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属类: 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 托马斯-哈代] 阅读:[31907]
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在钟声敲响十点的时候,苔丝就在春分时节寒冷的黑夜里上路了,她要在清冷的星光中走完十五英里的路程。在人迹稀少的地方,黑夜对于一声不响的夜行人来说不是危险,而是一种保护;苔丝知道这一点,所以就专门拣她在白天害怕的最近的路走;不过在那个时候,路上没有拦路打劫的,加上她一心挂念着母亲的病,所以也就不怕鬼怪了。她就这样一英里接着一英里地走,上了山又下山,终于走到了野牛坟;大约半夜时分,她站在野牛坟的高地上向下面一片昏冥的深渊望去,只见山谷里一片黑暗,在山谷的另一边,就是她出生的地方。她在高地上已经走了大约五英里的路,然后再在低地上走十或十一英里的路,她就走完这次回家的全部路程了。在她下山的时候,那条蜿蜒而下的山路刚好在暗淡的星光下可以看清。她走了不久,就走到了同山上完全不同的土壤上了,那种不同可以用脚踩出来,用鼻子闻出来。这就是黑荒原谷的粘质土壤地带,在谷内这一部分,收税的卡子路一直没有延伸进来。在这些难以耕种的土地上,迷信的流行倒是经久不衰。这儿曾经是一片森林,在这种夜色朦胧的时刻,似乎遥远的和最近的融合在一起,表现出某些旧日的特点,所有的树林和高高的树篱,也显得威严可怖。这儿是追猎公鹿的地方,也是通过针刺和投水而验明女巫的地方,当你从这儿走过的时候,还有一些绿色的精灵嘲笑你,吓唬你;——人们现在仍然相信,这几遍地都是妖怪和精灵。

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苔丝从纳特伯利的乡村酒店经过时,酒店的招牌嘎吱嘎吱地响着,回应着她走路的脚步声,村子里没有人,除了她谁也不会听见。在苔丝的想象里,她看见茅屋里的人,肌腱松弛了,肌肉放松了,躺在黑暗的屋顶下,盖着小紫花格子的被子,正在蓄积体力,等到第二天早晨汉姆布莱顿的山顶刚染上朝霞,他们就要起来从事新的一天的劳动了。

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在凌晨三点钟的时候,她终于走完了蜿蜒曲折的篱路的最后一段弯路,进入马洛特村;她走过乡村会社游行时她第一次见到安琪尔·克莱尔的地方;那一次他没有和她跳舞,苔丝至今仍然还有一种失望的感觉。在她的母亲住的那座房屋的方向,她看见有一缕亮光。亮光是从卧室的窗户里透出来的,亮光的前面有一根树枝不住地摇动,弄得亮光似乎在向她眨眼一样。等到她能够看清房屋轮廓的时候——屋顶是用她的钱新盖的——她立刻想起了旧日的所有情景。这座屋子是她的身体和生命的一部分;天窗上的斜坡,山墙上的石灰,烟囱顶上的破砖,都和她有着某种共同的特点。在她看来,这一切东西都带有一种模糊不清的特点,意味着她的母亲病倒了。

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她轻轻地打开门,没有惊动任何人;楼下的房间是空的,陪伴她母亲的邻居走到楼梯口小声告诉她说,德北菲尔德太太现在虽然睡着了,但是还不见好转。苔丝给自己做了早饭吃了,接着就在她母亲房间里看护她的母亲。

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她在早晨见到了孩子们,他们一个个都像是被人拉长了的样子;虽然她离开家只有一年多一点的时间,但是他们的成长却是叫人吃惊的。她现在必须一心一意照顾他们了,因此自己的忧愁也就顾不上了。

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她父亲的身体还是同过去一样,害着那种叫不上名字的病,像往常一样坐在椅子里。不过苔丝回来后的这一天,他却特别有精神。他说他想出来一个过生活的办法了,苔丝问他是什么办法。

