《[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版》

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[夜与日].(night.and.day).(英)弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙.文字版- 第49部分


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She winced; but she respected him for saying what he 
did; for this; after all; was a fragment of the truth which 
she had vowed to live by。 

“And to me marriage without love doesn’t seem worth 

while;” she said。 

“Well; Mary; I’m not going to press you;” he said。 “I see 
you don’t want to marry me。 But love—don’t we all talk a 
great deal of nonsense about it? What does one mean? I 
believe I care for you more genuinely than nine men out 
of ten care for the women they’re in love with。 It’s only a 
story one makes up in one’s mind about another person; 
and one knows all the time it isn’t true。 Of course one 
knows; why; one’s always taking care not to destroy the 
illusion。 One takes care not to see them too often; or to 
be alone with them for too long together。 It’s a pleasant 
illusion; but if you’re thinking of the risks of marriage; it 
seems to me that the risk of marrying a person you’re in 
love with is something colossal。” 

“I don’t believe a word of that; and what’s more you 
don’t; either;” she replied with anger。 “However; we don’t 
agree; I only wanted you to understand。” She shifted her 
position; as if she were about to go。 An instinctive desire 
to prevent her from leaving the room made Ralph rise at 
this point and begin pacing up and down the nearly empty 
kitchen; checking his desire; each time he reached the 

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door; to open it and step out into the garden。 A moralist 
might have said that at this point his mind should have 
been full of selfreproach for the suffering he had caused。 
On the contrary; he was extremely angry; with the confused 
impotent anger of one who finds himself unreasonably 
but efficiently frustrated。 He was trapped by the 
illogicality of human life。 The obstacles in the way of his 
desire seemed to him purely artificial; and yet he could 
see no way of removing them。 Mary’s words; the tone of 
her voice even; angered him; for she would not help him。 
She was part of the insanely jumbled muddle of a world 
which impedes the sensible life。 He would have liked to 
slam the door or break the hind legs of a chair; for the 
obstacles had taken some such curiously substantial shape 
in his mind。 

“I doubt that one human being ever understands another;” 
he said; stopping in his march and confronting 
Mary at a distance of a few feet。 

“Such damned liars as we all are; how can we? But we 
can try。 If you don’t want to marry me; don’t; but the 
position you take up about love; and not seeing each 

other—isn’t that mere sentimentality? You think I’ve 
behaved very badly;” he continued; as she did not speak。 
“Of course I behave badly; but you can’t judge people by 
what they do。 You can’t go through life measuring right 
and wrong with a footrule。 That’s what you’re always 
doing; Mary; that’s what you’re doing now。” 

She saw herself in the Suffrage Office; delivering judgment; 
meting out right and wrong; and there seemed to 
her to be some justice in the charge; although it did not 
affect her main position。 

“I’m not angry with you;” she said slowly。 “I will go on 
seeing you; as I said I would。” 

It was true that she had promised that much already; 
and it was difficult for him to say what more it was that 
he wanted—some intimacy; some help against the ghost 
of Katharine; perhaps; something that he knew he had no 
right to ask; and yet; as he sank into his chair and looked 
once more at the dying fire it seemed to him that he had 
been defeated; not so much by Mary as by life itself。 He 
felt himself thrown back to the beginning of life again; 
where everything has yet to be won; but in extreme youth 

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one has an ignorant hope。 He was no longer certain that 
he would triumph。 

CHAPTER XX 


Happily for Mary Datchet she returned to the office to 
find that by some obscure Parliamentary maneuver the 
vote had once more slipped beyond the attainment of 
women。 Mrs。 Seal was in a condition bordering upon frenzy。 
The duplicity of Ministers; the treachery of mankind; the 
insult to womanhood; the setback to civilization; the ruin 
of her life’s work; the feelings of her father’s daughter— 
all these topics were discussed in turn; and the office 
was littered with newspaper cuttings branded with the 
blue; if ambiguous; marks of her displeasure。 She confessed 
herself at fault in her estimate of human nature。 

“The simple elementary acts of justice;” she said; waving 
her hand towards the window; and indicating the foot
passengers and omnibuses then passing down the far side 
of Russell Square; “are as far beyond them as they ever 
were。 We can only look upon ourselves; Mary; as pioneers 
in a wilderness。 We can only go on patiently putting the 
truth before them。 It isn’t them;” she continued; taking 
heart from her sight of the traffic; “it’s their leaders。 It’s 

