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手机浏览器扫描二维码访问

第19部分（第1页）

g　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　both　sexes　equally；　as　if　she　belonged　to　neither；　and　indeed；　for　the　time　being；　she　seemed　to　vacillate；　she　was　man；　she　was　woman；　she　knew　the　secrets；　shared　the　weaknesses　of　each。　It　was　a　most　bewildering　and　whirligig　state　of　mind　to　be　in。　The　forts　of　ignorance　seemed　utterly　denied　her。　She　was　a　feather　blown　on　the　gale。　Thus　it　is　no　great　wonder；　as　she　pitted　one　sex　against　the　other；　and　found　each　alternately　full　of　the　most　deplorable　infirmities；　and　was　not　sure　to　which　she　belonged—it　was　no　great　wonder　that　she　was　about　to　cry　out　that　she　would　return　to　Turkey　and　bee　a　gipsy　again　when　the　anchor　fell　with　a　great　splash　into　the　sea；　the　sails　came　tumbling　on　deck；　and　she　perceived　（so　sunk　had　she　been　in　thought　that　she　had　seen　nothing　for　several　days）　that　the　ship　was　anchored　off　the　coast　of　Italy。　The　Captain　at　once　sent　to　ask　the　honour　of　her　pany　ashore　with　him　in　the　longboat。

When　she　returned　the　next　morning；　she　stretched　herself　on　her　couch　under　the　awning　and　arranged　her　draperies　with　the　greatest　decorum　about　her　ankles。

‘Ignorant　and　poor　as　we　are　pared　with　the　other　sex；’　she　thought；　continuing　the　sentence　which　she　had　left　unfinished　the　other　day；　‘armoured　with　every　weapon　as　they　are；　while　they　debar　us　even　from　a　knowledge　of　the　alphabet’　（and　from　these　opening　words　it　is　plain　that　something　had　happened　during　the　night　to　give　her　a　push　towards　the　female　sex；　for　she　was　speaking　more　as　a　woman　speaks　than　as　a　man；　yet　with　a　sort　of　content　after　all）；　‘still—they　fall　from　the　mast–head。’　Here　she　gave　a　great　yawn　and　fell　asleep。　When　she　woke；　the　ship　was　sailing　before　a　fair　breeze　so　near　the　shore　that　towns　on　the　cliffs’　edge　seemed　only　kept　from　slipping　into　the　water　by　the　interposition　of　some　great　rock　or　the　twisted　roots　of　some　ancient　olive　tree。　The　scent　of　oranges　wafted　from　a　million　trees；　heavy　with　the　fruit；　reached　her　on　deck。　A　score　of　blue　dolphins；　twisting　their　tails；　leapt　high　now　and　again　into　the　air。　Stretching　her　arms　out　（arms；　she　had　learnt　already；　have　no　such　fatal　effects　as　legs）；　she　thanked　Heaven　that　she　was　not　prancing　down　Whitehall　on　a　warhorse；　nor　even　sentencing　a　man　to　death。　‘Better　is　it’；　she　thought；　‘to　be　clothed　with　poverty　and　ignorance；　which　are　the　dark　garments　of　the　female　sex；　better　to　leave　the　rule　and　discipline　of　the　world　to　others；　better　be　quit　of　martial　ambition；　the　love　of　power；　and　all　the　other　manly　desires　if　so　one　can　more　fully　enjoy　the　most　exalted　raptures　known　to　the　humane　spirit；　which　are’；　she　said　aloud；　as　her　habit　was　when　deeply　moved；　‘contemplation；　solitude；　love。’

