Jude the Obscure无名的裘德 |
| 《无名的裘德》是英国著名小说家、诗人哈代的重要代表作之一，是公认的世界名著。男主人公裘德自幼父母双亡，虽然贫困孤苦，但他却有一颗上进求索的心。他先是在乡村面包店里做伙计，后在石匠铺学徒。在艰苦劳作之余，他好学深思、刻苦自修，却始终被拒之于大学门外。女主人公苏珊娜聪颖美貌，接受过正规的师范教育，她不但具有独立的思想和人格，而且蔑视世俗和僵化的宗教。为了爱情，他们敢于挑战世俗与教会，并且最终走到了一起。裘德雄心不止，但壮志未酬，更不幸的是他们的孩子因故而亡。绝望中，苏珊娜终向命运和教会屈服，离开了深爱的裘德；而裘德则终日纵酒，郁郁成疾，未满三十岁即含恨而终。该书自出版以来，一直受到世界各地一代又一代读者的欢迎，被翻译成十几种文字，还被改编成电影。 |
Thomas Hardy |
| Part 1 AT MARYGREEN "Yea, many there be that have run out of their wits for women, and become servants for their sakes. Many also have perished, have erred, and sinned, for women.... O ye men, how can it be but women should be strong, seeing they do thus?"--ESDRAS. “是啊，确有许多人醉心于女人，神魂颠倒，不惜为了她们而当奴仆。还有许多人因女人之故身败名裂，执迷不悟，罪孽深重……啊，难道女人真是这么强大，你们男人只好让她们为所欲为？” ——艾司德拉斯 Part 1 Chapter 1 THE schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher's effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house. The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again. The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first. A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: "Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you've found a place to settle in, sir." "A proper good notion," said the blacksmith. It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy's aunt-- an old maiden resident--and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. "Sorry I am going, Jude?" asked the latter kindly. Tears rose into the boy's eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster's life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher's term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that he was sorry. "So am I," said Mr. Phillotson. "Why do you go, sir?" asked the boy. "Ah--that would be a long story. You wouldn't understand my reasons, Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older." "I think I should now, sir." "Well--don't speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere." The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley's fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o'clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other IMPEDIMENTA, and bade his friends good-bye. "I shan't forget you, Jude," he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. "Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance' sake." The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child's who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart's-tongue fern. He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. "I've seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer-- a small sleepy place like this!" A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy's breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry: "Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!" It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood-- nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen. It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny castiron crosses warranted to last five years. 小学老师就要离开村子，人人都显得不大好受。水芹峪开磨坊的把他的白篷小货车连马都借给他，帮他把一应物件运到大约二十英里外他要去的城市。车身容积绰绰有余，老师路上不必担心。校舍家具原来由董事会配置了一部分；老师自己除了书籍，只有一种笨重东西，那是架竖式钢琴，是他当年一时心血来潮想学钢琴，在拍卖会上买到手的，以后那股热劲儿慢慢过去了，一点弹琴技巧也没学好，而每逢搬家，买来的这件东西始终成了他的累赘。 教区长素来不愿意看到变动，所以整天都到外边去了。他总要到晚上才回来，因为那时新教师多半已经到校，诸事安排停当，一切也就平静如常。 铁匠、庄头和老师站在小接待室里的钢琴前面，一筹莫展的样子。老师已经表示过，就算能把它弄到车上，到了他要去的基督堂那个城市，他还是不知道拿它怎么办，因为他初来乍到，只能临时找个地方住住。 一个十一岁的男孩子正帮着扎东西，挺有心事的样子，这时走到大人这边来，趁他们摸着下巴颏的时候，大声说：“姑婆有个好大的柴房哪，你找到地方放它之前，也许能寄放在那里头吧。”他因为说话声音大，脸红了。 “这主意倒真不赖呢。”铁匠说。 于是他们决定派代表去找孩子的姑婆（住在本村的一位老姑娘），跟她商量商量，好不好把钢琴在柴房里先放放，以后费乐生先生再派人来拿。铁匠和庄头马上去看存放的地方合适不合适，孩子和老师就留在那儿站着。 “裘德，我要走啦，你心里不大好受吧？”老师亲切地问他。 孩子立刻眼泪汪汪的，因为他本来不过是在眼下这位老师任职期间上上夜校，算不得是个正规生，而只有正规生才理所当然地跟老师的生活接触密切。如果一定说真话的话，正规生这会儿都站得远远的，就像某些名垂史册的使徒那样袖手旁观，无动于衷，谁也不肯主动过来，热心帮忙。 孩子慢腾腾地翻开费乐生先生当做临别纪念送给他的那本书，承认他心里不好受。 “我也是啊。”费乐生先生说。 “先生，你干吗走呀？” “哎——这可说来话长啦。裘德呀，你这会儿还不懂我走的道理，等你再大点，你就明白啦。” “先生，我觉着我这会儿就懂。” “好吧，不过你可别到处说就是啦。你懂大学是怎么回事儿吗？大学学位是怎么回事儿吗？谁要是打算在教书方面干出点名堂，缺了这个资历可不行。我的计划，也可以说我的理想吧，就是当上个大学生，以后就到教会担任圣职。住在基督堂，要么住在它附近，可以说，我就算到了最高学府啦。要是我的计划真能行得通的话，我觉得人住在当地比在别处实现计划的机会总要多得多呢。” 铁匠和他的同伴回来了。福来老小姐的柴房挺干燥，是个顶刮刮的合适地方。看意思她愿意给钢琴一隅存身之地。这一来就可以把钢琴留在学校里直到晚上，因为那时候搬它的人手就多了。老师又朝四周围看了看。 裘德帮着把小件袋上车。九点钟费乐先生上了车，坐在书籍和行李旁边，向各位朋友道别。 “裘德，我忘不川尔。”马车开走的时候，他笑着说。“别忘了，要做个好孩子；对动物跟鸟儿心要好；你能读到的书都要读。有朝一日，你到了基督堂，看在老交情分儿上，可别忘了想方设法找到我。” 货车吱吱嘎嘎地驶过草地，绕过教区长住宅的拐角就消失了。孩子回到草地边上汲水井那儿，刚才他为帮自己的恩人和老师装车，把水桶撂在那儿。他这会儿嘴唇有点颤，打开井盖，开始要放桶，不过又停住了，脑门和胳臂都靠在井架上，脸上流露出呆呆的神情，这种神情只有他那样爱想事的孩子在小小年纪过早感到人生坎坷时才会有。他往下看的那眼井的历史和村子一样古老，在他这个位置可以看得到井里像是一串串一圈圈透视画，一直到了一百英尺深处，最后形成一个波动不息的闪光的亮盘子。靠近井上端处有层青苔，再往上长着荷叶蕨。 他自言自语，声调里含有富于奇想的孩子才有的感伤味儿：“老师以前不就是这样天天早上打几十遍水吗？以后可再不会啦。我瞧见过他就是跟我一样，打累了，先不把水拎回去，一边休息会儿，一边往底下瞧。不过他人可聪明啦，怎么肯在这儿呆下去呢——这么个死气沉沉的地方啊。” 他的一滴眼泪落到井底。早晨有点雾濛濛的，他哈出来的气，好似更浓的雾，叠在了平静而沉滞的空气上面。猛然间，一声喊叫把他的心思打断了。 “你这个小懒鬼呀，你倒是把水送回来呀！” 喊叫的是个老太婆，她人已经从不远地方对着园子栅栏门的草房门里探出身子来了。孩子赶紧打个手势，表示就来，于是硬凭他那身量使得出来的最大力气，把水桶提上来，先放在地上，然后倒进自己带来的小点的水桶里，又歇了歇，透了口气，就拎着它们穿过水井所在的那片湿漉漉的草地——它大致位于村子（不如说位于马利格林的零落的村户人家）的中央。 那个村子不单地盘小，外边样式也老旧，坐落在毗连北维塞克斯郡丘陵地的一片时起时伏的高地的一个洼子里。不过老归老，旧归旧，那眼井的井身总还是当地历史上唯一一件万古如斯的陈迹。近些年，好多屋顶开天窗的草房都拆掉了，公共草地上好多树也砍伐了。特别值得一提的是，原来那座风格独特的教堂，驼峰屋顶、木构塔楼。形状古怪的斜脊，无不拆得一千二净，拆下来的东西全都敲碎了，一堆堆的，不是给小巷当铺路石，就是给猪圈砌围墙，做园子里的椅凳，当路边隔篱的护脚石，要么是给街坊的花坛堆了假山。取老教堂而代之的是某位历史遗迹摧毁者在新址上，按英国人看不惯的现代哥特式风格设计，鸠工建起的一座高大的新建筑，为此他曾天天从伦敦到马利格林打个来回。原来久已耸立的供奉基督教神祗的圣殿的原址，哪怕是在历经沧桑的教堂墓地改成的青葱平整的草坪上，也休想找到半点痕迹。剩下的只是在荡然无存的坟墓前树过的十八个便士一个、保用五年的铸铁十字架，聊供凭吊而已。 Part 1 Chapter 2 SLENDER as was Jude Fawley's frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, "Drusilla Fawley, Baker." Within the little lead panes of the window--this being one of the few old houses left--were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern. While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. "And who's he?" asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy entered. "Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He's my great-nephew--come since you was last this way." The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. "He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago--worse luck for 'n, Belinda" (turning to the right) "where his father was living, and was took wi' the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline" (turning to the left). "It would ha' been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi' thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I've got him here to stay with me till I can see what's to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he's a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?" she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside. The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley's (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her--"to kip 'ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shet-ters o' nights, and help in the bit o' baking." Miss Fawley doubted it.... "Why didn't ye get the schoolmaster to take 'ee to Christminster wi' un, and make a scholar of 'ee," she continued, in frowning pleasantry. "I'm sure he couldn't ha' took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same-- so I've heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn' get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till-- Well, I won't go into that. Jude, my child, don't you ever marry. 'Tisn't for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o' my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!" Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it. The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year's produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. "How ugly it is here!" he murmured. The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare-- echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in. The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds' thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners-- the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew. "Poor little dears!" said Jude, aloud. "You SHALL have some dinner-- you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!" They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own. His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude's cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand. "So it's 'Eat my dear birdies,' is it, young man? 'Eat, dear birdies,' indeed! I'll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, 'Eat, dear birdies,' again in a hurry! And you've been idling at the schoolmaster's too, instead of coming here, ha'n't ye, hey? That's how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!" Whilst saluting Jude's ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm's-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude's own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. "Don't 'ee, sir--please don't 'ee!" cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. "I--I sir--only meant that--there was a good crop in the ground-- I saw 'em sow it--and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner-- and you wouldn't miss it, sir--and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to 'em--oh, oh, oh!" This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers-- who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity--and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man. Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day's work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again. Jude leaped out of arm's reach, and walked along the trackway weeping-- not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God's birds was bad for God's gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life. With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread. Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often re-instating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one. On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, "Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?" "I'm turned away." "What?" "Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few peckings of corn. And there's my wages--the last I shall ever hae!" He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. "Ah!" said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. "If you can't skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don't ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But 'tis as Job said, 'Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.' His father was my father's journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let 'ee go to work for 'n, which I shouldn't ha' done but to keep 'ee out of mischty." More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one. "Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn't go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no-- poor or'nary child--there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!" "Where is this beautiful city, Aunt--this place where Mr. Phillotson is gone to?" asked the boy, after meditating in silence. "Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I'm a-thinking." "And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?" "How can I tell?" "Could I go to see him?" "Lord, no! You didn't grow up hereabout, or you wouldn't ask such as that. We've never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we." Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature's logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it. If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a man. Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. "Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I've never bin there-- not I. I've never had any business at such a place." The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down. 别看裘德•福来身子骨单薄，他可是一口气就把满满两桶水拎到了草房。草房门上方有块长方形小蓝匾，上漆黄字：多喜•福来面包房，在铅条嵌住玻璃的窗户（保留这样窗户的人家极少，这是其中之一）紧后面放着五瓶糖果，还有一个柳条图案的盘子，盛着三个小圆面包。 他在屋后把水倒完，听得见门里头他的姑婆，也就是匾上写的多喜，正跟几位乡亲聊得挺欢。她们亲眼瞧着小学教师离开，这会儿正把这件大事的种种细节往一块儿凑，还肆无忌惮地瞎猜他以后会如何如何。 “这是谁呀？”一个有点眼生的女人看见孩子进来就问。 “问得好啊，威廉太太。是我的侄孙子哟，你上回来过之后他才来的。”答话的这位老住户是个个儿又高又干瘦的婆子，什么不值一提的事，她一说就带着哭腔，还要轮流朝每个听她说话的人说上一言半语。“总在一年前吧，他打南维塞克斯南边的麦斯托过来的——命才苦呢，贝林达，”（脸往右边一转）“卡洛琳哪，你都知道呀，他爸爸住在那边儿，得了‘疟子’，两天就没啦。”（脸又转到左边）“要是全能的上帝把他跟他爹娘一块儿叫了去，那倒是挺福气呢，可怜的没点用的孩子哟！可是我把他弄到这儿来啦，跟我住一块儿，总得替他想出个办法，不过这会儿要是办得到，得先叫他赚几个钱。他刚给庄稼汉陶大赶鸟儿，省得他淘气嘛。你干吗走呀，裘德！”她接着说下去，孩子觉着她们瞄着他的眼光那么厉害，就像抽他嘴巴，想躲到旁边去。 本地那个替人洗衣服的女人接过话碴说，福来小姐（叫福来太太也行，随她们怎么称呼，她也无所谓）把他留在身边这个主意还真不赖——“给你做个伴儿，省得你一个人孤单，替你拎拎水，晚上关关百叶窗，烤面包时候也帮点忙，都行嘛。” 福来小姐可是不以为然。“你干吗不求老师带你到基督堂，也让你当学生呀？”她幸灾乐祸地挤眉弄眼，接着说， “我瞧他也找不着比你还好的喽。这孩子看书看得邪乎哪，才邪乎哪。我们家就兴这一套。他有个表姊妹，我听说也这个调调儿，不过那孩子，我没见到她有年数啦，虽说她碰巧在这儿落地，还就在这屋里头。我侄女跟她男人结婚之后，大概一年工夫还没自个儿的房子，后来总算是有了，可又——唉，别提这个啦，裘德，我的孩子哟，你可千万别结婚，福来家的人可不能再走这一步啦。他们就生了苏一个孩子，我拿她就当自个儿的一样，贝林达，后来他们俩吵散了，一个小丫头子真不该知道这些变故哟！” 裘德觉着大伙儿又把注意力集中到他身上来了，于是走到烘房，把原来准备好当早餐的那块烘糕吃了，然后攀过房后的树篱，出了园子，沿着一条小路一直朝北走，最后走到了高地中间一块朝四下铺展的凹陷的宽广而僻静的地方，原来这是撒过种的麦田。他就在这片老大的洼地上给陶大先生干活。他再往前走，到了麦田正中间。 麦田的褐色地面的四周高高隆起，似乎上与天齐，这时由于雾气迷茫，把它的实际边缘笼罩起来了，所以本来的景象也就隐没在雾中，而且使这个地方的孤寂凄凉更为深沉。点缀这刻板划一的景色的醒目东西只有那个上年堆的、至今还立在耕地上的麦垛，一看他走过来就振翅飞走的老鸹和他刚走过的那条直穿麦田的小路。谁在这条路上来往，他这会儿一点不知道，不过他确实知道他家里故世的先人中间有很多曾经走过。 “这儿真够寒碜哪。”他嘴里嘟嘟囔囔的。 