奥兰多orlando (英文版)作者:弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙-第31章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　they　mould　our　hearts；　our　brains；　our　tongues　to　their　liking。　So；　having　now　worn　skirts　for　a　considerable　time；　a　certain　change　was　visible　in　Orlando；　which　is　to　be　found　if　the　reader　will　look　at　@　above；　even　in　her　face。　If　we　pare　the　picture　of　Orlando　as　a　man　with　that　of　Orlando　as　a　woman　we　shall　see　that　though　both　are　undoubtedly　one　and　the　same　person；　there　are　certain　changes。　The　man　has　his　hand　free　to　seize　his　sword；　the　woman　must　use　hers　to　keep　the　satins　from　slipping　from　her　shoulders。　The　man　looks　the　world　full　in　the　face；　as　if　it　were　made　for　his　uses　and　fashioned　to　his　liking。　The　woman　takes　a　sidelong　glance　at　it；　full　of　subtlety；　even　of　suspicion。　Had　they　both　worn　the　same　clothes；　it　is　possible　that　their　outlook　might　have　been　the　same。

That　is　the　view　of　some　philosophers　and　wise　ones；　but　on　the　whole；　we　incline　to　another。　The　difference　between　the　sexes　is；　happily；　one　of　great　profundity。　Clothes　are　but　a　symbol　of　something　hid　deep　beneath。　It　was　a　change　in　Orlando　herself　that　dictated　her　choice　of　a　woman’s　dress　and　of　a　woman’s　sex。　And　perhaps　in　this　she　was　only　expressing　rather　more　openly　than　usual—openness　indeed　was　the　soul　of　her　nature—something　that　happens　to　most　people　without　being　thus　plainly　expressed。　For　here　again；　we　e　to　a　dilemma。　Different　though　the　sexes　are；　they　intermix。　In　every　human　being　a　vacillation　from　one　sex　to　the　other　takes　place；　and　often　it　is　only　the　clothes　that　keep　the　male　or　female　likeness；　while　underneath　the　sex　is　the　very　opposite　of　what　it　is　above。　Of　the　plications　and　confusions　which　thus　result　everyone　has　had　experience；　but　here　we　leave　the　general　question　and　note　only　the　odd　effect　it　had　in　the　particular　case　of　Orlando　herself。

For　it　was　this　mixture　in　her　of　man　and　woman；　one　being　uppermost　and　then　the　other；　that　often　gave　her　conduct　an　unexpected　turn。　The　curious　of　her　own　sex　would　argue；　for　example；　if　Orlando　was　a　woman；　how　did　she　never　take　more　than　ten　minutes　to　dress？　And　were　not　her　clothes　chosen　rather　at　random；　and　sometimes　worn　rather　shabby？　And　then　they　would　say；　still；　she　has　none　of　the　formality　of　a　man；　or　a　man’s　love　of　power。　She　is　excessively　tender–hearted。　She　could　not　endure　to　see　a　donkey　beaten　or　a　kitten　drowned。　Yet　again；　they　noted；　she　detested　household　matters；　was　up　at　dawn　and　out　among　the　fields　in　summer　before　the　sun　had　risen。　No　farmer　knew　more　about　the　crops　than　she　did。　She　could　drink　with　the　best　and　liked　games　of　hazard。　She　rode　well　and　drove　six　horses　at　a　gallop　over　London　Bridge。　Yet　again；　though　bold　and　active　as　a　man；　it　was　remarked　that　the　sight　of　another　in　danger　brought　on　the　most　womanly　palpitations。　She　would　burst　into　tears　on　slight　provocation。　She　was　unversed　in　geography；　found　mathematics　intolerable；　and　held　some　caprices　which　are　more　mon　among　women　than　men；　as　for　instance　that　to　travel　south　is　to　travel　downhill。　Whether；　then；　Orlando　was　most　man　or　woman；　it　is　difficult　to　say　and　cannot　now　be　decided。　For　her　coach　was　now　rattling　on　the　cobbles。　She　had　reached　her　home　in　the　city。　The　steps　were　being　let　down；　the　iron　gates　were　being　opened。　She　was　entering　her　father’s　house　at　Blackfriars；　which　though　fashion　was　fast　deserting　that　end　of　the　town；　was　still　a　pleasant；　roomy　mansion；　with　gardens　running　down　to　the　river；　and　a　pleasant　grove　of　nut　trees　to　walk　in。