‘Praise　God　that　I’m　a　woman！’　she　cried；　and　was　about　to　run　into　extreme　folly—than　which　none　is　more　distressing　in　woman　or　man　either—of　being　proud　of　her　sex；　when　she　paused　over　the　singular　word；　which；　for　all　we　can　do　to　put　it　in　its　place；　has　crept　in　at　the　end　of　the　last　sentence：　Love。　‘Love；’　said　Orlando。　Instantly—such　is　its　impetuosity—love　took　a　human　shape—such　is　its　pride。　For　where　other　thoughts　are　content　to　remain　abstract；　nothing　will　satisfy　this　one　but　to　put　on　flesh　and　blood；　mantilla　and　petticoats；　hose　and　jerkin。　And　as　all　Orlando’s　loves　had　been　women；　now；　through　the　culpable　laggardry　of　the　human　frame　to　adapt　itself　to　convention；　though　she　herself　was　a　woman；　it　was　still　a　woman　she　loved；　and　if　the　consciousness　of　being　of　the　same　sex　had　any　effect　at　all；　it　was　to　quicken　and　deepen　those　feelings　which　she　had　had　as　a　man。　For　now　a　thousand　hints　and　mysteries　became　plain　to　her　that　were　then　dark。　Now；　the　obscurity；　which　divides　the　sexes　and　lets　linger　innumerable　impurities　in　its　gloom；　was　removed；　and　if　there　is　anything　in　what　the　poet　says　about　truth　and　beauty；　this　affection　gained　in　beauty　what　it　lost　in　falsity。　At　last；　she　cried；　she　knew　Sasha　as　she　was；　and　in　the　ardour　of　this　discovery；　and　in　the　pursuit　of　all　those　treasures　which　were　now　revealed；　she　was　so　rapt　and　enchanted　that　it　was　as　if　a　cannon　ball　had　exploded　at　her　ear　when　a　man’s　voice　said；　‘Permit　me；　Madam；’　a　man’s　hand　raised　her　to　her　feet；　and　the　fingers　of　a　man　with　a　three–masted　sailing　ship　tattooed　on　the　middle　finger　pointed　to　the　horizon。

‘The　cliffs　of　England；　Ma’am；’　said　the　Captain；　and　he　raised　the　hand　which　had　pointed　at　the　sky　to　the　salute。　Orlando　now　gave　a　second　start；　even　more　violent　than　the　first。

‘Christ　Jesus！’　she　cried。

Happily；　the　sight　of　her　native　land　after　long　absence　excused　both　start　and　exclamation；　or　she　would　have　been　hard　put　to　it　to　explain　to　Captain　Bartolus　the　raging　and　conflicting　emotions　which　now　boiled　within　her。　How　tell　him　that　she；　who　now　trembled　on　his　arm；　had　been　a　Duke　and　an　Ambassador？　How　explain　to　him　that　she；　who　had　been　lapped　like　a　lily　in　folds　of　paduasoy；　had　hacked　heads　off；　and　lain　with　loose　women　among　treasure　sacks　in　the　holds　of　pirate　ships　on　summer　nights　when　the　tulips　were　abloom　and　the　bees　buzzing　off　Wapping　Old　Stairs？　Not　even　to　herself　could　she　explain　the　giant　start　she　gave；　as　the　resolute　right　hand　of　the　sea–captain　indicated　the　cliffs　of　the　British　Islands。

‘To　refuse　and　to　yield；’　she　murmured；　‘how　delightful；　to　pursue　and　conquer；　how　august；　to　perceive　and　to　reason；　how　sublime。’　Not　one　of　these　words　so　coupled　together　seemed　to　her　wrong；　nevertheless；　as　the　chalky　cliffs　loomed　nearer；　she　felt　culpable；　dishonoured；　unchaste；　which；　for　one　who　had　never　given　the　matter　a　thought；　was　strange。　Closer　and　closer　they　drew；　till　the　samphire　gatherers；　hanging　half–way　down　the　cliff；　were　plain　to　the　naked　eye。　And　watching　them；　she　felt；　scampering　up　and　down　within　her；　like　some　derisive　ghost　who　in　another　instant　will　pick　up　her　skirts　and　flaunt　out　of　sight；　Sasha　the　lost；　Sasha　the　memory；　whose　reality　she　had　proved　just　now　so　surprisingly—Sasha；　she　felt；　mopping　and　mowing　and　making　all　sorts　of　disrespectful　gestures　towards　the　cliffs　and　the　samphire　gatherers；　and　when　the　sailors　began　chanting；　‘So　good–bye　and　adieu　to　you；　Ladies　of　Spain’；　the　words　echoed　in　Orlando’s　sad　heart；　and　she　felt　that　however　much　landing　there　meant　fort；　meant　opulence；　meant　consequence　and　state　（for　she　would　doubtless　pick　up　some　noble　Prince　and　reign；　his　consort；　over　half　Yorkshire）；　still；　if　it　meant　conventionality；　meant　slavery；　meant　deceit；　meant　denying　her　love；　fettering　her　limbs；　pursing　her　lips；　and　restraining　her　tongue；　then　she　would　turn　about　with　the　ship　and　set　sail　once　more　for　the　gipsies。

