After Orlando sold the tenth pearl, he took some of the remaining gold coins and bought himself a set of women's dresses that were popular at the time.At this moment, she was dressed as a British aristocratic woman, and she was sitting on the deck of the merchant ship "Mrs. Admiration".It might seem odd that she's paid little attention to her gender until now, but it's true.Perhaps it has something to do with her long-standing attire, in which she has been wearing Turkish trousers, which distracts her from gender differences.Gypsy women's dress is also similar to that of men, except for one or two special details.In any case, when she felt the hem of the skirt around her thighs, and when the captain graciously offered to build her an awning on deck, she was startled, and suddenly realized the advantages and disadvantages of gender identity.She didn't expect to be so shocked.
The shock wasn't just because she thought about chastity, and how to keep it.Ordinarily, pretty, lovely young women have only their chastity to worry about when they are alone.The cornerstone of the entire framework of the code of conduct for women is chastity.Chastity is a woman's treasure, her lifeblood, and they will defend it desperately, rather than surrender.However, if a man who has been a man for more than thirty years has participated in the negotiation of a treaty as a diplomatic envoy, if a man has embraced the queen and other noble women, and, if those rumors are true, this man Had also been married to Miss Rosina Pepita, and so on, so perhaps the man would not make too much fuss about chastity.The reason for Orlando's shock was very complicated, and it was hard to explain in a few words.In fact, no one has ever thought that Orlando is the kind of quick-thinking person who can find the root of the problem at once.Throughout the voyage, she was thinking about how to explain her shock from a moral point of view. She has her thinking rhythm, and we might as well follow her rhythm.
Calming from her panic, she stretched out and stretched out under the awning. "My God, this is such a nice, easy life," she thought. "But," she kicked her legs, "the dress drags to the heels, it's annoying. However, the floral silk dress material is the most beautiful in the world. I have never seen my skin set off like it is now. So beautiful, so, can I jump into the water and swim in this dress? No! So, I have to rely on the protection of the sailors. Will I refuse the protection of the sailors? Now I, will I refuse?" She was confused, this It was the first crux she encountered in the process of clarifying her thoughts.
Before she had time to untie this knot, the dinner had been delivered to her, and then, the handsome Captain Nicholas Benedict Butros cut a piece of corned beef for her himself, and the knot that could not be untied in Orlando's heart That's it.
"Would you like some fat, ma'am?" he asked. "Let me cut a tiny bit of your fingernail." These words sent a sweet shudder through her.The singing of the birds and the rushing of the torrent brought back the indescribable joy she had felt when she first saw Sasha, a feeling she hadn't felt in so long.At that time, she pursued hard, but now, she dodges and escapes, which one is more fascinating?Is it a man's pursuit or a woman's avoidance?Maybe they are the same thing at all?No, she thought, rejection would be the best thing.Thanked the captain, but did not accept his attentions, and admired his scowl.Forget it, since he is looking forward to it, let's eat a small slice, the thinnest and smallest slice in the world.Obedience to him and then watching him smile is the most interesting thing.While thinking, she sat on the deck again and continued to think, "There is nothing in this world that is more interesting than half-push, or half-hearted, or eager to accept. The pleasure it brings to people's spirits is beyond anything else Achievable." She went on to think, "So, I'm not sure, maybe I'll jump in just for the thrill of being rescued by a sailor."
(Remember, she's like a kid who just owned an amusement park or a toy cabinet at the moment. Mature women don't think of her that way because they're used to it.)
"But what do the lads who used to steer the Mary Rose with me think of a woman who jumps overboard just for the thrill of being rescued by a sailor?" she asked herself. "We have a word for this kind of woman. Ah! I remember..." (This word is very indecent, especially from a woman's mouth, and we will omit it here.) "God! God!" She called God again, because her thinking had come to a conclusion, "So, from now on I must respect the other sex's point of view, even if I think that view is so grotesque? If I have to Wearing a skirt, not being able to swim, and being rescued from the water by a sailor, God! That's all I can do!" Thinking of this, she couldn't help but feel a little depressed.She is straightforward by nature, averse to insincere words, evasive words, and even less willing to lie.It seemed to her that it was going around in circles and it didn't help.However, she thought, if the floral silk dress and the pleasure of being rescued by the sailor hero can only be obtained by going around in circles, then, she thought, it can only be obtained by going around in circles.She remembers, as a young man, insisting that women must be submissive, chaste, well-scented, and well-dressed. "Now, I myself have to pay the price for these demands," she thought, "but, judging from my brief experience as a woman, women are not necessarily born to be submissive, chaste, smelling, finely dressed, these elegant Charm is something they have acquired by hard work, otherwise, according to the stereotypes, their lives would be joyless. Just combing their hair," she thought, "would take me all morning. Hairstyles. Looking in the mirror, another hour; corsets, laces, baths and powders, dress after dress, from silk to lace, from lace to ribbed silk Yes, and to maintain chastity year after year..." Thinking of this, she shook her feet impatiently, revealing a section of her calf.At this time, a sailor on the mast happened to look down and saw the scene of her bare calf. He was so amazed that he stepped on the air and almost lost his life. "If looking at my ankles kills an honest man who is evidently married and children, I'd better keep my legs covered, out of humanity," thought Orlando.But the most beautiful thing about her were her legs, and she could not help thinking how absurd it would be for all women to have to cover their beauty, in order to prevent a sailor from falling from the masthead. "To hell with them!" she said.For the first time in her life, she realized that if she was born a woman, she must have been taught as a child what is the sacred duty of women.
Orlando returns to the UK
"Once I set foot on England soil, I shall never curse like this again," she thought. "I can no longer beat a man on the head, call him a complete liar, or draw a sword and stab him through the body, nor sit with nobles, wear a crown, or walk in a procession of nobles, or exercise The power of life and death, I can no longer lead the army, striding through Whitehall on a war horse, wearing seventy-two various medals on my chest. Once I set foot on the land of England, all I can do is make tea and water, Serve the master. Would you like some sugar? Would you like some milk?" When she had finished these words, she could not help but be horrified to find that she had so much contempt for the other sex--male, to which she had always been quoted in the past. Proud of it. "One look at a woman's ankle and she'll fall off the masthead," she thought, "and go out in Guy Fawkes-like clothes, to get women to admire you; keep women from education, lest they laugh at you You; prostrating yourself under the maiden's pomegranate skirt, but pretending to be the creator of the world.-God!" thought she, "that's how they deceive us women, and we are foolish enough!" Her expression was a little bit Ambiguous, blaming the male as well as the female, as if she belongs neither to the male nor to the female.Indeed, she seemed to be in a state of flux all the time, she was now a man, now a woman, and she understood the mysteries of both sexes, as well as their weaknesses.Her mind was in a state of extreme confusion, extreme dizziness.The ignorant and ignorant leisure and ease no longer existed, and she became a fluttering feather in the strong wind.She sympathized with one sex and opposed the other, finding both sexes sadly flawed, and uncertain of which sex she belonged to.This kind of mentality is reasonable.It was also understandable why she wanted to say aloud that she was going back to Turkey to live among the gypsies again.For several days, she had been thinking hard, turning a blind eye to everything, until at this moment, when the anchor dropped into the water splashed a huge wave, and the sail slowly landed on the deck, she realized that the ship had broken down on the coast of Italy.Soon the captain sent to ask her if she would have the honor of going ashore with her in the galley.