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“我想,我们给英国这一带所有的考古学家都寄一封信去,”他说,“请他们寄钱来维持我的生活。我敢肯定他们会把我的要求当成一件富有浪漫精神、艺术趣味和恰当不过的事来做。他们花了大量的钱去保护古代遗迹,去发掘人的骨头之类的东西;如果他们知道了我这个活古董,他们一定会更加觉得有意思的。最好是有一个人去一个个告诉他们,说现在就有一个活古董生活在他们中间,他们却没有重视他!这件事是特林汉姆牧师发现的,如果他还活着,我敢担保他一定会去办这件事的。”

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苔丝急于处理目前一些紧急事情,顾不上和她的父亲去争论他的伟大计划,她虽然接济过家里几次,但家里的状况并没有多大的改善。当她把家里的事情弄妥当了,这才开始注意外面的事情。那时已经到了栽种和播种的季节,村子里的人许多园子和租种的公地都已经耕种过了,可是德北菲尔德家的园子和租种的公地还荒着。她一了解,不觉大吃一惊,原来他们家把做种的土豆全吃光了,——这真是一个只顾眼前不顾将来的错误了。她尽快地弄到一些她能够弄到的别的作物种子,过了几天,她父亲身体也好多了。苔丝又哄又劝,她父亲才出来照看园子:而她自己则去耕种她家租种的离村子有二百码远的一块公地。

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她被束缚在病房里已经有了一些时日,加上她母亲的病已经有了好转,所以她也愿意出去种地。剧烈的运动可以使人的思想放松。她家租种的那块地在高处那块干燥开阔的圈地中间,那片圈地里大约有四五十块租种地,种地的白天做完了雇工的活儿,晚上就到租种地里忙碌。挖地通常在六点钟开始,要一直干到天黑或者月亮上来的时候。在那个时候,许多租种地里开始烧毁一堆堆野草和垃圾,天气干燥,正适合把它们烧掉。

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有一天,天气晴朗,苔丝和丽莎·露一起在自己的租种地里干活,那天邻居们也在那块圈地里,他们一直干到傍晚,干到落日的最后一道余晖洒在那些把圈地分成一块块租种地的白色界桩上。太阳落了,黄昏来了,大家点燃租种地里的茅草和卷心菜的菜根,地里冒出来一阵阵火光,浓烟被风一吹,租种地的轮廓时明时暗。火光亮起来的时候,大团大团的浓烟被风吹得贴地滚动,在火光的映照下变成了半透明的发光体,把干活的人相互遮挡起来;这时候,白天是墙晚上是光的“云柱”①的意思,就可以领会了。

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①云柱(pillar of a cloud),见《圣经·出埃及记》第十三章第十七至二十一节。

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夜色越来越浓,有些男人和女人就放下地里的活儿回家了,不过大多数人还是留在地里,想把手里的活儿干完,苔丝虽然叫她的妹妹回去了,但是她自己还留在地里。她当时拿着叉子在烧着野草的租种地里干活,那把叉子有四个发亮的齿,碰到土里的石头和硬土块,就发出叮当的响声。有时候她全身都笼罩在火堆燃起的烟雾里,有时候身上一点儿烟雾也没有,只有火堆燃起的黄铜色火光照着她。今天她的穿着也有点儿奇怪,是一副惹人眼目的样子;她穿的一件袍子已经洗得发白,袍子的外面罩一件黑色的短上装,给人总的感觉她既像是一个参加婚礼的人,也像是一个送葬的人。在她背后稍远一点儿的妇女,在昏暗中看得见她们身上穿的白色裙子和灰白的脸,只有她们偶尔被火光照亮的时候,才能看见她们的全身。

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在西边,光秃秃的棘树的枝条像铁丝一样,结成树篱,形成一块块田地的边界,在低矮的灰白天色里十分显眼。木星高悬在空中,好像一朵盛开的黄水仙,它是那样明亮,差不多能够照出影子来。天上还有几颗叫不出名字的小星星。远处有一只狗在叫,偶尔也听见车轮在干燥的路面上嘎吱嘎吱地碾过。

