奥兰多orlando (英文版)作者:弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙-第20部分

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ly　served　to　print　patterns　of　fig–leaves　upon　her　light　burnous。

Suddenly　a　shadow；　though　there　was　nothing　to　cast　a　shadow；　appeared　on　the　bald　mountain–side　opposite。　It　deepened　quickly　and　soon　a　green　hollow　showed　where　there　had　been　barren　rock　before。　As　she　looked；　the　hollow　deepened　and　widened；　and　a　great　park–like　space　opened　in　the　flank　of　the　hill。　Within；　she　could　see　an　undulating　and　grassy　lawn；　she　could　see　oak　trees　dotted　here　and　there；　she　could　see　the　thrushes　hopping　among　the　branches。　She　could　see　the　deer　stepping　delicately　from　shade　to　shade；　and　could　even　hear　the　hum　of　insects　and　the　gentle　sighs　and　shivers　of　a　summer’s　day　in　England。　After　she　had　gazed　entranced　for　some　time；　snow　began　falling；　soon　the　whole　landscape　was　covered　and　marked　with　violet　shades　instead　of　yellow　sunlight。　Now　she　saw　heavy　carts　ing　along　the　roads；　laden　with　tree　trunks；　which　they　were　taking；　she　knew；　to　be　sawn　for　firewood；　and　then　appeared　the　roofs　and　belfries　and　towers　and　courtyards　of　her　own　home。　The　snow　was　falling　steadily；　and　she　could　now　hear　the　slither　and　flop　which　it　made　as　it　slid　down　the　roof　and　fell　to　the　ground。　The　smoke　went　up　from　a　thousand　chimneys。　All　was　so　clear　and　minute　that　she　could　see　a　Daw　pecking　for　worms　in　the　snow。　Then；　gradually；　the　violet　shadows　deepened　and　closed　over　the　carts　and　the　lawns　and　the　great　house　itself。　All　was　swallowed　up。　Now　there　was　nothing　left　of　the　grassy　hollow；　and　instead　of　the　green　lawns　was　only　the　blazing　hill–side　which　a　thousand　vultures　seemed　to　have　picked　bare。　At　this；　she　burst　into　a　passion　of　tears；　and　striding　back　to　the　gipsies’　camp；　told　them　that　she　must　sail　for　England　the　very　next　day。

It　was　happy　for　her　that　she　did　so。　Already　the　young　men　had　plotted　her　death。　Honour；　they　said；　demanded　it；　for　she　did　not　think　as　they　did。　Yet　they　would　have　been　sorry　to　cut　her　throat；　and　weled　the　news　of　her　departure。　An　English　merchant　ship；　as　luck　would　have　it；　was　already　under　sail　in　the　harbour　about　to　return　to　England；　and　Orlando；　by　breaking　off　another　pearl　from　her　necklace；　not　only　paid　her　passage　but　had　some　banknotes　left　over　in　her　wallet。　These　she　would　have　liked　to　present　to　the　gipsies。　But　they　despised　wealth　she　knew；　and　she　had　to　content　herself　with　embraces；　which　on　her　part　were　sincere。







CHAPTER　4。
With　some　of　the　guineas　left　from　the　sale　of　the　tenth　pearl　on　her　string；　Orlando　bought　herself　a　plete　outfit　of　such　clothes　as　women　then　wore；　and　it　was　in　the　dress　of　a　young　Englishwoman　of　rank　that　she　now　sat　on　the　deck　of　the　“Enamoured　Lady”。　It　is　a　strange　fact；　but　a　true　one；　that　up　to　this　moment　she　had　scarcely　given　her　sex　a　thought。　Perhaps　the　Turkish　trousers　which　she　had　hitherto　worn　had　done　something　to　distract　her　thoughts；　and　the　gipsy　women；　except　in　one　or　two　important　particulars；　differ　very　little　from　the　gipsy　men。　At　any　rate；　it　was　not　until　she　felt　the　coil　of　skirts　about　her　legs　and　the　Captain　offered；　with　the　greatest　politeness；　to　have　an　awning　spread　for　her　on　deck；　that　she　realized　with　a　start　the　penalties　and　the　privileges　of　her　position。　But　that　start　was　not　of　the　kind　that　might　have　been　expected。

