奥兰多orlando (英文版)作者:弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙-第15部分

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end　of　the　year；　rather　less　than　at　the　beginning；　and　it　looked　as　if　in　the　process　of　writing　the　poem　would　be　pletely　unwritten。　For　it　is　for　the　historian　of　letters　to　remark　that　he　had　changed　his　style　amazingly。　His　floridity　was　chastened；　his　abundance　curbed；　the　age　of　prose　was　congealing　those　warm　fountains。　The　very　landscape　outside　was　less　stuck　about　with　garlands　and　the　briars　themselves　were　less　thorned　and　intricate。　Perhaps　the　senses　were　a　little　duller　and　honey　and　cream　less　seductive　to　the　palate。　Also　that　the　streets　were　better　drained　and　the　houses　better　lit　had　its　effect　upon　the　style；　it　cannot　be　doubted。

One　day　he　was　adding　a　line　or　two　with　enormous　labour　to　‘The　Oak　Tree；　A　Poem’；　when　a　shadow　crossed　the　tail　of　his　eye。　It　was　no　shadow；　he　soon　saw；　but　the　figure　of　a　very　tall　lady　in　riding　hood　and　mantle　crossing　the　quadrangle　on　which　his　room　looked　out。　As　this　was　the　most　private　of　the　courts；　and　the　lady　was　a　stranger　to　him；　Orlando　marvelled　how　she　had　got　there。　Three　days　later　the　same　apparition　appeared　again；　and　on　Wednesday　noon　appeared　once　more。　This　time；　Orlando　was　determined　to　follow　her；　nor　apparently　was　she　afraid　to　be　found；　for　she　slackened　her　steps　as　he　came　up　and　looked　him　full　in　the　face。　Any　other　woman　thus　caught　in　a　Lord’s　private　grounds　would　have　been　afraid；　any　other　woman　with　that　face；　head–dress；　and　aspect　would　have　thrown　her　mantilla　across　her　shoulders　to　hide　it。　For　this　lady　resembled　nothing　so　much　as　a　hare；　a　hare　startled；　but　obdurate；　a　hare　whose　timidity　is　overe　by　an　immense　and　foolish　audacity；　a　hare　that　sits　upright　and　glowers　at　its　pursuer　with　great；　bulging　eyes；　with　ears　erect　but　quivering；　with　nose　pointed；　but　twitching。　This　hare；　moreover；　was　six　feet　high　and　wore　a　head–dress　into　the　bargain　of　some　antiquated　kind　which　made　her　look　still　taller。　Thus　confronted；　she　stared　at　Orlando　with　a　stare　in　which　timidity　and　audacity　were　most　strangely　bined。

First；　she　asked　him；　with　a　proper；　but　somewhat　clumsy　curtsey；　to　forgive　her　her　intrusion。　Then；　rising　to　her　full　height　again；　which　must　have　been　something　over　six　feet　two；　she　went　on　to　say—but　with　such　a　cackle　of　nervous　laughter；　so　much　tee–heeing　and　haw–hawing　that　Orlando　thought　she　must　have　escaped　from　a　lunatic　asylum—that　she　was　the　Archduchess　Harriet　Griselda　of　Finster–Aarhorn　and　Scand–op–Boom　in　the　Roumanian　territory。　She　desired　above　all　things　to　make　his　acquaintance；　she　said。　She　had　taken　lodging　over　a　baker’s　shop　at　the　Park　Gates。　She　had　seen　his　picture　and　it　was　the　image　of　a　sister　of　hers　who　was—here　she　guffawed—long　since　dead。　She　was　visiting　the　English　court。　The　Queen　was　her　Cousin。　The　King　was　a　very　good　fellow　but　seldom　went　to　bed　sober。　Here　she　tee–heed　and　haw–hawed　again。　In　short；　there　was　nothing　for　it　but　to　ask　her　in　and　give　her　a　glass　of　wine。