In the early morning of the next day, she returned to the boat, stretched out on the deck chair under the awning, and arranged her dress very dignifiedly to cover her ankles.
"Though we are ignorant and poor compared with men," she continued, following the train of the previous day, "though they themselves are so well armed that they do not let us know the alphabet, yet they are not thrown from the top of the mast. Come down." (From this passage, it is clear that something happened the night before that pushed her towards the female side, for now she speaks more like a woman than a man, and is enjoying herself a little. look.) Here she yawned and fell asleep.When she woke up, the boat was approaching the shore with the breeze, and the small town standing on the rock looked as if it was about to slip into the water, but was fortunately stopped by huge rocks and the tangled roots of ancient olive trees.There are patches of orange trees, with heavy fruits hanging all over the branches, and she can smell the fragrance of oranges on the deck.More than a dozen blue dolphins cocked their tails and leaped into the air from time to time.She stretched out her arms (which she knew were far less attractive than legs) and thanked God for not strutting through Whitehall on horseback or signing a death warrant. "It is better to wear poverty and ignorance, which are women's garments; leave the world to others to govern, throw away the ambition of war and lust for power, and put aside all the desires of men, so that To fully enjoy the highest pleasures of the human heart," she could not help exclaiming, as she was accustomed to when she was overwhelmed with emotion, "that pleasures are meditation, seclusion, and love."
"Praise God, make me a woman!" she chanted.She's almost obsessed with being proud of her gender.No matter whether it is a man or a woman, at this point, there is no cure.There was a word, she had said with a sudden pause, a word we had tried so hard not to let happen, but it had slipped out at the end of Orlando's sentence, and it was: love. "Love," Orlando uttered the word, immediately took human form, always impulsive and proud of being human.For other ideas can be expressed abstractly, but love must have flesh and blood, with shawls and petticoats, stockings and jackets.Before that, all Orlando loved were women, so she still loved women.Although she was now a woman herself, the whole human organism was lagging behind in adapting to this change.If she realizes that the person she loves is of the same sex, it will only deepen her previous feelings of being a man.All the ambiguous signs and confusions of the past are now clear.The obscurity which separated the sexes and which produced innumerable obscenities and ambiguities between them disappeared.If there is any meaning to the truth and beauty sung by poets, it is that love finds in beauty all that was lost in falsehood.She finally understood Sasha empathetically, and she cried out in delight.All the treasure she sought was now revealed, and she was so excited and delighted with the discovery that when a man's voice rang in her ears, it was like a cannonball exploding in her ears. .The man's voice said, "Ma'am, please," and a man's hand reached out and helped her to her feet, the man's finger—three masts tattooed on the middle finger—pointing toward the horizon.
"That's England's cliffs, ma'am," said the captain, saluting England with the hand he had just pointed toward the horizon.Orlando's heart beat faster again, and he was even more surprised than when he heard the man's voice just now.
"Christ Jesus!" she cried.
Fortunately, she could excuse that the reason she exclaimed repeatedly was because she returned to her hometown after a long absence, otherwise, it would be difficult for her to explain to the captain the mixed feelings in her heart.How could she tell him that this trembling woman nestled in his arms had once been a duke and an ambassador?How was she going to explain to him that this lily-like woman in a silk dress who once beheaded a man on a pirate ship outside the old Wapping steps on a tulip-blossoming summer night when bees were buzzing? , sleeping with sluts in sacks full of jewels?She could not even explain to herself why her heart beat so violently when the captain's resolute right hand was pointed at the cliffs of the British Isles.
"How delightful it is to refuse and then give in;" she murmured to herself, "how majestic to pursue and then to conquer; how sublime to observe and then to investigate." There is nothing wrong with it.However, as the gray and white cliff loomed closer and closer, she began to feel guilty, ashamed, and out of chastity, a feeling that was strange to someone who had never thought about it before.The boat gradually approached the shore, and the naked eyes could already clearly see those people hanging in the air on the cliffs picking sea canopies.Looking at them, Orlando felt a naughty elf jumping in her heart. After a while, she picked up her skirt, waved it in her hand, and ran away without a trace.This was the Sasha she had lost, the Sasha she remembered, and at this very moment, she had unexpectedly confirmed her authenticity.She sensed that Sasha was doing various chores and making all sorts of unseemly gestures to the sea-cape pickers on the cliffs.When the sailors began humming "Goodbye, Goodbye, Spanish Lady," the words echoed in Orlando's sad heart, and she felt that no matter how comfortable, rich, prominent, and respected she was ashore (she could undoubtedly marry a prince Lord, as his consort, ruled most of Yorkshire), but if it meant conformity, enslavement, deceit, deprivation of love, hand and foot, silence, silence, she would rather turn the ship around and sail again Sail away and join the gypsies.
While these thoughts were rushing through her mind, something popped up like a dome of smooth white marble, whether it was real or an illusion, and made a deep impression on her feverish imagination. imprint.She lingers on this image, like seeing a flock of fluttering dragonflies contentedly alighting on a glass cover with tender vegetables.In her unrestrained imagination, the shape of the glass cover aroused her lingering memories from long ago.A man full of heaven was sitting in Twitchette's living room writing, or staring at something. Of course he was not looking at Orlando, because he didn't seem to see her gorgeously dressed standing quietly, she didn't Denied that he was a beautiful boy at the time.Whenever she thinks of that person, her thoughts will spread to the surroundings, like a bright moon rising on the surface of rippling water, sprinkling a piece of silvery tranquility.Now she stretched out one hand to her breast (the other was still in the captain's arm), where her manuscripts were still safe and sound.That's where she used to keep her amulets.She stopped thinking about her gender and what it meant, all she thought about now was the glory of poetry.The great lines of Marlowe, Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and Milton rang and resounded in her ears, as a hammer struck the golden bell in the cathedral tower, and that golden bell was the thought in her head. .What actually happened was that first she saw a vague image of a marble dome, from which she conjured up the full forehead of a poet, and then a cascade of unrelated thoughts.But the image of the marble dome did not appear out of thin air, but did appear in reality.Merchant ships ride the breeze on the Thames, and the image of the marble dome becomes reality, which is precisely the dome of the cathedral amidst the intricately carved white spires.