新耙过的一排排条沟延伸下去，看起来就像一块新灯芯绒上边的纹路，把这一大片土地的外貌弄得一副既俗不可耐又唯利是图的样子，把它的多层次的色调抽干了，把它的全部历史也都抹掉了；其实那斑斑泥土，累累石块实实在在地尽有着剪不断的未了缘——远古以来的歌唱、欢声笑语和踏踏实实的劳作仍在经久不息地回荡。每英寸土地，不论最早开出来的还是最晚开出来的，都是当年散发着活力、狂欢、喧闹和慵倦的场地。每一码土地上都有一群群拾穗人蹲着晒太阳。在收割和人仓活动的；司歇时候，人们就把毗邻小村子组织起来，玩起找情人游戏。在把麦田同远处人工林隔开的树篱下，姑娘们不惜委身于情人，但是到了下个收获季节，他们就对姑娘们掉头不顾，正眼也不瞧一下。在古老的麦田里，何止一个汉子对娘儿们信誓旦旦，哪想到他在近边教堂里履行诺言之后，到了下个播种期，一听见她声音就发抖。不过裘德也好，他四周的老鸹也好，心里都没盛着这类事。他们只把它当成一块冷清地方，裘德一方以为它的性质纯属供人劳作，对老鸹一方来说它正好是足以填饱肚子的谷仓。 那孩子站在前面提到的麦垛下面，隔几秒就使劲摇他的哗脚板儿。只要哗脚板一响，老鸹就停止啄食，从地上飞起来，接着从容展开摩擦得如同锁子甲叶片一样晶亮的翅膀飞走了；它们转了一圈之后又飞回来，小心翼翼地防着他，随后落到稍远的地方啄食。 他摇哗啷板摇得膀子都酸痛了；到后来对于老鸹觅食愿望受到阻碍，反而同情起来。它们好像跟他一样，活在一个没人理没人要的世界里。他干吗非得把它们吓跑不可呀？它们越来越像是好脾气的朋友，等待着哺食——只有它们才能算在朋友之列，因为它们总还对他有那么点兴趣，因为姑婆不是常对他说，她对他没一点兴趣吗？他没再摇哗啷板，老鸹也就再落到田里。 “可怜的小宝贝儿哟！”裘德大声说，“你们该吃点饭啦——该吃啦。这儿够咱们大伙吃呀。庄稼汉陶大供得起你们吃呀。吃吧，吃吧，亲爱的小鸟哟，美美地吃一顿吧。” 它们就像深褐色土地上一片片黑点子，呆在那儿吃起来，裘德在一边欣赏它们的吃相。一根神奇的同病相怜的细线把他的生命和它们的生命串连起来，这些老鹊的生命无足轻重，不值怜惜，又何异于他自己的遭遇呢！ 他连哗啷板儿也扔到一边儿去了，因为那是个卑鄙下贱的工具，对鸟儿和对鸟儿的朋友他自己，都是怀着无限恶意的。猛然间，他觉得屁股上挨了重重一家伙，紧跟着是哗啷啷一声响，这分明是告诉他的受了惊的感官，哗脚板儿正是作恶的工具。老鸹和裘德都吓了一大跳，后者两眼昏昏地瞧见了庄稼汉的形象，原来是伟大的陶大先生驾到了，他那张恶狠狠的脸冲着裘德蜷起来的身子，手里哗啷板儿摇来晃去的。 “这就是‘吃呀，亲爱的小鸟哟’，对不对，小子。‘吃呀，吃呀，亲爱的小鸟哟，’行啊！我要叫你屁股好好尝尝滋味儿，瞧你还急不急着说‘吃呀，亲爱的小鸟哟！’你原先也是在老师家里躲着，不上这儿来，是这么回事儿吧？嘿嘿！你一天拿六便士，就是这样把鸟儿从我的麦子上赶走呀！” 陶大怒气冲冲，恶声恶气，破口大骂，一边拿左手抓住裘德的左手，拽着他瘦弱的身子绕着他自己转圈子，还用裘德的哗啷板儿的平滑面打他的屁股，绕一圈打一两回，连麦田里也响起了抽打的回声。 “先生，别打啦——求求别打啦！”转圈子的孩子哭喊着，他整个身子受到离心力支配，一点没法做主，就跟上了钩的鱼给甩到地上一样，眼前的山冈、麦垛、人工林小路和老鸹怪吓人地围着他一个劲儿地转圈子赛跑。“我——我——先生——我是想地里的收成会怪不错的——我瞧见过下种呀——老鸹吃那么点也可以呀——先生，你没什么损失呀——费乐生先生还嘱咐过，待它们心要好呀——呜！呜！呜！” 裘德要是索性对先头说过的话矢口否认，恐怕反倒好点，可是他这番真心表白似乎把庄稼汉气得更厉害了。他还是一个劲儿啪啪抽打转圈儿的淘气鬼，哗啷哗啷的声音传到了麦田以外，连远处干活儿的人都听见了——还当裘德正不辞劳苦地摇哗啷板儿呢，而且隐在雾中的那座崭新的教堂的塔楼也发出了回声，要知道那位庄稼人为了证明他对上帝和人类的爱，还为建教堂大量捐过款哩。 又过了会儿，陶大对惩罚工作也腻了。他叫浑身哆嗦的孩子好好站着，从衣袋里掏出六便士给他，算是他干一天的工钱，说他得赶快回家，以后哪块麦田也不许他随便来。 裘德蹦开了一点，随即哭哭啼啼沿着小路走了；他哭，倒不是因为打得疼，当然疼得也够厉害；也不是因为领悟到天理人情，顾此就要失彼，对上帝的鸟儿有好处，对上帝的园丁就有坏处；他哭是因为他到这个教区还不满一年就搞得这么丢人现眼而非常痛心，恐怕这以后真要成了姑婆生活里的包袱。 心里既然横着这样的阴影，他不想在村里露面，于是从一道高树篱后面，穿过牧场，住家里走。他瞧见潮湿的地面上有几十对交尾的蚯蚓蜷卧着，它们在一年之中这个季节的这样天气都是这样。要是按平常步子往前走，每跨一步又不把它们踩死，那是办不到的。 虽然庄稼汉陶大刚才伤害他不浅，但是他是个什么东西也不忍伤害的孩子。每回他带一窝小雏儿回家，心里总是难过得大半夜睡不着觉，第二天一大早就把小雏儿连窝一块儿送回原来地方。他一瞧见树给砍伐了或是修剪了，人简直受不了，因为他的幻觉使他感到这样做就是折磨它们；凡到剪伐时候，都正值树汁从根部往上输送，所以树要流出大量汁液，他孩提时见此情景，内心充满了忧伤。性格方面的这种软弱，姑且这么说吧，表明他是注定终生感到大痛苦的那类人，只有到他无用的生命落幕之际，才得以重新得到解脱。他小心翼翼地在蚯蚓中挑着道走，一条也没踩死。 他进了草房，看到姑婆正把一便士面包卖给一个女孩子。顾客走了以后，她说：“你怎么上半天半路儿就回来啦？” “人家不要我啦。” “怎么回事儿？” “我让老鸹啄了点麦粒儿，他就不要我啦。这是工钱——算是最后一回挣的。” 他一副惨样把六便士丢到桌子上。 “唉！”姑婆说，噎住一口气，跟着长篇大论教训起他来，说他一整个春上啥也没干，就赖着她。“要是连鸟儿都赶不了，那你还能干什么呀？哪，别这么一副不在乎的样儿。要说庄稼汉陶大比我也好不到哪儿，不过是半斤八两，约伯不就说过嘛，‘如今比我年轻的人笑话我，我可瞧不起你们的老子哪，我把他们放到给我看羊的狗一块儿啦。’反正他老子给我老子当长工就是啦。我叫你替这家伙干活儿，我真算是糊涂透啦，就为不让你淘气，我干了不该干的事哟。” 她越说越一肚子气，倒不是为裘德没能烙尽职守，而是因为他到陶大那边去，辱没了她；她主要是从这个角度给他定位，至于道德什么的还在其次。 “不是说你该让鸟儿吃庄稼汉陶大的东西，这事儿你本来也错了嘛。裘德呀，裘德，干吗你不跟那位老师一块儿走，到基督堂还是什么地方去呀？不过，不提啦——你这个没出息的孩子哟，你们家这支压根儿没人出去闯荡过，以后也别提喽！” “姑婆，那个美丽的城市在哪儿呀——就是费乐生先生去的地方？”孩子默默沉思了一会儿问道。 “哎呀，你也该知道基督堂这个城市在哪儿啦。离咱们这儿大概二十英里吧。那地方对你可是太了不起喽，你可没缘分跟它搭上关系呀，可怜的孩子，我就是这么想哟。” “费乐生先生长远在那边吗？” “我怎么知道。” “我能不能去看望看望他？” “哎呀，不行呀！你还没长大哪，就连这方近左右也还没弄清楚，要不然你怎么瞎问呀。咱们跟基督堂的人向来不搭界，基督堂的人也不跟咱们来往。” 裘德走到外边去了，比平常更加感到他这个人生到世间来真是多余的，随后仰面朝天躺到了猪圈旁的干草堆上。雾已渐转透明，太阳的位置可以看得出来。他把草帽拉到脸上，打草缏间的隙缝往外瞄白晃晃的光，心里在胡思乱想。他发现人要是长大成人了，必定会重任在肩。人间万事并不是他想象的那样彼此合拍共韵，协调一致。天道悠悠，竟然如此狰狞，不禁使他生出反感。对这一群生灵仁慈就是对另一群生灵残忍，这种感想毒害了他万汇归一的和谐感。他深深感到，你慢慢长大了，就觉得你处在生命的中心点上了，再不是你小时候那样觉得是在圆周的某一点上，于是你陷在无端恐怖之中，不寒而栗。你周围老像有什么东西闪闪发光、花里胡哨、哗里哗浪，噪声和强光捶打着你那个叫生命的小小细胞，强烈地震动它，无情地扭曲它。 要是他能拦住自个儿不长大，那该多好啊！他不愿意成个大人。 不过他到底是个一派天真的孩子，等一会儿就把那种颓丧情绪忘掉了。上半天余下的时间，他尽帮姑婆做事，下午没事干，就到村子里去。他在那儿问一个人基督堂在哪一方。 “基督堂吗？哦，对啦，就在那边儿，我可压根儿没到过——压根儿没到过。在那样的地方，我没事儿可干。” 那汉子向东北方向指指，指的正好是裘德刚才蒙受奇耻大辱的麦田那边，虽属巧合，还是叫他一阵子揪然不乐；不过由此而生的畏葸反而更激起他对那座城市的好奇心。庄稼汉固然说过不许他到麦田，可是基督堂正在对面。于是他偷偷溜出了村子，往下走向那块目击他早上受到惩罚的洼地，在它的小路上走，没敢岔出一英寸，随后爬上了另一边坡子，那条小路长得真讨人厌，后来算走到个小树丛旁边它跟大路相接的地方，到此也就没什么经人耕种的田地了。他一眼望去，但见一片荒凉空阔的丘陵地。 Part 1 Chapter 3 NOT a soul was visible on the hedgeless highway, or on either side of it, and the white road seemed to ascend and diminish till it joined the sky. At the very top it was crossed at right angles by a green "ridgeway"--the Ickneild Street and original Roman road through the district. This ancient track ran east and west for many miles, and down almost to within living memory had been used for driving flocks and herds to fairs and markets. But it was now neglected and overgrown. The boy had never before strayed so far north as this from the nestling hamlet in which he had been deposited by the carrier from a railway station southward, one dark evening some few months earlier, and till now he had had no suspicion that such a wide, flat, low-lying country lay so near at hand, under the very verge of his upland world. The whole northern semicircle between east and west, to a distance of forty or fifty miles, spread itself before him; a bluer, moister atmosphere, evidently, than that he breathed up here. Not far from the road stood a weather-beaten old barn of reddish-grey brick and tile. It was known as the Brown House by the people of the locality. He was about to pass it when he perceived a ladder against the eaves; and the reflection that the higher he got, the further he could see, led Jude to stand and regard it. On the slope of the roof two men were repairing the tiling. He turned into the ridgeway and drew towards the barn. When he had wistfully watched the workmen for some time he took courage, and ascended the ladder till he stood beside them. "Well, my lad, and what may you want up here?" "I wanted to know where the city of Christminster is, if you please." "Christminster is out across there, by that clump. You can see it-- at least you can on a clear day. Ah, no, you can't now." The other tiler, glad of any kind of diversion from the monotony of his labour, had also turned to look towards the quarter designated. "You can't often see it in weather like this," he said. "The time I've noticed it is when the sun is going down in a blaze of flame, and it looks like--I don't know what." "The heavenly Jerusalem," suggested the serious urchin. "Ay--though I should never ha' thought of it myself.... But I can't see no Christminster to-day." The boy strained his eyes also; yet neither could he see the far-off city. He descended from the barn, and abandoning Christminster with the versatility of his age he walked along the ridge-track, looking for any natural objects of interest that might lie in the banks thereabout. When he repassed the barn to go back to Marygreen he observed that the ladder was still in its place, but that the men had finished their day's work and gone away. It was waning towards evening; there was still a faint mist, but it had cleared a little except in the damper tracts of subjacent country and along the river-courses. He thought again of Christminster, and wished, since he had come two or three miles from his aunt's house on purpose, that he could have seen for once this attractive city of which he had been told. But even if he waited here it was hardly likely that the air would clear before night. Yet he was loth to leave the spot, for the northern expanse became lost to view on retreating towards the village only a few hundred yards. He ascended the ladder to have one more look at the point the men had designated, and perched himself on the highest rung, overlying the tiles. He might not be able to come so far as this for many days. Perhaps if he prayed, the wish to see Christminster might be forwarded. People said that, if you prayed, things sometimes came to you, even though they sometimes did not. He had read in a tract that a man who had begun to build a church, and had no money to finish it, knelt down and prayed, and the money came in by the next post. Another man tried the same experiment, and the money did not come; but he found afterwards that the breeches he knelt in were made by a wicked Jew. This was not discouraging, and turning on the ladder Jude knelt on the third rung, where, resting against those above it, he prayed that the mist might rise. He then seated himself again, and waited. In the course of ten or fifteen minutes the thinning mist dissolved altogether from the northern horizon, as it had already done elsewhere, and about a quarter of an hour before the time of sunset the westward clouds parted, the sun's position being partially uncovered, and the beams streaming out in visible lines between two bars of slaty cloud. The boy immediately looked back in the old direction. Some way within the limits of the stretch of landscape, points of light like the topaz gleamed. The air increased in transparency with the lapse of minutes, till the topaz points showed themselves to be the vanes, windows, wet roof slates, and other shining spots upon the spires, domes, freestone-work, and varied outlines that were faintly revealed. It was Christminster, unquestionably; either directly seen, or miraged in the peculiar atmosphere. The spectator gazed on and on till the windows and vanes lost their shine, going out almost suddenly like extinguished candles. The vague city became veiled in mist. Turning to the west, he saw that the sun had disappeared. The foreground of the scene had grown funereally dark, and near objects put on the hues and shapes of chimaeras. He anxiously descended the ladder, and started homewards at a run, trying not to think of giants, Herne the Hunter, Apollyon lying in wait for Christian, or of the captain with the bleeding hole in his forehead and the corpses round him that remutinied every night on board the bewitched ship. He knew that he had grown out of belief in these horrors, yet he was glad when he saw the church tower and the lights in the cottage windows, even though this was not the home of his birth, and his great-aunt did not care much about him. Inside and round about that old woman's "shop" window, with its twenty-four little panes set in lead-work, the glass of some of them oxidized with age, so that you could hardly see the poor penny articles exhibited within, and forming part of a stock which a strong man could have carried, Jude had his outer being for some long tideless time. But his dreams were as gigantic as his surroundings were small. Through the solid barrier of cold cretaceous upland to the northward he was always beholding a gorgeous city--the fancied place he had likened to the new Jerusalem, though there was perhaps more of the painter's imagination and less of the diamond merchant's in his dreams thereof than in those of the Apocalyptic writer. And the city acquired a tangibility, a permanence, a hold on his life, mainly from the one nucleus of fact that the man for whose knowledge and purposes he had so much reverence was actually living there; not only so, but living among the more thoughtful and mentally shining ones therein. In sad wet seasons, though he knew it must rain at Christminster too, he could hardly believe that it rained so drearily there. Whenever he could get away from the confines of the hamlet for an hour or two, which was not often, he would steal off to the Brown House on the hill and strain his eyes persistently; sometimes to be rewarded by the sight of a dome or spire, at other times by a little smoke, which in his estimate had some of the mysticism of incense. Then the day came when it suddenly occurred to him that if he ascended to the point of view after dark, or possibly went a mile or two further, he would see the night lights of the city. It would be necessary to come back alone, but even that consideration did not deter him, for he could throw a little manliness into his mood, no doubt. The project was duly executed. It was not late when he arrived at the place of outlook, only just after dusk, but a black north-east sky, accompanied by a wind from the same quarter, made the occasion dark enough. He was rewarded; but what he saw was not the lamps in rows, as he had half expected. No individual light was visible, only a halo or glow-fog over-arching the place against the black heavens behind it, making the light and the city seem distant but a mile or so. He set himself to wonder on the exact point in the glow where the schoolmaster might be--he who never communicated with anybody at Marygreen now; who was as if dead to them here. In the glow he seemed to see Phillotson promenading at ease, like one of the forms in Nebuchadnezzar's furnace. He had heard that breezes travelled at the rate of ten miles an hour, and the fact now came into his mind. He parted his lips as he faced the north-east, and drew in the wind as if it were a sweet liquor. "You," he said, addressing the breeze caressingly "were in Christminster city between one and two hours ago, floating along the streets, pulling round the weather-cocks, touching Mr. Phillotson's face, being breathed by him; and now you are here, breathed by me--you, the very same." Suddenly there came along this wind something towards him-- a message from the place--from some soul residing there, it seemed. Surely it was the sound of bells, the voice of the city, faint and musical, calling to him, "We are happy here!" He had become entirely lost to his bodily situation during this mental leap, and only got back to it by a rough recalling. A few yards below the brow of the hill on which he paused a team of horses made its appearance, having reached the place by dint of half an hour's serpentine progress from the bottom of the immense declivity. They had a load of coals behind them-- a fuel that could only be got into the upland by this particular route. They were accompanied by a carter, a second man, and a boy, who now kicked a large stone behind one of the wheels, and allowed the panting animals to have a long rest, while those in charge took a flagon off the load and indulged in a drink round. They were elderly men, and had genial voices. Jude addressed them, inquiring if they had come from Christminster. "Heaven forbid, with this load!" said they. "The place I mean is that one yonder." He was getting so romantically attached to Christminster that, like a young lover alluding to his mistress, he felt bashful at mentioning its name again. He pointed to the light in the sky--hardly perceptible to their older eyes. "Yes. There do seem a spot a bit brighter in the nor'-east than elsewhere, though I shouldn't ha' noticed it myself, and no doubt it med be Christminster." Here a little book of tales which Jude had tucked up under his arm, having brought them to read on his way hither before it grew dark, slipped and fell into the road. The carter eyed him while he picked it up and straightened the leaves. "Ah, young man," he observed, "you'd have to get your head screwed on t'other way before you could read what they read there." "Why?" asked the boy. "Oh, they never look at anything that folks like we can understand," the carter continued, by way of passing the time. "On'y foreign tongues used in the days of the Tower of Babel, when no two families spoke alike. They read that sort of thing as fast as a night-hawk will whir. 