到燈塔去

《到燈塔去》是英國女作家弗吉尼亞·伍爾芙（1882—1941）于1927年創作的長篇小說，被視為其最完美的一部作品。2005年，這部小說被《時代》雜志評為1923年以來一百部優秀英文小說之一。小說以“到燈塔去”為貫穿全書的中心線索，講述了拉姆齊一家人和幾位客人在第一次世界大戰前后的一段生活經歷。伍爾芙作為意識流作家中成就最高的女性作家，其巔峰作品《到燈塔去》延續了現代主義小說家普魯斯特和喬伊斯的寫作技巧，被視為意識流杰作。小說包括大量對話、思考與觀察，幾乎沒有動作。這也是人們普遍抱怨這部作品不容易讀下去的主要原因。

《到燈塔去》是伍爾芙傾注心血的準自傳體小說。小說塑造的兩個主要人物拉姆齊先生與拉姆齊夫人的原型是伍爾芙的父母親，小說中有許許多多不同的人物形象，如莉麗、詹姆斯、凱姆、羅杰等等，這些不同的人物在伍爾芙的現實生活中都曾出現過，并與她有著各種聯系與交集。小說中拉姆齊一家的避暑別墅也是以伍爾芙童年生活中位于英格蘭康沃爾郡的避暑別墅為原型的。

本期的選段節選自小說第一部分《窗》的第十八、十九章。

As she came downstairs， she noticed that she could now see the moon itself through the staircase window—the yellow harvest moon—and turned， and they saw her， standing above them on the stairs.

“That’s my mother，” thought Prue. She said， like a child， “We thought of going down to the beach to watch the waves.”

Instantly， for no reason at all， Mrs Ramsay became like a girl of twenty， full of 1）gaiety. A mood of 2）revelry suddenly took possession of her. Of course they must go； of course they must go， she cried， laughing； and running down the last three or four steps quickly， and saying she only wished she could come too， and would they be very late， and had any of them got a watch？

“Yes， Paul has，” said Minta. Paul slipped a beautiful gold watch out of a little wash-leather case to show her. And seeing the gold watch lying in his hand， Mrs Ramsay felt， How extraordinarily lucky Minta is！ She is marrying a man who has a gold watch in a washleather bag！

She went with a smile on her lips into the other room， where her husband sat reading.

“They are engaged，” she said， beginning to knit.“Paul and Minta.”

“So I guessed，” he said. There was nothing very much to be said about it. So they sat silent.

Then she became aware that she wanted him to say something.

Anything， anything， she thought， going on with her knitting. Anything will do.

“How nice it would be to marry a man with a wash-leather bag for his watch，” she said， for that was the sort of joke they had together.

He was silent， swinging the compass on his watchchain to and fro， and thinking of Scott’s novels and Balzac’s novels. But through the 3）crepuscular walls of their intimacy， for they were drawing together， 4）involuntarily， coming side by side， quite close， she could feel his mind like a raised hand shadowing her mind.

“You won’t finish that stocking tonight，” he said.

“No，” she said， flattening the stocking out upon her knee， “I shan’t finish it.”

And what then？ For she felt that he was still looking at her， but that his look had changed. He wanted something—wanted the thing she always found it so difficult to give him； wanted her to tell him that she loved him. And that， no， she could not do. He found talking so much easier than she did. He could say things—she never could. So naturally it was always he that said the things， and then for some reason he would mind this suddenly， and would 5）reproach her. A heartless woman he called her； she never told him that she loved him. But it was not so—it was not so. It was only that she never could say what she felt. Was there no crumb on his coat？ Nothing she could do for him？ Getting up， she stood at the window with the reddish-brown stocking in her hands， partly to turn away from him， partly because she did not mind looking now， with him watching， at the Lighthouse， for she knew that he had turned his head as she turned； he was watching her. She knew that he was thinking， You are more beautiful than ever. And she felt herself very beautiful. Will you not tell me just for once that you love me？ He was thinking that， for he was roused， what with Minta and his book， and its being the end of the day and their having quarrelled about going to the Lighthouse. But she could not do it； she could not say it. Then， knowing that he was watching her， instead of saying anything she turned， holding her stocking， and looked at him. And as she looked at him she began to smile， for though she had not said a word， he knew， of course he knew， that she loved him. He could not deny it. And smiling she looked out of the window and said （thinking to herself， Nothing on earth can equal this happiness）—

“Yes， you were right. It’s going to be wet tomorrow.”She had not said it： but he knew it. And she looked at him， smiling， for she had triumphed again.

她走下樓，注意到現在她能從樓梯的窗口看到月亮了——那一輪金黃色的、收獲季節的滿月——她轉過身來，于是他們看到她就站在他們上方的樓梯上。

“那就是我的母親，”普魯想。她像個孩子似的說道：“我們剛才想著要到海灘上去看海浪呢?！?/p>

突然間，不知是什么緣故，拉姆齊夫人好像變成了一個二十歲的姑娘，充滿喜悅?！?br>