Here　she　took　up　her　lodging　and　began　instantly　to　look　about　her　for　what　she　had　e　in　search　of—that　is　to　say；　life　and　a　lover。　About　the　first　there　might　be　some　doubt；　the　second　she　found　without　the　least　difficulty　two　days　after　her　arrival。　It　was　a　Tuesday　that　she　came　to　town。　On　Thursday　she　went　for　a　walk　in　the　Mall；　as　was　then　the　habit　of　persons　of　quality。　She　had　not　made　more　than　a　turn　or　two　of　the　avenue　before　she　was　observed　by　a　little　knot　of　vulgar　people　who　go　there　to　spy　upon　their　betters。　As　she　came　past　them；　a　mon　woman　carrying　a　child　at　her　breast　stepped　forward；　peered　familiarly　into　Orlando’s　face；　and　cried　out；　‘Lawk　upon　us；　if　it　ain’t　the　Lady　Orlando！’　Her　panions　came　crowding　round；　and　Orlando　found　herself　in　a　moment　the　centre　of　a　mob　of　staring　citizens　and　tradesmen’s　wives；　all　eager　to　gaze　upon　the　heroine　of　the　celebrated　lawsuit。　Such　was　the　interest　that　the　case　excited　in　the　minds　of　the　mon　people。　She　might；　indeed；　have　found　herself　gravely　dismoded　by　the　pressure　of　the　crowd—she　had　forgotten　that　ladies　are　not　supposed　to　walk　in　public　places　alone—had　not　a　tall　gentleman　at　once　stepped　forward　and　offered　her　the　protection　of　his　arm。　It　was　the　Archduke。　She　was　overe　with　distress　and　yet　with　some　amusement　at　the　sight。　Not　only　had　this　magnanimous　nobleman　forgiven　her；　but　in　order　to　show　that　he　took　her　levity　with　the　toad　in　good　part；　he　had　procured　a　jewel　made　in　the　shape　of　that　reptile　which　he　pressed　upon　her　with　a　repetition　of　his　suit　as　he　handed　her　to　her　coach。

What　with　the　crowd；　what　with　the　Duke；　what　with　the　jewel；　she　drove　home　in　the　vilest　temper　imaginable。　Was　it　impossible　then　to　go　for　a　walk　without　being　half–suffocated；　presented　with　a　toad　set　in　emeralds；　and　asked　in　marriage　by　an　Archduke？　She　took　a　kinder　view　of　the　case　next　day　when　she　found　on　her　breakfast　table　half　a　dozen　billets　from　some　of　the　greatest　ladies　in　the　land—Lady　Suffolk；　Lady　Salisbury；　Lady　Chesterfield；　Lady　Tavistock；　and　others　who　reminded　her　in　the　politest　manner　of　old　alliances　between　their　families　and　her　own；　and　desired　the　honour　of　her　acquaintance。　Next　day；　which　was　a　Saturday；　many　of　these　great　ladies　waited　on　her　in　person。　On　Tuesday；　about　noon；　their　footmen　brought　cards　of　invitation　to　various　routs；　dinners；　and　assemblies　in　the　near　future；　so　that　Orlando　was　launched　without　delay；　and　with　some　splash　and　foam　at　that；　upon　the　waters　of　London　society。

To　give　a　truthful　account　of　London　society　at　that　or　indeed　at　any　other　time；　is　beyond　the　powers　of　the　biographer　or　the　historian。　Only　those　who　have　little　need　of　the　truth；　and　no　respect　for　it—the　poets　and　the　novelists—can　be　trusted　to　do　it；　for　this　is　one　of　the　cases　where　the　truth　does　not　exist。　Nothing　exists。　The　whole　thing　is　a　miasma—a　mirage。　To　make　our　meaning　plain—Orlando　could　e　home　from　one　of　these　routs　at　three　or　four　in　the　morning　with　cheeks　like　a　Christmas　tree　and　eyes　like　stars。　She　would　untie　a　lace；　pace　the　room　a　score　of　times；　untie　another　lace；　stop；　and　pace　the　room　again。　Often　the　sun　would　be　blazing　over　Southwark　chimneys　before　she　could　persuade　herself　to　get　into　bed；　and　there　she　would　lie；　pitching　and　tossing；　laughing　and　sighing　for　an　hour　or　longer　before　she　slept　at　last。　And　what　was　all　this　stir　about？　Society。　And　what　had　society　said　or　done　to　throw　a　reasonable　lady　into　such　an　excitement？　In　plain　language；　nothing。　Rack　her　memory　as　she　would；　next　day　Orlando　could　never　remember　a　single　word　to　magnify　into　the　name　something。　Lord　O。　had　been　gallant。　Lord　A。　polite。　The　Marquis　of　C。　charming。　Mr　M。　amusing。　But　when　she　tried　to　recollect　in　what　their　gallantry；　politeness；　charm；　or　wit　had　consisted；　she　was　bound　to　suppose　her　memory　at　fault；　for　she　could　not　name　a　thing。　It　was　the　same　always。　Nothing　remained　over　the　next　day；　yet　the　excitement　of　the　moment　was　intense。　Thus　we　are　forced　to　conclude　that　society　is　one　of　those　brews　such　as　skilled　housekeepers　serve　hot　about　Christmas　time；　whose　flavour　depends　upon　the　proper　mixing　and　stirring　of　a　dozen　different　ingredients。　Take　one　out；　and　it　is　in　itself　insipid。　Take　away　Lord　O。；　Lord　A。；　Lord　C。；　or　Mr　M。　and　separately　each　is　nothing。　Stir　them　all　together　and　they　bine　to　give　off　the　most　intoxicating　of　flavours；　the　most　seductive　of　scents。　Yet　this　intoxication；　this　seductiveness；　entirely　evade　our　analysis。　At　one　and　the　same　time；　therefore；　society　is　everything　and　society　is　nothing。　Society　is　the　most　powerful　concoction　in　the　world　and　s