'Tis all learning there-- nothing but learning, except religion. And that's learning too, for I never could understand it. Yes, 'tis a serious-minded place. Not but there's wenches in the streets o' nights.... You know, I suppose, that they raise pa'sons there like radishes in a bed? And though it do take--how many years, Bob?--five years to turn a lirruping hobble-de-hoy chap into a solemn preaching man with no corrupt passions, they'll do it, if it can be done, and polish un off like the workmen they be, and turn un out wi' a long face, and a long black coat and waistcoat, and a religious collar and hat, same as they used to wear in the Scriptures, so that his own mother wouldn't know un sometimes.... There, 'tis their business, like anybody else's." "But how should you know" "Now don't you interrupt, my boy. Never interrupt your senyers. Move the fore hoss aside, Bobby; here's som'at coming.... You must mind that I be a-talking of the college life. 'Em lives on a lofty level; there's no gainsaying it, though I myself med not think much of 'em. As we be here in our bodies on this high ground, so be they in their minds-- noble-minded men enough, no doubt--some on 'em--able to earn hundreds by thinking out loud. And some on 'em be strong young fellows that can earn a'most as much in silver cups. As for music, there's beautiful music everywhere in Christminster. You med be religious, or you med not, but you can't help striking in your homely note with the rest. And there's a street in the place--the main street--that ha'n't another like it in the world. I should think I did know a little about Christminster!" By this time the horses had recovered breath and bent to their collars again. Jude, throwing a last adoring look at the distant halo, turned and walked beside his remarkably well-informed friend, who had no objection to telling him as they moved on more yet of the city--its towers and halls and churches. The waggon turned into a cross-road, whereupon Jude thanked the carter warmly for his information, and said he only wished he could talk half as well about Christminster as he. "Well, 'tis oonly what has come in my way," said the carter unboastfully. "I've never been there, no more than you; but I've picked up the knowledge here and there, and you be welcome to it. A-getting about the world as I do, and mixing with all classes of society, one can't help hearing of things. A friend o' mine, that used to clane the boots at the Crozier Hotel in Christminster when he was in his prime, why, I knowed un as well as my own brother in his later years." Jude continued his walk homeward alone, pondering so deeply that he forgot to feel timid. He suddenly grew older. It had been the yearning of his heart to find something to anchor on, to cling to--for some place which he could call admirable. Should he find that place in this city if he could get there? Would it be a spot in which, without fear of farmers, or hindrance, or ridicule, he could watch and wait, and set himself to some mighty undertaking like the men of old of whom he had heard? As the halo had been to his eyes when gazing at it a quarter of an hour earlier, so was the spot mentally to him as he pursued his dark way. "It is a city of light," he said to himself. "The tree of knowledge grows there," he added a few steps further on. "It is a place that teachers of men spring from and go to." "It is what you may call a castle, manned by scholarship and religion." After this figure he was silent a long while, till he added: "It would just suit me." 在没设边篱的大路上和它的两旁，连个人影也看不见。白晃晃的大路仿佛朝上延伸，越高越窄，远接天际，恰好在最高处，一条贯穿这一带地方的绿油油的“山脊路”——原属古罗马驰道的伊克内尔德大道横插过来，同它呈十字交叉。这古道自东向西延伸好多英里，人们至今还多少记得早年赶牛羊上庙会和集市都利用它。不过眼下已经没人过问它了，所以蔓草丛生，掩覆了路面。 几个月前一个黑沉沉的晚上，一个运货人把他从南下的火车站带到他要去寄居的那个簇拥在一起的小村落。自那以后，他根本没闲逛到这么远，再说在这之前也万没想到紧靠他的高地世界下方，竟是那么辽阔的地势低平的荒野的边缘。在他眼前，北面的东西两至之间大约四五十英里、整个呈半圆形的地面，向四处铺开；那边的大气显然比他在高地这边呼吸的更蓝，更潮润。 离大路不远地方有座历经风雨剥蚀的暗红色砖瓦盖成的谷仓，当地人管它叫栋房子。他刚要打谷仓边走过去，忽然眼一亮，看见仓檐边靠着一个梯子。裘德陡地想到了登得高就望得远的话，就停下来对梯子端详了一会儿。房顶斜坡上，有两个人正修瓦顶。于是他转身上了山脊路，向谷仓走去。 他朝工人望了会儿，露出有所希求的神情，随即鼓起勇气，爬上梯子，站到他们近边上。 “嗨，小子，你跑上来干吗呀？” “劳驾，我想知道基督堂在哪儿？” “基督堂在那边儿，从这儿过去，就是那片树旁边儿。你大概能看得见，那可得晴天才行哪。哦，这会儿不行，你没法看见啦。” 另一个瓦工，只要能暂时摆脱一下单调乏味的活儿就高兴，也转过脸去望刚说到的地方。“这样的天气，你就不大能看得见啦，”他说，“我那回看见它的时候，正好是太阳下山，一片火红，就像是——我可形容不上来。” “就像是天上的耶路撒冷哪。”满脸正经的小淘气想起来就说。 “哦——我可压根儿没这么想过……反正我今儿瞧不见基督堂就是啦。” 孩子极力睁大了眼睛瞧，可是怎么也看不到远处的那座城市。他从谷仓上下来。他那个年纪，心思容易变，在古道的旧迹上走着的时候，也就把基督堂撂到一边了，又在路两边的土堆上寻找自然生长出来的好玩的东西。在回到马利格林的路上，再次经过谷仓时候，他注意到梯子还在原处，那两个人干完活走了。 天色已晚，渐渐昏暗，仍旧有一片薄雾，不过除了荒野靠下方的比较潮湿的地段和河道两岸，其他地方的雾气多少散了点。这时他又想到了基督堂，既然眼巴巴地从姑婆家出来已经走了两三英里，总希望看见一回人家跟他说的那个富有吸引力的城市什么样呀。不过就算他一直在这儿等下去，入夜之前，大气也未必完全开朗吧。可是他绝不甘心离开这儿，因为他要是转回那个村子，只要再走几百码，北方的空；周地带就从眼界里消失了。 他爬上了梯子，想再看看那两人指给他看的地方，一上到梯子顶高的一档，就拿身子靠着谷仓的瓦檐，好站稳了。像今天走得这么远，恐怕以后多少天也别打算啊。也许你要是祈祷的话，说不定想看见基督堂的心愿会实现呢。人家不是讲过吗，你要是祷告，有时候就能如愿以偿，当然有时候也不一定行。他念过一篇劝世文，里边说某人开始造教堂，可造还没造完就没钱了，他就跪下来祷告，下趟邮班果然把钱带来啦。还有一个人也想把这经验照搬一回，钱可没来；不过他后来发现他下跪时穿的裤子原来是个邪恶的犹太人做的。这并没叫人泄气，所以裘德还是把身子转过来，跪在第三档上，身子靠住上边两档，祷告雾气往上散开。 然后他坐稳了等着。大约过了十或十五分钟，越来越稀薄的雾从北方地平线上，就像先前在别的地方那样，全都散净了。夕阳西下前一刻钟光景，朝西飘移的云层倏然分开，太阳的位置露出了一部分，在两块云团之间，阳光奔涌而出，光束明晰。孩子立刻回过身来，朝原来的方向望去。 在那一望连绵的景色的范围内，有个地方的黄玉般光点不断闪烁。随着时间的推移，空气的透明度愈见增强，而黄玉般光点终于显露了原形，它们是风信旗、窗户和潮湿的石板屋顶，以及塔尖。圆屋顶和沙石装饰物的闪亮的部位。形态各异的建筑物轮廓若隐若现，隐约可见。那就是基督堂啊；若不是眼见为实，那它必定是在特殊的大气氛围中映现的海市蜃楼了。 这位观赏者一直目不转睛地凝视着，到后来窗户和风信旗几乎像烛光熄灭一样骤然失去了光亮。迷茫的城市宛如披上了轻薄的雾毅。他转向西方，太阳早已西沉了。画面的前景变得阴森可怖，近处无一不是开米拉般妖物的奇形怪状，五颜六色。 他慌慌张张从梯子上溜下来，开始往家里跑，哪儿还敢再想什么巨人呀、猎手赫恩呀、伺机杀害克里斯梯安的恶魔亚坡伦呀、在闹鬼的船上脑门有个窟窿一直往外冒血的船长和夜夜围着他翻来覆去地造反的尸体呀。他也知道自己已经长大了，不该再信什么妖魔鬼怪了，可是他还是直到看见了教堂塔楼和自家窗户里的灯光，才定下心，高兴起来，哪怕这并不是他呱呱堕地的地方，他站婆待他也不怎么样。 老太婆的“店”的窗户装着二十四块嵌在铅条框子里的小玻璃，年深日久，有些经过氧化，已经模糊，所以你休想隔着玻璃看清楚屋里陈列着的那些可怜巴巴的只值一便士的食品，它们是整个货仓的一部分，其实只要一个壮汉一拎，就可以把所有的东西都拿走了。裘德就在这个窗户里边和窗户这头那头呆着，相当长的一段时间内他外表安详，似乎心无所动。但是他所处的环境是那么委琐不堪，相比之下，他所抱的理想实在是大而无当。 他老是没完没了地透过寒冷的白垩质高地构成的坚固屏障，神往于那座熠熠生辉的城市——他在想象中把它比做新耶路撒冷的地方，不过他这份想象可跟《启示录》作者的构思大不相同，因为其中多的是画家的精思妙诣，少的是珠宝商人的痴心妄想。对他的生命来说，那个城市形成了具体的事物、永恒的存在和无上的权威，而究其起因，不能不主要归之于一件事的深远影响，就是那个在学识与志向方面使他深为敬仰的人确实住到了那个地方；非但如此，他还生活在思想更为深刻，才智更为卓越的人们中间。 在凄凉多雨的季节，他虽然知道基督堂那边也下雨，但是他不肯信那儿的雨会也下得那么叫人意绪消沉。只要他能够得闲，把小村子摆脱一两个钟头（机会是难得的），他就偷偷溜到小山上的棕房子，一直眼睛睁得大大的，有时候碰运气能瞧见一个圆屋顶或塔尖，这在他就算不虚此行了；也间或瞧见一缕轻烟，就猜想大概是因为烧香引来了神启吧。 其后有那么一天，他突然想到，要是天黑以后登上那个能眺望的地方，要么再多走上一两英里，准能看得到城市夜晚的灯光。不过回家路上就会只剩他一个人了。但是即使这样的顾虑也没吓住他，因为毫无疑问，在他身上是不难拿出几分大丈夫气概的。 计划当下就实行了。他到达纵览景色的地方还不算晚，刚过了黄昏时分；不过东北方上空已经完全暗下来，加上从同一方向吹过来的一阵风，此时此刻也真够暗了。功夫不负苦心人哪；可惜他所看到的不是一行行灯光，像他期望的那样；没有一盏灯光灼然可辨，极目所至，只有一片光晕或是闪亮的薄雾在黑暗的夜空中笼罩着那地方，使灯光和城市显得离他只有一英里左右。 他仔细琢磨起来：在这片亮光中间，老师究竟住在什么地方——他到现在也没跟马利格林哪个人联络过，对那儿的人来说，他就跟死了一样。他好像看见费乐生先生正在亮光中悠然自得地散步，好比是尼布甲尼撒的窑里烧不死的人里头的一个。 他以前就听说过微风按一小时十英里速度吹拂；他这样一想，就面朝东北，张开嘴，在风中大口呼吸，如饮琼浆。 “你啊，”他满怀柔情向风倾诉，“一两个钟头之前，你还在基督堂哪，你飘过长街，绕着风信旗转悠，轻轻抚摸费乐生先生的脸，让他呼吸过，你这会儿上这儿来啦，让我呼吸啦——你啊，就是这样啊。” 突然间，随着风吹，好像有什么信息向他传过来了——从那儿，好像由住在那儿的某个精灵把信息传过来了。对啦，那是钟声，是那座城市的声音，轻微而悦耳，向他发出了呼唤：“我们这儿多快活啊！” 他心骛神驰，看人了迷，到了浑然忘我的地步，幸亏像梦中一样一阵极力挣扎，才清醒过来。只见离他站的高冈下面几码远的地方，冒出一队车马，它们是从极其陡峻的坡子底下，在曲里拐弯的路上转了半个钟头，才到这地方的。马车拉的是煤，是高地绝不可少的燃料，也只有靠这条路才好运进去。随车的有车把式，还有个伙计跟男孩儿。那孩子直往前端一块大石头，要用它顶住一个车轮，好让喘吁吁的畜牲多歇息一阵子。两个运货的打煤堆里取出个大肚子酒瓶，轮流喝起来。 那两人都上了年纪，说话声音听着挺和气的。裘德就走过去，跟他们搭话，打听他们是不是从基督堂来的。 “没影儿的事，怎么好带这样的货去！”他们说。 “我是说那边儿的那个。”他对基督堂一往情深，如同年轻的恋人暗自提起意中人名字时候，深恐再说一遍就唐突伊人似的。他指着半天空的灯光，不过他们的老花眼看不大清楚。 “是喽，东北边儿上是有个地方，仿佛比别处亮点，我先例没注意呢，不错，就是基督堂啦。” 裘德腋下本来夹着一本小本子故事书，留着天黑之前在路上看，这会儿滑到了地上。车把式在他把书拣起来抹抹好的时候，直盯着看他。 “哎，小子，”他认真地说，“你要是想念他们念的书，可先得想法子换个脑筋才行哪。” “干吗呀？”裘德问。 “哎，咱们这号人懂得的东西，他们向来是正眼不看哪。”车把式接着往下说，借此消磨消磨时间。“只有巴别塔那个时代的外国话才用得上哪，那会儿连两家说一样话的都没有。他们念那种东西就跟夜鹰扇翅膀一样快。那儿到处是学问——没别的，除了学问还是学问，还不算宗教，可那也是学问呀，反正我根本就不懂。是喽，是个思想纯得很的地方喽。可别怪，到夜里，街上一样有坏娘儿们转悠呢。我看你也知道他们那边造就办教的吧？好比菜地种萝卜。虽说他们得花上——多少年呀，鲍勃？——五年，才把一个整天啥事没干、蠢头蠢脑的家伙变成一个满脸正经、没邪念头的讲道的，可他们还是非这么干不行，只要干得成就干嘛，再说还得把他打磨一番，让他样儿又文雅又能干，够得上要当的那号人，然后就让他出师啦，脸拉得老长老长的，黑袍子黑背心也是老长老长的，戴着出家人的领子跟帽子，跟《圣经》里那些人穿戴得没两样，这一来连他妈也认不得这家伙啦……哪，这就是他们做的生意，反正谁都得有自个儿的生意嘛。” “可你居然知道——” “别打岔，孩子，大人说话，不许打岔。鲍勃，把前头马往边儿上拉拉，什么东西过来啦。你可要注意，我要讲讲学院生活啦。他们过的日子才高尚呢，这没什么好议论的，不过我本人不大瞧得起他们。要是说咱们是身子站在这高处，那他们就是思想站在高处——十足的思想高尚的人嘛，这可没什么好怀疑的。他们里头有些人只要把脑子里的东西说出来，一挣就好几百呢。还有些家伙，年轻力壮，赚的钱跟银杯里盛的一样多呀。要说音乐嘛，基督堂到处有刮刮叫的音乐。你信教也好，不信教也好，可你免不了也跟大伙儿一块儿唱那家喻户晓的调子。那儿有条街——是条主要街道——世界难有其匹哪。我自间知道点基督堂的名堂就是了。” 这时候马匹歇过来了，重新驾好辕。裘德最后一次怀着敬畏的心情，向远处的光晕望了一回，然后傍着那位消息极为灵通的朋友一块儿离开了，那人路上也没拒绝再跟裘德聊聊那座城市——它的塔楼、会堂和教堂。运货马车到了岔路口，裘德因为车把式给他讲了那么多，对他千恩万谢，还说但愿他自己也能像他一样说基督堂，哪怕能讲出一半也就行了。 “我这也不过偶尔听说的。”车把式说，没一点自吹自擂的样子。“那儿我压根儿没去过，跟你一样，不过我东听点，西听点，也就知道个大概啦。你爱听，这就挺好嘛。我这人到处闯荡，跟社会上哪个路道的都有来往，就算不想听也听了。我一个朋友年轻力壮那阵子，常在基督堂的权杖旅馆擦皮鞋，哎哎，他上了年纪以后，我待他就跟亲哥儿俩一样哪。” 裘德一个人继续往家走，一路上仔细想个没完，这一来反倒一点顾不上害怕了。他一直心向往之的是一个身心得以完全托庇，精神得以信守不渝的对象——一个他自以为令人崇敬的地方。如果他能在那座城市找到这样的地方，那他究竟是去得成呢，还是去不成？在那儿，用不着害怕庄稼汉的骄横，用不着害怕有人对他横加阻挠，用不着害怕别人讥笑嘲骂，他能不能像他以前听说的古人那样，静观慎守，把整个身心都投入到一项伟大事业中呢？正如一刻钟前他凝视着的光晕对他的眼睛发生的作用，这会儿摸黑赶路，那地方对他的心灵也有了启示。 “那是光明之城。”他自言自语。 “知识之树在那儿生长。”他往前走了几步又说。 “那儿既造就也延揽学问精深的人类导师。” “你可以叫它是由学问和宗教守护的城堡。” 说过这个比喻，他沉默良久，然后说出了一句： “那是个对我完全合适的地方。” Part 1 Chapter 4 WALKING somewhat slowly by reason of his concentration, the boy--an ancient man in some phases of thought, much younger than his years in others-- was overtaken by a light-footed pedestrian, whom, notwithstanding the gloom, he could perceive to be wearing an extraordinarily tall hat, a swallow-tailed coat, and a watch-chain that danced madly and threw around scintillations of sky-light as its owner swung along upon a pair of thin legs and noiseless boots. Jude, beginning to feel lonely, endeavoured to keep up with him. "Well, my man! I'm in a hurry, so you'll have to walk pretty fast if you keep alongside of me. Do you know who I am?" "Yes, I think. Physician Vilbert?" "Ah--I'm known everywhere, I see! That comes of being a public benefactor." Vilbert was an itinerant quack-doctor, well known to the rustic population, and absolutely unknown to anybody else, as he, indeed, took care to be, to avoid inconvenient investigations. Cottagers formed his only patients, and his Wessex-wide repute was among them alone. His position was humbler and his field more obscure than those of the quacks with capital and an organized system of advertising. He was, in fact, a survival. The distances he traversed on foot were enormous, and extended nearly the whole length and breadth of Wessex. Jude had one day seen him selling a pot of coloured lard to an old woman as a certain cure for a bad leg, the woman arranging to pay a guinea, in instalments of a shilling a fortnight, for the precious salve, which, according to the physician, could only be obtained from a particular animal which grazed on Mount Sinai, and was to be captured only at great risk to life and limb. Jude, though he already had his doubts about this gentleman's medicines, felt him to be unquestionably a travelled personage, and one who might be a trustworthy source of information on matters not strictly professional. "I s'pose you've been to Christminster, Physician?" "I have--many times," replied the long thin man. "That's one of my centres." "It's a wonderful city for scholarship and religion?" "You'd say so, my boy, if you'd seen it. Why, the very sons of the old women who do the washing of the colleges can talk in Latin--not good Latin, that I admit, as a critic: dog-Latin--cat-Latin, as we used to call it in my undergraduate days." "And Greek?" "Well--that's more for the men who are in training for bishops, that they may be able to read the New Testament in the original." "I