Волны

           ’

           ’AsIfoldupmyfrockandmychemise,’saidRhoda,’soIputoffmyhopelessdesiretobeSusan,tobeJinny.ButIwillstretchmytoessothattheytouchtherailattheendofthebed;Iwillassuremyself,touchingtherail,ofsomethinghard.NowIcannotsink;cannotaltogetherfallthroughthethinsheetnow.NowIspreadmybodyonthisfrailmattressandhangsuspended.Iamabovetheearthnow.Iamnolongerupright,tobeknockedagainstanddamaged.Allissoft,andbending.Wallsandcupboardswhitenandbendtheiryellowsquaresontopofwhichapaleglassgleams.Outofmenowmymindcanpour.IcanthinkofmyArmadassailingonthehighwaves.Iamrelievedofhardcontactsandcollisions.Isailonaloneunderthewhitecliffs.Oh,butIsink,Ifall!Thatisthecornerofthecupboard;thatisthenurserylooking-glass.Buttheystretch,theyelongate.Isinkdownontheblackplumesofsleep;itsthickwingsarepressedtomyeyes.TravellingthroughdarknessIseethestretchedflower-beds,andMrsConstablerunsfrombehindthecornerofthepampas-grasstosaymyaunthascometofetchmeinacarriage.Imount;Iescape;Iriseonspring-heeledbootsoverthetree-tops.ButIamnowfallenintothecarriageatthehalldoor,whereshesitsnoddingyellowplumeswitheyeshardlikeglazedmarbles.Oh,toawakefromdreaming!Look,thereisthechestofdrawers.Letmepullmyselfoutofthesewaters.