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- Вирджиния Вульф
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- Стр. 67/72
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Also
,
her
beauty
offended
people
probably
.
How
monotonous
,
they
would
say
,
and
the
same
always
!
They
preferred
another
type
--
the
dark
,
the
vivacious
.
Then
she
was
weak
with
her
husband
.
She
let
him
make
those
scenes
.
Then
she
was
reserved
.
Nobody
knew
exactly
what
had
happened
to
her
.
And
(
to
go
back
to
Mr.
Carmichael
and
his
dislike
)
one
could
not
imagine
Mrs.
Ramsay
standing
painting
,
lying
reading
,
a
whole
morning
on
the
lawn
.
It
was
unthinkable
.
Without
saying
a
word
,
the
only
token
of
her
errand
a
basket
on
her
arm
,
she
went
off
to
the
town
,
to
the
poor
,
to
sit
in
some
stuffy
little
bedroom
.
Often
and
often
Lily
had
seen
her
go
silently
in
the
midst
of
some
game
,
some
discussion
,
with
her
basket
on
her
arm
,
very
upright
.
She
had
noted
her
return
.
She
had
thought
,
half
laughing
(
she
was
so
methodical
with
the
tea
cups
)
,
half
moved
(
her
beauty
took
one
's
breath
away
)
,
eyes
that
are
closing
in
pain
have
looked
on
you
.
You
have
been
with
them
there
.
And
then
Mrs.
Ramsay
would
be
annoyed
because
somebody
was
late
,
or
the
butter
not
fresh
,
or
the
teapot
chipped
.
And
all
the
time
she
was
saying
that
the
butter
was
not
fresh
one
would
be
thinking
of
Greek
temples
,
and
how
beauty
had
been
with
them
there
in
that
stuffy
little
room
.
She
never
talked
of
it
--
she
went
,
punctually
,
directly
.
It
was
her
instinct
to
go
,
an
instinct
like
the
swallows
for
the
south
,
the
artichokes
for
the
sun
,
turning
her
infallibly
to
the
human
race
,
making
her
nest
in
its
heart
.
And
this
,
like
all
instincts
,
was
a
little
distressing
to
people
who
did
not
share
it
;
to
Mr.
Carmichael
perhaps
,
to
herself
certainly
.
Some
notion
was
in
both
of
them
about
the
ineffectiveness
of
action
,
the
supremacy
of
thought
.
Her
going
was
a
reproach
to
them
,
gave
a
different
twist
to
the
world
,
so
that
they
were
led
to
protest
,
seeing
their
own
prepossessions
disappear
,
and
clutch
at
them
vanishing
.
Charles
Tansley
did
that
too
:
it
was
part
of
the
reason
why
one
disliked
him
.
He
upset
the
proportions
of
one
's
world
.
And
what
had
happened
to
him
,
she
wondered
,
idly
stirring
the
platains
with
her
brush
.
He
had
got
his
fellowship
.
He
had
married
;
he
lived
at
Golder
's
Green
.
She
had
gone
one
day
into
a
Hall
and
heard
him
speaking
during
the
war
.
He
was
denouncing
something
:
he
was
condemning
somebody
.
He
was
preaching
brotherly
love
.
And
all
she
felt
was
how
could
he
love
his
kind
who
did
not
know
one
picture
from
another
,
who
had
stood
behind
her
smoking
shag
(
"
fivepence
an
ounce
,
Miss
Briscoe
"
)
and
making
it
his
business
to
tell
her
women
ca
n't
write
,
women
ca
n't
paint
,
not
so
much
that
he
believed
it
,
as
that
for
some
odd
reason
he
wished
it
?
There
he
was
lean
and
red
and
raucous
,
preaching
love
from
a
platform
(
there
were
ants
crawling
about
among
the
plantains
which
she
disturbed
with
her
brush
--
red
,
energetic
,
shiny
ants
,
rather
like
Charles
Tansley
)
.
She
had
looked
at
him
ironically
from
her
seat
in
the
half-empty
hall
,
pumping
love
into
that
chilly
space
,
and
suddenly
,
there
was
the
old
cask
or
whatever
it
was
bobbing
up
and
down
among
the
waves
and
Mrs.
Ramsay
looking
for
her
spectacle
case
among
the
pebbles
.
"
Oh
,
dear
!
What
a
nuisance
!
Lost
again
.
Do
n't
bother
,
Mr.
Tansley
.
