《夜与日》第7章

in　gloomy　patience　to　await　his　dinner。　After　sitting　thus　
for　some　minutes　a　small　girl　popped　her　head　in　to　say；　
“Mother　says；　aren’t　you　ing　down；　Ralph？　Uncle　
Joseph—”　
“They’re　to　bring　my　dinner　up　here；”　said　Ralph；　peremptorily；　
whereupon　she　vanished；　leaving　the　door　
ajar　in　her　haste　to　be　gone。　After　Denham　had　waited　
some　minutes；　in　the　course　of　which　neither　he　nor　the　
rook　took　their　eyes　off　the　fire；　he　muttered　a　curse；　ran　
downstairs；　intercepted　the　parlormaid；　and　cut　himself　
a　slice　of　bread　and　cold　meat。　As　he　did　so；　the　dining
room　door　sprang　open；　a　voice　exclaimed　“Ralph！”　but　
Ralph　paid　no　attention　to　the　voice；　and　made　off　upstairs　
with　his　plate。　He　set　it　down　in　a　chair　opposite　
him；　and　ate　with　a　ferocity　that　was　due　partly　to　anger　
and　partly　to　hunger。　His　mother；　then；　was　determined　
not　to　respect　his　wishes；　he　was　a　person　of　no　importance　
in　his　own　family；　he　was　sent　for　and　treated　as　a　
child。　He　reflected；　with　a　growing　sense　of　injury；　that　
18　
Virginia　Woolf　
almost　every　one　of　his　actions　since　opening　the　door　of　
his　room　had　been　won　from　the　grasp　of　the　family　system。　
By　rights；　he　should　have　been　sitting　downstairs　in　
the　drawingroom　describing　his　afternoon’s　adventures；　
or　listening　to　the　afternoon’s　adventures　of　other　people；　
the　room　itself；　the　gasfire；　the　armchair—all　had　been　
fought　for；　the　wretched　bird；　with　half　its　feathers　out　
and　one　leg　lamed　by　a　cat；　had　been　rescued　under　protest；　
but　what　his　family　most　resented；　he　reflected；　
was　his　wish　for　privacy。　To　dine　alone；　or　to　sit　alone　
after　dinner；　was　flat　rebellion；　to　be　fought　with　every　
weapon　of　underhand　stealth　or　of　open　appeal。　Which　
did　he　dislike　most—deception　or　tears？　But；　at　any　rate；　
they　could　not　rob　him　of　his　thoughts；　they　could　not　
make　him　say　where　he　had　been　or　whom　he　had　seen。　
That　was　his　own　affair；　that；　indeed；　was　a　step　entirely　
in　the　right　direction；　and；　lighting　his　pipe；　and　cutting　
up　the　remains　of　his　meal　for　the　benefit　of　the　rook；　
Ralph　calmed　his　rather　excessive　irritation　and　settled　
down　to　think　over　his　prospects。　
This　particular　afternoon　was　a　step　in　the　right　direc
tion；　because　it　was　part　of　his　plan　to　get　to　know　people　
beyond　the　family　circuit；　just　as　it　was　part　of　his　plan　
to　learn　German　this　autumn；　and　to　review　legal　books　
for　Mr。　Hilbery’s　“Critical　Review。”　He　had　always　made　
plans　since　he　was　a　small　boy；　for　poverty；　and　the　fact　
that　he　was　the　eldest　son　of　a　large　family；　had　given　
him　the　habit　of　thinking　of　spring　and　summer；　autumn　
and　winter；　as　so　many　stages　in　a　prolonged　campaign。　
Although　he　was　still　under　thirty；　this　forecasting　habit　
had　marked　two　semicircular　lines　above　his　eyebrows；　
which　threatened；　at　this　moment；　to　crease　into　their　
wonted　shapes。　But　instead　of　settling　down　to　think；　he　
rose；　took　a　small　piece　of　cardboard　marked　in　large　
letters　with　the　word　out；　and　hung　it　upon　the　handle　of　