It　was　not　caused；　that　is　to　say；　simply　and　solely　by　the　thought　of　her　chastity　and　how　she　could　preserve　it。　In　normal　circumstances　a　lovely　young　woman　alone　would　have　thought　of　nothing　else；　the　whole　edifice　of　female　government　is　based　on　that　foundation　stone；　chastity　is　their　jewel；　their　centrepiece；　which　they　run　mad　to　protect；　and　die　when　ravished　of。　But　if　one　has　been　a　man　for　thirty　years　or　so；　and　an　Ambassador　into　the　bargain；　if　one　has　held　a　Queen　in　one’s　arms　and　one　or　two　other　ladies；　if　report　be　true；　of　less　exalted　rank；　if　one　has　married　a　Rosina　Pepita；　and　so　on；　one　does　not　perhaps　give　such　a　very　great　start　about　that。　Orlando’s　start　was　of　a　very　plicated　kind；　and　not　to　be　summed　up　in　a　trice。　Nobody；　indeed；　ever　accused　her　of　being　one　of　those　quick　wits　who　run　to　the　end　of　things　in　a　minute。　It　took　her　the　entire　length　of　the　voyage　to　moralize　out　the　meaning　of　her　start；　and　so；　at　her　own　pace；　we　will　follow　her。

‘Lord；’　she　thought；　when　she　had　recovered　from　her　start；　stretching　herself　out　at　length　under　her　awning；　‘this　is　a　pleasant；　lazy　way　of　life；　to　be　sure。　But；’　she　thought；　giving　her　legs　a　kick；　‘these　skirts　are　plaguey　things　to　have　about　one’s　heels。　Yet　the　stuff　（flowered　paduasoy）　is　the　loveliest　in　the　world。　Never　have　I　seen　my　own　skin　（here　she　laid　her　hand　on　her　knee）　look　to　such　advantage　as　now。　Could　I；　however；　leap　overboard　and　swim　in　clothes　like　these？　No！　Therefore；　I　should　have　to　trust　to　the　protection　of　a　blue–jacket。　Do　I　object　to　that？　Now　do　I？’　she　wondered；　here　encountering　the　first　knot　in　the　smooth　skein　of　her　argument。

Dinner　came　before　she　had　untied　it；　and　then　it　was　the　Captain　himself—Captain　Nicholas　Benedict　Bartolus；　a　sea–captain　of　distinguished　aspect；　who　did　it　for　her　as　he　helped　her　to　a　slice　of　corned　beef。

‘A　little　of　the　fat；　Ma’m？’　he　asked。　‘Let　me　cut　you　just　the　tiniest　little　slice　the　size　of　your　fingernail。’　At　those　words　a　delicious　tremor　ran　through　her　frame。　Birds　sang；　the　torrents　rushed。　It　recalled　the　feeling　of　indescribable　pleasure　with　which　she　had　first　seen　Sasha；　hundreds　of　years　ago。　Then　she　had　pursued；　now　she　fled。　Which　is　the　greater　ecstasy？　The　man’s　or　the　woman’s？　And　are　they　not　perhaps　the　same？　No；　she　thought；　this　is　the　most　delicious　（thanking　the　Captain　but　refusing）；　to　refuse；　and　see　him　frown。　Well；　she　would；　if　he　wished　it；　have　the　very　thinnest；　smallest　shiver　in　the　world。　This　was　the　most　delicious　of　all；　to　yield　and　see　him　smile。　‘For　nothing；’　she　thought；　regaining　her　couch　on　deck；　and　continuing　the　argument；　‘is　more　heavenly　than　to　resist　and　to　yield；　to　yield　and　to　resist。　Surely　it　throws　the　spirit　into　such　a　rapture　as　nothing　else　can。　So　that　I’m　not　sure’；　she　continued；　‘that　I　won’t　throw　myself　overboard；　for　the　mere　pleasure　of　being　rescued　by　a　blue–jacket　after　all。’

（It　must　be　remembered　that　she　was　like　a　child　entering　into　possession　of　a　pleasaunce　or　toy　cupboard；　her　arguments　would　not　mend　themselves　to　mature　women；　who　have　had　the　run　of　it　all　their　lives。）