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因为天色还不晚,工人们手中的叉子挣③直响;那时的空气虽然清冷刺骨,但是已经有了春天的细语,鼓舞了种地的人。在那个地方,在那个时刻,在哗剥直响的火堆里,在忽明忽暗的离奇的神秘里,有一种东四使大家和苔丝都喜欢待在地里。在冬天的霜冻里,夜色就像魔鬼,在夏天的温暖里,夜色就像情人,而在这种三月的天气里,夜色却像镇静剂一样。

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当时谁也没有去看自己周围的伙伴。大家的眼睛都盯着地面,看着刚翻开的被火光照亮的地面。因此,苔丝一边翻着泥块,一边痴情地唱着短小的歌曲,不过现在她对克莱尔会来听她唱歌已经不抱希望了,过了好久,她才注意到有一个人在她的附近干活——她看见那个人穿着粗布长衫,和她一样在租种地里翻地,她以为那个人是她父亲请来帮她干活的。当那个人挖得离她更近了些,她看他看得更清楚了。有时候烟雾把他们隔开,烟雾一飘走,他们又能互相看见了,不过烟雾又把他们和其他的人隔开了。

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苔丝没有和她一起干活的这个人说话,他也没有和她说话。她也没有多想一想,只记得白天他不在地里,知道他不是马洛特村里的人;近几年来她时常离家,有时长期离家,所以她不认识那个人也不足为怪。他挖地挖得离她越来越近了,近得她可以清楚地看见他及子上的铁饭像她叉子上的铁齿一样闪光。当她把一把枯草扔到火堆上的时候,她看见他在对面也在做同样的事。火光一亮,她看见了德贝维尔的那张脸。

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她万万没有想到会在这儿见到他,他的样子也非常古怪,身上穿着只有最古板的农民才穿的打褶粗布长衫,他这种极其好笑的样子使她心里感到阵阵发悚。德贝维尔发出一声低低的长笑。

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“如果我想开玩笑,我就要说,这多么像伊甸乐园啊!”他歪着头看着她,想入非非地说。

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“你说什么呀?”苔丝有气无力地问。

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“一个爱说笑话的人,一定要说我们两个人的情景就像在伊甸乐园里一样了。你是夏娃,我就是另外那个人,装扮成一个下等动物来诱惑你。我相信神学的时候,很熟悉弥尔顿描写的那个场面。有一段这样说——

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“女王,路已铺好,并不太长,

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就在一排桃金娘的那边……

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……要是你接受

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我的指引,我马上就带你去。”

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“那么带路吧,”夏娃回答。①

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①见弥尔顿《失乐园》第九章六二六至六三一行。

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“等等。我亲爱的亲爱的苔丝,我只能把这些话向你说出来,这都是你以为的或者想说的话,但这样说不是真实的,因为你把我想得太坏了。”

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“我从来没有说过你是撒旦,也没有想过你是撒旦。我根本就没有那样看待你。除非你惹恼了我,我都能冷静地看待你。怎么,你到这儿来挖地完全是为了我吗?”

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“完全是为了你。为了来看看你;别的什么也没有。我来这儿的路上,看见有件长衫挂在那儿出售,就头了芽上,免得被你认出来。我到这儿来,就是为了阻止你像这样干活。”

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“但是我自己愿意这样干活——也是为我的父亲干活。”

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“你在那个地方的合同期满了吗?”

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“满了。”

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“你以后到哪儿去呢?到你亲爱的丈夫那儿去吗?”

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她简直受不了这种令人难堪的话。

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“啊——我不知道!”她痛苦地说。“我没有丈夫了!”