want to learn Latin and Greek myself." "A lofty desire. You must get a grammar of each tongue." "I mean to go to Christminster some day." "Whenever you do, you say that Physician Vilbert is the only proprietor of those celebrated pills that infallibly cure all disorders of the alimentary system, as well as asthma and shortness of breath. Two and threepence a box--specially licensed by the government stamp." "Can you get me the grammars if I promise to say it hereabout?" "I'll sell you mine with pleasure--those I used as a student." "Oh, thank you, sir!" said Jude gratefully, but in gasps, for the amazing speed of the physician's walk kept him in a dog-trot which was giving him a stitch in the side. "I think you'd better drop behind, my young man. Now I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll get you the grammars, and give you a first lesson, if you'll remember, at every house in the village, to recommend Physician Vilbert's golden ointment, life-drops, and female pills." "Where will you be with the grammars?" "I shall be passing here this day fortnight at precisely this hour of five-and-twenty minutes past seven. My movements are as truly timed as those of the planets in their courses." "Here I'll be to meet you," said Jude. "With orders for my medicines?" "Yes, Physician." Jude then dropped behind, waited a few minutes to recover breath, and went home with a consciousness of having struck a blow for Christminster. Through the intervening fortnight he ran about and smiled outwardly at his inward thoughts, as if they were people meeting and nodding to him-- smiled with that singularly beautiful irradiation which is seen to spread on young faces at the inception of some glorious idea, as if a supernatural lamp were held inside their transparent natures, giving rise to the flattering fancy that heaven lies about them then. He honestly performed his promise to the man of many cures, in whom he now sincerely believed, walking miles hither and thither among the surrounding hamlets as the Physician's agent in advance. On the evening appointed he stood motionless on the plateau, at the place where he had parted from Vilbert, and there awaited his approach. The road-physician was fairly up to time; but, to the surprise of Jude on striking into his pace, which the pedestrian did not diminish by a single unit of force, the latter seemed hardly to recognize his young companion, though with the lapse of the fortnight the evenings had grown light. Jude thought it might perhaps be owing to his wearing another hat, and he saluted the physician with dignity. "Well, my boy?" said the latter abstractedly. "I've come," said Jude. "You? who are you? Oh yes--to be sure! Got any orders, lad?" "Yes." And Jude told him the names and addresses of the cottagers who were willing to test the virtues of the world-renowned pills and salve. The quack mentally registered these with great care. "And the Latin and Greek grammars?" Jude's voice trembled with anxiety. "What about them?" "You were to bring me yours, that you used before you took your degree." "Ah, yes, yes! Forgot all about it--all! So many lives depending on my attention, you see, my man, that I can't give so much thought as I would like to other things." Jude controlled himself sufficiently long to make sure of the truth; and he repeated, in a voice of dry misery, "You haven't brought 'em!" "No. But you must get me some more orders from sick people, and I'll bring the grammars next time." Jude dropped behind. He was an unsophisticated boy, but the gift of sudden insight which is sometimes vouchsafed to children showed him all at once what shoddy humanity the quack was made of. There was to be no intellectual light from this source. The leaves dropped from his imaginary crown of laurel; he turned to a gate, leant against it, and cried bitterly. The disappointment was followed by an interval of blankness. He might, perhaps, have obtained grammars from Alfredston, but to do that required money, and a knowledge of what books to order; and though physically comfortable, he was in such absolute dependence as to be without a farthing of his own. At this date Mr. Phillotson sent for his pianoforte, and it gave Jude a lead. Why should he not write to the schoolmaster, and ask him to be so kind as to get him the grammars in Christminster? He might slip a letter inside the case of the instrument, and it would be sure to reach the desired eyes. Why not ask him to send any old second-hand copies, which would have the charm of being mellowed by the university atmosphere? To tell his aunt of his intention would be to defeat it. It was necessary to act alone. After a further consideration of a few days he did act, and on the day of the piano's departure, which happened to be his next birthday, clandestinely placed the letter inside the packing-case, directed to his much-admired friend, being afraid to reveal the operation to his aunt Drusilla, lest she should discover his motive, and compel him to abandon his scheme. The piano was despatched, and Jude waited days and weeks, calling every morning at the cottage post office before his great-aunt was stirring. At last a packet did indeed arrive at the village, and he saw from the ends of it that it contained two thin books. He took it away into a lonely place, and sat down on a felled elm to open it. Ever since his first ecstasy or vision of Christminster and its possibilities, Jude had meditated much and curiously on the probable sort of process that was involved in turning the expressions of one language into those of another. He concluded that a grammar of the required tongue would contain, primarily, a rule, prescription, or clue of the nature of a secret cipher, which, once known, would enable him, by merely applying it, to change at will all words of his own speech into those of the foreign one. His childish idea was, in fact, a pushing to the extremity of mathematical precision what is everywhere known as Grimm's Law-- an aggrandizement of rough rules to ideal completeness. Thus he assumed that the words of the required language were always to be found somewhere latent in the words of the given language by those who had the art to uncover them, such art being furnished by the books aforesaid. When, therefore, having noted that the packet bore the postmark of Christminster, he cut the string, opened the volumes, and turned to the Latin grammar, which chanced to come uppermost, he could scarcely believe his eyes. The book was an old one--thirty years old, soiled, scribbled wantonly over with a strange name in every variety of enmity to the letterpress, and marked at random with dates twenty years earlier than his own day. But this was not the cause of Jude's amazement. He learnt for the first time that there was no law of transmutation, as in his innocence he had supposed (there was, in some degree, but the grammarian did not recognize it), but that every word in both Latin and Greek was to be individually committed to memory at the cost of years of plodding. Jude flung down the books, lay backward along the broad trunk of the elm, and was an utterly miserable boy for the space of a quarter of an hour. As he had often done before, he pulled his hat over his face and watched the sun peering insidiously at him through the interstices of the straw. This was Latin and Greek, then, was it this grand delusion! The charm he had supposed in store for him was really a labour like that of Israel in Egypt. What brains they must have in Christminster and the great schools, he presently thought, to learn words one by one up to tens of thousands! There were no brains in his head equal to this business; and as the little sun-rays continued to stream in through his hat at him, he wished he had never seen a book, that he might never see another, that he had never been born. Somebody might have come along that way who would have asked him his trouble, and might have cheered him by saying that his notions were further advanced than those of his grammarian. But nobody did come, because nobody does; and under the crushing recognition of his gigantic error Jude continued to wish himself out of the world. 这个孩子，按思想发展的某些状况说，是个古时候人，可是在另一些方面又比他的实际年龄幼稚许多。他这会儿一个劲儿想心事，走路就慢多了，也就让一个脚底下轻快的人赶了过去。天已昏暗，不过他多少看得出来那人头戴一顶特高的礼帽，身穿一件燕尾服，配着一根表链，脚上一双没响声的靴子。他的两条细腿甩开大步朝前闯，那根表链也就随之狂跳不已，把天光星星点点折射出来。裘德本已开始觉得孤单，一心想追上他。 “嗨，你这家伙！我赶路哪，你要想追上我，得快走才行啊。你知道我是谁吗？” “我想我知道。你不就是韦伯大夫吗？” “哈哈——我是尽人皆知哪，因为我时时刻刻给人办好事啊。” 韦伯是个卖假药的江湖郎中，因为他一向小心谨慎，不露马脚，免得惹出是非，引人盘查，所以只有乡里人熟识他，其他人就对他一无所知了。又因为只有草房住户才向他求医问药，所以在维塞克斯郡，也只在这类人中间有名气。他比那些既有大本钱、又有一整套广告班子替他招摇撞骗的骗子手，未免寒酸许多，病家也更卑贱。实际上他是勉强混日子。他足迹遍及维塞克斯郡，东西南北，称得上无远弗届。裘德以前有一天瞧见他把一罐子上色的猪油卖给一个老太婆，说是专治腿脚病的。老太婆得为那珍贵的药膏出一几尼，按分期付款办法，一回交一先令。大夫自称只能从西奈山上一种吃草的神兽身上提取到这药，要抓到它，非冒送掉性命和残肢败体的严重危险不可。裘德固然老早就对这位绅士的药品信不过，不过觉得拿他当个同路人也没什么关系，况且在纯属他那行当之外，也许还能提供点可信的材料呢。 “大夫，你到没到过基督堂呀？” “到过——到过好多回啦，”又高又瘦的郎中回答，“我在那儿还办了个治疗中心呢。” “那是个了不起的讲学术跟宗教的城市吧，对不对呀？” “孩子，你要是瞧见它，准这么说啊。啊，连大学里头洗衣服的老太婆的儿子都说拉丁文——照我看，可不能说这拉丁文说得地道，什么狗拉丁——猫拉丁，我念大学时候就这么叫它。” “希腊文呢？” “呃——那是专替经过训练，以后当主教的人开的课，他们以后就能够念《新约全书》的原文啦。” “我很想学拉丁文跟希腊文。” “这志气可不得了。你得先每样儿弄本文法书才行哪。” “我打算哪一天上基督堂呢。” “随便你哪天去，你见了人都要说，韦伯大夫独家制造经营的那些著名的药丸子，专治肠胃不调、多年抖索、中气不接，功效如神。两先令一便士一盒——印花为凭，特准行销。” “要是我答应你在方近左右传名的话，你还能给我弄到文法书？” “我倒乐意把我的卖给你呢——是我当学生时候用的。” “哦，谢谢啦，先生。”裘德说，显出感激不尽的样子，不过他有点上气不接下气了，因为他得小跑才跟得上郎中走路的惊人速度，累得他两肋都扎得慌。 “小伙子，我看你顶好别跟在我后边啦。我这会儿就跟你说说我打算怎么办。我要给你弄到文法书，还给你上头一课，不过你别忘了在村子里挨家挨户推销韦伯大夫的金药膏、长寿液跟妇道调荣丸。” “那你把文法书带到哪儿呢？” “再过两个礼拜，还是今儿个这样，我准打这儿过，准时七点五十二分，分秒不错。我一活动起来，跟行星在轨道上运行一个样儿，时间十分精确。” “我就在这儿等你好啦。”裘德说。 “哪家订了药也带来吗？” “那还用说，大夫。” 裘德就留在后头，歇了几分钟缓缓气。到家的时候，心里觉着已经为到基督堂办了件大事。 这中间两个礼拜，他随处走，对于自己内心蕴藏的思想，不时展露笑容，仿佛那些思想就是他平时见到的、井且对他打招呼的人。他的笑容有着那样非凡美丽的光彩，因为只要内心吸取了灿烂辉煌的思想，这样的光彩就会泛现在年轻的面庞上，如同一盏神灯把他们天生纯净澄澈的心胜照映出来，激发起令人快慰的幻念：天堂就近在身边啊。 他真心相信那个包治百病的家伙，老老实实履行了对他的承诺，作为郎中派出的代理人，在周围的村子东跑西颠了好多英里。在约好的那晚上，他站在上次同韦伯分手时的高冈上，木然不动，静候他到来。江湖郎中还算守时，可是令裘德大惑不解的是，当他过去同郎中齐步走时，他却一步也没放松，似乎没认出这年轻伙伴，尽管只过了两个礼拜，再说天也黑得晚了些。裘德以为这大概因为自己换了帽子，于是规规矩矩向他行个礼。 “呃，孩子？”后者心不在焉地说。 “我来啦！”裘德说。 “你？你是谁呀？哦，对啦，不错不错！小子，带单子没有？” “带来啦。”裘德接着把愿意试用他的名满世界、功效如神的九药和青子的草房住户的姓名、住址一一报给他听。江湖郎中聚精会神记在心里。 “拉丁文跟希腊文的文法书呢？”裘德焦急地问，声音都发抖了。 “什么文法书呀？” “你要把你的带来给我，你从前念学位时候用的。” “哎，是啊，是啊！忘得一干二净啦——一干二净啦！你瞧，那么多人的命得靠我关照哪，就算我想得起来，可哪儿来那么多心思管别的事呀！” 裘德隐忍了好半天，想弄明白到底怎么回事，这才又说了一遍，声音饱含着委屈，“你没把文法书带来嘛！” “没带来。不过你还得拉点病人来，那我下回就把文法书带来。” 裘德没再跟着他。他是个天真烂漫的孩子，哪里懂什么机诈。但是孩子有一种不期而至的天赋直觉，这使他立刻看穿卖假药的是个人面兽心的东西。从这方面是再休想得到心智方面的启发了，想象中的桂冠的叶子纷纷凋落下来；他倚在一个篱笆门上，失声痛哭。 这次失望之后是一段无精打采、无所作为的时期。或许他能从阿尔夫瑞顿买到文法书吧，可是那得有钱才行啊，再说该买什么样的书也不知道呀；何况他虽然不愁吃穿，终归是寄人篱下，自个儿是一文不名啊。 说来也巧，这时费乐生先生派人来取钢琴，裘德灵机一动：何不写信给老师，求他关照，帮他在基督堂弄到文法书呢？他不妨把信放在装钢琴的箱子里，老师收到钢琴，一定看得到。何不求他寄点什么用过的书来呢？那书里准有日薰月染的大学气氛的魅力呀。 经过几天反复考虑，他果真行动起来。运走钢琴那天正巧是他生日，他人不知鬼不觉地把信放进了装琴的箱子，寄给由衷敬仰的朋友；他生怕这件事露了馅，让他多喜姑婆知道，因为她一经发现，非逼他放弃不可。 钢琴运走后，裘德等了一天又一天，一个礼拜又一个礼拜，天天一大早趁姑婆没起床，就到草房邮政所打听。后来果然有包裹寄到村子，他从包裹两头看出来里面是薄薄两本书。他拿到一个僻静地方，坐在一棵砍倒的榆树干上，把包裹打开。 自从基督堂和它可能有的种种景象第一次使他为之欣喜若狂或想入非非以来，裘德一直潜心思索，大发奇想，以为说不定有那么一种路数足以把一种语言的词语转译为另一种语言的词语。他得出结论是：要学的语言的文法可能包含一种密码性质的定则、验方或线索，一经对这种定则。验方或线索掌握，只要通过实际应用，就能使他随心所欲地把他自己的语言的全部单词译成外国语言的单词。他这种孩子气的构想其实是把名传遐迩的格里姆定律推阐到数学意味的精确的极致，从而在各个方面使本属粗疏的法则改进、充实到理想的完善程度。因此他才设想要学的语言一定能在已经掌握的语言当中找到潜在的对应词，这需要具备一定技巧的人来揭示，而这种技巧正是由上面说的文法书提供的。 他看到包裹上盖的是基督堂邮戳，就把绳子扯断，打开包封，首先取出的恰好是放在上面的拉丁文法。他简直不敢相信自己的眼、是本旧书一出版、十年了，挺脏的，上面东涂西抹，狼藉满纸，到处有眼生的名字，好像对于有插图的正文怀有深仇大恨才这么干的，还乱七八糟地标着许多比他自己生年还早二十年的日期。但这还不是使他一下子呆若木鸡的原因。而是他到这会儿才头一次明白过来，根本没什么由他天真无知设想出来的两种语言之间彼此可以置换的法则（某种程度上，有是有，不过文法家不予认可），而要把所有拉丁文和希腊文的单词一个个记到脑子里去，那得耗尽多少艰苦卓绝的努力哟。 裘德把文法书甩到了一边，在粗壮的榆树干旁边仰面朝天躺下来，有一刻钟光景伤心以极。他习以为常，把帽子拉到脸上，眼对着从草帽缏隙缝射进来的不怀好意地觑着他的阳光。这就是拉丁文和希腊文吗？唉，真是个大骗局哟！他先前想象出来的等着他的魔力到头来竟然跟以色列人在埃及做的苦工没两样啊！ 他立刻想到基督堂和大学里边的人该有怎样不同寻常的头脑，把那几万几万个词逐一学会呀！他脑袋里可没装着干这样事的脑子啊；在细微的光芒继续穿过草帽照着他时候，他但愿当初压根没见过书才好，以后永远也别见到书才好，但愿自己压根儿没生到世上来才好呢。 倘若有人路过此处，或许问问他为什么这样苦恼；听了之后，会说他的想法比他的文法家的想法还高一筹呢，以此来给他鼓劲打气。但是谁也没来，就算有人来了，也不会这样干。裘德承认他是因为犯了弥天大错而一败涂地了，继续希望离开人世。 