"St. Paul's," said the captain, who was standing beside her now. "The Tower of London," he continued, "Greenwich Hospital, built by His Majesty William III in his later years to commemorate Queen Mary. Westminster Abbey. The Houses of Parliament." These famous buildings unfolded before his eyes one by one with his voice.It was a clear morning in September, and countless small boats shuttled back and forth between the banks of the Thames.In the eyes of a wanderer returning to his hometown, there is nothing more pleasing to the eye than the sight before him.Orlando leaned on the prow, watching all this with amazement.For a long time, her eyes were full of savages and wild scenery. How could this magnificent cityscape not fascinate her.The dome of St. Paul's Cathedral was designed and built by Mr. Wren while she was away from England.There was a sudden loose blond hair from a nearby pillar, and Captain Buttros, standing beside her, told her that it was a monument; he said that during the time she was away from England, there had been plague and fire in London.Tears filled her eyes, and she tried desperately not to cry, but when she remembered that women had the right to cry, she let herself cry.She remembered that it was here that there used to be a grand carnival.The place where the waves hit the shore today is where the royal pavilion was.It was also here that she met Sasha for the first time.It seemed here (she looked down at the shimmering water) that one could see through the ice the woman who froze to death in the river, selling apples on her lap.The glitz and decay of that year no longer exist.That dark night, the torrential downpour, and the torrential torrential flood have all become passing clouds.In a place where countless giant yellow ice cubes once whirled and galloped past, gathering poor panicked and displaced people on the ice, now you can only see swans floating gracefully on the water, with all kinds of postures.London is not what it used to be.She remembered that London used to be full of dark, ugly little houses.On the gate tower of the gate of London hangs the hideous heads of the rebels.The cobbled walks stank of garbage and excrement.And now, as the boat rolled slowly past Waping, she caught a glimpse of the wide, well-groomed avenue.The stately carriages pulled by strong horses, and the houses with curved windows, square glass and polished door knockers indicate that the owners of the houses are very rich and distinguished.Ladies in printed silk dresses (she peered at them through the captain's binoculars) strolled along the pavement that rose above the road.Men in embroidered coats snuffed at street corner poles.She saw the colorful store banners swaying in the wind, with tobacco, raw materials, silk, gold, silverware, gloves, perfume and other commodities painted on them, and she knew what the store sold at a glance.She was just able to catch a glimpse of the window of a café as the ship approached the anchorage at London Bridge.Because the weather was fine, many well-dressed men were sitting leisurely on the terrace of the cafe, with porcelain plates in front of them and clay pipes beside them. One of them was reading the news, interrupted by laughter and comments from time to time.Is this a tavern?Are these people literary talents?Is it a poet?she asked Captain Butros.The captain told her kindly that the boat was passing the Cocoa Tree Cafe and that if she turned her head a little to the left, following the direction of his forefinger, she might see Mr. Addison drinking his coffee, and there he was.The other two gentlemen, "Look there, ma'am, a little to the right of the telegraph pole, one's a little stooped, and the other's like you and me," are Mr. Dryden and Mr. Pope. "Idlers," said the captain, meaning that they were both Catholics, "but they're men," he added.After speaking, he hurriedly walked towards the stern, ready to command the merchant ship to dock.
"Addison, Dryden, Pope," repeated Orlando as if the words were a spell.Just now she saw the towering peaks of Brusa, and in a blink of an eye, she had already stepped onto the river bank of her hometown.
However, Orlando will soon learn that the most fanatical passions are insignificant in the face of the unselfish law.The law is harder than the rock of London Bridge, stronger than the muzzle of a cannon.No sooner had she returned to her house in Blackfriars, London, than a succession of visitors came, from Beau Street messengers to grave-faced emissaries from the courts.They were here to inform her that she had three big lawsuits against her, and countless smaller ones connected with them.All three major lawsuits were filed while she was away from the UK.The principal charges against her are: (1) she is dead, and therefore no longer holds any property to her name; (2) she is a woman, and so, consistent with the previous point; (3) she was an English duke, He is married to dancer Rosina Pepita and has three sons.Today, the three sons claim that their father is deceased and that all his property should belong to them.Such a serious allegation will of course take time and money to resolve.During the proceedings, all of her real estate is in the custody of the Grand Court, and her identity is temporarily on hold.With everything in doubt, with no certainty whether she is dead or alive, male or female, duke or commoner, she returns from London to her country estate.Before the verdict came down, the law allowed her to live here incognito. Whether she was a man or a woman still had to wait for the verdict.
The day she returned to the manor was a beautiful evening in December.There are snowflakes in the sky, and the lavender slanting shadow is just like the scenery she looks out from the peak of Brusa.The huge estate, which looked more like a town than a residence, was a riot of colors in the snow, browns and blues and roses and purples.Smoke curls up from the chimney, exuding vitality.When she saw the manor lying quietly on the grass, peaceful and majestic, she couldn't help crying.The yellow carriage drove into the manor and drove slowly along the tree-lined path. Several red deer raised their heads, as if expecting something.They are shy by nature, but at this moment they are uncharacteristically, following behind the carriage, and they don't stop until the carriage stops in the garden.When Orlando stepped out of the carriage, the red deer shook their antlers or pawed the ground.It is said that a red deer really knelt on the snow in front of her.Before she could put her hand on the knocker, the two great doors flung open, and Mrs. Grimstitch, Mr. Dupper, and all the servants stood in a single file, holding candles and torches aloft, to welcome her back.But the well-ordered welcome was disrupted first by Kanute, a jubilant Norse hound, who leapt at his owner with enthusiasm, nearly knocking her to the ground.Then came Mrs. Grimstitch, who seemed to curtsy, and was too excited to speak, and could only gasp and incoherently call out, sir!lady!lady!master!Orlando calmed her down by kissing her cheek with real affection.Then Mr. Dupper read aloud from a piece of parchment, but before he could say a few words, the hounds barked, the hunters blew their horns, and the stags ran into the garden in all confusion, aiming at the moon. The ground neighed, so the welcoming ceremony could not go on.Everyone surrounded the hostess, expressing in various ways the joy and joy that her return brought to them.Then, everyone dispersed.
Orlando was still the Orlando they knew, and no one showed the slightest doubt.If anyone doubted it, the performance of the stag and the hound was enough to reassure them.Because everyone knows that these dumb creatures have a much better judgment of identity and characteristics than we do.And, that very evening, Mrs. Grimstitch, drinking tea from a china cup, remarked to Mr. Dupper that, even if her master was now a woman, she was the loveliest woman she had ever seen.So there is no need to distinguish the gender of the owner at all, it doesn't matter if it is male or female, just like two peaches on a branch.Mrs. Grimstitch said in a low voice that she had been suspicious (here she nodded mysteriously) and that she thought it was nothing to be surprised about (here she nodded knowingly ).From her point of view it was a good thing that the mistress had become a woman, for the towels needed mending, the tassels on the curtains in the chapel parlor were moth-eaten, and now was the time for a mistress.
"There will be little hostesses and hostesses," Mr Dupper added.As a priest, he has the right to speak on these delicate subjects.
When the old servants were gossiping in the servant's room, Orlando walked around the hall, promenade, garden and bedroom as before, holding a silver candle lamp in her hand; she saw her ancestors again in a trance looking down at her morosely, among them was Sir Jipper, and Sir Chamberlain.She sometimes sat on the guest chair, and sometimes leaned under the joyful canopy, watching the tapestries swaying in the wind, watching the hunters chasing their horses, and Daphne running away.The moonlight shines through the pattern of the cheetah on the window, casting a light yellow light and shadow. She bathes her arms in this light and shadow, as she always liked to do when she was a child.The floor of the gallery was polished smooth on the front and rough wood on the back.She walked slowly on the smooth floor, touched this piece of silk, caressed that piece of brocade, and the wood carving of dolphins playing in the water made her imagine.She brushed her hair with King James's silver brush and buried her face in the scented dried potpourri, a recipe of potpourri taught to her ancestors by William the Conqueror hundreds of years ago, and still Still using the same kind of rose to make.She looked out into the garden and imagined the crocuses asleep and the dahlias asleep, and she saw the delicate figures of the nymphs glistening white in the snow, and the yew hedge against the night like a house. Generally thick and strong.She saw the citrus groves and the towering medlars;—all that we have jotted down with her eyes and ears filled her with pleasant longing and comfort.At last she entered the chapel and sat exhausted in the ancient red armchair in which her ancestors had often sat to hear sacred music.She lit a chegar (a habit she had acquired in the East) and opened a prayer book.