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“说得完全对——你的意思不错。但是你还有朋友呀,我已经下了决心,不管你怎么想,我也要让你过上舒服日子。你回家的时候,你就会看见我给你们送去了什么。”

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“啊,阿历克,我希望你什么东西也不要送给我!你的东西我也不会要!我不愿意要你的东西——要你的东西是不对的!”

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“说得对!”他轻佻地喊着说。“要是我对一个女人像对你一样心疼的话,我是不会看着她受苦而不帮助她的。”

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“但是我的日子过得也不错!我的困难只是——只是——根本不是生活问题!”

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她转过身去,拼命地挖起地来,眼泪流到锄头把上,又从锄头的把上流到地里。

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“关于孩子们——你的弟弟和妹妹,”他接着说。“我也一直在为他们考虑。”

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苔丝的心战栗了——他正在触她心中的痛处,猜到了她主要的烦恼。自从回家以来,她就怀着热烈的感情在为这些孩子们操心。

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“你的母亲要是不能恢复过来,总得有个人照顾他们吧;因为,我想你的父亲是没有多大用处的,是不是?”

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“有我帮助他,他能管用的。他一定能管用的!”

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“还有我的帮助。”

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“不要你的帮助,先生!”

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“你他妈的不是太糊涂吗!”德贝维尔叫起来。“唉,你的父亲认为我们是一家呀,他会感到很满意的啊!”

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“他不会的。我已经实话告诉他了。”

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“那你更加糊涂了!”

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德贝维尔生气地从她的身边退到树篱的边上,在那儿把身上乔装打扮的长衫脱了下来,揉成一团扔进了火里,转身走了。

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苔丝也无法继续挖下去了,只感到心神不定,不知道他是不是回到她父亲家里去了。她就用手拿着锄头,向家里走去。

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她走到离家还有二十码远的地方,有一个妹妹向她走来。

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“啊,苔丝——你看怎么办吧!丽莎·露正在哭,家里挤了一大堆人,妈妈倒是大见好了,可是他们却说父亲已经死了啊!”

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这个孩子只知道这件事重要,但是不知道这件事悲惨;她站在那儿,睁着一双大眼睛看着苔丝,她看见苔丝听了她的话后脸上出现的神情,就说——

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“喂,苔丝,我们是不是再也不能和父亲说话了啊?”

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“可是父亲只不过是一点儿小病啊!”苔丝慌慌张张地喊着说。

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丽莎·露也来了。

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“他刚才跌倒的,给妈妈看病的大夫说,没有办法救了,他的心都叫油长满了。”

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不错;德北菲尔德夫妇互相把位置变换了;快死的人脱离了危险,生小病的人倒死了。这件事比听起来的意义要严重得多。她的父亲活着的时候,他的价值和他个人成就的关系并不大,或者说也许没有多大价值,但是他的价值在他的个人以外。他是三辈人中的最后一辈,他们租住的房屋和宅基地的典约就到他这里为止。转租土地的农场主早就垂涎他们的房子,想把房子租给他的长工住,那时他的长工正缺少住的地方。而且,终身典房人几乎和小自由保产人一样在村子里不受欢迎,所以租期一到,就绝不让他们再租了。

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因此,当年的德贝维尔家,现在的德北菲尔德家看着不幸的命运降临在他们的头上,毫无疑问,在他们还是郡中望族的时候,也肯定制造了许多次不幸的命运,或许还要更为严重,让它们降临在那些和他们现在一样的没有土地的人的身上。天下的一切事情,彼此消长,盛衰交替,本来就是这样不断变化的啊。

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The appeal duly found its way to the breakfast-table of the quiet Vicarage to the westward, in that valley where the air is so soft and the soil so rich that the effort of growth requires but superficial aid by comparison with the tillage at Flintcomb-Ash, and where to Tess the human world seemed so different (though it was much the same). It was purely for security that she had been requested by Angel to send her communications through his father, whom he kept pretty well informed of his changing addresses in the country he had gone to exploit for himself with a heavy heart.