Part 1 Chapter 5 DURING the three or four succeeding years a quaint and singular vehicle might have been discerned moving along the lanes and by-roads near Marygreen, driven in a quaint and singular way. In the course of a month or two after the receipt of the books Jude had grown callous to the shabby trick played him by the dead languages. In fact, his disappointment at the nature of those tongues had, after a while, been the means of still further glorifying the erudition of Christminster. To acquire languages, departed or living in spite of such obstinacies as he now knew them inherently to possess, was a herculean performance which gradually led him on to a greater interest in it than in the presupposed patent process. The mountain-weight of material under which the ideas lay in those dusty volumes called the classics piqued him into a dogged, mouselike subtlety of attempt to move it piecemeal. He had endeavoured to make his presence tolerable to his crusty maiden aunt by assisting her to the best of his ability, and the business of the little cottage bakery had grown in consequence. An aged horse with a hanging head had been purchased for eight pounds at a sale, a creaking cart with a whity-brown tilt obtained for a few pounds more, and in this turn-out it became Jude's business thrice a week to carry loaves of bread to the villagers and solitary cotters immediately round Marygreen. The singularity aforesaid lay, after all, less in the conveyance itself than in Jude's manner of conducting it along its route. Its interior was the scene of most of Jude's education by "private study." As soon as the horse had learnt the road and the houses at which he was to pause awhile, the boy, seated in front, would slip the reins over his arm, ingeniously fix open, by means of a strap attached to the tilt, the volume he was reading, spread the dictionary on his knees, and plunge into the simpler passages from Caesar, Virgil, or Horace, as the case might be, in his purblind stumbling way, and with an expenditure of labour that would have made a tender-hearted pedagogue shed tears; yet somehow getting at the meaning of what he read, and divining rather than beholding the spirit of the original, which often to his mind was something else than that which he was taught to look for. The only copies he had been able to lay hands on were old Delphin editions, because they were superseded, and therefore cheap. But, bad for idle schoolboys, it did so happen that they were passably good for him. The hampered and lonely itinerant conscientiously covered up the marginal readings, and used them merely on points of construction, as he would have used a comrade or tutor who should have happened to be passing by. And though Jude may have had little chance of becoming a scholar by these rough and ready means, he was in the way of getting into the groove he wished to follow. While he was busied with these ancient pages, which had already been thumbed by hands possibly in the grave, digging out the thoughts of these minds so remote yet so near, the bony old horse pursued his rounds, and Jude would be aroused from the woes of Dido by the stoppage of his cart and the voice of some old woman crying, "Two to-day, baker, and I return this stale one." He was frequently met in the lanes by pedestrians and others without his seeing them, and by degrees the people of the neighbourhood began to talk about his method of combining work and play (such they considered his reading to be), which, though probably convenient enough to himself, was not altogether a safe proceeding for other travellers along the same roads. There were murmurs. Then a private resident of an adjoining place informed the local policeman that the baker's boy should not be allowed to read while driving, and insisted that it was the constable's duty to catch him in the act, and take him to the police court at Alfredston, and get him fined for dangerous practices on the highway. The policeman thereupon lay in wait for Jude, and one day accosted him and cautioned him. As Jude had to get up at three o'clock in the morning to heat the oven, and mix and set in the bread that he distributed later in the day, he was obliged to go to bed at night immediately after laying the sponge; so that if he could not read his classics on the highways he could hardly study at all. The only thing to be done was, therefore, to keep a sharp eye ahead and around him as well as he could in the circumstances, and slip away his books as soon as anybody loomed in the distance, the policeman in particular. To do that official justice, he did not put himself much in the way of Jude's bread-cart, considering that in such a lonely district the chief danger was to Jude himself, and often on seeing the white tilt over the hedges he would move in another direction. On a day when Fawley was getting quite advanced, being now about sixteen, and had been stumbling through the "Carmen Saeculare," on his way home, he found himself to be passing over the high edge of the plateau by the Brown House. The light had changed, and it was the sense of this which had caused him to look up. The sun was going down, and the full moon was rising simultaneously behind the woods in the opposite quarter. His mind had become so impregnated with the poem that, in a moment of the same impulsive emotion which years before had caused him to kneel on the ladder, he stopped the horse, alighted, and glancing round to see that nobody was in sight, knelt down on the roadside bank with open book. He turned first to the shiny goddess, who seemed to look so softly and critically at his doings, then to the disappearing luminary on the other hand, as he began: "Phoebe silvarumque potens Diana!" The horse stood still till he had finished the hymn, which Jude repeated under the sway of a polytheistic fancy that he would never have thought of humouring in broad daylight. Reaching home, he mused over his curious superstition, innate or acquired, in doing this, and the strange forgetfulness which had led to such a lapse from common sense and custom in one who wished, next to being a scholar, to be a Christian divine. It had all come of reading heathen works exclusively. The more he thought of it the more convinced he was of his inconsistency. He began to wonder whether he could be reading quite the right books for his object in life. Certainly there seemed little harmony between this pagan literature and the mediaeval colleges at Christminster, that ecclesiastical romance in stone. Ultimately he decided that in his sheer love of reading he had taken up a wrong emotion for a Christian young man. He had dabbled in Clarke's Homer, but had never yet worked much at the New Testament in the Greek, though he possessed a copy, obtained by post from a second-hand bookseller. He abandoned the now familiar Ionic for a new dialect, and for a long time onward limited his reading almost entirely to the Gospels and Epistles in Griesbach's text. Moreover, on going into Alfredston one day, he was introduced to patristic literature by finding at the bookseller's some volumes of the Fathers which had been left behind by an insolvent clergyman of the neighbourhood. As another outcome of this change of groove he visited on Sundays all the churches within a walk, and deciphered the Latin inscriptions on fifteenth-century brasses and tombs. On one of these pilgrimages he met with a hunch-backed old woman of great intelligence, who read everything she could lay her hands on, and she told him more yet of the romantic charms of the city of light and lore. Thither he resolved as firmly as ever to go. But how live in that city? At present he had no income at all. He had no trade or calling of any dignity or stability whatever on which he could subsist while carrying out an intellectual labour which might spread over many years. What was most required by citizens? Food, clothing, and shelter. An income from any work in preparing the first would be too meagre; for making the second he felt a distaste; the preparation of the third requisite he inclined to. They built in a city; therefore he would learn to build. He thought of his unknown uncle, his cousin Susanna's father, an ecclesiastical worker in metal, and somehow mediaeval art in any material was a trade for which he had rather a fancy. He could not go far wrong in following his uncle's footsteps, and engaging himself awhile with the carcases that contained the scholar souls. As a preliminary he obtained some small blocks of freestone, metal not being available, and suspending his studies awhile, occupied his spare half-hours in copying the heads and capitals in his parish church. There was a stone-mason of a humble kind in Alfredston, and as soon as he had found a substitute for himself in his aunt's little business, he offered his services to this man for a trifling wage. Here Jude had the opportunity of learning at least the rudiments of freestone-working. Some time later he went to a church-builder in the same place, and under the architect's direction became handy at restoring the dilapidated masonries of several village churches round about. Not forgetting that he was only following up this handicraft as a prop to lean on while he prepared those greater engines which he flattered himself would be better fitted for him, he yet was interested in his pursuit on its own account. He now had lodgings during the week in the little town, whence he returned to Marygreen village every Saturday evening. And thus he reached and passed his nineteenth year. 其后连续三四年光景，在马利格林附近的篱路和少人走的乡下小道上，常常看到一辆样子希奇古怪的老旧运货小马车来来去去，赶车的样子也希奇古怪。 裘德收到文法书之后头一两月，对死了的语言捉弄他的卑鄙伎俩抱着深恶痛绝的态度。但是，他这种情绪实际上并没能维持多久。两种语言本身的特性固然令他失望，而失望转而促使他对心目中的基督堂的博大精深更加崇敬。现在他对死去的或者活着的语言的邃密艰深已经有所了解，可是真要掌握语言，那就非得有一股子“力拔山兮气盖世”的魄力不可。正是由于这样的认识逐渐引导他不再那么斤斤于先人为主、自以为独得之秘的路数，而是对语言本身产生莫大兴趣。在浩如烟海的载籍中有号称经典之作的尘封的书卷，其中蕴藏着往哲先贤的思想，这催他感激奋发，决心要学老鼠啃东西那样，精细人微而又坚持不懈地把那些著作一小块一小块地啃完方肯罢休。 他尽己所能帮姑婆做事，省得那位脾气不好的老处女老看他不顺眼。小房子的面包生意也就日渐兴隆了。在集市上大甩卖时候，他们花八英镑买了一匹耷拉着脑袋的老马，又花了几镑搞到一辆棕色篷子已经发白的嘎吱吱的运货小马车。经过这番变化，裘德一礼拜得三回给紧挨马利格林一带的乡亲和单身汉送面包。 前面说到希奇古怪，倒不一定限于那辆旧车，主要还是说裘德一路驾车的样子。车身子成了裘德通过“自学”方式受到教育的主要阵地。一等到老马识途，还知道该在哪家门口停下来，这孩子就在前座上坐定，缓绳挂在胳臂上，再拿一根带子，一头系在篷子上，一头把他念的书巧妙地固定好，然后把词典摊在膝头上，一路颠簸着，埋头读起恺撒、维吉尔和贺拉斯的比较容易点的篇章。那股子争分夺妙、苦苦用功的劲头，要是叫心肠软的教书先生看到，真要泫然涕下。他多少懂得了念的东西的大意，也多少估摸到而不是理解了原著的精义，可是就他在思想方面一般获得的东西而言，同书里教他一意寻绎的内容，还是颇有差距的。 他弄到的几本书都是陈旧的德尔芬版，因为早已过时，由新版取而代之，所以不值钱。不过对懒学生是坏事，对他却有好处，这话也说到家了。这个走村串户、独来独往的送面包的伙计，把书边上的批注细心盖住，不遇上句子结构方面的难题，决不移开看，其情形正类似路上过来一位同好或老师，他就恭身请教。单凭这种粗疏而又简便的方法，裘德固然没什么机会当上学者，不过他到底按自己的愿望人了门，慢慢做到心领神会。 正当他全神贯注念那些古书（它们以前大概早经墓中人翻过了），瘦骨嶙峋的老马也一心当班的时候，只听得一位老太婆大声喊，“送面包的，今儿两个，把这个退给你。”一下子把沉浸在戴多的悲痛中的裘德惊醒过来了。 好多行人和别的人常常碰到他，他却没看见他们。前后左右的居民对他这种把干活儿跟开心玩儿（在他们眼里，念书就是开心玩儿）结合起来的驾车方式开始议论起来了，因为这样于他自己也许挺方便，可是对同一条路上来往的行人就不安全了，因此引发了群情不满，附近地方有位居民向当地警察报告，说不得允许面包房的孩子一边赶车，一边念书；还一而再、再而三地要求把他抓起来，送到阿尔夫瑞顿警察所，尽到警员应有的责任；并且要对他在路上危害治安行为课以罚款，云云。警察只好躲在一边，等着裘德，总算有一大把他一举擒获，对他予以警诫。 裘德凌晨三点就得起床，催好烘炉的火，把面和好了，做好当天稍晚点要分送的面包，所以他只好头天晚上先发面，再睡觉。要是他没法在路上读古典著作，那他就根本学不成了。在这样情势的逼迫之下，他唯一办得到的事，就是一路上留神，东张西望，万一远处有了人影，特别是警察，就赶快把书掖起来。警察那边呢，倒也做到了官家的公平合理，没有想方设法去阻截裘德的面包车，因为遇上危险的主要还是裘德自己，所以他每当看到发白的篷子一在树篱高头露出来，就自动朝另一个方向开步走了。 福来渐渐长大，到现在快十六岁了。有一天在回家路上，正似懂非懂地念着《颂歌》，无意中发觉自己原来正擦着栋房子旁边的高丘的地势很高的边缘一带过去。天光有异，也正因觉察到这个变化，他才抬起头来看。只见夕阳西下之际，一轮圆月正从相对方向的密林上空升起。那首诗把他浸润得如此之深，几年前那次使他跪在梯子上的感情冲动重又油然而生。他勒住马，下了车，四顾无人，就把书打开了，跪在了路边土堆上。他先是转过身来，面朝光明女神，她好像既温和、又带着批评意味地注视着他这会儿的一举一动；他随又转身对着那个渐渐隐没的光球，开始大声念起来： 菲波斯和林中女王戴亚娜啊！ 马静静站着，直到他把颂歌读完；他因为受到多神教的幻念的强大有力的支配，一时间朗诵不已；倘若平时在光天化日之下，他断乎不会一时兴起，如此宣泄自己的感情。 到家后，他陷入了沉思：他怎么会有这样荒诞不经、不论是先天固有的还是后天儒染的迷信，以致干出来这等事呢？他发愿要当上学者，退一步也要做基督教神职人员，又怎么会这样莫名其妙地忘乎所以，导致了有悖常识和习俗的背教行为呢？原来这是他一味耽读异教徒著作的结果啊。他越往下想，越认定自己的确是用志不专，信教不诚，所以才如此不胜矛盾。他对自己究竟能不能为追求终生目标的实现，慎择与之完全适宜的书籍，开始发生怀疑。看来异教文学与基督堂的学院（石头也记载着教会种种动人事迹）之间断乎没有调和的余地啊。 想到最后，他终于下了个定论：他在读书的狂热中产生了一种对一个基督教的信徒来说绝对无益的情感。他涉猎过克拉克版的《荷马诗集》，对希腊文原本的《新约全书》却根本没下过工夫，尽管他已经用邮寄方式，从一家旧书店买到一本。结果他决定搁置眼下已经熟谙的爱奥尼语，转而学一种新的希腊方言，此后很长一个时期，他把阅读几乎完全限于格莱斯巴赫编订的《福音》和《使徒书》。不仅如此，有一天他去阿尔夫瑞顿，在书店里恰好发现几卷神父文集，是当地一位破产的牧师遗留的，从此他得以接触早期基督教会领袖的著作。 他原来的癖好改变之后还有一个结果，就是逢到礼拜天必到邻近所有教堂瞻仰，细心解读十五世纪铜版和墓碑上的拉丁铭文。其中一次朝拜过程中，他幸遇一位背驼了的、智慧非凡的老太婆，凡是能弄到手的书，她就非一一读过不可。她给他讲了更多的有关那座具启智之灵光和集学问之大成的城市的动人心弦的魅力。他听过之后，越发矢志不移，必求到那地方而后已。 但是他到那座城市又怎样生活呢？眼下他一点进项也没有，他既没有一手手艺，也没有体面的或固定的职业，以维持生计，便于他日后从事或许要延续好多年的精神劳动。 城市里的居民不可或缺的东西是哪些？吃饭、穿衣和住房。第一类活儿是给人做饭，肯定收入菲薄；第二类活儿是给人做衣服，他一想就倒胃口；第三类生活必需品，他倒挺中意，想于。反正城里头得盖房子，他就学这一行好了。他想到了那位从未有一面之缘的姑父，表姊妹苏珊娜的父亲，他是做教会金属圣物的工匠。裘德也有个奇想，要学到中古时期用各种材料制作器物的工艺。他要是步姑父后尘，一时把工夫花在装学问家灵魂的壳子一类东西上，想来出不了什么大纸漏吧。 金属材料一时还找不到，他弄到些小块易切石，乘每次半个钟头的空闲，就到自己的教区的教堂去模刻柱顶和柱头，作为学手艺的第一步，至于读书做学问暂时先放一放。 阿尔夫瑞顿有个没名气的石匠，裘德一给姑婆的面包生意找到自己的替工，就上他那儿去打杂，只拿一点点工钱。不过在那儿总算有机会学到练到基本功了。过了一段时间，他又在同一地方的一家教堂营造商那儿找到差使，在建筑师指导下，为周围几座乡村教堂修复颓圮的石造物，由此把本事练出来了。 他当然没忘他学这门手艺无非做暂时糊口之计，他还要为将来伟大的事业做准备，而且自命不凡，堪当如此重任；不过对眼下求个职业，他的确也兴味浓厚。每个礼拜干活儿那几天，他住在镇上自己的地方；逢礼拜六晚上就回马利格林。就这样他到了十九岁，又过了十九岁。 |