I
lose
thousands
every
summer
,
"
at
which
he
pressed
his
chin
back
against
his
collar
,
as
if
afraid
to
sanction
such
exaggeration
,
but
could
stand
it
in
her
whom
he
liked
,
and
smiled
very
charmingly
.
He
must
have
confided
in
her
on
one
of
those
long
expeditions
when
people
got
separated
and
walked
back
alone
.
He
was
educating
his
little
sister
,
Mrs.
Ramsay
had
told
her
.
It
was
immensely
to
his
credit
.
Her
own
idea
of
him
was
grotesque
,
Lily
knew
well
,
stirring
the
plantains
with
her
brush
.
Half
one
's
notions
of
other
people
were
,
after
all
,
grotesque
.
They
served
private
purposes
of
one
's
own
.
He
did
for
her
instead
of
a
whipping-boy
.
She
found
herself
flagellating
his
lean
flanks
when
she
was
out
of
temper
.
If
she
wanted
to
be
serious
about
him
she
had
to
help
herself
to
Mrs.
Ramsay
's
sayings
,
to
look
at
him
through
her
eyes
.
She
raised
a
little
mountain
for
the
ants
to
climb
over
.
She
reduced
them
to
a
frenzy
of
indecision
by
this
interference
in
their
cosmogony
.
Some
ran
this
way
,
others
that
.
One
wanted
fifty
pairs
of
eyes
to
see
with
,
she
reflected
.
Fifty
pairs
of
eyes
were
not
enough
to
get
round
that
one
woman
with
,
she
thought
.
Among
them
,
must
be
one
that
was
stone
blind
to
her
beauty
.
One
wanted
most
some
secret
sense
,
fine
as
air
,
with
which
to
steal
through
keyholes
and
surround
her
where
she
sat
knitting
,
talking
,
sitting
silent
in
the
window
alone
;
which
took
to
itself
and
treasured
up
like
the
air
which
held
the
smoke
of
the
steamer
,
her
thoughts
,
her
imaginations
,
her
desires
.
What
did
the
hedge
mean
to
her
,
what
did
the
garden
mean
to
her
,
what
did
it
mean
to
her
when
a
wave
broke
?
(
Lily
looked
up
,
as
she
had
seen
Mrs.
Ramsay
look
up
;
she
too
heard
a
wave
falling
on
the
beach
.
)
And
then
what
stirred
and
trembled
in
her
mind
when
the
children
cried
,
"
How
's
that
?
How
's
that
?
"
cricketing
?
She
would
stop
knitting
for
a
second
.
She
would
look
intent
.
Then
she
would
lapse
again
,
and
suddenly
Mr.
Ramsay
stopped
dead
in
his
pacing
in
front
of
her
and
some
curious
shock
passed
through
her
and
seemed
to
rock
her
in
profound
agitation
on
its
breast
when
stopping
there
he
stood
over
her
and
looked
down
at
her
.
Lily
could
see
him
.
He
stretched
out
his
hand
and
raised
her
from
her
chair
.
It
seemed
somehow
as
if
he
had
done
it
before
;
as
if
he
had
once
bent
in
the
same
way
and
raised
her
from
a
boat
which
,
lying
a
few
inches
off
some
island
,
had
required
that
the
ladies
should
thus
be
helped
on
shore
by
the
gentlemen
.
An
old-fashioned
scene
that
was
,
which
required
,
very
nearly
,
crinolines
and
peg-top
trousers
.
Letting
herself
be
helped
by
him
,
Mrs.
Ramsay
had
thought
(
Lily
supposed
)
the
time
has
come
now
.
Yes
,
she
would
say
it
now
.
Yes
,
she
would
marry
him
.
And
she
stepped
slowly
,
quietly
on
shore
.
Probably
she
said
one
word
only
,
letting
her
hand
rest
still
in
his
.
I
will
marry
you
,
she
might
have
said
,
with
her
hand
in
his
;
but
no
more
.
Time
after
time
the
same
thrill
had
passed
between
them
--
obviously
it
had
,
Lily
thought
,
smoothing
a
way
for
her
ants
.
She
was
not
inventing
;
she
was
only
trying
to
smooth
out
something
she
had
been
given
years
ago
folded
up
;
something
she
had
seen
.
For
in
the
rough
and
tumble
of
daily
life
,
with
all
those
children
about
,
all
those
visitors
,
one
had
constantly
a
sense
of
repetition
--
of
one
thing
falling
where
another
had
fallen
,
and
so
setting
up
an
echo
which
chimed
in
the
air
and
made
it
full
of
vibrations
.