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`Now,’ said old Mr Clare to his wife, when he had read the envelope,’if Angel proposes leaving Rio for a visit home at the end of next month, as he told us that he hoped to do, I think this may hasten his plans; for I believe it to be from his wife.’ He breathed deeply at the thought of her; and the letter was redirected to be promptly sent on to Angel.

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`Dear fellow, I hope he will get home safely,’ murmured Mrs Clare. `To my dying day I shall feel that he has been ill-used. You should have sent him to Cambridge in spite of his want of faith, and given him the same chance as the other boys had. He would have grown out of it under proper influence, and perhaps would have taken Orders after all. Church or no Church, it would have been fairer to him.’

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This was the only wall with which Mrs Clare ever disturbed her husband’s peace in respect of their sons. And she did not vent this often; for she was as considerate as she was devout, and knew that his mind too was troubled by doubts as to his `justice in this matter. Only too often had she heard him lying awake at night, stifling sighs for Angel with prayers. But the uncompromising Evangelical did not even now hold that he would have been justified in giving his son, an unbeliever, the same academic advantages that he had given to the two others, when it was possible, if not probable, that those very advantages might have been used to decry the doctrines which he had made it his life’s mission and desire to propagate, and the mission of his ordained sons likewise. To put with one hand a pedestal under the feet of the two faithful ones, and with the other to exalt the unfaithful by the same artificial means, he deemed to be alike inconsistent with his convictions, his position, and his hopes. Nevertheless, he loved his misnamed Angel, and in secret mourned over this treatment of him as Abraham might have mourned over the doomed Isaac while they went up the hill together. His silent self-generated regrets were far bitterer than the reproaches which his wife rendered audible.

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They blamed themselves for this unlucky marriage. If Angel had never been destined for a farmer he would never have been thrown with agricultural girls. They did not distinctly know what had separated him and his wife, nor the date on which the separation had taken place. At first they had supposed it must be something of the nature of a serious aversion. But in his later letters he occasionally alluded to the intention of coming home to fetch her; from which expressions they hoped the division might not owe its origin to anything so hopelessly permanent as that. He had told them that she was with her relatives, and in their doubts they had decided not to intrude into a situation which they knew no way of bettering.

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The eyes for which Tess’s letter was intended were gazing at this time on a limitless expanse of country from the back of a mule which was bearing him from the interior of the South-American Continent towards the coast. His experiences of this strange land had been sad. The severe illness from which he had suffered shortly after his arrival had never wholly left him, and he had by degrees almost decided to relinquish his hope of farming here, though, as long as the bare possibility existed of his remaining, he kept this change of view a secret from his parents.

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The crowds of agricultural labourers who had come out to the country in his wake, dazzled by representations of easy independence, had suffered, died, and wasted away. He would see mothers from English farms trudging along with their infants in their arms, when the child would be stricken with fever and would die; the mother would pause to dig a hole in the loose earth with her bare hands, would bury the babe therein with the same natural grave-tools, shed one tear, and again trudge on.

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Angel’s original intention had not been emigration to Brazil, but a northern or eastern farm in his own country. He had come to this place in a fit of desperation, the Brazil movement among the English agriculturists having by chance coincided with his desire to escape from his past existence.

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During this time of absence he had mentally aged a dozen years. What arrested him now as of value in life was less its beauty than its pathos. Having long discredited the old systems of mysticism, he now begin to discredit the old appraisements of morality. He thought they wanted readjusting. Who was the moral man? Still more pertinently, who was the moral woman? The beauty or ugliness of a character lay not only in its achievements, but in its aims and impulses; its true history lay, not among things done, but among things willed.

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How, then, about Tess?

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Viewing her in these lights, a regret for his hasty judgment began to oppress him. Did he reject her eternally, or did he not? He could no longer say that he would always reject her, and not to say that was in spirit to accept her now.