| Part 1 Chapter 6 AT this memorable date of his life he was, one Saturday, returning from Alfredston to Marygreen about three o'clock in the afternoon. It was fine, warm, and soft summer weather, and he walked with his tools at his back, his little chisels clinking faintly against the larger ones in his basket. It being the end of the week he had left work early, and had come out of the town by a round-about route which he did not usually frequent, having promised to call at a flour-mill near Cresscombe to execute a commission for his aunt. He was in an enthusiastic mood. He seemed to see his way to living comfortably in Christminster in the course of a year or two, and knocking at the doors of one of those strongholds of learning of which he had dreamed so much. He might, of course, have gone there now, in some capacity or other, but he preferred to enter the city with a little more assurance as to means than he could be said to feel at present. A warm self-content suffused him when he considered what he had already done. Now and then as he went along he turned to face the peeps of country on either side of him. But he hardly saw them; the act was an automatic repetition of what he had been accustomed to do when less occupied; and the one matter which really engaged him was the mental estimate of his progress thus far. "I have acquired quite an average student's power to read the common ancient classics, Latin in particular." This was true, Jude possessing a facility in that language which enabled him with great ease to himself to beguile his lonely walks by imaginary conversations therein. "I have read two books of the ILIAD, besides being pretty familiar with passages such as the speech of Phoenix in the ninth book, the fight of Hector and Ajax in the fourteenth, the appearance of Achilles unarmed and his heavenly armour in the eighteenth, and the funeral games in the twenty-third. I have also done some Hesiod, a little scrap of Thucydides, and a lot of the Greek Testament.... I wish there was only one dialect all the same. "I have done some mathematics, including the first six and the eleventh and twelfth books of Euclid; and algebra as far as simple equations. "I know something of the Fathers, and something of Roman and English history. "These things are only a beginning. But I shall not make much farther advance here, from the difficulty of getting books. Hence I must next concentrate all my energies on settling in Christminster. Once there I shall so advance, with the assistance I shall there get, that my present knowledge will appear to me but as childish ignorance. I must save money, and I will; and one of those colleges shall open its doors to me--shall welcome whom now it would spurn, if I wait twenty years for the welcome. "I'll be D.D. before I have done!" And then he continued to dream, and thought he might become even a bishop by leading a pure, energetic, wise, Christian life. And what an example he would set! If his income were 5000 pounds a year, he would give away 4500 pounds in one form and another, and live sumptuously (for him) on the remainder. Well, on second thoughts, a bishop was absurd. He would draw the line at an archdeacon. Perhaps a man could be as good and as learned and as useful in the capacity of archdeacon as in that of bishop. Yet he thought of the bishop again. "Meanwhile I will read, as soon as I am settled in Christminster, the books I have not been able to get hold of here: Livy, Tacitus, Herodotus, AEschylus, Sophocles, Aristophanes--" "Ha, ha, ha! Hoity-toity!" The sounds were expressed in light voices on the other side of the hedge, but he did not notice them. His thoughts went on: "--Euripides, Plato, Aristotle, Lucretius, Epictetus, Seneca, Antoninus. Then I must master other things: the Fathers thoroughly; Bede and ecclesiastical history generally; a smattering of Hebrew-- I only know the letters as yet--" "Hoity-toity!" "--but I can work hard. I have staying power in abundance, thank God! and it is that which tells.... Yes, Christminster shall be my Alma Mater; and I'll be her beloved son, in whom she shall be well pleased." In his deep concentration on these transactions of the future Jude's walk had slackened, and he was now standing quite still, looking at the ground as though the future were thrown thereon by a magic lantern. On a sudden something smacked him sharply in the ear, and he became aware that a soft cold substance had been flung at him, and had fallen at his feet. A glance told him what it was--a piece of flesh, the characteristic part of a barrow-pig, which the countrymen used for greasing their boots, as it was useless for any other purpose. Pigs were rather plentiful hereabout, being bred and fattened in large numbers in certain parts of North Wessex. On the other side of the hedge was a stream, whence, as he now for the first time realized, had come the slight sounds of voices and laughter that had mingled with his dreams. He mounted the bank and looked over the fence. On the further side of the stream stood a small homestead, having a garden and pig-sties attached; in front of it, beside the brook, three young women were kneeling, with buckets and platters beside them containing heaps of pigs' chitterlings, which they were washing in the running water. One or two pairs of eyes slyly glanced up, and perceiving that his attention had at last been attracted, and that he was watching them, they braced themselves for inspection by putting their mouths demurely into shape and recommencing their rinsing operations with assiduity. "Thank you!" said Jude severely. "I DIDN'T throw it, I tell you!" asserted one girl to her neighbour, as if unconscious of the young man's presence. "Nor I," the second answered. "Oh, Anny, how can you!" said the third. "If I had thrown anything at all, it shouldn't have been THAT!" "Pooh! I don't care for him!" And they laughed and continued their work, without looking up, still ostentatiously accusing each other. Jude grew sarcastic as he wiped his face, and caught their remarks. "YOU didn't do it--oh no!" he said to the up-stream one of the three. She whom he addressed was a fine dark-eyed girl, not exactly handsome, but capable of passing as such at a little distance, despite some coarseness of skin and fibre. She had a round and prominent bosom, full lips, perfect teeth, and the rich complexion of a Cochin hen's egg. She was a complete and substantial female animal--no more, no less; and Jude was almost certain that to her was attributable the enterprise of attracting his attention from dreams of the humaner letters to what was simmering in the minds around him. "That you'll never be told," said she deedily. "Whoever did it was wasteful of other people's property." "Oh, that's nothing." "But you want to speak to me, I suppose?" "Oh yes; if you like to." "Shall I clamber across, or will you come to the plank above here?" Perhaps she foresaw an opportunity; for somehow or other the eyes of the brown girl rested in his own when he had said the words, and there was a momentary flash of intelligence, a dumb announcement of affinity IN POSSE between herself and him, which, so far as Jude Fawley was concerned, had no sort of premeditation in it. She saw that he had singled her out from the three, as a woman is singled out in such cases, for no reasoned purpose of further acquaintance, but in commonplace obedience to conjunctive orders from headquarters, unconsciously received by unfortunate men when the last intention of their lives is to be occupied with the feminine. Springing to her feet, she said: "Bring back what is lying there." Jude was now aware that no message on any matter connected with her father's business had prompted her signal to him. He set down his basket of tools, picked up the scrap of offal, beat a pathway for himself with his stick, and got over the hedge. They walked in parallel lines, one on each bank of the stream, towards the small plank bridge. As the girl drew nearer to it, she gave without Jude perceiving it, an adroit little suck to the interior of each of her cheeks in succession, by which curious and original manoeuvre she brought as by magic upon its smooth and rotund surface a perfect dimple, which she was able to retain there as long as she continued to smile. This production of dimples at will was a not unknown operation, which many attempted, but only a few succeeded in accomplishing. They met in the middle of the plank, and Jude, tossing back her missile, seemed to expect her to explain why she had audaciously stopped him by this novel artillery instead of by hailing him. But she, slyly looking in another direction, swayed herself backwards and forwards on her hand as it clutched the rail of the bridge; till, moved by amatory curiosity, she turned her eyes critically upon him. "You don't think I would shy things at you?" "Oh no." "We are doing this for my father, who naturally doesn't want anything thrown away. He makes that into dubbin." She nodded towards the fragment on the grass. "What made either of the others throw it, I wonder?" Jude asked, politely accepting her assertion, though he had very large doubts as to its truth. "Impudence. Don't tell folk it was I, mind!" "How can I? I don't know your name." "Ah, no. Shall I tell it to you?" "Do!" "Arabella Donn. I'm living here." "I must have known it if I had often come this way. But I mostly go straight along the high-road." "My father is a pig-breeder, and these girls are helping me wash the innerds for black-puddings and such like." They talked a little more and a little more, as they stood regarding each other and leaning against the hand-rail of the bridge. The unvoiced call of woman to man, which was uttered very distinctly by Arabella's personality, held Jude to the spot against his intention-- almost against his will, and in a way new to his experience. It is scarcely an exaggeration to say that till this moment Jude had never looked at a woman to consider her as such, but had vaguely regarded the sex as beings outside his life and purposes. He gazed from her eyes to her mouth, thence to her bosom, and to her full round naked arms, wet, mottled with the chill of the water, and firm as marble. "What a nice-looking girl you are!" he murmured, though the words had not been necessary to express his sense of her magnetism. "Ah, you should see me Sundays!" she said piquantly. "I don't suppose I could?" he answered "That's for you to think on. There's nobody after me just now, though there med be in a week or two." She had spoken this without a smile, and the dimples disappeared. Jude felt himself drifting strangely, but could not help it. "Will you let me?" "I don't mind." By this time she had managed to get back one dimple by turning her face aside for a moment and repeating the odd little sucking operation before mentioned, Jude being still unconscious of more than a general impression of her appearance. "Next Sunday?" he hazarded. "To-morrow, that is?" "Yes." "Shall I call?" "Yes." She brightened with a little glow of triumph, swept him almost tenderly with her eyes in turning, and retracing her steps down the brookside grass rejoined her companions. Jude Fawley shouldered his tool-basket and resumed his lonely way, filled with an ardour at which he mentally stood at gaze. He had just inhaled a single breath from a new atmosphere, which had evidently been hanging round him everywhere he went, for he knew not how long, but had somehow been divided from his actual breathing as by a sheet of glass. The intentions as to reading, working, and learning, which he had so precisely formulated only a few minutes earlier, were suffering a curious collapse into a corner, he knew not how. "Well, it's only a bit of fun," he said to himself, faintly conscious that to common sense there was something lacking, and still more obviously something redundant in the nature of this girl who had drawn him to her which made it necessary that he should assert mere sportiveness on his part as his reason in seeking her-- something in her quite antipathetic to that side of him which had been occupied with literary study and the magnificent Christminster dream. It had been no vestal who chose THAT missile for opening her attack on him. He saw this with his intellectual eye, just for a short; fleeting while, as by the light of a falling lamp one might momentarily see an inscription on a wall before being enshrouded in darkness. And then this passing discriminative power was withdrawn, and Jude was lost to all conditions of things in the advent of a fresh and wild pleasure, that of having found a new channel for emotional interest hitherto unsuspected, though it had lain close beside him. He was to meet this enkindling one of the other sex on the following Sunday. Meanwhile the girl had joined her companions, and she silently resumed her flicking and sousing of the chitterlings in the pellucid stream. "Catched un, my dear?" laconically asked the girl called Anny. "I don't know. I wish I had thrown something else than that!" regretfully murmured Arabella. "Lord! he's nobody, though you med think so. He used to drive old Drusilla Fawley's bread-cart out at Marygreen, till he 'prenticed himself at Alfredston. Since then he's been very stuck up, and always reading. He wants to be a scholar, they say." "Oh, I don't care what he is, or anything about 'n. Don't you think it, my child!" "Oh, don't ye! You needn't try to deceive us! What did you stay talking to him for, if you didn't want un? Whether you do or whether you don't, he's as simple as a child. I could see it as you courted on the bridge, when he looked at 'ee as if he had never seen a woman before in his born days. Well, he's to be had by any woman who can get him to care for her a bit, if she likes to set herself to catch him the right way." 在他的生活值得纪念的这段日子中间，有个礼拜六下午，四点钟光景，他从阿尔夫瑞顿回马利格林。长夏中间此时正值天气晴好、温煦、轻柔，他背着工具篓子走路，大小凿子相互撞击，叮叮作响。因为是周末，他下工早，绕道出了镇子。这条路他平时不大走，这回是奉姑婆之命，前往水芹峪附近的磨坊替她办件事。 他心花怒放。他仿佛看到一两年后通向基督堂的安适稳定的生活，敲响那儿一座他梦寐以求的学术堡垒大门的道路已经在望。眼下他当然也可以凭某种身份到那儿去。但是他宁可等到他手头宽裕到可以使他信心更足的时候再走进那座城市。一想到他到现在达到的成就，他心里暖烘烘的，感到浑身发热。走着走着，他不时左瞧瞧，右望望，像要弄清楚路旁篱外乡下什么景况；不过他实际上没看到什么，因为这只是他不忙时候养成的走路习惯，这会儿又重复一回罢了。他真正念念不忘的是怎样评价他在学习方面的进步。 “我现在已经具备普通学生阅读一般古典作品的能力了，特别是拉丁文写的。”确实不错，裘德运用这种语言已经达到相当纯熟的程度，每当一个人走路的时候，为了解闷，就用这种语言流利自如地进行想象中的对话。 “《伊利亚德》好多段落，我已经很熟啦，像第九卷里头菲尼克斯的演说词。第十四卷里头赫克特同阿贾克斯的对战、第十八卷里头阿喀琉斯没有披挂就上阵和上苍赐给他甲胄。第二十三卷里葬礼上竞技的场面，在这些之外，我还念了整整两卷呢。我对赫西奥德下过些工夫，修昔底得斯的东西也略有所知了；希腊文《新约》学了好多，……我倒希望希腊文就一种方言才好咧。 “我也学了点数学，包括欧几里德的前声卷。第十一、十二卷；代数学到一次方程式。 “神父文集也略有所窥，还多少知道点罗马史和英国史。 “这些东西还只能算开了个头。在这地方搞书这么难，我不会再有很大进步啦。所以我一定得集中所有精力，想尽办法进基督堂才行啊。一住到那儿，凭着我能得到的指教，我就会进步得非常之快，再一比，我现在这么点知识，简直就是幼稚无知啦。我一定要存钱，非存不可。总会有一所学院对我敞开大门吧——会欢迎我这个它这会儿不屑一顾的人吧，为这个欢迎，哪怕等上二十年，我也干啊。 “我不当上神学博士，决不罢休。” 于是他把梦接着做下去，想着他怎么过一种纯洁无瑕、精力焕发、贤明谨慎的生活，后来居然当上了主教。他将要给世人树立何等了不起的榜样啊！如果他每年进项是五千英镑，他将通过不同方式捐出四千五百镑，剩下的（归自己）过豪华的生活。可是他转念一想，又觉着想当主教，未免太不自量了。他还是把自己定位在副主教席位上为好。也许在副主教任上，他也能跟主教一样仁爱为怀、博学强识、益世济人呢。不过他想过来想过去，又回到当主教上来了。 “一在基督堂住定了，我就要念在这儿没法搞到的书：李维、塔西陀、希罗多得斯。埃斯库洛斯、索福克勒斯、阿里斯多芬——’ “哈，哈，哈，别装熊啦！”这是从树篱另一面传出来的很小的说话声音，但是他没理会，继续往下想： “——欧里庇得斯、柏拉图、亚里士多德、卢克莱修、埃皮克泰土斯、塞尼加。安托尼奴斯。然后要透彻了解别的著作，要熟读神父文集，要通晓比德和教会史，要懂点希伯来文——我到现在才认得几个字母——” “别装熊啦！” “不过我能下苦功夫。感谢上帝啊，我生来就有换而不舍的精神，取之不尽的力量。是啊，正是这样的精神和力量告诉我，基督堂必将成为我的母校，我必将是她的爱子，她必将对我满心钟爱、提携扶抱啊！” 裘德这样深思冥想着自己前程上的种种变化，不知不觉地脚步就放慢了，随后屏息而立，一动不动，目注地面，仿佛那儿有盏神灯大放光芒，照亮了他的“前途”。突然什么东西一下子猛打在他耳朵上，他人这才明白过来，原来一块又软又凉的东西打中了他，落在他脚跟前。 他一眼就瞧出来是什么玩意儿——一块肉，是闹猪身上那个形状独特的部分，乡下人用这玩意儿给靴子上油，此外它毫无用处。猪在这一带随处可见，因为北维塞克斯一些地区大量饲养肥猪。 树篱另一面是条小河，他这才头一回弄明白，搅了他梦想的轻微的说话声和笑声原来是从那边传过来的。他上了土坡，从树篱上望过去。小河更前方一点有户农家宅院，连着菜园和猪圈；它前面，河边上，有三个年轻女人跪在那儿，在水流里淘洗身边水桶和大盘子里盛着的猪下水。一对或者两对眼睛羞答答地往上瞄了一下，明白他的注意力已经被吸引过来了，而且他正盯着她们看呢，于是她们把嘴撅起来，装腔作势，一本正经地卖劲儿干那淘洗活儿。 “多谢大伙啦！”裘德气冲冲地说。 “跟你说，我可没扔哪！”一个姑娘对她旁边的姑娘声辩着，样子像没觉着有个年轻男人在那边。 “我也没扔。”第二个回答。 “哦，安妮，你敢这么说吗！”第三个说。 “我要是真扔什么，也不会是那玩意儿。” “呸！我才不把他放眼里呢！”接着她们大笑起来，再没抬头看，还装模作样你说我，我顶你的。 裘德抹了抹脸，想好好挖苦挖苦她们，就接过她们的话碴儿： “你没扔它——你可真没哟，才怪哪！”他朝上水一点的那个 他冲着说话的是个黑眼珠姑娘，体态丰盈，模样说不上标致，不过在不算远的距离看上去，也算有几分姿色，只是皮肤有点粗，样儿也透着俗气。她的乳房浑圆凸起，双唇饱满，牙齿齐整，脸色红润鲜活，赛似交趾母鸡下的蛋，活脱是条结实向感的母大虫——真算得毫厘不差！裘德几乎肯定了，把他耽于高尚学问的注意力引到她们的内心骚动那边去的，准是她一手干的勾当。 “这你休想知道。”她正儿八经地说。 “谁这么于，谁就是糟蹋别人的东西！” “哎，那没关系。” “我猜你这是想跟我聊聊吧？” “对啦，你要是愿意就行嘛。” “是我过河，还是你上板桥这边儿来？” 大概她料到机会来了。反正这肤色有点深的姑娘在他说话时候死盯住他眼睛不放。一时间，两个人眉来眼去，怕的是，心曲正相通，只在不言中。这样的事，裘德素来不闻不问，自然他丝毫不会事先考虑到这里边的含义。而她呢，也看出来他把她从三个人里头挑出来，无非跟类似情况下挑出个女人一样，这里边根本说不上什么深思熟虑过要做番深交的打算；毛病就出在不幸的男人们非意识地对指挥部发下的号令一贯是无不听命，又恰在他们千不该万不该动了心，同娘儿们打交道的时候，这样的本能发生了作用。 她霍地站起来，说，“把掉在那边儿的东西拣回来吧。” 裘德心里明白，不论她父亲生意怎么样，总没什么道理鼓励她跟他套近乎。他放下篓子，拣起那块猪下脚，拿棍子拨开树篱，穿过去。两个人在河两边并排朝板桥走。姑娘到离板桥不远的地方，乘裘德没瞧见，一连着把脸颊巧妙地往里咋，她用这奇特而独到的手法，变戏法似地，在圆胖脸上弄出个地地道道的酒涡。她只要一直不停地笑下去，就能把酒涡保持不变。这造酒涡的功夫并非稀见少有，很多人都试过，不过成了功的只有极少的人。 他们在桥当中碰到一块儿。裘德把她的飞弹扔给她，似乎有意让她解释解释，她干吗不干脆跟他打招呼，一定用这样新奇的炮火拦截他。 她羞答答地朝另外的方向看，手抓住桥栏杆，身子前仰后合地摇着；到得后来，春情荡漾勾起来的好奇心，逼她转过目光，上上下下打量他。 “你不会想是我故意砸你，闹着玩儿吧？” “没有，没有。” “我们正给爸爸干活儿哪。他当然不愿意把什么丢了。他拿这玩意儿当油擦子。” “我就不明白她们哪个干吗这么干？”裘德问她，挺客气地同意了她的说法，尽管他对她这说法的真实性大有怀疑。 “不要脸呗。你可千万别跟人说我砸的！” “我怎么会呢。我还不知道你叫什么哪。” “哦，是呀。要我告诉你吗？” “要！” “阿拉贝拉•邓恩。我就住这儿。” “要是我平常走这条路，我自然认得这儿啦。不过我大都是顺大路一直走。” “我爸爸是个养猪户。那两个女孩儿帮我洗内脏，做黑香肠什么的。” 他们靠着栏杆站着，你瞧我，我瞧你，谈谈歇歇，歇歇谈谈；女人对男人那种不出声的诱惑，在阿拉贝拉的整个品性和容色上淋漓尽致地展现出来，把裘德迷得动弹不得，这可反乎他一向的意愿——简直是违背他的意志，而这一套他从前根本没有经历过啊。直到这一刻，裘德压根儿没仔细看过女人，没有像对她那样端洋过谯，他以前模模糊糊地感到性什么的跟他的生活和志趣搭不上边儿，这样说决不是张大其词，他目不转睛地从她的眼睛看判她的双唇，再看她的乳房，又看她的裸露的圆滚滚的胳臂，带着水，湿淋淋的，水花一凉，显得皮肤红红白白，结实得犹如大理石一般。 “你真是个美人哟！”他自言自语地说，虽然根本用不着说这话来表示他感受到她的磁力。 “哦！你该到礼拜天看我，那才好呢！”她调皮地说。 “我没说我不行吧？”他答道。 “那就由你自个儿想喽。这阵子还没人追我哪。可过一两个礼拜说不定就有啦。”她说这话，不带一点笑容，酒涡也就没了。 裘德觉着怪得狠，自己一阵子晕晕惚惚的样子，虽然他力求镇定，还是不由自主。 “你让我追吗？” “我才无所谓呢。” 这时候，她把脸掉到旁边一阵子，来个故伎重演，轻轻地而又古怪地在颊上咋出一个酒涡。而裘德这方面对她的容貌仍然只有个大概印象罢了。“那就明儿喽？” “行啊。” “我去找你吗？” “当然。” 这小小得手使她喜上眉梢，转身时回眸一顾，俨然若不胜情之态，跟着她就顺着河畔草地回到同伴那儿去了。 裘德•福来把篓子背好，依然一个人走他的路，热情高涨，激动不已，可是他同时又有了茫然不解之感。他刚好对着新鲜大气猛吸了一口，以前他随便到哪儿，大气总是前后左右包着他，至于有多久，他没在意过，不过这会儿真正一呼吸大气，觉着有点让一层玻璃给挡住了。仅仅几分钟前他那么精心制订的读书、工作和做学问的计划，现在正意想不到地要垮掉，眼看要灰飞烟灭，可是他一点没知觉。 “哎，这不过闹着玩儿吧。”他心里这么想着，稍微有点意识到，那个向他卖弄风情的姑娘的品格，按常理看，似乎少了点什么，可更其明显的倒是又多了点什么，这一来他只好用解嘲的办法，把找她的理由说成是不过闹着玩就是了——殊不知她身上这一少一多，对于他全心全意致力于文学研究和到基督堂的远大理想的实现，是冰炭不相容的。她选择那样一个飞弹对他展开进攻，就足以说明她决不是给女灶神奉役的贞洁处女。以他那样心明眼亮，他分明有所觉察，但这只是一刹那而已，好比一个人借着将要熄灭的烛光，看那正被黑暗吞没的墙上铭文，只能瞬间一瞥而已。本来就短暂的分辨力悄然而逝了，因而当从未品味过的纵情放荡的欢乐逼临面前时，裘德懵懵然，对事物的真假、美丑、善恶、正邪再也无从判断，却发现了从未料到的宣泄情感的通路，虽然它一向就近在身边。他要在随后那个礼拜天跟那个挑动他的欲念的异性见面。 同时，那姑娘回到了同伴一块儿，一声不响地在清澈水流中拍打、淘洗猪肠子。 “弄上钩儿啦，亲爱的？”叫安妮的姑娘直截了当地问。 “我也不知道啊。我倒想呢，要是起先没丢那个玩意儿，丢个别的倒好啦。”阿拉贝拉有点后悔地嘟囔着。 “老天爷！他算老几呀，你可别这么想呀。他先前在马利格林给多喜•福来赶车送面包，后来到阿尔夫瑞顿学徒去啦，一直呆在那儿，老是念书念不完，人家说他想当文人呢。” “哎，他是老几，是怎么回子事儿，我才不在乎呢。你别当我在乎，小宝贝儿呀！” “哎，算了吧，你用不着遮掩，诳我们哟！要是你没想打他主意，那干吗在那儿跟他聊呀聊的。你干也好，不干也好，反正他就跟个小孩儿一样不懂事儿。你在桥上吊他时候，我就看出来啦，那会于他瞧着你，就跟一辈子没见过女人一样。是喽，哪个女人要是豁出去，用个合适办法把他弄上手，能讨他喜欢，管保他一辈子算她的啦。” Part 1 Chapter 7 THE next day Jude Fawley was pausing in his bedroom with the sloping ceiling, looking at the books on the table, and then at the black mark on the plaster above them, made by the smoke of his lamp in past months. It was Sunday afternoon, four-and-twenty hours after his meeting with Arabella Donn. During the whole bygone week he had been resolving to set this afternoon apart for a special purpose,-- the re-reading of his Greek Testament--his new one, with better type than his old copy, following Griesbach's text as amended by numerous correctors, and with variorum readings in the margin. He was proud of the book, having obtained it by boldly writing to its London publisher, a thing he had never done before. He had anticipated much pleasure in this afternoon's reading, under the quiet roof of his great-aunt's house as formerly, where he now slept only two nights a week. But a new thing, a great hitch, had happened yesterday in the gliding and noiseless current of his life, and he felt as a snake must feel who has sloughed off its winter skin, and cannot understand the brightness and sensitiveness of its new one. He would not go out to meet her, after all. He sat down, opened the book, and with his elbows firmly planted on the table, and his hands to his temples began at the beginning: (Three Greek words) Had he promised to call for her? Surely he had! She would wait indoors, poor girl, and waste all her afternoon on account of him. There was a something in her, too, which was very winning, apart from promises. He ought not to break faith with her. Even though he had only Sundays and week-day evenings for reading he could afford one afternoon, seeing that other young men afforded so many. After to-day he would never probably see her again. Indeed, it would be impossible, considering what his plans were. In short, as if materially, a compelling arm of extraordinary muscular power seized hold of him--something which had nothing in common with the spirits and influences that had moved him hitherto. This seemed to care little for his reason and his will, nothing for his so-called elevated intentions, and moved him along, as a violent schoolmaster a schoolboy he has seized by the collar, in a direction which tended towards the embrace of a woman for whom he had no respect, and whose life had nothing in common with his own except locality. (Three Greek words) was no more heeded, and the predestinate Jude sprang up and across the room. Foreseeing such an event he had already arrayed himself in his best clothes. In three minutes he was out of the house and descending by the path across the wide vacant hollow of corn-ground which lay between the village and the isolated house of Arabella in the dip beyond the upland. As he walked he looked at his watch. He could be back in two hours, easily, and a good long time would still remain to him for reading after tea. Passing the few unhealthy fir-trees and cottage where the path joined the highway he hastened along, and struck away to the left, descending the steep side of the country to the west of the Brown House. Here at the base of the chalk formation he neared the brook that oozed from it, and followed the stream till he reached her dwelling. A smell of piggeries came from the back, and the grunting of the originators of that smell. He entered the garden, and knocked at the door with the knob of his stick. Somebody had seen him through the window, for a male voice on the inside said: "Arabella! Here's your young man come coorting! Mizzle, my girl!" Jude winced at the words. Courting in such a business-like aspect as it evidently wore to the speaker was the last thing he was thinking of. He was going to walk with her, perhaps kiss her; but "courting" was too coolly purposeful to be anything but repugnant to his ideas. The door was opened and he entered, just as Arabella came downstairs in radiant walking attire. "Take a chair, Mr. What's-your-name?" said her father, an energetic, black-whiskered man, in the same businesslike tones Jude had heard from outside. "I'd rather go out at once, wouldn't you?" she whispered to Jude. "Yes," said he. "We'll walk up to the Brown House and back, we can do it in half an hour." Arabella looked so handsome amid her untidy surroundings that he felt glad he had come, and all the misgivings vanished that had hitherto haunted him. First they clambered to the top of the great down, during which ascent he had occasionally to take her hand to assist her. Then they bore off to the left along the crest into the ridgeway, which they followed till it intersected the high-road at the Brown House aforesaid, the spot of his former fervid desires to behold Christminster. But he forgot them now. He talked the commonest local twaddle to Arabella with greater zest than he would have felt in discussing all the philosophies with all the Dons in the recently adored university, and passed the spot where he had knelt to Diana and Phoebus without remembering that there were any such people in the mythology, or that the sun was anything else than a useful lamp for illuminating Arabella's face. An indescribable lightness of heel served to lift him along; and Jude, the incipient scholar, prospective D.D., professor, bishop, or what not, felt himself honoured and glorified by the condescension of this handsome country wench in agreeing to take a walk with him in her Sunday frock and ribbons. They reached the Brown House barn--the point at which he had planned to turn back. While looking over the vast northern landscape from this spot they were struck by the rising of a dense volume of smoke from the neighbourhood of the little town which lay beneath them at a distance of a couple of miles. "It is a fire," said Arabella. "Let's run and see it--do! It is not far!" The tenderness which had grown up in Jude's bosom left him no will to thwart her inclination now--which pleased him in affording him excuse for a longer time with her. They started off down the hill almost at a trot; but on gaining level ground at the bottom, and walking a mile, they found that the spot of the fire was much further off than it had seemed. Having begun their journey, however, they pushed on; but it was not till five o'clock that they found themselves on the scene,-- the distance being altogether about half-a-dozen miles from Marygreen, and three from Arabella's. The conflagration had been got under by the time they reached it, and after a short inspection of the melancholy ruins they retraced their steps--their course lying through the town of Alfredston. Arabella said she would like some tea, and they entered an inn of an inferior class, and gave their order. As it was not for beer they had a long time to wait. The maid-servant recognized Jude, and whispered her surprise to her mistress in the background, that he, the student "who kept hisself up so particular," should have suddenly descended so low as to keep company with Arabella. The latter guessed what was being said, and laughed as she met the serious and tender gaze of her lover--the low and triumphant laugh of a careless woman who sees she is winning her game. They sat and looked round the room, and at the picture of Samson and Delilah which hung on the wall, and at the circular beer-stains on the table, and at the spittoons underfoot filled with sawdust. The whole aspect of the scene had that depressing effect on Jude which few places can produce like a tap-room on a Sunday evening when the setting sun is slanting in, and no liquor is going, and the unfortunate wayfarer finds himself with no other haven of rest. It began to grow dusk. They could not wait longer, really, for the tea, they said. "Yet what else can we do?" asked Jude. "It is a three-mile walk for you." "I suppose we can have some beer," said Arabella. "Beer, oh yes. I had forgotten that. Somehow it seems odd to come to a public-house for beer on a Sunday evening." "But we didn't." "No, we didn't." Jude by this time wished he was out of such an uncongenial atmosphere; but he ordered the beer, which was promptly brought. Arabella tasted it. "Ugh!" she said. Jude tasted. "What's the matter with it?" he asked. "I don't understand beer very much now, it is true. I like it well enough, but it is bad to read on, and I find coffee better. But this seems all right." "Adulterated--I can't touch it!" She mentioned three or four ingredients that she detected in the liquor beyond malt and hops, much to Jude's surprise. "How much you know!" he said good-humouredly. Nevertheless she returned to the beer and drank her share, and they went on their way. It was now nearly dark, and as soon as they had withdrawn from the lights of the town they walked closer together, till they touched