Orlando. A Biography / Орландо. Вирджиния ВулфЧитать онлайн книгу.

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sonnets, a message came that he had to see the Queen at Whitehall.

      'Here,' she said, watching him walking down the long gallery towards her, 'comes my innocent!' He still looked innocent, but, technically, he was not. 'Come!' she said. She was sitting upright beside the fire, looking him up and down. Eyes, mouth, nose, chest, hands – she looked at them with her yellow eyes, and when she saw his legs she laughed out loud. He was the true image of a noble gentleman. But what about his soul? The young man stood before her, blushing. There was strength, grace, romance, poetry, youth – she read him like a book. She took a ring off her finger, put it onto his, and named him her Treasurer and Steward. Next she made him bend his knee and tied the jeweled order of the Garter[7] around it.

      He could have everything after that. She kept him with her. The old woman loved him, and the Queen, who knew a man when she saw one, planned for him a splendid career. Lands and houses were given to him. He was the son of her old age; her strength. At the height of her triumph, when the guns were firing at the Tower, she pulled him down among the cushions where her women had laid her because she was so weak and old and made him bury his face in her skirts – she had not changed her dress for a month – which smelt, as he remembered, like some old cupboard at home where his mother kept her furs. He got up, suffocating.

      'This', she whispered, 'is my victory!' A rocket went up and colored her cheeks scarlet.

      The long winter months went on and on. Every tree in the park was white with frost. The river ran slowly. One day, when the snow was on the ground, and the dark rooms were full of shadows, she saw in the mirror, which she always kept by her side for fear of spies, through the door, which she always kept open for fear of murderers, a boy – could it be Orlando? – kissing a girl. Who the Devil was this goddamn girl? She grabbed her sword and struck the mirror with it. The glass shattered; people came running; she was lifted and set in her chair again. But her days were coming to an end.

      Perhaps it was Orlando; yet could he be blamed? He was young; he was boyish. The age was the Elizabethan. Their morals were different; their poets, their weather, even their vegetables – everything was different. Sunsets were redder; dawns were whiter. The flowers bloomed and died. The sun rose and sank. The lovers loved and went. Girls were roses, and their seasons were short.

      Orlando loved not only the garden flowers; he also loved the wild and the weeds. He thought that the mixture of brown earth and blue blood was a good one. So he began going to Wapping[8] and the beer gardens quite frequently at night, wearing a grey cloak to hide the star at his neck and the garter at his knee. There, with a mug before him, he listened to sailors' stories of horror and violence. The women there sat on his knee and put their arms round his neck, knowing that something extraordinary was hidden under his cloak. The river was busy early and late with barges. Every day some fine ship sailed to and from the sea. No one gossiped if a boy or girl played a little on the water after sunset or slept among the sacks in each other's arms.

      Soon, however, Orlando grew tired, not only of this way of life, but of the primitive manner of the people. It was not to seek 'life' or 'reality' that Orlando went among them. Yet he was bored with their stories of crime and poverty, and decided that the arts and the sciences interested him much more. So, always keeping them in a happy memory, he stopped going to the beer gardens, hung his grey cloak in his wardrobe, let his star shine at his neck and his garter twinkle at his knee, and appeared once more at the Court of King James.

      He was young; he was rich; he was handsome. Many ladies were ready to show Orlando their favors. The names of three he was planning to marry were Clorinda, Favilla, and Euphrosyne – or so he called them in his sonnets.

      Clorinda was a sweet-mannered, gentle lady. Indeed, Orlando was in love with her for six months and a half. But she had white eyelashes and could not bear the sight of blood. She was also influenced by the Church, and decided to clear off Orlando's sins, which made him so sick that he canceled the wedding and did not much regret it when she died of the small-pox soon after that.

      Favilla was of a different sort altogether. She was the daughter of a poor Somersetshire gentleman, but she had beautiful eyes, and could ride a horse and dance equally well. Once, however, she severely whipped a spaniel that had torn one of her silk stockings, and she happened to do that beneath Orlando's window. Orlando, who was a lover of animals, now noticed that her teeth were crooked, which, he said, was a sure sign of cruelty in women, and so he broke the engagement that very night for ever.

      The third one, Euphrosyne, was by far[9] the most serious of his passions. She had a family tree just as old as Orlando's. She was fair and a bit phlegmatic. She spoke Italian well and had perfect teeth. She loved whippets and spaniels, and fed them with white bread from her own plate. She sang sweetly and was never dressed before mid-day. In short, she would have made a perfect wife for such a nobleman as Orlando, if it had not been for[10] the Great Frost.

      The Great Frost was the most severe that has ever visited the islands. Birds froze in mid-air and fell like stones to the ground. At Norwich a young countrywoman started to cross the road, and then was seen to turn to powder and be blown off like dust over the roofs as the icy wind struck her at the street corner. The sheep and cattle died. It was a common sight: a whole herd of pigs frozen on the road. The severity of the frost was so extraordinary that the fields were full of shepherds, ploughmen, horses, and little boys – all frozen in the act of the moment – one with his hand to his nose, another with the bottle to his lips, a third with a stone raised to throw at the ravens.

      But while the country people suffered, London enjoyed a brilliant carnival. The Court was at Greenwich[11], and the new King used the opportunity of his coronation to please the citizens. He ordered the frozen river to be decorated like a park or pleasure ground, with pavilions, pagodas, mazes, alleys, and drinking booths – all at his expense[12]. For himself and the Court, he reserved a space right opposite the Palace gates, and at once the place became the centre of the most brilliant society in England. Great statesmen discussed state affairs under the crimson awning of the Royal Pagoda. Admirals walked up and down the narrow pathways, glass in hand, telling stories. Lovers sat upon divans covered with sables. Frozen roses fell in showers when the Queen and her ladies passed by. Colored balloons floated in the air. Here and there bonfires burnt with green, orange, and purple flames, but the heat could not melt the thick ice.

      The ice was so clear that fish could be seen frozen in it. Near London Bridge[13], where the river had frozen to a greater depth, a wrecked boat overloaded with apples was clearly visible. It was lying on the bed of the river where it had sunk last autumn. The old woman, who was carrying her fruit to market, could be seen sitting there in her plaids, with her lap full of apples, as if she were going to serve a customer. It was a sight King James and the Court especially liked to look at.

      In short, the carnival was the most brilliant scene by day, and the merriest at night. The frosty nights were perfectly still; the moon and stars shone like diamonds, and the people danced to the fine music of flute and trumpet.

      At about six in the evening of the seventh of January, Orlando had just finished some dance when he saw, coming from the pavilion of the Muscovite Embassy[14], a figure which made him curious. He could not tell whether it was a boy or a woman because of the tunic and trousers of the Russian fashion. The person was of medium height, very slender, dressed in cream-colored velvet and some greenish fur. But these details were not important because that person was extremely seductive.

      Images and metaphors twisted in Orlando's mind. He called her a melon, a pineapple, an olive tree, an emerald, and a fox in the snow – all within three seconds. He did not know whether he had heard her, tasted her, seen her, or all three together – so he just stared, with the Lady Euphrosyne hanging upon his arm. It must be a boy, he thought because no woman could skate so well. Orlando was ready to tear his hair because that person was of his own sex, and thus the romance was out of the questionСкачать книгу