This is a beautiful little prayer book, bound in velvet and gold thread, which was the book Mary Queen of Scots held in her hand when she went to the guillotine.The eyes of the faithful can see a brown spot on the book, which is said to be a drop of blood from the royal blood.Of all communicative relationships, communion with God is the most unfathomable.As Orlando looked at the books before her, who could say how many noble thoughts arose in her heart, and how many evil impulses were calmed down?Novelists, poets, historians have evaded this, and even the saints themselves have given us nothing.Although believers believe that once a person has faith, his property will be reduced to nothing and death will become what he desires, but is he more willing to give his life than others?Is he more willing to share his property than others?Didn't he also have a group of servants and a team of chariots and horses?In the Queen's Prayer Book, besides a drop of blood, there is a lock of hair and a crumb of bread.Now, Orlando added a small tobacco leaf to these memorials.Orlando smoked and read his prayer book.Hair, bread crumbs, bloodstains and tobacco leaves, these common things touched her deeply, and she fell into meditation. The pious and solemn expression was quite suitable for the surrounding atmosphere, although it is said that there is a relationship between her and the commonly called God There is no communication.Nothing is more common or more overbearing than the assumption that there is only one God and that religion belongs to the preacher.But Orlando seems to have her own beliefs.With the most sincere religious enthusiasm in the world, she reflects on her sins and the imperfections of her spiritual world.She thought that in the poet's pen, the letter "S" represented the "Serpent", the incarnation of Satan in the Garden of Eden.The first paragraph of her "Great Oak" is filled with such vicious reptiles that no matter how hard she tries, she cannot get rid of them.But in her opinion, "S" is really nothing compared to the ending word "ing".Participles ending in "ing," she argues, are the devil himself (assuming we believe in the existence of the devil).She therefore concludes that the poet's first duty is to avoid this temptation.For the ear is the vestibule of the soul, and poetry is destined to be more seductive than lust, more destructive than cannonballs.Then, she went on to think, the poet's duty is the highest duty, and the poet's words travel farther.A ridiculous little poem by Shakespeare has done more to the poor and wicked than all the preachers and philanthropists in the world.So it's worth the time and effort it takes to keep the channels of dissemination of ideas unimpeded.In order to express ideas clearly and clearly, we must work hard on words.Thoughts are sacred.Evidently, she returned to her own religion, which her absence from England had only strengthened, and soon became less tolerant of other beliefs.
"I'm mature," she thought.He held up the candle while thinking. "I'm losing certain visions," she said, closing the Queen Mary's prayer book, "and maybe others," as she went down to the crypt where her ancestors were buried. bones.