Indoors；　her　manners　regained　the　hauteur　natural　to　a　Roumanian　Archduchess；　and　had　she　not　shown　a　knowledge　of　wines　rare　in　a　lady；　and　made　some　observations　upon　firearms　and　the　customs　of　sportsmen　in　her　country；　which　were　sensible　enough；　the　talk　would　have　lacked　spontaneity。　Jumping　to　her　feet　at　last；　she　announced　that　she　would　call　the　following　day；　swept　another　prodigious　curtsey　and　departed。　The　following　day；　Orlando　rode　out。　The　next；　he　turned　his　back；　on　the　third　he　drew　his　curtain。　On　the　fourth　it　rained；　and　as　he　could　not　keep　a　lady　in　the　wet；　nor　was　altogether　averse　to　pany；　he　invited　her　in　and　asked　her　opinion　whether　a　suit　of　armour；　which　belonged　to　an　ancestor　of　his；　was　the　work　of　Jacobi　or　of　Topp。　He　inclined　to　Topp。　She　held　another　opinion—it　matters　very　little　which。　But　it　is　of　some　importance　to　the　course　of　our　story　that；　in　illustrating　her　argument；　which　had　to　do　with　the　working　of　the　tie　pieces；　the　Archduchess　Harriet　took　the　golden　shin　case　and　fitted　it　to　Orlando’s　leg。

That　he　had　a　pair　of　the　shapliest　legs　that　any　Nobleman　has　ever　stood　upright　upon　has　already　been　said。

Perhaps　something　in　the　way　she　fastened　the　ankle　buckle；　or　her　stooping　posture；　or　Orlando’s　long　seclusion；　or　the　natural　sympathy　which　is　between　the　sexes；　or　the　Burgundy；　or　the　fire—any　of　these　causes　may　have　been　to　blame；　for　certainly　blame　there　is　on　one　side　or　another；　when　a　Nobleman　of　Orlando’s　breeding；　entertaining　a　lady　in　his　house；　and　she　his　elder　by　many　years；　with　a　face　a　yard　long　and　staring　eyes；　dressed　somewhat　ridiculously　too；　in　a　mantle　and　riding　cloak　though　the　season　was　warm—blame　there　is　when　such　a　Nobleman　is　so　suddenly　and　violently　overe　by　passion　of　some　sort　that　he　has　to　leave　the　room。

But　what　sort　of　passion；　it　may　well　be　asked；　could　this　be？　And　the　answer　is　double　faced　as　Love　herself。　For　Love—but　leaving　Love　out　of　the　argument　for　a　moment；　the　actual　event　was　this：

When　the　Archduchess　Harriet　Griselda　stooped　to　fasten　the　buckle；　Orlando　heard；　suddenly　and　unaccountably；　far　off　the　beating　of　Love’s　wings。　The　distant　stir　of　that　soft　plumage　roused　in　him　a　thousand　memories　of　rushing　waters；　of　loveliness　in　the　snow　and　faithlessness　in　the　flood；　and　the　sound　came　nearer；　and　he　blushed　and　trembled；　and　he　was　moved　as　he　had　thought　never　to　be　moved　again；　and　he　was　ready　to　raise　his　hands　and　let　the　bird　of　beauty　alight　upon　his　shoulders；　when—horror！—a　creaking　sound　like　that　the　crows　make　tumbling　over　the　trees　began　to　reverberate；　the　air　seemed　dark　with　coarse　black　wings；　voices　croaked；　bits　of　straw；　twigs；　and　feathers　dropped；　and　there　pitched　down　upon　his　shoulders　the　heaviest　and　foulest　of　the　birds；　which　is　the　vulture。　Thus　he　rushed　from　the　room　and　sent　the　footman　to　see　the　Archduchess　Harriet　to　her　carriage。

For　Love；　to　which　we　may　now　return；　has　two　faces；　one　white；　the　other　black；　two　bodies；　one　smooth；　the　other　hairy。　It　has　two　hands；　two　feet；　two　nails；　two；　indeed；　of　every　member　and　each　one　is　the　exact　opposite　of　the　other。　Yet；　so　strictly　are　they　joined　together　that　you　cannot　separate　them。　In　this　case；　Orlando’s　love　began　her　flight　towards　him　with　her　white　face　turned；　and　her　smooth　and　lovely　body　outwards。　Nearer　and　nearer　she　came　wafting　before　her　airs　of　pure　delight。　All　of　a　sudden　（at　the　sight　of　the　Archduchess　presumably）　she　wheeled　about；　turned　the　other　way　round；　showed　herself　black；　hairy；　brutish；　and　it　was　Lust　the　vulture；　not　Love；　the　Bird　of　Paradise；　that　flopped；　foully　and　disgustingly；　upon　his　shoulders。　Hence　he　ran；　hence　he　fetched　the　footman。

