奥兰多orlando (英文版)作者:弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙-第38章

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　the　icicles　clanking　in　the　shrouds；　how　he　went　to　the　top　of　the　mast　in　a　gale；　there　reflected　on　the　destiny　of　man；　came　down　again；　had　a　whisky　and　soda；　went　on　shore；　was　trapped　by　a　black　woman；　repented；　reasoned　it　out；　read　Pascal；　determined　to　write　philosophy；　bought　a　monkey；　debated　the　true　end　of　life；　decided　in　favour　of　Cape　Horn；　and　so　on。　All　this　and　a　thousand　other　things　she　understood　him　to　say；　and　so　when　she　replied；　Yes；　negresses　are　seductive；　aren’t　they？　he　having　told　her　that　the　supply　of　biscuits　now　gave　out；　he　was　surprised　and　delighted　to　find　how　well　she　had　taken　his　meaning。

‘Are　you　positive　you　aren’t　a　man？’　he　would　ask　anxiously；　and　she　would　echo；

‘Can　it　be　possible　you’re　not　a　woman？’　and　then　they　must　put　it　to　the　proof　without　more　ado。　For　each　was　so　surprised　at　the　quickness　of　the　other’s　sympathy；　and　it　was　to　each　such　a　revelation　that　a　woman　could　be　as　tolerant　and　free–spoken　as　a　man；　and　a　man　as　strange　and　subtle　as　a　woman；　that　they　had　to　put　the　matter　to　the　proof　at　once。

And　so　they　would　go　on　talking　or　rather；　understanding；　which　has　bee　the　main　art　of　speech　in　an　age　when　words　are　growing　daily　so　scanty　in　parison　with　ideas　that　‘the　biscuits　ran　out’　has　to　stand　for　kissing　a　negress　in　the　dark　when　one　has　just　read　Bishop　Berkeley’s　philosophy　for　the　tenth　time。　（And　from　this　it　follows　that　only　the　most　profound　masters　of　style　can　tell　the　truth；　and　when　one　meets　a　simple　one–syllable　writer；　one　may　conclude；　without　any　doubt　at　all；　that　the　poor　man　is　lying。）

So　they　would　talk；　and　then；　when　her　feet　were　fairly　covered　with　spotted　autumn　leaves；　Orlando　would　rise　and　stroll　away　into　the　heart　of　the　woods　in　solitude；　leaving　Bonthrop　sitting　there　among　the　snail　shells；　making　models　of　Cape　Horn。　‘Bonthrop；’　she　would　say；　‘I’m　off；’　and　when　she　called　him　by　his　second　name；　‘Bonthrop’；　it　should　signify　to　the　reader　that　she　was　in　a　solitary　mood；　felt　them　both　as　specks　on　a　desert；　was　desirous　only　of　meeting　death　by　herself；　for　people　die　daily；　die　at　dinner　tables；　or　like　this；　out　of　doors　in　the　autumn　woods；　and　with　the　bonfires　blazing　and　Lady　Palmerston　or　Lady　Derby　asking　her　out　every　night　to　dinner；　the　desire　for　death　would　overe　her；　and　so　saying　‘Bonthrop’；　she　said　in　effect；　‘I’m　dead’；　and　pushed　her　way　as　a　spirit　might　through　the　spectre–pale　beech　trees；　and　so　oared　herself　deep　into　solitude　as　if　the　little　flicker　of　noise　and　movement　were　over　and　she　were　free　now　to　take　her　way—all　of　which　the　reader　should　hear　in　her　voice　when　she　said　‘Bonthrop；’　and　should　also　add；　the　better　to　illumine　the　word；　that　for　him　too　the　same　word　signified；　mystically；　separation　and　isolation　and　the　disembodied　pacing　the　deck　of　his　brig　in　unfathomable　seas。