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those gentlemen sitting in Parliament and drawing four 
hundred a year of the people’s money。 If we had to put our 
case to the people; we should soon have justice done to 
us。 I have always believed in the people; and I do so still。 
But—” She shook her head and implied that she would 
give them one more chance; and if they didn’t take advantage 
of that she couldn’t answer for the consequences。 

Mr。 Clacton’s attitude was more philosophical and better 
supported by statistics。 He came into the room after 
Mrs。 Seal’s outburst and pointed out; with historical illustrations; 
that such reverses had happened in every 
political campaign of any importance。 If anything; his 
spirits were improved by the disaster。 The enemy; he said; 
had taken the offensive; and it was now up to the Society 
to outwit the enemy。 He gave Mary to understand that he 
had taken the measure of their cunning; and had already 
bent his mind to the task which; so far as she could make 
out; depended solely upon him。 It depended; so she came 
to think; when invited into his room for a private conference; 
upon a systematic revision of the cardindex; upon 
the issue of certain new lemoncolored leaflets; in which 

the facts were marshaled once more in a very striking 
way; and upon a large scale map of England dotted with 
little pins tufted with differently colored plumes of hair 
according to their geographical position。 Each district; 
under the new system; had its flag; its bottle of ink; its 
sheaf of documents tabulated and filed for reference in a 
drawer; so that by looking under M or S; as the case might 
be; you had all the facts with respect to the Suffrage 
organizations of that county at your fingers’ ends。 This 
would require a great deal of work; of course。 

“We must try to consider ourselves rather in the light of 
a telephone exchange—for the exchange of ideas; Miss 
Datchet;” he said; and taking pleasure in his image; he 
continued it。 “We should consider ourselves the center of 
an enormous system of wires; connecting us up with every 
district of the country。 We must have our fingers upon 
the pulse of the munity; we want to know what people 
all over England are thinking; we want to put them in the 
way of thinking rightly。” The system; of course; was only 
roughly sketched so far—jotted down; in fact; during the 
Christmas holidays。 

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Virginia Woolf 

“When you ought to have been taking a rest; Mr。 
Clacton;” said Mary dutifully; but her tone was flat and 
tired。 

“We learn to do without holidays; Miss Datchet;” said 
Mr。 Clacton; with a spark of satisfaction in his eye。 

He wished particularly to have her opinion of the lemon
colored leaflet。 According to his plan; it was to be distributed 
in immense quantities immediately; in order to 
stimulate and generate; “to generate and stimulate;” he 
repeated; “right thoughts in the country before the meeting 
of Parliament。” 

“We have to take the enemy by surprise;” he said。 “They 
don’t let the grass grow under their feet。 Have you seen 
Bingham’s address to his constituents? That’s a hint of 
the sort of thing we’ve got to meet; Miss Datchet。” 

He handed her a great bundle of newspaper cuttings; 
and; begging her to give him her views upon the yellow 
leaflet before lunchtime; he turned with alacrity to his 
different sheets of paper and his different bottles of ink。 

Mary shut the door; laid the documents upon her table; 
and sank her head on her hands。 Her brain was curiously 

empty of any thought。 She listened; as if; perhaps; by 
listening she would bee merged again in the atmosphere 
of the office。 From the next room came the rapid 
spasmodic sounds of Mrs。 Seal’s erratic typewriting; she; 
doubtless; was already hard at work helping the people 
of England; as Mr。 Clacton put it; to think rightly; “generating 
and stimulating;” those were his words。 She was 
striking a blow against the enemy; no doubt; who didn’t 
let the grass grow beneath their feet。 Mr。 Clacton’s words 
repeated themselves accurately in her brain。 She pushed 
the papers wearily over to the farther side of the table。 It 
was no use; though; something or other had happened to 
her brain—a change of focus so that near things were 
indistinct again。 The same thing had happened to her 
once before; she remembered; after she had met Ralph in 
the gardens of Lincoln’s Inn Fields; she had spent the 
whole of a mittee meeting in thinking about sparrows 
and colors; until; almost at the end of the meeting; 
her old convictions had all e back to her。 But they 
had only e back; she thought with scorn at her feebleness; 
because she wanted to use them to fight against 

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Ralph。 They weren’t; rightly speaking; convictions at all。 
She could not see the world divided into separate partments 
of good people and bad people; any more than 
she could believe so implicitly in the rightness of her 
own thought as to wish to bring the population of the 
British Isles into agreement with it。 She looked at the 
lemoncolored leaflet; and thought almost enviously of 
the faith which could find fort

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