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This growing fondness for her memory coincided in point of time with her residence at Flintcomb-Ash, but it was before she had felt herself at liberty to trouble him with a word about her circumstances or her feelings. He was greatly perplexed; and in his perplexity as to her motives in withholding intelligence he did not inquire. Thus her silence of docility was misinterpreted. How much it really said if he had understood! - that she adhered with literal exactness to orders which he had given and forgotten; that despite her natural fearlessness she asserted no rights, admitted his judgment to be in every respect the true one, and bent her head dumbly thereto.

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In the before-mentioned journey by mules through the interior of the country, another man rode beside him. Angel’s companion was also an Englishman, bent on the same errand, though he came from another part of the island. They were both in a state of mental depression, and they spoke of home affairs. Confidence begat confidence. With that curious tendency evinced by men, more especially when in distant lands, to entrust to strangers details of their lives which they would on no account mention to friends, Angel admitted to this man as they rode along the sorrowful facts of his marriage.

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The stranger had sojourned in many more lands and among many more peoples than Angel; to his cosmopolitan mind such deviations from the social norm, so immense to domesticity, were no more than are the irregularities of vale and mountain-chain to the whole terrestrial curve. He viewed the matter in quite a different light from Angel; thought that what Tess had been was of no importance beside what she would be, and plainly told Clare that he was wrong in coming away from her.

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The next day they were drenched in a thunder-storm. Angel’s companion was struck down with fever, and died by the week’s end. Clare waited a few hours to bury him, and then went on his way.

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The cursory remarks of the large-minded stranger, of whom he knew absolutely nothing beyond a commonplace name, were sublimed by his death, and influenced Clare more than all the reasoned ethics of the philosophers. His own parochialism made him ashamed by its contrast. His inconsistencies rushed upon him in a flood. He had persistently elevated Hellenic Paganism at the expense of Christianity; yet in that civilization an illegal surrender was not certain disesteem. Surely then he might have regarded that abhorrence of the un-intact state, which he had inherited with the creed of mysticism, as at least open to correction when the result was due to treachery. A remorse struck into him. The words of Izz Huett, never quite stilled in his memory, came back to him. He had asked Izz if she loved him, and she had replied in the affirmative. Did she love him more than Tess did? No, she had replied; Tess would lay down her life for him, and she herself could do no more.

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He thought of Tess as she had appeared on the day of the wedding. How her eyes had lingered upon him; how she had hung upon his words as if they were a god’s! And during the terrible evening over the hearth, when her simple soul uncovered itself to his, how pitiful her face had looked by the rays of the fire, in her inability to realize that his love and protection could possibly be withdrawn.

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Thus from being her critic he grew to be her advocate. Cynical things he had uttered to himself about her; but no man can be always a cynic and live; and he withdrew them. The mistake of expressing them had arisen from his allowing himself to be influenced by general principles to the disregard of the particular instance.

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But the reasoning is somewhat musty; lovers and husbands have gone over the ground before to-day. Clare had been harsh towards her; there is no doubt of it. Men are too often harsh with women they love or have loved; women with men. And yet these harshnesses are tenderness itself when compared with the universal harshness out of which they grow; the harshness of the position towards the temperament, of the means towards the aims, of to-day towards yesterday, of hereafter towards to-day.

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The historic interest of her family - that masterful line of d’Urbervilles - whom he had despised as a spent force, touched his sentiments now. Why had he not known the difference between the political value and the imaginative value of these things? In the latter aspect her d’Urberville descent was a fact of great dimensions; worthless to economics, it was a most useful ingredient to the dreamer, to the moralizer on declines and falls. It was a fact that would soon be forgotten - that bit of distinction in poor Tess’s blood and name, and oblivion would fall upon her hereditary link with the marble monuments and leaded skeletons at Kingsbere. So does Time ruthlessly destroy his own romances. In recalling her face again and again, he thought now that he could see therein a flash of the dignity which must have graced her grand-dames; and the vision sent that aura through his veins which he had formerly felt, and which left behind it a sense of sickness.

