第8章
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  Voiceswereheardattheendofthecorridor。Mrs。Ambrosewasspeakinglow;WilliamPepperwasremarkinginhisdefiniteandratheracidvoice,“ThatisthetypeofladywithwhomIfindmyselfdistinctlyoutofsympathy。She——“

  ButneitherRichardnorClarissaprofitedbytheverdict,fordirectlyitseemedlikelythattheywouldoverhear,Richardcrackledasheetofpaper。

  “Ioftenwonder,“Clarissamusedinbed,overthelittlewhitevolumeofPascalwhichwentwithhereverywhere,“whetheritisreallygoodforawomantolivewithamanwhoismorallyhersuperior,asRichardismine。Itmakesonesodependent。IsupposeIfeelforhimwhatmymotherandwomenofhergenerationfeltforChrist。

  Itjustshowsthatonecan’tdowithout_something_。“Shethenfellintoasleep,whichwasasusualextremelysoundandrefreshing,butvisitedbyfantasticdreamsofgreatGreeklettersstalkingroundtheroom,whenshewokeupandlaughedtoherself,rememberingwhereshewasandthattheGreekletterswererealpeople,lyingasleepnotmanyyardsaway。Then,thinkingoftheblackseaoutsidetossingbeneaththemoon,sheshuddered,andthoughtofherhusbandandtheothersascompanionsonthevoyage。

  Thedreamswerenotconfinedtoherindeed,butwentfromonebraintoanother。Theyalldreamtofeachotherthatnight,aswasnatural,consideringhowthinthepartitionswerebetweenthem,andhowstrangelytheyhadbeenliftedofftheearthtositnexteachotherinmid-ocean,andseeeverydetailofeachother’sfaces,andhearwhatevertheychancedtosay。

  NextmorningClarissawasupbeforeanyoneelse。Shedressed,andwasoutondeck,breathingthefreshairofacalmmorning,and,makingthecircuitoftheshipforthesecondtime,sheranstraightintotheleanpersonofMr。Grice,thesteward。

  Sheapologised,andatthesametimeaskedhimtoenlightenher:

  whatwerethoseshinybrassstandsfor,halfglassonthetop?

  Shehadbeenwondering,andcouldnotguess。Whenhehaddoneexplaining,shecriedenthusiastically:

  “Idothinkthattobeasailormustbethefinestthingintheworld!“

  “Andwhatd’youknowaboutit?“saidMr。Grice,kindlinginastrangemanner。“Pardonme。WhatdoesanymanorwomanbroughtupinEnglandknowaboutthesea?Theyprofesstoknow;buttheydon’t。“

  Thebitternesswithwhichhespokewasominousofwhatwastocome。

  Heledherofftohisownquarters,and,sittingontheedgeofabrass-boundtable,lookinguncommonlylikeasea-gull,withherwhitetaperingbodyandthinalertface,Mrs。Dallowayhadtolistentothetiradeofafanaticalman。Didsherealise,tobeginwith,whataverysmallpartoftheworldthelandwas?

  Howpeaceful,howbeautiful,howbenignantincomparisonthesea?

  ThedeepwaterscouldsustainEuropeunaidedifeveryearthlyanimaldiedoftheplagueto-morrow。Mr。Gricerecalleddreadfulsightswhichhehadseenintherichestcityoftheworld——menandwomenstandinginlinehourafterhourtoreceiveamugofgreasysoup。

  “AndIthoughtofthegoodfleshdownherewaitingandaskingtobecaught。I’mnotexactlyaProtestant,andI’mnotaCatholic,butIcouldalmostprayforthedaysofpoperytocomeagain——

  becauseofthefasts。“

  Ashetalkedhekeptopeningdrawersandmovinglittleglassjars。

  Herewerethetreasureswhichthegreatoceanhadbestoweduponhim——

  palefishingreenishliquids,blobsofjellywithstreamingtresses,fishwithlightsintheirheads,theylivedsodeep。

  “Theyhaveswumaboutamongbones,“Clarissasighed。

  “You’rethinkingofShakespeare,“saidMr。Grice,andtakingdownacopyfromashelfwelllinedwithbooks,recitedinanemphaticnasalvoice:

  Fullfathomfivethyfatherlies,“Agrandfellow,Shakespeare,“hesaid,replacingthevolume。