Among　the　hurry　of　these　thoughts；　however；　there　now　rose；　like　a　dome　of　smooth；　white　marble；　something　which；　whether　fact　or　fancy；　was　so　impressive　to　her　fevered　imagination　that　she　settled　upon　it　as　one　has　seen　a　swarm　of　vibrant　dragonflies　alight；　with　apparent　satisfaction；　upon　the　glass　bell　which　shelters　some　tender　vegetable。　The　form　of　it；　by　the　hazard　of　fancy；　recalled　that　earliest；　most　persistent　memory—the　man　with　the　big　forehead　in　Twitchett’s　sitting–room；　the　man　who　sat　writing；　or　rather　looking；　but　certainly　not　at　her；　for　he　never　seemed　to　see　her　poised　there　in　all　her　finery；　lovely　boy　though　she　must　have　been；　she　could　not　deny　it—and　whenever　she　thought　of　him；　the　thought　spread　round　it；　like　the　risen　moon　on　turbulent　waters；　a　sheet　of　silver　calm。　Now　her　hand　went　to　her　bosom　（the　other　was　still　in　the　Captain’s　keeping）；　where　the　pages　of　her　poem　were　hidden　safe。　It　might　have　been　a　talisman　that　she　kept　there。　The　distraction　of　sex；　which　hers　was；　and　what　it　meant；　subsided；　she　thought　now　only　of　the　glory　of　poetry；　and　the　great　lines　of　Marlowe；　Shakespeare；　Ben　Jonson；　Milton　began　booming　and　reverberating；　as　if　a　golden　clapper　beat　against　a　golden　bell　in　the　cathedral　tower　which　was　her　mind。　The　truth　was　that　the　image　of　the　marble　dome　which　her　eyes　had　first　discovered　so　faintly　that　it　suggested　a　poet’s　forehead　and　thus　started　a　flock　of　irrelevant　ideas；　was　no　figment；　but　a　reality；　and　as　the　ship　advanced　down　the　Thames　before　a　favouring　gale；　the　image　with　all　its　associations　gave　place　to　the　truth；　and　revealed　itself　as　nothing　more　and　nothing　less　than　the　dome　of　a　vast　cathedral　rising　among　a　fretwork　of　white　spires。

‘St　Paul’s；’　said　Captain　Bartolus；　who　stood　by　her　side。　‘The　Tower　of　London；’　he　continued。　‘Greenwich　Hospital；　erected　in　memory　of　Queen　Mary　by　her　husband；　his　late　majesty；　William　the　Third。　Westminster　Abbey。　The　Houses　of　Parliament。’　As　he　spoke；　each　of　these　famous　buildings　rose　to　view。　It　was　a　fine　September　morning。　A　myriad　of　little　water–craft　plied　from　bank　to　bank。　Rarely　has　a　gayer；　or　more　interesting；　spectacle　presented　itself　to　the　gaze　of　a　returned　traveller。　Orlando　hung　over　the　prow；　absorbed　in　wonder。　Her　eyes　had　been　used　too　long　to　savages　and　nature　not　to　be　entran

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