walked
slowly
,
lifted
his
hand
to
screen
his
eyes
and
paused
,
with
his
head
thrown
back
,
merely
to
breathe
the
air
.
Then
he
would
tell
her
how
his
housekeeper
was
on
her
holiday
;
he
must
buy
a
new
carpet
for
the
staircase
.
Perhaps
she
would
go
with
him
to
buy
a
new
carpet
for
the
staircase
.
And
once
something
led
him
to
talk
about
the
Ramsays
and
he
had
said
how
when
he
first
saw
her
she
had
been
wearing
a
grey
hat
;
she
was
not
more
than
nineteen
or
twenty
.
She
was
astonishingly
beautiful
.
There
he
stood
looking
down
the
avenue
at
Hampton
Court
as
if
he
could
see
her
there
among
the
fountains
.
She
looked
now
at
the
drawing-room
step
.
She
saw
,
through
William
's
eyes
,
the
shape
of
a
woman
,
peaceful
and
silent
,
with
downcast
eyes
.
She
sat
musing
,
pondering
(
she
was
in
grey
that
day
,
Lily
thought
)
.
Her
eyes
were
bent
.
She
would
never
lift
them
.
Yes
,
thought
Lily
,
looking
intently
,
I
must
have
seen
her
look
like
that
,
but
not
in
grey
;
nor
so
still
,
nor
so
young
,
nor
so
peaceful
.
The
figure
came
readily
enough
.
She
was
astonishingly
beautiful
,
as
William
said
.
But
beauty
was
not
everything
.
Beauty
had
this
penalty
--
it
came
too
readily
,
came
too
completely
.
It
stilled
life
--
froze
it
.
One
forgot
the
little
agitations
;
the
flush
,
the
pallor
,
some
queer
distortion
,
some
light
or
shadow
,
which
made
the
face
unrecognisable
for
a
moment
and
yet
added
a
quality
one
saw
for
ever
after
.
It
was
simpler
to
smooth
that
all
out
under
the
cover
of
beauty
.
But
what
was
the
look
she
had
,
Lily
wondered
,
when
she
clapped
her
deer-stalker
's
hat
on
her
head
,
or
ran
across
the
grass
,
or
scolded
Kennedy
,
the
gardener
?
Who
could
tell
her
?
Who
could
help
her
?
Against
her
will
she
had
come
to
the
surface
,
and
found
herself
half
out
of
the
picture
,
looking
,
little
dazedly
,
as
if
at
unreal
things
,
at
Mr.
Carmichael
.
He
lay
on
his
chair
with
his
hands
clasped
above
his
paunch
not
reading
,
or
sleeping
,
but
basking
like
a
creature
gorged
with
existence
.
His
book
had
fallen
on
to
the
grass
.
She
wanted
to
go
straight
up
to
him
and
say
,
"
Mr.
Carmichael
!
"
Then
he
would
look
up
benevolently
as
always
,
from
his
smoky
vague
green
eyes
.
