Chapter 4 third chapter

"Maybe after a night of sleep, when you wake up, you will find the sun shining and the birds singing." She stroked the little boy's hair and said sympathetically.Because she could see that her husband had spoiled the mood of the child by his unkind remarks that it would not be sunny.She found that the child was eager to go to the lighthouse, and her husband said that it would not be sunny tomorrow, and as if he hadn't said enough, the annoying young man babbled again. "Maybe it will be fine tomorrow," she said, stroking his hair. Now she had to compliment the picture of the refrigerator that James had cut out, and flip through the pages of the catalog, hoping to find a picture of a hay rake or a lawn mower, those prongs and handles must be skillful , Only when the mind is concentrated can it be cut out.These young men were parodying her husband, she thought, and if he said it might rain, they would say there must be a tornado.

As she was flipping through the pages looking for a picture of a grass rake or a lawnmower, she was suddenly interrupted.Rough murmurs outside the window, often interrupted irregularly as the speakers took their pipes from their mouths or put them in, though she could not hear what they were talking about (she sat by the window, which was open to the terrace) , the murmur assured her that the men were chatting on the platform for half an hour, with tennis balls clattering on rackets, and cricket boys bursting into high-pitched cries now and then: "What's the matter? What's the matter?" Among the highs and lows she heard, the conversation outside the window had a special place, and it comforted her, and now it stopped.The monotonous sound of the waves crashing on the beach was probably, in her mind, a regular, unflappable beat, as if reassuringly repeated over and over as she sat with her children. The words of some old lullaby that nature murmurs: "I'm protecting you—I'm supporting you," but sometimes, especially when her mind is out of what she's doing in her hands The work was shifted a little, and suddenly, unexpectedly, the meaning of the sound of the tide was not so benevolent, it was like a terrible rumbling drum, beating the beat of life, reminding one of the island being washed away. , was swept away and swallowed by the huge waves, and seemed to warn her: she did this and that in a hurry, but the years were passing quietly, and everything was just a fleeting rainbow-that was originally taken by others. The sound of the waves, drowned out and covered up by the sound, now suddenly thundered in her ears, causing her to raise her head in an impulse of fear.

They stopped talking and that was the reason for her sudden change of mood.After a second, she was released from that nervous state, as if to compensate for the unnecessary emotional loss she just had, she went to the other extreme, she felt cold, funny, and even a little gloating, The conclusion of her conjecture was that poor Charles Tansley had been scorned to pieces by her husband.It didn't matter to her.If her husband needed a victim (and he did), she was more than happy to put at his disposal Charles Tansley, who had just had trouble with her young son. She raised her head and listened for another moment, as if she were waiting for some familiar sound, some regular, mechanical sound; then she heard some rhythmic sound, half talking, half moaning. her husband walked up and down the platform, uttering something between emotion and song; she felt relieved again, and she was sure that everything was back to normal, and she looked down again on her knees. In the catalog on the Internet, I found a picture of a six-bladed jackknife, and James had to be very careful to cut it out.

Suddenly there was a loud cry, as if from the mouth of a half-awake sleepwalker: "Breaking the fire of bullets" Or something like that, ringing so loudly in her ears that she turned in fear to look around to see if anyone heard him.She was pleased to find that only Lily Briscoe was there; that didn't matter.But seeing the girl standing at the edge of the lawn painting reminded her that she had promised to keep her own head in as much position as possible so that Lily could draw her.Lily's drawing!Mrs Ramsay could not help smiling.She has small Chinese eyes and a wrinkled face, she'll never marry; her paintings won't be taken seriously; she's an independent little thing, and that's what Mrs Ramsay likes about her ; therefore, remembering her promise, she bowed her head.