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Despite her not inviolate past, what still abode in such a woman as Tess out valued the freshness of her fellows. Was not the gleaning of the grapes of Ephraim better than the vintage of Abi-ezer?

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So spoke love renascent, preparing the way for Tess’s devoted outpouring, which was then just being forwarded to him by his father; though owing to his distance inland it was to be a long time in reaching him.

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Meanwhile the writer’s expectation that Angel would come in response to the entreaty was alternately great and small. What lessened it was that the facts of her life which had led to the parting had not changed - could never change; and that, if her presence had not attenuated them, her absence could not. Nevertheless she addressed her mind to the tender question of what she could do to please him best if he should arrive. Sighs were expended on the wish that she had taken more notice of the tunes he played on his harp, that she had inquired more curiously of him which were his favourite ballads among those the country-girls sang. She indirectly inquired of Amby Seedling, who had followed Izz from Talbothays, and by chance Amby remembered that, amongst the snatches of melody in which they had indulged at the dairyman’s, to induce the cows to let down their milk, Clare had seemed to like `Cupid’s Gardens’, `I have parks, I have hounds’, and `The break o’ the day’; and had seemed not to care for `The Tailor’s Breeches’, and `Such a beauty I did grow’, excellent ditties as they were.

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To perfect the ballads was now her whimsical desire. She practised them privately at odd moments, especially’ The break o’ the day’:

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Arise, arise, arise!

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And pick your love a posy, All o’ the sweetest flowers That in the garden grow.

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The turtle doves and sma’ birds In every bough a-building, So early in the May-time At the break o’ the day!

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It would have melted the heart of a stone to hear her singing these ditties, whenever she worked apart from the rest of the girls in this cold dry time; the tears running down her cheeks all the while at the thought that perhaps he would not, after all, come to hear her, and the simple silly words of the songs resounding in painful mockery of the aching heart of the singer.

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Tess was so wrapt up in this fanciful dream that she seemed not to know how the season was advancing; that the days had lengthened, that Lady-Day was at hand, and would soon be followed by Old Lady-Day, the end of her term here.

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But before the quarter-day had quite come something happened which made Tess think of far different matters. She was at her lodging as usual one evening, sitting in the downstairs room with the rest of the family, when somebody knocked at the door and inquired for Tess. Through the doorway she saw against the declining light a figure with the height of a woman and the breadth of a child, a tall, thin, girlish creature whom she did not recognize in the twilight till the girl said `Tess!’

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`What - is it ’Liza-Lu?’ asked Tess, in startled accents. Her sister, whom a little over a year ago she had left at home as a child, had sprung up by a sudden shoot to a form of this presentation, of which as yet Lu seemed herself scarce able to understand the meaning. Her thin legs, visible below her once long frock, now short by her growing, and her uncomfortable hands and arms, revealed her youth and inexperience.

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`Yes, I have been traipsing about all day, Tess,’ said Lu, with unemotional gravity, `a-trying to find ’ee; and I’m very tired.’

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`What is the matter at home?’

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`Mother is took very bad, and the doctor says she’s dying, and as father is not very well neither, and says ’tis wrong for a man of such a high family as his to slave and drave at common labouring work, we don’t know what to do.’

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Tess stood in reverie a long time before she thought of asking ’Liza-Lu to come in and sit down. When she had done so, and ’Liza-Lu was having some tea, she came to a decision. It was imperative that she should go home. Her agreement did not end till Old Lady-Day, the sixth of April, but as the interval thereto was not a long one she resolved to run the risk of starting at once.

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To go that night would be a gain of twelve hours; but her sister was too tired to undertake such a distance till the morrow. Tess ran down to where Marian and Izz lived, informed them of what had happened, and begged them to make the best of her case to the farmer. Returning, she got Lu a supper, and after that, having tucked the younger into her own bed, packed up as many of her belongings as would go into a withy basket, and started, directing Lu to follow her next morning.

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