After　some　hours　of　death；　suddenly　a　jay　shrieked　‘Shelmerdine’；　and　stooping；　she　picked　up　one　of　those　autumn　crocuses　which　to　some　people　signify　that　very　word；　and　put　it　with　the　jay’s　feather　that　came　tumbling　blue　through　the　beech　woods；　in　her　breast。　Then　she　called　‘Shelmerdine’　and　the　word　went　shooting　this　way　and　that　way　through　the　woods　and　struck　him　where　he　sat；　making　models　out　of　snail　shells　in　the　grass。　He　saw　her；　and　heard　her　ing　to　him　with　the　crocus　and　the　jay’s　feather　in　her　breast；　and　cried　‘Orlando’；　which　meant　（and　it　must　be　remembered　that　when　bright　colours　like　blue　and　yellow　mix　themselves　in　our　eyes；　some　of　it　rubs　off　on　our　thoughts）　first　the　bowing　and　swaying　of　bracken　as　if　something　were　breaking　through；　which　proved　to　be　a　ship　in　full　sail；　heaving　and　tossing　a　little　dreamily；　rather　as　if　she　had　a　whole　year　of　summer　days　to　make　her　voyage　in；　and　so　the　ship　bears　down；　heaving　this　way；　heaving　that　way；　nobly；　indolently；　and　rides　over　the　crest　of　this　wave　and　sinks　into　the　hollow　of　that　one；　and　so；　suddenly　stands　over　you　（who　are　in　a　little　cockle　shell　of　a　boat；　looking　up　at　her）　with　all　her　sails　quivering；　and　then；　behold；　they　drop　all　of　a　heap　on　deck—as　Orlando　dropped　now　into　the　grass　beside　him。

Eight　or　nine　days　had　been　spent　thus；　but　on　the　tenth；　which　was　the　26th　of　October；　Orlando　was　lying　in　the　bracken；　while　Shelmerdine　recited　Shelley　（whose　entire　works　he　had　by　heart）；　when　a　leaf　which　had　started　to　fall　slowly　enough　from　a　treetop　whipped　briskly　across　Orlando’s　foot。　A　second　leaf　followed　and　then　a　third。　Orlando　shivered　and　turned　pale。　It　was　the　wind。　Shelmerdine—but　it　would　be　more　proper　now　to　call　him　Bonthrop—leapt　to　his　feet。

‘The　wind！’　he　cried。

Together　they　ran　through　the　woods；　the　wind　plastering　them　with　leaves　as　they　ran；　to　the　great　court　and　through　it　and　the　little　courts；　frightened　servants　leaving　their　brooms　and　their　saucepans　to　follow　after　till　they　reached　the　Chapel；　and　there　a　scattering　of　lights　was　lit　as　fast　as　could　be；　one　knocking　over　this　bench；　another　snuffing　out　that　taper。　Bells　were　rung。　People　were　summoned。　At　length　there　was　Mr　Dupper　catching　at　the　ends　of　his　white　tie　and　asking　where　was　the　prayer　book。　And　they　thrust　Queen　Mary’s　prayer　book　in　his　hands　and　he　searched；　hastily　fluttering　the　pages；　and　said；　‘Marmaduke　Bonthrop　Shelmerdine；　and　Lady　Orlando；　kneel　down’；　and　they　knelt　down；　and　now　they　were　bright　and　now　they　were　dark　as　the　light　and　shadow　came　flying　helter–skelter　through　the　painted　windows；　and　among　the　banging　of　innumerable　doors　and　a　sound　like　brass　pots　beating；　the　organ　sounded；　its　growl　ing　loud　and　faint　alternately；　and　Mr　Dupper；　who　was　grown　a　very　old　man；　tried　now　to　raise　his　voice　above　the　uproar　and　could　not　be　heard　and　then　all　was　quiet　for　a　moment；　and　one　word—it　might　be　‘the　jaws　of　death’—rang　out　clear；　while　all　the　estate　servants　kept　pressing　in　with　rakes　and　whips　still　in　their　hands　to　listen；　and　some　sang　loud　and　others　prayed；　and　now　a　bird　was　dashed　against　the　pane；　and　now　there　was　a　clap　of　thunder；　so　that　no　one　heard　the　word　Obey　spoken　or　saw；　except　as　a　golden　flash；　the　ring　pass　from　hand　to　hand。　All　was　movement　and　confusion。　And　up　they　rose　with　the　organ　booming　and　the　lightning　playing　and　the　rain　pouring；　and　the　Lady　Orlando；　with　her　ring　on　her　finger；　went　out　into　the　court　in　her　thin　dress　and　held　the　swinging　stirrup；　for　the　horse　was　bitted　and　bridled　and　the　foam　was　still　on　his　flank；　for　her　husband　to　mount；　which　he　did　with　one　bound；　and　the　horse　leapt　forward　and　Orlando；　standing　there；　cried　out　Marmaduke　Bonthrop　Shelmerdine！　and　he　answered　her　Orlando！　and　the　words　went　dashing　and　circling　like　wild　hawks　together　among　the　belfries　and　higher　and　higher；　further　and　further；　faster　and　faster　they　circled；　till　they　crashed　and　fell　in　a　shower　of　fragments　to　the　ground；　and　she　went　in。



