« She resented it, had a scruple, picked up Heaven knows where, or, as she felt, sent by Nature (who is invariably wise); yet she could not resist sometimes yielding to the charm of a woman, not a girl, of a woman confessing, as to her they often did, some scrape, somme folly. And whether it was pity, or their beauty, or that she was older, or some accident – like a faint scent, or a violin next door (so strange is the power of souds at certain moments), she did undoubtedly then feel what men felt. Only for a moment; but it was enough. »

Mrs Dalloway, Virginia Woolf, Penguin Books, Modern Classics, page 34

« But this question of love (she tought, putting her coat away), this falling in love with women. Take Sally Seton; her relation in the old days with Sally Seton. Had not that after all been love ? »

Mrs Dalloway, Virginia Woolf, Penguin Books, Modern Classics, page 35

Forcément, sinon, ce ne serait pas l’encyclopédie des femmes.
Madame Dalloway est empêtrée, prisonnière de son temps, de sa maison, de tout, des bienséances, et de la représentation hétérocentrée de l’amour. Avait-elle été amoureuse de Sally Seton? Elle a ressenti alors ce qu’un homme ressentait. Alors oui, peut-être, si c’était ce qu’un homme ressentait.

On reviendra sur Virginia Woolf à l’entrée « porte » de l’encyclopédie des femmes. Et on écoutera de la musique de sa copine d’Ethel Smyth, une vieille dame apparemment très amoureuse d’elle.