Yet since that night on the Asian plateau, when Rastum el Sadi waved dismissively at her aristocratic origins, even the bones of her ancestors, whether Sir Miles, Jervie, Sir Si or other ancestors also seemed to lack a sense of sacredness.Only three or four hundred years ago, the owners of these skeletons made a fortune by hoarding real estate and seeking official careers, and all of them were well-dressed, as is the case for any upstart nowadays.And poets, and those who are educated and thoughtful, may prefer the quiet of the country, and the price they pay for it is poverty, and at the moment they are selling prints on the Strand, or tending sheep in the fields.These facts filled her with self-blame.She stood in the tomb, thinking of the Egyptian pyramids and the bones buried beneath them.At this moment, she felt that although there were many rooms in this manor, complete bedding on the beds, and silver plates and covers on the table, compared with them, the vast and empty mountains by the sea of Marmara might be more comfortable to live in.
"I'm mature," she thought.He held up the candle while thinking. "I'm losing some fantasies, but I might have others." She ambled down the hall to her bedroom.Growing up is an unpleasant and even vexing process, but it's also a very interesting one, and it's fun, she thought, stretching her legs over the fire (now without sailors coveting it).She is pursuing her own growth process in the past, which feels like walking on a boulevard lined with tall buildings on both sides.
As a child, how she loved sound, and she thought that the series of syllables bursting out of her mouth was the most beautiful poetry.Later, under the influence of Sasha, perhaps it was the disillusionment brought by Sasha, which caused her to become depressed and lazy under the extreme rage.Gradually, certain intricacies spread within her, which were in prose, not in verse, and which could be found only in the light of the fire.She remembered how feverishly she had studied the Norwich author, Dr Brown, with his book close at hand.After Green's incident, she tried to develop a spirit of resistance in her solitude, and God knows how long this growth process took.She said, "I'm going to write whatever I want," and she wrote twenty-six works.However, no matter she travels or adventures, no matter how deeply she thinks, the transformation of one kind or another is still just a process of self-shaping.What will happen in the future, only God knows.变化将持续不断，而且可能是永无休止的。思想在激烈斗争，如岩石般坚固持久的思维惯性，一碰到另一种思想，就会顷刻崩溃瓦解，只留下一览无余的天空和闪烁的群星。想到这里，她走到窗前，不顾窗外天寒地冻，推开窗户，探出身去，让自己浸润在夜晚潮湿的空气中。她听到树林里传来狐狸的叫声，穿行在树丛中的野鸡发出的窸窣声。她听到积雪从房顶滑落到地上的声音。 “以我的生活经历来看，这里比土耳其好过一千倍，”她不禁脱口而出，“拉斯图姆，你错了。”她大声说道，仿佛正与那吉普赛人争辩（用脑子里固有的观点与一个不在场的对手抗辩，这使她获得了一种新的力量，这力量再次表明她的精神世界在成长）。 “这里就是比土耳其强。头发，面饼屑，烟叶，我们就是由这些七零八碎的俗物混合而成的，”她说这番话时，脑子里想的是玛丽女王的祈祷书。 “人们的思想是如此变幻莫测，汇聚了各种情感和意象。我们时而不满于自己的出身和现状，苦苦追求在苦行中升华，时而我们又为花园古径散发出的气息而不能自持，为画眉鸟的啁啾而泪流满面。”她仍像过去一样，为纷纭的世事而困惑，这些事千头万绪，但其意义究竟为何，却没有任何提示。她把雪茄烟头扔出窗外，上床睡觉了。
翌日清晨，她准备循着前一天夜里的思路，改写她的《大橡树》。她拿出了纸和笔。这里有充足的纸笔供她使用，这对于一个曾经只能以浆果为墨水，在文稿的页边留白处写作的人来说，其欢喜程度是难以想象的。就这样，她一会儿无比沮丧地删去一句话，一会儿又欣喜若狂地加上一句话，正写着，就见一道阴影映在纸上，她赶紧把手稿藏了起来。