　

CHAPTER　6。
Orlando　went　indoors。　It　was　pletely　still。　It　was　very　silent。　There　was　the　ink　pot：　there　was　the　pen；　there　was　the　manuscript　of　her　poem；　broken　off　in　the　middle　of　a　tribute　to　eternity。　She　had　been　about　to　say；　when　Basket　and　Bartholomew　interrupted　with　the　tea　things；　nothing　changes。　And　then；　in　the　space　of　three　seconds　and　a　half；　everything　had　changed—she　had　broken　her　ankle；　fallen　in　love；　married　Shelmerdine。

There　was　the　wedding　ring　on　her　finger　to　prove　it。　It　was　true　that　she　had　put　it　there　herself　before　she　met　Shelmerdine；　but　that　had　proved　worse　than　useless。　She　now　turned　the　ring　round　and　round；　with　superstitious　reverence；　taking　care　lest　it　should　slip　past　the　joint　of　her　finger。

‘The　wedding　ring　has　to　be　put　on　the　third　finger　of　the　left　hand’；　she　said；　like　a　child　cautiously　repeating　its　lesson；　‘for　it　to　be　of　any　use　at　all。’

She　spoke　thus；　aloud　and　rather　more　pompously　than　was　her　wont；　as　if　she　wished　someone　whose　good　opinion　she　desired　to　overhear　her。　Indeed；　she　had　in　mind；　now　that　she　was　at　last　able　to　collect　her　thoughts；　the　effect　that　her　behaviour　would　have　had　upon　the　spirit　of　the　age。　She　was　extremely　anxious　to　be　informed　whether　the　steps　she　had　taken　in　the　matter　of　getting　engaged　to　Shelmerdine　and　marrying　him　met　with　its　approval。　She　was　certainly　feeling　more　herself。　Her　finger　had　not　tingled　once；　or　nothing　to　count；　since　that　night　on　the　moor。　Yet；　she　could　not　deny　that　she　had　her　doubts。　She　was　married；　true；　but　if　one’s　husband　was　always　sailing　round　Cape　Horn；　was　it　marriage？　If　one　liked　him；　was　it　marriage？　If　one　liked　other　people；　was　it　marriage？　And　finally；　if　one　still　wished；　more　than　anything　in　the　whole　world；　to　write　poetry；　was　it　marriage？　She　had　her　doubts。

But　she　would　put　it　to　the　test。　She　looked　at　the　ring。　She　looked　at　the　ink　pot。　Did　she　dare？　No；　she　did　not。　But　she　must。　No；　she　could　not。　What　should　she　do　then？　Faint；　if　possible。　But　she　had　never　felt　better　in　her　life。

‘Hang　it　all！’　she　cried；　with　a　touch　of　her　old　spirit。　‘Here　goes！’

And　she　plunged　her　pen　neck　deep　in　the　ink。　To　her　enormous　surprise；　there　was　no