his　door。　This　done；　he　sharpened　a　pencil；　lit　a　reading
lamp　and　opened　his　book。　But　still　he　hesitated　to　take　
his　seat。　He　scratched　the　rook；　he　walked　to　the　window；　
he　parted　the　curtains；　and　looked　down　upon　the　
city　which　lay；　hazily　luminous；　beneath　him。　He　looked　
across　the　vapors　in　the　direction　of　Chelsea；　looked　fixedly　
for　a　moment；　and　then　returned　to　his　chair。　But　
19　
Night　and　Day　
the　whole　thickness　of　some　learned　counsel’s　treatise　
upon　Torts　did　not　screen　him　satisfactorily。　Through　the　
pages　he　saw　a　drawingroom；　very　empty　and　spacious；　
he　heard　low　voices；　he　saw　women’s　figures；　he　could　
even　smell　the　scent　of　the　cedar　log　which　flamed　in　the　
grate。　His　mind　relaxed　its　tension；　and　seemed　to　be　
giving　out　now　what　it　had　taken　in　unconsciously　at　the　
time。　He　could　remember　Mr。　Fortescue’s　exact　words；　and　
the　rolling　emphasis　with　which　he　delivered　them；　and　
he　began　to　repeat　what　Mr。　Fortescue　had　said；　in　Mr。　
Fortescue’s　own　manner；　about　Manchester。　His　mind　then　
began　to　wander　about　the　house；　and　he　wondered　
whether　there　were　other　rooms　like　the　drawingroom；　
and　he　thought；　inconsequently；　how　beautiful　the　bathroom　
must　be；　and　how　leisurely　it　was—the　life　of　these　
wellkept　people；　who　were；　no　doubt；　still　sitting　in　the　
same　room；　only　they　had　changed　their　clothes；　and　
little　Mr。　Anning　was　there；　and　the　aunt　who　would　mind　
if　the　glass　of　her　father’s　picture　was　broken。　Miss　Hilbery　
had　changed　her　dress　（“although　she’s　wearing　such　a　
pretty　one；”　he　heard　her　mother　say）；　and　she　was　talk
ing　to　Mr。　Anning；　who　was　well　over　forty；　and　bald　into　
the　bargain；　about　books。　How　peaceful　and　spacious　it　
was；　and　the　peace　possessed　him　so　pletely　that　his　
muscles　slackened；　his　book　drooped　from　his　hand；　and　
he　forgot　that　the　hour　of　work　was　wasting　minute　by　
minute。　
He　was　roused　by　a　creak　upon　the　stair。　With　a　guilty　
start　he　posed　himself；　frowned　and　looked　intently　at　
the　fiftysixth　page　of　his　volume。　A　step　paused　outside　
his　door；　and　he　knew　that　the　person；　whoever　it　might　
be；　was　considering　the　placard；　and　debating　whether　to　
honor　its　decree　or　not。　Certainly；　policy　advised　him　to　sit　
still　in　autocratic　silence；　for　no　custom　can　take　root　in　a　
family　unless　every　breach　of　it　is　punished　severely　for　
the　first　six　months　or　so。　But　Ralph　was　conscious　of　a　
distinct　wish　to　be　interrupted；　and　his　disappointment　
was　perceptible　when　he　heard　the　creaking　sound　rather　
farther　down　the　stairs；　as　if　his　visitor　had　decided　to　
withdraw。　He　rose；　opened　the　door　with　unnecessary　
abruptness；　and　waited　on　the　landing。　The　person　stopped　
simultaneously　half　a　flight　downstairs。　
20　
Virginia　Woolf　
“Ralph？”　said　a　voice；　inquiringly。　
“Joan？”　
“I　was　ing　up；　but　I　saw　your　notice。”　
“Well；　e　along　in；　then。”　He　concealed　his　desire　
beneath　a　tone　as　grudging　as　he　could　make　it。　
Joan　came　in；　but　she　was　careful　to　show；　by　standing