因为她的窗户正对着庭园的中央，因为她吩咐过不见任何人，因为她谁也不认识，而且从法律上讲，也没人知道她是谁，所以那一道阴影的出现着实令她诧异，继而是恼怒。然而当她抬起头来探起究竟时，又不禁觉得好笑。那是一个熟悉的身影，一个稀奇古怪的身影，她正是来自罗马尼亚芬斯特腊尔霍恩和斯堪多普波姆的哈丽特·格里塞尔达女大公。她正蹦蹦跳跳地跑过庭园，还像以前那样一身黑色骑士装，披着斗篷，模样丝毫未变。这就是那个从英国一路追逐她的女人！她的身体就是那令人憎恶的秃鹫的巢穴——她本人就是一只带来厄运的大鸟！想到自己远赴土耳其就是为了躲避她的诱惑（如今已完全没有那种感觉），奥兰多不禁放声大笑。眼前的情景有一种说不出的滑稽感，奥兰多以前就觉得，她很像一只丑陋的野兔，两眼直愣愣地瞪着，面颊瘦削，高高竖起的发型，都酷似那种动物。此刻，她停下了脚步，活脱脱一只直挺挺蹲在玉米地里的野兔，以为别人看不见它。她直愣愣地瞪着奥兰多，奥兰多也从窗户里回瞪她。她们就这样对视了好一会儿，奥兰多出于无奈，只好请她进屋。女大公掸去了斗篷上的积雪，两位女士旋即开始相互寒暄问候。
“女人就是麻烦，”奥兰多心里默念道。她从柜子里取出葡萄酒杯，“她们从不让人有片刻安宁。没见过比她们更爱四处打探、多管闲事的人了。正是为了躲开这个像五朔节花柱一般又高又瘦的女人，我才离开英格兰，可现在……”想到这儿，她转身把托盘递给女大公，可是，看哪——在女大公的位置上，竟然站着一位身材高大、一袭黑衣的绅士，壁炉的围栏上搭着一堆衣服。与她独处的，竟是一个男人。
她猛然意识到自己的性别，刚才她已全然忘记了这一点。她同时也意识到，他的性别也同样完全颠倒了，与她之间拉开了距离。奥兰多感到一阵头晕目眩。
“啊呀，你吓了我一跳，”她惊呼，一边用手捂住胸口。
“温柔的人儿，”女大公喊道，同时单膝跪地，把一杯甜酒递到奥兰多的唇边，“原谅我过去欺瞒你。”
奥兰多啜着甜酒，大公跪在她面前，亲吻她的手。
总之，两人都以饱满的激情各自扮演着男人和女人的角色，十分钟以后，才进入正常的交谈。女大公（今后要称呼他为大公了）讲述了自己的故事——他是男人，从来就是；可自从看见奥兰多的一张画像以后，便无可救药地爱上了奥兰多。为了接近奥兰多，他男扮女装，寄宿在一家面包店的楼上。当他得知奥兰多远赴土耳其时，痛不欲生。他听说了她的变故，便匆匆赶来为她效力（说到这里，他发出了令人难以忍受的嘻笑声）。哈里大公说，在他眼里，奥兰多就是女性中最漂亮、最珍贵、最完美的人儿。这三个“最”本来应该颇令人信服，可是因为其间夹杂着“嘻嘻”、“呵呵”的怪声，效果就全被破坏了。“如果这就是爱情，”奥兰多以女人的眼光望着站在壁炉围栏一侧的大公，心里默念道，“那也未免太不可思议了。”
哈里大公跪在地上，热切地向她求婚。他对她说，他拥有价值两千万的金币，存放在他城堡里的一个保险箱里，他拥有的土地之大，全英伦的贵族无人比得上。在那片土地上，可以尽情狩猎。他许诺，她必定能打到满满一口袋松鸡和猎鸟，整个英格兰，甚至加上苏格兰，都找不到那么一大片旷野。诚然，在他离开的这段时间里，野鸡患上了口裂，雌鹿也早产了，但如果他们一起回到罗马尼亚居住，在她的看护下，一切都会好起来的。
他说着说着，眼泪盈满了那双暴突的眼睛，一串淡茶色的泪水沿着他那瘦瘦长长的面颊滚落下来。
奥兰多自己身为男人时的经历告诉她，男人和女人一样爱哭，一样莫名其妙就会哭；但她刚刚意识到，当男人在女人面前流露真情时，女人会十分震惊。正如此刻，她也感到十分震惊。
大公向她表示歉意。他控制住自己的情绪，说他现在要走了，翌日来她这儿听回音。
这一天是星期二。他星期三来了，星期四来了，星期五来了，星期六又来了。而事实上，他每次来访都是求婚，一见面就求婚，过一会儿再求婚，临走时还是求婚。除了求婚，就是相对无言。他们在壁炉的两侧各坐一边，有时大公碰倒了火钳和煤铲，奥兰多就把它们扶起来。然后，大公就回忆起他曾在瑞士射中一只麋鹿，奥兰多问是不是一只大麋鹿，大公说没有他在挪威射中的那只驯鹿大；奥兰多又问他是否射中过老虎，大公说他射中过一只信天翁，奥兰多半掩住自己的哈欠，又问那只信天翁有没有大象那么大，大公答了几句，肯定都是合情合理的回答，可奥兰多并没有听进去，因为她的目光时而盯着书桌，时而看向窗外，时而又看着房门。就在大公说“我崇拜你”的同时，奥兰多恰巧开口说：“瞧，下雨了，”两人不禁有些尴尬，红了脸，谁也不知道接着该说什么。确实，奥兰多实在想不出有什么可说的，幸好她想起了一种叫“飞蝇”的游戏，这是一种既不费脑筋，又能大把输钱的游戏，要不然，她猜想，自己恐怕非嫁给他不可了。她想不出别的办法来摆脱他，惟有这一招，可以既不必为交谈中的冷场而尴尬，又可以避开婚嫁的话题。游戏很简单，只需要三个糖块儿和足够多的飞蝇。现在，大公押五百英镑，赌一只飞蝇落到他指定的糖块儿上，而不会落在别的糖块儿上。接下来，整整一个上午，他们就只需看着那些蝇虫飞来飞去（这个时节的飞蝇都无精打采的，常常绕着天花板飞一个多小时才肯落下），直到某只漂亮的青蝇终于选了一个糖块儿落脚，输赢方见分晓。在玩游戏的过程中，大把大把的英镑在他们两人之间转手，大公生性好赌，他发誓说，每一把赌局都和赛马一样精彩，他可以一直玩下去。但奥兰多很快就厌倦了。
“如果每天上午都得陪着一位大公观赏青蝇，那一个女人美好的青春年华岂不虚度，”她自问。
她开始讨厌眼前的糖块儿，飞蝇也令她头晕恶心。她觉得，总该有一种方法可以替自己解围，但她既羞于耍弄女性惯用的各种小手段，又不能像男人那样对他当头一击，或用长剑刺穿他的身体。万般无奈之下，她想出了一招。她逮住一只青蝇，轻轻把它碾死（那青蝇本来就已奄奄一息，要不然心慈手软的她是不会杀生的），然后用一滴阿拉伯树胶把它粘在一个糖块儿上。趁大公仰头盯着天花板时，她灵巧地用这粘了青蝇的糖块儿替换了她下赌注的那块糖，然后大叫，“我赢了，我赢了！”宣布她胜了这一局。她以为，精通竞技和赛马的大公，必定会察觉她作了弊，而在“飞蝇”游戏中作弊是极其可耻的行径，若男人作弊，则将不为人类社会所容，只能被赶到热带雨林，永远与猿为伍。她估摸，他定会以颇具男子汉风范的方式，永远不再与她来往。但她没有料到这位可爱的贵族竟如此单纯无知，他鉴别不出飞蝇的死活，在他眼里，一只死飞蝇和一只活飞蝇没什么两样。她把同样的花招重复了二十遍，而他输给她一万七千二百五十英镑（相当于我们现在的四万零八百八十五英镑六先令八便士），直到奥兰多越来越漏洞百出，再傻的人也瞒不住了。当他终于明白了真相，痛苦的场面就出现了。他猛地站起身来，满脸通红，泪珠从他的面颊一颗一颗滴落下来。她赢走了他大笔钱，他并不在意，他很乐意她如此；她欺骗他，他有一点儿受不了，想到她会欺骗他，他觉得颇受伤害。但最让他难以忍受的，是她竟然在飞蝇游戏中作弊。他说，他绝不可能去爱一个在游戏中作弊的女人。说到这里，他一副彻底崩溃的样子。稍微平静一点后，他说，幸好没有旁人在场。他说，她毕竟是个女人。一句话，他已准备以具有骑士风度的博大胸怀，宽恕她，并请求她原谅自己言辞的粗鲁。当他刚刚垂下他那高傲的头，还没来得及开口，她就把一只小小的蟾蜍贴着他的肌肤塞在了他的衬衣里。
说句公道话，她倒真的宁愿使用长剑。整整一上午把一只湿乎乎、黏嗒嗒的蟾蜍藏在身上，真不是滋味。可是如果不能使用长剑，那就只好求助于蟾蜍了。而且，解决他们两人之间的事，蟾蜍和笑声恰恰能够起到冰冷的钢剑难以起到的作用。她哈哈大笑，大公涨红了脸；她哈哈大笑，大公骂骂咧咧；她哈哈大笑，大公摔门而去。
“赞美上苍！”奥兰多一边大笑不止，一边高声喊道。她听到马车轮子狂怒地滚过庭园，她听到轮子碾过地面时发出的嘎嘎声，这声音越来越远，直到完全消失。