‘But　what　used　we　young　fellows　in　the　cockpit　of　the　“Marie　Rose”　to　say　about　a　woman　who　threw　herself　overboard　for　the　pleasure　of　being　rescued　by　a　blue–jacket？’　she　said。　‘We　had　a　word　for　them。　Ah！　I　have　it。。。’　（But　we　must　omit　that　word；　it　was　disrespectful　in　the　extreme　and　passing　strange　on　a　lady’s　lips。）　‘Lord！　Lord！　she　cried　again　at　the　conclusion　of　her　thoughts；　‘must　I　then　begin　to　respect　the　opinion　of　the　other　sex；　however　monstrous　I　think　it？　If　I　wear　skirts；　if　I　can’t　swim；　if　I　have　to　be　rescued　by　a　blue–jacket；　by　God！’　she　cried；　‘I　must！’　Upon　which　a　gloom　fell　over　her。　Candid　by　nature；　and　averse　to　all　kinds　of　equivocation；　to　tell　lies　bored　her。　It　seemed　to　her　a　roundabout　way　of　going　to　work。　Yet；　she　reflected；　the　flowered　paduasoy—the　pleasure　of　being　rescued　by　a　blue–jacket—if　these　were　only　to　be　obtained　by　roundabout　ways；　roundabout　one　must　go；　she　supposed。　She　remembered　how；　as　a　young　man；　she　had　insisted　that　women　must　be　obedient；　chaste；　scented；　and　exquisitely　apparelled。　‘Now　I　shall　have　to　pay　in　my　own　person　for　those　desires；’　she　reflected；　‘for　women　are　not　（judging　by　my　own　short　experience　of　the　sex）　obedient；　chaste；　scented；　and　exquisitely　apparelled　by　nature。　They　can　only　attain　these　graces；　without　which　they　may　enjoy　none　of　the　delights　of　life；　by　the　most　tedious　discipline。　There’s　the　hairdressing；’　she　thought；　‘that　alone　will　take　an　hour　of　my　morning；　there’s　looking　in　the　looking–glass；　another　hour；　there’s　staying　and　lacing；　there’s　washing　and　powdering；　there’s　changing　from　silk　to　lace　and　from　lace　to　paduasoy；　there’s　being　chaste　year　in　year　out。。。’　Here　she　tossed　her　foot　impatiently；　and　showed　an　inch　or　two　of　calf。　A　sailor　on　the　mast；　who　happened　to　look　down　at　the　moment；　started　so　violently　that　he　missed　his　footing　and　only　saved　himself　by　the　skin　of　his　teeth。　‘If　the　sight　of　my　ankles　means　death　to　an　honest　fellow　who；　no　doubt；　has　a　wife　and　family　to　support；　I　must；　in　all　humanity；　keep　them　covered；’　Orlando　thought。　Yet　her　legs　were　among　her　chiefest　beauties。　And　she　fell　to　thinking　what　an　odd　pass　we　have　e　to　when　all　a　woman’s　beauty　has　to　be　kept　covered　lest　a　sailor　may　fall　from　a　mast–head。　‘A　pox　on　them！’　she　said；　realizing　for　the　first　time　what；　in　other　circumstances；　she　would　have　been　taught　as　a　child；　that　is　to　say；　the　sacred　responsibilities　of　womanhood。

@’And　that’s　the　last　oath　I　shall　ever　be　able　to　swear；’　she　thought；　‘once　I　set　foot　on　English　soil。　And　I　shall　never　be　able　to　crack　a　man　over　the　head；　or　tell　him　he　lies　in　his　teeth；　or　draw　my　sword　and　run　him　through　the　body；　or　sit　among　my　peers；　or　wear　a　coro；　or　walk　in　procession；　or　sentence　a　man　to　death；　or　lead　an　army；　or　prance　down　Whitehall　on　a　charger；　or　wear　seventy–two　different　medals　on　my　breast。　All　I　can　do；　once　I　set　foot　on　English　soil；　is　to　pour　out　tea　and　ask　my　lords　how　they　like　it。　D’you　take　sugar？　D’you　take　cream？’　And　mincing　out　the　words；　she　was　horrified　to　perceive　how　low　an　opinion　she　was　forming　of　the　other　sex；　the　manly；　to　which　it　had　once　been　her　pride　to　belong—’To　fall　from　a　mast–head’；　she　thought；　‘because　you　see　a　woman’s　ankles；　to　dress　up　like　a　Guy　Fawkes　and　parade　the　streets；　so　that　women　may　praise　you；　to　deny　a　woman　teaching　lest　she　may　laugh　at　you；　to　be　the　slave　of　the　frailest　chit　in　petticoats。　and　yet　to　go　about　as　if　you　were　the　Lords　of　creation。—Heavens！’　she　thought；　‘what　fools　they　make　of　us—what　fools　we　are！’　And　here　it　would　seem　from　some　ambiguity　in　her　terms　that　she　was　censuring　b