But　the　harpy　is　not　so　easily　banished　as　all　that。　Not　only　did　the　Archduchess　continue　to　lodge　at　the　Baker’s；　but　Orlando　was　haunted　every　day　and　night　by　phantoms　of　the　foulest　kind。　Vainly；　it　seemed；　had　he　furnished　his　house　with　silver　and　hung　the　walls　with　arras；　when　at　any　moment　a　dung–bedraggled　fowl　could　settle　upon　his　writing　table。　There　she　was；　flopping　about　among　the　chairs；　he　saw　her　waddling　ungracefully　across　the　galleries。　Now；　she　perched；　top　heavy　upon　a　fire　screen。　When　he　chased　her　out；　back　she　came　and　pecked　at　the　glass　till　she　broke　it。

Thus　realizing　that　his　home　was　uninhabitable；　and　that　steps　must　be　taken　to　end　the　matter　instantly；　he　did　what　any　other　young　man　would　have　done　in　his　place；　and　asked　King　Charles　to　send　him　as　Ambassador　Extraordinary　to　Constantinople。　The　King　was　walking　in　Whitehall。　Nell　Gwyn　was　on　his　arm。　She　was　pelting　him　with　hazel　nuts。　‘Twas　a　thousand　pities；　that　amorous　lady　sighed；　that　such　a　pair　of　legs　should　leave　the　country。

Howbeit；　the　Fates　were　hard；　she　could　do　no　more　than　toss　one　kiss　over　her　shoulder　before　Orlando　sailed。







CHAPTER　3。
It　is；　indeed；　highly　unfortunate；　and　much　to　be　regretted　that　at　this　stage　of　Orlando’s　career；　when　he　played　a　most　important　part　in　the　public　life　of　his　country；　we　have　least　information　to　go　upon。　We　know　that　he　discharged　his　duties　to　admiration—witness　his　Bath　and　his　Dukedom。　We　know　that　he　had　a　finger　in　some　of　the　most　delicate　negotiations　between　King　Charles　and　the　Turks—to　that；　treaties　in　the　vault　of　the　Record　Office　bear　testimony。　But　the　revolution　which　broke　out　during　his　period　of　office；　and　the　fire　which　followed；　have　so　damaged　or　destroyed　all　those　papers　from　which　any　trustworthy　record　could　be　drawn；　that　what　we　can　give　is　lamentably　inplete。　Often　the　paper　was　scorched　a　deep　brown　in　the　middle　of　the　most　important　sentence。　Just　when　we　thought　to　elucidate　a　secret　that　has　puzzled　historians　for　a　hundred　years；　there　was　a　hole　in　the　manuscript　big　enough　to　put　your　finger　through。　We　have　done　our　best　to　piece　out　a　meagre　summary　from　the　charred　fragments　that　remain；　but　often　it　has　been　necessary　to　speculate；　to　surmise；　and　even　to　use　the　imagination。

Orlando’s　day　was　passed；　it　would　seem；　somewhat　in　this　fashion。　About　seven；　he　would　rise；　wrap　himself　in　a　long　Turkish　cloak；　light　a　cheroot；　and　lean　his　elbows　on　the　parapet。　Thus　he　would　stand；　gazing　at　the　city　beneath　him；　apparently　entranced。　At　this　hour　the　mist　would　lie　so　thick　that　the　domes　of　Santa　Sofia　and　the　rest　would　seem　to　be　afloat；　gradually　the　mist　would　uncover　them；　the　bubbles　would　be　seen　to　be　firmly　fixed；　there　would　be　the　river；　there　the　Galata　Bridge；　there　the　green–turbaned　pilgrims　without　eyes　or　noses；　begging　alms；　there　the　pariah　dogs　picking　up　offal；　there　the　shawled　women；　there　the　innumerable　donkeys；　there　men　on　horses　carrying　long　poles。　Soon；　the　whole　town　would　be　astir　with　the　cracking　of　whips；　the　beating　of　gongs；　cryings　to　prayer；　lashing　of　mules；　and　rattle　of　brass–bound　wheels；　while　sour　odours；　made　from　bread　fermenting　and　incense；　and　spice；　rose　even　to　the　heights　of　Pera　itself　and　seemed　the　very　breath　of　the　strident　multi–coloured　and　barbaric　population。

Nothing；　he　reflected；　gazing　at　the　view　which　was　now　sparkling　in　the　sun；　could　well　be　less　like　the　counties　of　Surrey