  Clarissawassogladtohearhimsayso。

  “Whichisyourfavouriteplay?Iwonderifit’sthesameasmine?“

  “_HenrytheFifth_,“saidMr。Grice。

  “Joy!“criedClarissa。“Itis!“

  _Hamlet_waswhatyoumightcalltoointrospectiveforMr。Grice,thesonnetstoopassionate;HenrytheFifthwastohimthemodelofanEnglishgentleman。ButhisfavouritereadingwasHuxley,HerbertSpencer,andHenryGeorge;whileEmersonandThomasHardyhereadforrelaxation。HewasgivingMrs。DallowayhisviewsuponthepresentstateofEnglandwhenthebreakfastbellrungsoimperiouslythatshehadtotearherselfaway,promisingtocomebackandbeshownhissea-weeds。

  Theparty,whichhadseemedsooddtoherthenightbefore,wasalreadygatheredroundthetable,stillundertheinfluenceofsleep,andthereforeuncommunicative,butherentrancesentalittleflutterlikeabreathofairthroughthemall。

  “I’vehadthemostinterestingtalkofmylife!“sheexclaimed,takingherseatbesideWilloughby。“D’yourealisethatoneofyourmenisaphilosopherandapoet?“

  “Averyinterestingfellow——that’swhatIalwayssay,“saidWilloughby,distinguishingMr。Grice。“ThoughRachelfindshimabore。“

  “He’saborewhenhetalksaboutcurrents,“saidRachel。Hereyeswerefullofsleep,butMrs。Dallowaystillseemedtoherwonderful。

  “I’venevermetaboreyet!“saidClarissa。

  “AndIshouldsaytheworldwasfullofthem!“exclaimedHelen。

  Butherbeauty,whichwasradiantinthemorninglight,tookthecontrarinessfromherwords。

  “Iagreethatit’stheworstonecanpossiblysayofanyone,“

  saidClarissa。“Howmuchratheronewouldbeamurdererthanabore!“

  sheadded,withherusualairofsayingsomethingprofound。

  “Onecanfancylikingamurderer。It’sthesamewithdogs。

  Somedogsareawfulbores,poordears。“

  IthappenedthatRichardwassittingnexttoRachel。Shewascuriouslyconsciousofhispresenceandappearance——hiswell-cutclothes,hiscracklingshirt-front,hiscuffswithblueringsroundthem,andthesquare-tipped,verycleanfingerswiththeredstoneonthelittlefingerofthelefthand。

  “Wehadadogwhowasaboreandknewit,“hesaid,addressingherincool,easytones。“HewasaSkyeterrier,oneofthoselongchaps,withlittlefeetpokingoutfromtheirhairlike——

  likecaterpillars——no,likesofasIshouldsay。Well,wehadanotherdogatthesametime,ablackbriskanimal——aSchipperke,Ithink,youcallthem。Youcan’timagineagreatercontrast。TheSkyesoslowanddeliberate,lookingupatyoulikesomeoldgentlemanintheclub,asmuchastosay,“Youdon’treallymeanit,doyou?“

  andtheSchipperkeasquickasaknife。IlikedtheSkyebest,Imustconfess。Therewassomethingpatheticabouthim。“

  Thestoryseemedtohavenoclimax。

  “Whathappenedtohim?“Rachelasked。

  “That’saverysadstory,“saidRichard,loweringhisvoiceandpeelinganapple。“Hefollowedmywifeinthecaronedayandgotrunoverbyabruteofacyclist。“

  “Washekilled?“askedRachel。

  ButClarissaatherendofthetablehadoverheard。

  “Don’ttalkofit!“shecried。“It’sathingIcan’tbeartothinkoftothisday。“

  Surelythetearsstoodinhereyes?

  “That’sthepainfulthingaboutpets,“saidMr。Dalloway;“theydie。

  ThefirstsorrowIcanrememberwasforthedeathofadormouse。

  IregrettosaythatIsatuponit。Still,thatdidn’tmakeoneanythelesssorry。HereliestheduckthatSamuelJohnsonsaton,eh?

