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.Thenhaving lighted his pipe he took out his watch.He looked at it attentively; he made, perhaps,some mathematical calculation.At last he said, triumphantly: Well done! James had steered them like a born sailor.There! Cam thought, addressing herself silently to James.You ve got it at last.For sheknew that this was what James had been wanting, and she knew that now he had got it hewas so pleased that he would not look at her or at his father or at any one.There he satwith his hand on the tiller sitting bolt upright, looking rather sulky and frowning slightly.He was so pleased that he was not going to let anybody share a grain of his pleasure.Hisfather had praised him.They must think that he was perfectly indifferent.But you ve got itnow, Cam thought.They had tacked, and they were sailing swiftly, buoyantly on long rocking waves whichhanded them on from one to another with an extraordinary lilt and exhilaration beside thereef.On the left a row of rocks showed brown through the water which thinned andbecame greener and on one, a higher rock, a wave incessantly broke and spurted a littlecolumn of drops which fell down in a shower.One could hear the slap of the water and thepatter of falling drops and a kind of hushing and hissing sound from the waves rolling andgambolling and slapping the rocks as if they were wild creatures who were perfectly freeand tossed and tumbled and sported like this for ever.Now they could see two men on the Lighthouse, watching them and making ready tomeet them.Mr Ramsay buttoned his coat, and turned up his trousers.He took the large, badlypacked, brown paper parcel which Nancy had got ready and sat with it on his knee.Thus incomplete readiness to land he sat looking back at the island.With his long-sighted eyesperhaps he could see the dwindled leaf-like shape standing on end on a plate of gold quiteclearly.What could he see? Cam wondered.It was all a blur to her.What was he thinkingnow? she wondered.What was it he sought, so fixedly, so intently, so silently? Theywatched him, both of them, sitting bareheaded with his parcel on his knee staring andstaring at the frail blue shape which seemed like the vapour of something that had burntitself away.What do you want? they both wanted to ask.They both wanted to say, Ask usanything and we will give it you.But he did not ask them anything.He sat and looked at85 the island and he might be thinking, We perished, each alone, or he might be thinking, Ihave reached it.I have found it; but he said nothing.Then he put on his hat. Bring those parcels, he said, nodding his head at the things Nancy had done up forthem to take to the Lighthouse. The parcels for the Lighthouse men, he said.He rose andstood in the bow of the boat, very straight and tall, for all the world, James thought, as if hewere saying, There is no God, and Cam thought, as if he were leaping into space, and theyboth rose to follow him as he sprang, lightly like a young man, holding his parcel, on to therock.13 He must have reached it, said Lily Briscoe aloud, feeling suddenly completely tired out.For the Lighthouse had become almost invisible, had melted away into a blue haze, and theeffort of looking at it and the effort of thinking of him landing there, which both seemed tobe one and the same effort, had stretched her body and mind to the utmost.Ah, but shewas relieved.Whatever she had wanted to give him, when he left her that morning, she hadgiven him at last. He has landed, she said aloud. It is finished. Then, surging up, puffing slightly, old MrCarmichael stood beside her, looking like an old pagan god, shaggy, with weeds in his hairand the trident (it was only a French novel) in his hand.He stood by her on the edge of thelawn, swaying a little in his bulk and said, shading his eyes with his hand: They will havelanded, and she felt that she had been right.They had not needed to speak.They had beenthinking the same things and he had answered her without her asking him anything.Hestood there as if he were spreading his hands over all the weakness and suffering ofmankind; she thought he was surveying, tolerantly and compassionately, their final destiny.Now he has crowned the occasion, she thought, when his hand slowly fell, as if she hadseen him let fall from his great height a wreath of violets and asphodels which, flutteringslowly, lay at length upon the earth.Quickly, as if she were recalled by something over there, she turned to her canvas.Thereit was her picture.Yes, with all its greens and blues, its lines running up and across, itsattempt at something.It would be hung in the attics, she thought; it would be destroyed.But what did that matter? she asked herself, taking up her brush again.She looked at thesteps; they were empty; she looked at her canvas; it was blurred.With a sudden intensity, asif she saw it clear for a second, she drew a line there, in the centre.It was done; it wasfinished.Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigue, I have had my vision.86 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Thenhaving lighted his pipe he took out his watch.He looked at it attentively; he made, perhaps,some mathematical calculation.At last he said, triumphantly: Well done! James had steered them like a born sailor.There! Cam thought, addressing herself silently to James.You ve got it at last.For sheknew that this was what James had been wanting, and she knew that now he had got it hewas so pleased that he would not look at her or at his father or at any one.There he satwith his hand on the tiller sitting bolt upright, looking rather sulky and frowning slightly.He was so pleased that he was not going to let anybody share a grain of his pleasure.Hisfather had praised him.They must think that he was perfectly indifferent.But you ve got itnow, Cam thought.They had tacked, and they were sailing swiftly, buoyantly on long rocking waves whichhanded them on from one to another with an extraordinary lilt and exhilaration beside thereef.On the left a row of rocks showed brown through the water which thinned andbecame greener and on one, a higher rock, a wave incessantly broke and spurted a littlecolumn of drops which fell down in a shower.One could hear the slap of the water and thepatter of falling drops and a kind of hushing and hissing sound from the waves rolling andgambolling and slapping the rocks as if they were wild creatures who were perfectly freeand tossed and tumbled and sported like this for ever.Now they could see two men on the Lighthouse, watching them and making ready tomeet them.Mr Ramsay buttoned his coat, and turned up his trousers.He took the large, badlypacked, brown paper parcel which Nancy had got ready and sat with it on his knee.Thus incomplete readiness to land he sat looking back at the island.With his long-sighted eyesperhaps he could see the dwindled leaf-like shape standing on end on a plate of gold quiteclearly.What could he see? Cam wondered.It was all a blur to her.What was he thinkingnow? she wondered.What was it he sought, so fixedly, so intently, so silently? Theywatched him, both of them, sitting bareheaded with his parcel on his knee staring andstaring at the frail blue shape which seemed like the vapour of something that had burntitself away.What do you want? they both wanted to ask.They both wanted to say, Ask usanything and we will give it you.But he did not ask them anything.He sat and looked at85 the island and he might be thinking, We perished, each alone, or he might be thinking, Ihave reached it.I have found it; but he said nothing.Then he put on his hat. Bring those parcels, he said, nodding his head at the things Nancy had done up forthem to take to the Lighthouse. The parcels for the Lighthouse men, he said.He rose andstood in the bow of the boat, very straight and tall, for all the world, James thought, as if hewere saying, There is no God, and Cam thought, as if he were leaping into space, and theyboth rose to follow him as he sprang, lightly like a young man, holding his parcel, on to therock.13 He must have reached it, said Lily Briscoe aloud, feeling suddenly completely tired out.For the Lighthouse had become almost invisible, had melted away into a blue haze, and theeffort of looking at it and the effort of thinking of him landing there, which both seemed tobe one and the same effort, had stretched her body and mind to the utmost.Ah, but shewas relieved.Whatever she had wanted to give him, when he left her that morning, she hadgiven him at last. He has landed, she said aloud. It is finished. Then, surging up, puffing slightly, old MrCarmichael stood beside her, looking like an old pagan god, shaggy, with weeds in his hairand the trident (it was only a French novel) in his hand.He stood by her on the edge of thelawn, swaying a little in his bulk and said, shading his eyes with his hand: They will havelanded, and she felt that she had been right.They had not needed to speak.They had beenthinking the same things and he had answered her without her asking him anything.Hestood there as if he were spreading his hands over all the weakness and suffering ofmankind; she thought he was surveying, tolerantly and compassionately, their final destiny.Now he has crowned the occasion, she thought, when his hand slowly fell, as if she hadseen him let fall from his great height a wreath of violets and asphodels which, flutteringslowly, lay at length upon the earth.Quickly, as if she were recalled by something over there, she turned to her canvas.Thereit was her picture.Yes, with all its greens and blues, its lines running up and across, itsattempt at something.It would be hung in the attics, she thought; it would be destroyed.But what did that matter? she asked herself, taking up her brush again.She looked at thesteps; they were empty; she looked at her canvas; it was blurred.With a sudden intensity, asif she saw it clear for a second, she drew a line there, in the centre.It was done; it wasfinished.Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigue, I have had my vision.86 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]