“终于剩我一人了，”奥兰多说。她说这话时嗓门很大，因为反正没人听到。
喧闹之后，寂静显得愈发深沉，这一点需要科学来证实。但被人爱过之后，接踵而至的孤独感会愈发强烈，这一点，很多女人都可以证实。当大公乘坐的马车轮声渐渐远去，奥兰多觉得，那且行且远，离她而去的，如果仅仅是一位大公，或是一个头衔，或是安逸的婚姻生活，她都不介意。但此刻她听到的，那且行且远，离她而去的，是生活，是恋人。“生活和恋人，”她一边喃喃自语，一边走到书桌旁，用笔蘸了墨水，写道：
“生活和恋人”——这行诗句既不合韵，又与前面的文字不相关联——前面写的是如何妥善地给羊洗药浴，以免羊生疮痂。她红着脸，又反复读了几遍。
“生活和恋人。”她搁下笔，走进卧室，对着镜子，把脖子上的珍珠项链戴戴好。她觉得身上的碎花棉晨袍衬托不出珍珠的雍容华贵，于是换上了一件青灰色的府绸晨袍。又换了一件桃花图案的，最后换上了一件酒红色织锦缎的。也许薄施粉黛，额前梳点刘海，才更有女人味。她做完这一切之后，蹬上尖头轻便鞋，在手指上套上一枚翡翠戒指，“这下好了，”她说。她点燃了壁炉两侧的银制烛灯。奥兰多眼前出现了一副雪中烈焰的景象，镜子里映照出白雪覆盖的草地，而奥兰多自己就像一团火，一丛燃烧的灌木，她头顶上方摇曳的烛光，犹如银色的树叶，哪个女人能不为这番景象心旌摇荡。恍惚间，那镜子里的绿色变成了一泓绿水，而她则是缀满珍珠的美人鱼，是藏在洞穴里的海妖，用美妙的歌声引诱船夫，引得他们从船上探出身去，并跳下水去拥抱她。她是如此忧郁，又如此明朗，如此冷酷，又如此温柔，这般美艳惊人，只可惜当时无人用直白的英语赞叹一句：“真见鬼，夫人，你简直就是美的化身，”这是大实话。即便奥兰多本人，一个从不以自己形象为傲的人，眼下也明白这一点，她不由自主地笑了，当女人从镜子中猛然发现那种本不属于自己的美，像水珠撒落或泉水喷洒般在镜中呈现时，露出的就是这种笑容。她脸上挂着这种笑容，侧耳聆听，耳边只有树叶的飒飒声和雀儿的呢喃声。“生活，恋人，”她长叹一口气，说道。然后飞快转过身来，扯下脖子上的珍珠项链，脱掉锦缎长裙，换上了寻常贵族男子穿的黑色丝绸灯笼裤，顿时显得身姿挺拔。她摇响铃铛，唤来仆人，下令立即备好一辆六驾马车，她要去伦敦办一件急事。大公离去还不到一小时，她也驱车离开了。
沿途无非是千篇一律的英伦式风光，不必多费笔墨了。我们可以利用奥兰多驱车赶路的这段时间，提请读者特别关注一下我们在叙述过程中偷偷夹带的一两处引导性文字。比如，人们也许观察到，奥兰多在有人打扰时，赶紧把手稿藏了起来。还有，她盯着镜中自己的身影久久凝视；而此刻，就在她驱车前往伦敦的途中，人们也许注意到，当马儿意外地狂奔疾驰时，她十分害怕，竭力忍住才没有叫出声来。她写作时的害羞，她对自己形象的虚荣，以及她对自己安全的担忧，都似乎表明，我们之前的说法，即性别变化并没有给奥兰多带来其他变化，并非完全正确。她正变得更像是一个女人，像女人那样有点儿羞于流露自己的情思，像女人那样对自己的形象有点儿虚荣。某些脆弱的情感越来越占主导地位，而另一些情感则正在消失。有的哲学家会说，她的易装也与此有关。他们认为，服装看似无关紧要，却有着比御寒更为重要的作用。服装可以改变我们对世界的看法，也可以让世界改变对我们的看法。举例来说，当巴特罗斯船长一看到穿着裙子的奥兰多，就立刻为她支起了遮阳篷，竭力劝说她再吃一片牛肉，并邀请她一同乘坐大艇登岸。倘若她不是长裙飘逸，而是穿着箍在腿上的裤子，那她恐怕就不会如此受人恭维了。而我们一旦受人恭维，就理应回报。于是，奥兰多行了屈膝礼，表现出温顺的样子，奉承男人的幽默感。倘若她穿的是紧腿裤而不是女人的裙子，倘若她穿的是男式穗带上衣而不是女人的紧身胸衣，她绝不会如此作派。所以有足够的事实证明，不是我们穿衣服，而是衣服穿我们。我们可以根据手臂和胸脯的形状来缝制衣服，而衣服则可以重塑我们的心灵、我们的头脑和我们的语言。所以，当奥兰多穿了一段时间的裙装后，便明显发生了某些变化。这种变化甚至体现在她的脸部，读者可以从她的画像上发现这一点。如果我们把男性奥兰多的画像和女性奥兰多的画像作一番比较，我们会发现，虽然毫无疑问是同一个人，但依然有所变化。男性奥兰多潇洒地用手握住长剑，而女性奥兰多则用手拉紧绸缎上衣，以免它滑下肩膀。男性奥兰多直面世界，仿佛世界为他而造，他可以随心所欲。而女性奥兰多则目光微微斜视，神情微妙，甚至充满疑虑。倘若穿着同样的服装，两幅画像看上去也许不会有如此差异。
这是某些哲学家和智者的观点。但总体来说，我们更倾向于另一种观点。即两性之间的差异极其深奥（幸好如此），服装不过是某些深层因素的象征。是奥兰多自身的变化导致她去选择女人的服装和女人的性征。或许，她因为天性率真明朗，所以把这种变化公开表现出来，而不像大多数普通人那样，发生了变化却并不暴露。叙述至此，我们又陷入了困境，因为虽然两性之间存在差异，但两性之间又是相互混合的。在两种性别之间摇摆不定的情况，每个人都会发生。人们往往通过服装来区分男性和女性，但实际上内在性别往往与其外在服饰恰恰相反。由此产生的混乱和疑惑，每个人都有所体验。不过在此，我们不去泛泛而谈，只关注奥兰多这一特例的不同寻常之处。
正因为她身上同时混合着男女两性，时而为男，时而为女，所以她的举止常常会有意想不到的反常。好奇的女性会问，如果奥兰多是女人，那她梳妆打扮的时间怎么从不超过十分钟？她不是着装很随意，有时甚至穿得很寒酸吗？不过，她们又会说，她并不像男人那样拘于俗礼、热爱权力。她的心肠太软了，不忍目睹驴子挨打或小猫淹死。然而，她们也注意到，她不喜欢家务琐事，夏日里太阳还没升起，她就跑到田野里。论起对农作物的了解，没有哪个农民能与她相比。她的酒量之大也无人能比，她还喜欢玩冒险的游戏。她骑术精湛，能驾驭一辆六驾马车从伦敦桥上飞驰而过。可话又说回来，虽然她有着男人般的胆魄和敏捷，但据说当她看到别人处于危险之中时，会显得心惊肉跳，表现出十足的女人味儿。稍微受一点儿刺激，就会泪水涟涟。她对地理一无所知，数学也让她难以忍受，还时常有一些稀奇古怪的念头，比如，往南走就是往山下走。这种随性而起的念头，女人比男人更常见。那么，奥兰多究竟更像男人，还是更像女人，这很难说，直至今日仍然难下定论。她的马车此刻咔哒咔哒地行进在鹅卵石路上，她来到了自己在城里的住宅。踏脚板从车上放下来，铁门打开了，她走进了父亲在布莱克弗雷尔的房子。虽然房子的造型在这个城区早已被淘汰，但仍不失为一幢舒适、宽敞的宅子。花园一直延伸到河边，还有一片宜人的树林，长满了坚果树，可以悠闲地漫步其中。
她在这里住了下来，并立即四处寻找要找的东西——生活和恋人。能不能找到生活，尚且难说。但恋人，她两天之后就毫不费力地找到了。她到城里的那天是星期二。星期四，她到王宫前的林荫大道去散步，上流社会的人都有这习惯。她刚刚转了两圈，就被一小群前来窥视上等人的平头百姓盯上了。当她从他们身边走过时，其中一个怀抱婴儿、长相平庸的女人上前一步，放肆地盯着她的脸，大声喊道：“哎呀，这不是奥兰多女士吗！”那群人一拥而上，他们当中有小混混，也有商人的老婆，转眼就把奥兰多团团围住，肆无忌惮地盯着她看，迫不及待地想见识一下那场闹得沸沸扬扬的官司的女主角。可见这场官司吊足了平民百姓的胃口。她忘了贵族女子是不应该独自在公众场合散步的，若不是一位瘦高个的绅士向她伸出援助之手，替她解了围，她真要陷入重围难以脱身了。那位绅士正是大公。这一幕，令她哭笑不得。这位宽宏大量的贵族不仅宽恕了她，而且也并不怪罪她用蟾蜍玩的恶作剧，他还设法弄来一件蟾蜍造型的饰物。他扶她上马车时，一面把这件饰物塞给她，一面反反复复地向她求婚。