  Iwasbigformyage。“

  “Thenwehadcanaries,“hecontinued,“apairofring-doves,alemur,andatonetimeamartin。“

  “Didyouliveinthecountry?“Rachelaskedhim。

  “Welivedinthecountryforsixmonthsoftheyear。WhenIsay’we’Imeanfoursisters,abrother,andmyself。There’snothinglikecomingofalargefamily。Sistersparticularlyaredelightful。“

  “Dick,youwerehorriblyspoilt!“criedClarissaacrossthetable。

  “No,no。Appreciated,“saidRichard。

  Rachelhadotherquestionsonthetipofhertongue;orratheroneenormousquestion,whichshedidnotintheleastknowhowtoputintowords。Thetalkappearedtooairytoadmitofit。

  “Pleasetellme——everything。“Thatwaswhatshewantedtosay。

  Hehaddrawnapartonelittlechinkandshowedastonishingtreasures。

  Itseemedtoherincrediblethatamanlikethatshouldbewillingtotalktoher。Hehadsistersandpets,andoncelivedinthecountry。

  Shestirredhertearoundandround;thebubbleswhichswamandclusteredinthecupseemedtoherliketheunionoftheirminds。

  Thetalkmeanwhileracedpasther,andwhenRichardsuddenlystatedinajoculartoneofvoice,“I’msureMissVinrace,now,hassecretleaningstowardsCatholicism,“shehadnoideawhattoanswer,andHelencouldnothelplaughingatthestartshegave。

  However,breakfastwasoverandMrs。Dallowaywasrising。

  “Ialwaysthinkreligion’slikecollectingbeetles,“shesaid,summingupthediscussionasshewentupthestairswithHelen。

  “Onepersonhasapassionforblackbeetles;anotherhasn’t;it’snogoodarguingaboutit。What’s_your_blackbeetlenow?“

  “Isupposeit’smychildren,“saidHelen。

  “Ah——that’sdifferent,“Clarissabreathed。“Dotellme。

  Youhaveaboy,haven’tyou?Isn’titdetestable,leavingthem?“

  Itwasasthoughablueshadowhadfallenacrossapool。

  Theireyesbecamedeeper,andtheirvoicesmorecordial。

  Insteadofjoiningthemastheybegantopacethedeck,Rachelwasindignantwiththeprosperousmatrons,whomadeherfeeloutsidetheirworldandmotherless,andturningback,sheleftthemabruptly。

  Sheslammedthedoorofherroom,andpulledouthermusic。

  Itwasalloldmusic——BachandBeethoven,MozartandPurcell——

  thepagesyellow,theengravingroughtothefinger。Inthreeminutesshewasdeepinaverydifficult,veryclassicalfugueinA,andoverherfacecameaqueerremoteimpersonalexpressionofcompleteabsorptionandanxioussatisfaction。Nowshestumbled;

  nowshefalteredandhadtoplaythesamebartwiceover;butaninvisiblelineseemedtostringthenotestogether,fromwhichroseashape,abuilding。Shewassofarabsorbedinthiswork,foritwasreallydifficulttofindhowallthesesoundsshouldstandtogether,anddrewuponthewholeofherfaculties,thatsheneverheardaknockatthedoor。Itwasburstimpulsivelyopen,andMrs。Dallowaystoodintheroomleavingthedooropen,sothatastripofthewhitedeckandoftheblueseaappearedthroughtheopening。TheshapeoftheBachfuguecrashedtotheground。

  “Don’tletmeinterrupt,“Clarissaimplored。“Iheardyouplaying,andIcouldn’tresist。IadoreBach!“

  Rachelflushedandfumbledherfingersinherlap。Shestoodupawkwardly。

  “It’stoodifficult,“shesaid。

  “Butyouwereplayingquitesplendidly!Ioughttohavestayedoutside。“

  “No,“saidRachel。

  Sheslid_Cowper’s__Letters_and_Wuthering__Heights_outofthearm-chair,sothatClarissawasinvitedtositthere。

  “Whatadearlittleroom!“shesaid,lookinground。

  “Oh,_Cowper’s__Letters>!“I’veneverreadthem。Aretheynice?“

  “Ratherdull,“saidRachel。

  “Hewroteawfullywell,didn’the?“saidClarissa;“——ifonelikesthatkindofthing——finishedhissentencesandallthat。

  _Wuthering__Heights_!Ah——that’smoreinmyline。Ireallycouldn’texistwithouttheBrontes!Don’tyoulovethem?Still,onthewhole,I’dratherlivewithoutthemthanwithoutJaneAusten。“

  Lightlyandatrandomthoughshespoke,hermannerconveyedanextraordinarydegreeofsympathyanddesiretobefriend。

  “JaneAusten?Idon’tlikeJaneAusten,“saidRachel。

  “Youmonster!“Clarissaexclaimed。“Icanonlyjustforgiveyou。

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