围观的人群、大公的相助和塞给她的饰物，可想而知，这一切令她在回家路上的情绪恶劣到了极点。难道不被挤得窒息、不接受一只蟾蜍饰物、不听一位大公的求婚，就不能出去散步了吗？第二天，当她在早餐桌上看到一摞短笺后，才用稍微平和一些的心态来看待前一天发生的事。这些短笺来自萨福克夫人、索尔兹伯里夫人、切斯特菲尔德夫人、塔韦斯脱克夫人，她们都是英国最尊贵的夫人。在信中，她们以彬彬有礼的口气提醒她，她们的家族与她的家族世代交好，希望能有幸结识她。接下来的一天是星期六，她们中就有好几位亲自登门拜访了。星期二中午时分，她们又差人送来请柬，邀请她参加近期的各种盛会、晚宴和聚会；就这样，奥兰多很快进入了伦敦社交圈，并在这片水域里溅起了水花，泛起了泡沫。
要真实地描述那个时代的伦敦社交界，传记作者或历史学家恐怕无能为力。其实，要真实地描述任何时代的伦敦社交界，传记作者或历史学家都无能为力。惟有诗人或小说家能够胜任，因为他们几乎不需要事实，也不尊重事实，而伦敦社交界里恰恰不存在什么事实。那里面一切都是不真实的，一切都是云遮雾罩，海市蜃楼。说得直白一些，奥兰多的所谓社交，就是凌晨三四点钟离开某个盛会，回到家里，脸蛋儿像流光溢彩的圣诞树，两眼像星星般光芒四射。她解开一条蕾丝缎带，在房间里转几圈，再解开一条蕾丝缎带，再在房间里转几圈，常常是在阳光照到索斯沃克的烟囱上时，她才不情不愿地上床去睡觉。她会躺在那里辗转反侧，时而叹气，时而失声而笑，如此折腾一个多小时方能入睡。是什么令她兴奋到如此地步？是社交。但社交过程中究竟说了什么，干了什么，让一位理性的女士如此亢奋？坦率地说，什么都没有。任奥兰多怎样竭力回想，她总是在第二天连一个字都记不起来，什么都说不清。O勋爵殷勤有加，A勋爵彬彬有礼，C侯爵十分迷人，M先生机智风趣。但他们究竟如何殷勤，如何礼貌，如何迷人，如何机智，她却怎么也想不起来。她只能怪自己记忆太差，竟然什么事都说不清楚。每次都是如此，头一天晚上亢奋激昂，到第二天就忘得干干净净。我们不得不由此得出结论，所谓社交，就像圣诞晚宴上手艺精湛的女主人端上了热气腾腾的自酿调和酒，其美味取决于十几种不同原料的精心调配。单取出一种原料，便寡淡无味。O勋爵、A勋爵、C侯爵或M先生，把他们拆开来单独看，都不值一提。把他们放在一块儿，便散发出令人陶醉的气息，醇香诱人。然而，若要对这种令人陶醉的、诱人的芳香进行分析，我们却无能为力。所以，社交界既是一切，又什么都不是。社交界是世上最浓烈的调合酒，社交界又其实根本不存在。这类怪物，惟有诗人和小说家能够对付；他们的鸿篇巨制中充满了这种似有似无的东西；我们把社交界这一怪物留给他们去处理，也是出于世上最善意的愿望。
根据前辈们的说法，安妮女王时代的伦敦社交界之流光溢彩，无与伦比，我们也只能说的确如此了。能够进入社交界，是每一个有教养的人梦寐以求的。举止高雅是最高境界。父亲们如此教育他们的儿子，母亲们如此教育她们的女儿。无论是男是女，如果没有学过如何做到气宇轩昂、仪态万方，如何行鞠躬礼和屈膝礼，如果没有学过剑术，没有学过如何手执羽扇，如何护理牙齿，腿如何摆放，膝盖如何弯屈，进出房间如何礼貌得当，还有其他种种凡是社交圈里的人马上就能想到的礼仪，那么他们所受的教育就是不完整的。既然奥兰多当年向伊丽莎白女王呈上玫瑰花水的时候，得到了女王的赞赏，那我们不得不认为，她在礼仪周全方面是无可挑剔的。不过，她确实常常走神，因而有时东磕西碰的。她宁愿把心思用在思考诗歌上，也不愿在衣料上面多费心思。她走路时昂首阔步，不太有女人味儿。而且她毛手毛脚，时不时会碰洒一杯茶。
且不论这些瑕疵是否足以抵消她那光彩照人的绰约风姿，且不论她是否过多地继承了她家族血脉里的忧郁因素，可以肯定的是，她参加了十几次社交活动后，便开始自问，“我这是怎么了？”当时在场听见的，只有她的西班牙猎犬皮平。那一天是1712年6月16日，星期二，天边晨曦微露时，她刚从阿灵顿公馆的盛大舞会归来。她脱去长袜，大声说，“即便此生再也不见人，我都无所谓，”说着，她眼泪夺眶而出。恋人，她有一大群，可是生活呢？却离她而去了。说到底，生活才是重要的。“这就是人们所谓的生活吗？”她明知无人给她答案，但她还是问了。小猎犬抬起前爪，表示同情。它还用舌头舔了舔她。奥兰多用手抚摸它，用嘴亲吻它。一句话，这是小猎犬与女主人之间最真诚的惺惺相惜。可是，狗毕竟不会说话，因此难以进行深入的交流。它们摇尾，倒立，打滚儿，蹦高，刨地，悲嗥，狂吠，涎水肆流，它们花招百出，可全是徒劳，因为它们不会说话。这正是她对阿灵顿公馆那些大人物的不满之处，她一边思忖着，一边把小猎犬轻轻地放在地上。那些人也是这样摇尾，倒立，打滚儿，蹦高，刨地，悲嗥，狂吠，涎水肆流，但却不会交流。“我在社交界抛头露面已经有好几个月了，”奥兰多说着，把一只长袜甩向屋子的另一头，“可我什么都没有听到过。除了猎犬皮平也许说过些什么，比如，我觉得冷，我很快活，我饿了，我逮到一只耗子，我把一根骨头埋起来了，请亲吻我的鼻子。”但对奥兰多来说，仅有这些是远远不够的。
奥兰多究竟为何在这么短的时间里就对社交界从陶醉变成了厌恶，我们只能尝试通过以下这种猜想来解释： 我们称之为社交界的这种百味杂陈的怪味调和酒，本身并无绝对的好坏可言，但它含有的酒精，既易挥发，又烈性十足。如果你像奥兰多那样认为它提神，那它就能令你陶醉亢奋，如果你像奥兰多那样认为它讨厌，那它就能令你头痛欲裂。至于人的口才是否也与此相关，我们存疑。静默的一小时往往是最迷人的。口若悬河也会令人厌烦至极。不过，我们还是把这一话题留给诗人们，继续讲我们的故事吧。
奥兰多又甩掉了另一只长袜，然后闷闷不乐地上床睡觉了。她发誓永远告别社交界。可是，事实证明，她的决定又做得太早了。因为翌日清晨她一觉醒来，发现桌上那堆司空见惯的请柬中，有一封是来自R公爵夫人的，这可是一位了不起的夫人。奥兰多当下就火速差人送信到R公馆，说自己将怀着无比荣幸的心情出席宴会。可她前一天晚上已经下决心告别社交界了，对此，我们的解释只能是，当“倾心夫人”号顺着泰晤士河缓缓航行时，尼古拉斯·本尼迪克特·巴特罗斯船长在甲板上对她耳语的那三个悦耳的名字，仍然令她难以释怀，那三个名字是： 艾迪生、德莱顿和蒲柏。当时，船长用手指着可可树咖啡馆，在她的耳边说了这三个名字。从此以后，艾迪生，德莱顿，蒲柏，这三个名字像咒语一般在她的脑海回响。谁相信竟有人这么傻？可就是有人这么傻。与尼克·格林的交往，并没使她从中吸取教训。这几位作家的名字仍然对她产生了强大的诱惑力。人也许应该有信仰，可我们已经说过，奥兰多并不信仰通常所说的神灵，她崇仰伟人，当然不是所有伟人。元帅、军人和政客，她不屑一顾。但一想到大文豪，她的仰慕之情就会油然而起，她甚至认为大文豪都是隐匿无形的。她的直觉一向很好，或许，只有对自己完全看不见的东西，人们才会顶礼膜拜。她在甲板上瞥见的那些大文豪的身影，不过都是自己的幻觉。甚至连瞥见的瓷杯和报纸，她也怀疑其真实性。有一天，当O勋爵说他头天晚上与德莱顿共进晚餐时，她觉得简直难以置信。而现在，给她发来请柬的R公爵夫人的客厅，一直享有才子云集之厅的美誉。男女宾客纷纷前来，向壁龛里的伟人塑像膜拜。有时神灵也会在此停留片刻。惟有智者才有此殊荣进入R公爵夫人的客厅，而且据说宾客们个个机智风趣。
就这样，奥兰多怀着诚惶诚恐的心情，走进了R公爵夫人的客厅。她发现壁炉边上已有一群人围成了一个半圆，上了年纪的R公爵夫人肤色微暗，头上蒙着一条黑色蕾丝的纱巾，坐在客厅中央一张巨大的扶手椅上，这样虽然她听力不好，但周边人的讲话她都能顾及到。坐在她两侧的男女宾客，都是声名显赫的人。据说，这里的男宾个个都
Orlando returns to the UK