each other. She wondered why he did not put his arm round her waist, but he did not; he merely said what to himself seemed a quite bold enough thing: "Take my arm." She took it, thoroughly, up to the shoulder. He felt the warmth of her body against his, and putting his stick under his other arm held with his right hand her right as it rested in its place. "Now we are well together, dear, aren't we?" he observed. "Yes," said she; adding to herself: "Rather mild!" "How fast I have become!" he was thinking. Thus they walked till they reached the foot of the upland, where they could see the white highway ascending before them in the gloom. From this point the only way of getting to Arabella's was by going up the incline, and dipping again into her valley on the right. Before they had climbed far they were nearly run into by two men who had been walking on the grass unseen. "These lovers--you find 'em out o' doors in all seasons and weathers-- lovers and homeless dogs only," said one of the men as they vanished down the hill. Arabella tittered lightly. "Are we lovers?" asked Jude. "You know best." "But you can tell me?" For answer she inclined her head upon his shoulder. Jude took the hint, and encircling her waist with his arm, pulled her to him and kissed her. They walked now no longer arm in arm but, as she had desired, clasped together. After all, what did it matter since it was dark, said Jude to himself. When they were half-way up the long hill they paused as by arrangement, and he kissed her again. They reached the top, and he kissed her once more. "You can keep your arm there, if you would like to," she said gently. He did so, thinking how trusting she was. Thus they slowly went towards her home. He had left his cottage at half-past three, intending to be sitting down again to the New Testament by half-past five. It was nine o'clock when, with another embrace, he stood to deliver her up at her father's door. She asked him to come in, if only for a minute, as it would seem so odd otherwise, and as if she had been out alone in the dark. He gave way, and followed her in. Immediately that the door was opened he found, in addition to her parents, several neighbours sitting round. They all spoke in a congratulatory manner, and took him seriously as Arabella's intended partner. They did not belong to his set or circle, and he felt out of place and embarrassed. He had not meant this: a mere afternoon of pleasant walking with Arabella, that was all he had meant. He did not stay longer than to speak to her stepmother, a simple, quiet woman without features or character; and bidding them all good night plunged with a sense of relief into the track over the down. But that sense was only temporary: Arabella soon re-asserted her sway in his soul. He walked as if he felt himself to be another man from the Jude of yesterday. What were his books to him? what were his intentions, hitherto adhered to so strictly, as to not wasting a single minute of time day by day? "Wasting!" It depended on your point of view to define that: he was just living for the first time: not wasting life. It was better to love a woman than to be a graduate, or a parson; ay, or a pope! When he got back to the house his aunt had gone to bed, and a general consciousness of his neglect seemed written on the face of all things confronting him. He went upstairs without a light, and the dim interior of his room accosted him with sad inquiry. There lay his book open, just as he had left it, and the capital letters on the title-page regarded him with fixed reproach in the grey starlight, like the unclosed eyes of a dead man: (Three Greek words.) Jude had to leave early next morning for his usual week of absence at lodgings; and it was with a sense of futility that he threw into his basket upon his tools and other necessaries the unread book he had brought with him. He kept his impassioned doings a secret almost from himself. Arabella, on the contrary, made them public among all her friends and acquaintance. Retracing by the light of dawn the road he had followed a few hours earlier under cover of darkness, with his sweetheart by his side, he reached the bottom of the hill, where he walked slowly, and stood still. He was on the spot where he had given her the first kiss. As the sun had only just risen it was possible that nobody had passed there since. Jude looked on the ground and sighed. He looked closely, and could just discern in the damp dust the imprints of their feet as they had stood locked in each other's arms. She was not there now, and "the embroidery of imagination upon the stuff of nature" so depicted her past presence that a void was in his heart which nothing could fill. A pollard willow stood close to the place, and that willow was different from all other willows in the world. Utter annihilation of the six days which must elapse before he could see her again as he had promised would have been his intensest wish if he had had only the week to live. An hour and a half later Arabella came along the same way with her two companions of the Saturday. She passed unheedingly the scene of the kiss, and the willow that marked it, though chattering freely on the subject to the other two. "And what did he tell 'ee next?" "Then he said--" And she related almost word for word some of his tenderest speeches. If Jude had been behind the fence he would have felt not a little surprised at learning how very few of his sayings and doings on the previous evening were private. "You've got him to care for 'ee a bit, 'nation if you han't!" murmured Anny judicially. "It's well to be you!" In a few moments Arabella replied in a curiously low, hungry tone of latent sensuousness: "I've got him to care for me: yes! But I want him to more than care for me; I want him to have me--to marry me! I must have him. I can't do without him. He's the sort of man I long for. I shall go mad if I can't give myself to him altogether! I felt I should when I first saw him!" "As he is a romancing, straightfor'ard, honest chap, he's to be had, and as a husband, if you set about catching him in the right way." Arabella remained thinking awhile. "What med be the right way?" she asked. "Oh you don't know--you don't!" said Sarah, the third girl. "On my word I don't!--No further, that is, than by plain courting, and taking care he don't go too far!" The third girl looked at the second. "She DON'T know!" "'Tis clear she don't!" said Anny. "And having lived in a town, too, as one may say! Well, we can teach 'ee som'at then, as well as you us." "Yes. And how do you mean--a sure way to gain a man? Take me for an innocent, and have done wi' it!" "As a husband." "As a husband." "A countryman that's honourable and serious-minded such as he; God forbid that I should say a sojer, or sailor, or commercial gent from the towns, or any of them that be slippery with poor women! I'd do no friend that harm!" "Well, such as he, of course!" Arabella's companions looked at each other, and turning up their eyes in drollery began smirking. Then one went up close to Arabella, and, although nobody was near, imparted some information in a low tone, the other observing curiously the effect upon Arabella. "Ah!" said the last-named slowly. "I own I didn't think of that way! ... But suppose he ISN'T honourable? A woman had better not have tried it!" "Nothing venture nothing have! Besides, you make sure that he's honourable before you begin. You'd be safe enough with yours. I wish I had the chance! Lots of girls do it; or do you think they'd get married at all?" Arabella pursued her way in silent thought. "I'll try it!" she whispered; but not to them. 第二天，裘德在他斜坡屋顶的卧室里拿不定主意，先看看书，过了会儿又抬头望望书上方这几个月来天花板上让油灯烟薰出来的黑印子。 这是礼拜天下午，距离他遇见阿拉贝拉已经过了二十四个钟头。他本来老早下了决心，选定这个礼拜的这个下午专门干一件事，也就是重读希腊文本《新约》；他现在手上的是本新书，版本较旧本为佳，因它经过众多审校者对格莱斯巴赫版的修订，页边附有多项集注。他是乍着胆子直接写信给伦敦的该书出版社才买到的，这样的事他以前还没干过，所以他深以获读此本为幸。 他期待着这个下午同往常一样能在姑婆的安静的小屋庇荫下大享读书之乐，眼下他一个礼拜只剩下两个晚上睡在那儿了。不料昨天在他的顺畅而恬静的生活之流中出来了新情况——一个陡然的急转弯，这会儿他就像蜕了冬天的皮的蛇，对新皮的光泽和敏感茫然不解。 反正他是不会出去跟她照面的。他坐下来，翻开书，两个胳臂肘稳稳支在桌子上，两手稳稳抱着太阳穴，开始从头读起： 他不是答应过去找她吗？他的确这样答应过啊！她一定在家里等着哪，可怜的姑娘，为了他把整个下午都牺牲了。再说除了约好之外，她身上真有点东西叫人舍不得。他总不好对她说话不算数吧。好多小伙子不是都腾得出来好多下午吗？就算他只有礼拜天和工余晚上才能看书，腾一个下午出来总可以吧。过了今天，他恐怕也没机会再见到她了。是啊，考虑到订好了的计划，以后绝对不行了。 干脆说吧，这会儿好像实实在在有只力大无朋、蛮不讲理的巨手死死抓住了他一样——这可是跟迄今推动他的精神和影响的东西毫无共同之处。那只手根本不理睬他的理性和他的意志，对他的上进心置若罔闻，犹如粗暴的老师抓住一个小学生的领子，只管拽着他朝着一个方向走，一直走到了一个他并不敬重的女人的怀抱，而他们两个的生活，除了同处一个地方这一点，也是毫无共同之处。 H KAINH △ H HKH放到一边去了，命该如此的裘德猛地站起来，走过了卧室。其实他原来就有思想准备，先就穿上了顶好的服装，齐齐整整。三分钟后，他出了草房，从小路往下走，穿过空旷的山洼子里的麦田。那地方一边是他的村子，另一边是高地尽头阿拉贝拉家的孤零零的房子。 他边走边看表。两个钟头以后总可以回来，没什么大不了的，下午茶后还剩下好多时间可以看书呢。 一过了小路接大路那儿几棵带死不活的杉树和草房，他快马加鞭，刷地左转弯，直下荒野的陡坡，到了棕房子西边。在那儿，走近了白垩质山冈脚下汩汩流出的小河，随即顺水流一径到达她家房子。房后散发着猪圈的臊臭味儿，还有臊臭味儿的一群制造者的咕噜咕噜声。他进了园子，拿手杖圆把敲敲门。 有人已经从窗子后边瞧见他了，因为里边一个男人声音说： “阿拉贝拉！你那个小伙子来求爱啦！来呀，我的丫头。” 裘德一听这话就越趄不前了。用那么一种做生意口气说出来求爱，在说话的人固然习以为常，可他是连想都没想过。他的意思无非跟她一块儿散散步，说不定还吻吻她，要说是“求爱”未免算盘打得太精，跟他的意思完全合不到一块儿。门一开，他进去了，这当口阿拉贝拉穿着一身亮晶晶的散步常服，款款走下了楼梯。 “请坐，请坐，先生。请问——尊姓——大名哪？”她父亲说，只见这人精神抖搂，留着黑胡子，一板一眼的做生意的腔调，跟刚才他在外面听见的一样。 “我想立刻出去，怎么样？”她低声对裘德说。 “好啊，”他说，“咱们就走到栋房子那儿好吧，来回半个钟头足够啦。” 阿拉贝拉让她家里杂乱无章的环境一衬托，显得那么容光照人，他不禁欣然色喜，觉得真不虚此行，这时候他心里盘旋着的疑团也就涣然冰释了。 他们先是一路攀登，直达丘陵地的顶高处，途中他间或拉着她的手，助她一臂之力；接着沿山顶左转，插进山脊路，顺着这条古道一直走到前面提过的它跟大路在栋房子左右交叉的地方。他以前曾经在这儿心潮澎湃，遥瞻基督堂，可是这会儿全忘了。他对阿拉贝拉不断东拉西扯，没话找话，其兴致之高，就算他能跟近来崇拜的所有大学学监、导师、研究员讨论各种流派的哲学，恐怕也比不了。等到他们路过以前他向戴亚娜和菲波斯顶礼膜拜的地方，他再也想不起来神话中还有诸如此类的人物；至于太阳呢，那也不过是照耀着阿拉贝拉脸蛋的一盏有用的灯就是了。他脚下觉着说不出来的轻快爽利，令他大为飘飘然；裘德这位初出茅庐的学子，异日前程无量的神学博士、教授。主教，或者别的什么头衔，这会儿因为那位漂亮乡下姑娘纡尊降格，一身礼拜天盛装，系着丝带，陪着他一道散步，居然受宠若惊，感到备受抬举，不胜荣幸。 他们到了栋房子谷仓——他原计划从那儿回头。在居高临下，眺望北方广漠的景色时，他们瞧见脚下二英里远处的小镇居民区突然冒起了一股浓烟。 “着火啦，”阿拉贝拉说，“快跑，瞧瞧去——快，快！离这儿不远哪。” 裘德胸中正酝酿着的万缕柔情断不容他扫了阿拉贝拉的兴头，何况这还给他提供了借口，可以跟她一起多呆会儿。他们立刻下山，几乎一路跑去，不过到了山脚平地以后，又走了一英里，才发现起火的地方比它初看起来远得多。 既然这段路程开了头，他们索性一不做二不休一直往前走，直到五点钟才走到火场——那地方距离马利格林大概六英里，离阿拉贝拉家大概三英里。他们到达之前，大火已经扑灭了。看了看劫后惨状，他们就掉头往回走，正好路经阿尔夫瑞顿。 阿拉贝拉说她想喝点茶，于是他们走进一家低级酒馆，要了茶。因为要的不是啤酒，就得等好一阵子。女招待认得裘德，就把这件叫她大感意外的事，小声跟没露面的女老板说了，提到他是个念书的，“人平素自爱得不得了”，怎么一下子那么作践自己，跟阿拉贝拉搞到了一块儿。这些话全让阿拉贝拉猜着了，她一对上她的情人的一本正经、情深意切的目光，忍不住笑出声来——只有毫无顾忌、一向大咧咧的女人在较量中占了上风的时候，才会那么得意洋洋、粗鄙不堪地笑出声来。 他们坐在那儿，东瞧瞧，西望望，墙上挂着参孙和大利拉的画像，桌上有啤酒杯底留下的圆印子，还看见锯末垫着的痰盂。整个景象弄得裘德意绪低沉，因为再没有什么地方会像酒馆在礼拜天傍晚时分产生那样的效果，那时候夕照临窗，酒闹人散，而不幸的旅人却发现竞然找不到能托庇一下，好好歇歇脚的地方。 天近黄昏。他们实在不能把茶等下去了。“那我们能怎么办呢？”裘德问，“你还得走三英里路哪。” “我看要点啤酒好啦。”阿拉贝拉说。 “啤酒，行啊，我倒忘了。礼拜天晚上到酒店要上啤酒，总透着有点怪。” “可咱们刚才没要过。” “对，没要过。”裘德这会儿但愿逃离这样叫人不舒服的气氛，不过他还是要了啤酒，店里立刻送过来。 阿拉贝拉尝了一口。“噗！”她说。 裘德也尝了一口。“怎么啦？”他问。“我到现在也不大懂啤酒，真的。喜欢我倒是喜欢，可是它对读书不合适。我觉着咖啡好一点。不过这个啤酒好像怪不错的。” “搀假喽——我才不沾它呢！”除了麦芽和蛇麻子，她还另外点出酒里三四种成分，这叫裘德感到意外。 “你知道得真多啊！”裘德高兴地说。 她说是那么说，还是喝了她那杯，然后他们就继续上路了。天已经擦黑了，他们一走出小镇灯光的范围，就紧贴着，身子挨到一块儿。她奇怪他干吗不搂着她腰，可是他没这么干，只说了句：“挽着我胳臂吧。”这在他也就算大胆了。 她挽着他的胳臂，一直连肩膀都挽到了。她身子贴着，他觉着暖烘烘的，就把手杖交给另一只胳臂夹着，拿右手握着她放在他胳臂上的右手。 “这会儿咱们俩全在一块儿啦，亲爱的，对不对呀？”他认真地说。 “是啊。”她说，可是她心里又加上一句：“真没味哟！” “我变得多快呀！”他心里想着。 他们就这样走到了高地跟前，在那儿看得见白晃晃大路在昏暗中向上伸展，只有一条路能从那儿通到阿拉贝拉家，要先上一个斜坡，再下来到右边她家所在的低谷。他们往上走没多远，差点撞上两个在草地上走着的男人，那两人先头没看见他们。 “这些情人哪——什么天气、什么节气都往外溜，只有情人跟野狗才这样哪。”他们走下山坡，快消失的时候，其中一个这样说。 阿拉贝拉听见了，哧哧一笑。 “咱们算不算情人呀？”裘德问。 ”你还不是顶清楚吗？” “可你得跟我说呀？” 她把头靠在他肩上，算是回答。裘德明白这意思，就顺水推舟搂住她的腰，把她抱过来，吻了她。 他们这会儿不再挽着胳臂走了，而是按她早就期待的那样，紧紧抱在一起走。裘德心里想，反正天黑了，这样没关系。他们上山走到半路时，好像事先约好了，停下来，他又吻了她。到了山顶，他再吻了一回。 “要是你想的话，你就把胳臂放在那儿好啦。”她温柔地说。 他那样做了，心想她对他才真心哪。 他们就这样慢慢往她家走。他离开草房时候三点半，打算五点半再坐下念《新约》。现在已经九点了，他又拥抱她一回，把她送到她爸爸家门口。 她要他进来，哪怕一分钟也好，要不然就太不像话了，好像她一个人一直在黑地里转悠似的。他只好答应，跟她进去。门一打开，他就发现屋里不只她爹妈，还有几个邻居坐在一块儿。他们说话全带着一股子道贺的腔调，全都认认真真地把他当成阿拉贝拉选中了的终身伴侣。 他跟他们不是臭味相投的人，觉得非常不自在，手足无措。他根本就没他们那么说的意思，他不过下午跟阿拉贝拉一块儿走走，就是这么回事儿。他跟她的后妈，一位俭朴、安静、没刀尺也没特色的妇女，说了几句，然后就要走；向他们大伙儿道了晚安之后，他如释重负，赶快上了丘陵地的小路。 不过这种如释重负之感并不长；阿拉贝拉很快在他内心中重新占了支配地位。他一边走着，一边觉着此时的裘德已非昨日的裘德。那他的书该怎么说呀？他至今坚持不变的宏愿，哪天都是几乎一分钟也不肯白过去，又怎么说呀？“白过啦！”不过这得看你究竟从什么角度来界定它的定义：其实他这才是真正第一次活着，并不是日子白过了。爱女人要比当个大学毕业生或者当个教区牧师都好呢；唉，比当个教皇也好呀！ 他到家时候，姑婆已经入睡了；他觉得所有东西似乎都朝着他表示它们已经深深了解了他怎样荒唐放荡，不务正业。他摸黑上了楼，暗淡无光的卧室内部处处伤心地向他请问，要知道个究竟。他的书还翻开着，跟走时一个样，书名页上的大写字母像死人闭不上的眼睛，在惨淡的星光映照下，一直对准他，发出永远不变的谴责： 裘德一大早就得出门，赶到他的住处，按平常每个礼拜那样上班赶活。他有一种失落感，把那本带回家、可又没看的书随便扔在篓子里工具和日常用品的上面。 他对自己情场得意三缄其口，简直对自己都保了密。阿拉贝拉可恰恰相反，她把什么都对所有朋友和认识的人公开无遗。 在晨光熹微中，他再次走上前几个钟头在夜色朦胧中同心上人走过的那条路。这会儿他到了山脚下，走得慢了，后来屏息而立。正是这个地点，他第一次吻她。太阳刚刚升起，那一带很可能后来没人走过。裘德对地面瞧着，叹了口气。他仔细一瞧，看明白原来是他们站在那儿紧紧拥抱时候，在潮湿的浮士上留下来的脚印。她这会儿人不在啦，于是他就拿“在自然、平实的底子上，加以想象，而绣出的花饰”这句话来描画她前时的形象，这反而又在心里产生无法填补的空虚感。近边有棵截了顶梢的柳树，它跟世上所有其他柳树多不一样啊。他答应过她，说他还可以见到她，他这会儿最强烈急切的愿望就是恨不得一家伙把非过不可的六个工作日消灭掉，哪怕他加起来只能活一个礼拜都行。 一个半钟头之后，阿拉贝拉跟她上礼拜六待在一块儿的两个同伴也顺着同一条路走过来了。她走过接吻的地方，根本没注意那棵给当时做见证的柳树，不过她倒是正跟那两个随随便便聊她跟裘德的事。 “他下边跟你说了什么啦？” “接着他说——”她几乎一字不漏地学说了他对她说的一些顶温柔不过的情话。如果裘德那会儿就在树篱后面，听见他头天晚上说的做的全属隐私的东西，至此一泄无余，他又该怎样为之骇然啊。 “那你已经叫他有点喜欢上你喽，要不然，就算我错啦！”安妮揣摩着说，‘你可真有一套啊！” 阿拉贝拉稍等了一下回答，她的声调低得出奇，隐含着内心充满肉欲的渴望：“我已经叫他喜欢我啦：真真的！可我还要让他更喜欢呢；我要他把我占了——跟我结婚！我就是要他。没他，我活不下去啦。他就是我一心想要的男人哪。我要是嫁不了他，那我就要疯啦！我头一眼瞧见他，我就知道我准会是这么回事。” “这小伙子倒是挺帅，又直爽又老实样儿，要是你这会儿拿合适的办法，出手去抓住他，他就是你的人，就成了你的男人啦。” 阿拉贝拉又想了会儿。“怎么样才算合适的办法？” “哎，你不懂嘛——就是不懂嘛！”第三个姑娘萨拉说。 “我真是不懂呢！我就知道老老实实谈恋爱，还得留神别让他搞得过了头哩！” 第三个姑娘瞧着第二个。“她不懂！” “她不懂，一点不假！’安妮说。 “真跟别人讲得一样啊，还在镇上呆过呢！好吧，我0］这就可以教你点，你也得教我们。” “行！你倒说说——怎么才有把握把男人搞上手？就当我什么都不懂好啦，干脆说了吧！” “这得是找当家的才行哪。” “是找当家的呀。” “要找的是他那样儿讲体面、一个心眼儿的乡下人才行哪。我可不是他妈的指什么当兵的，当水手的，镇上做生意的，不是什么滑头滑脑、专骗可怜的女人的家伙！我可不让朋友吃那门子亏！” “是呀！就得那样儿的！” 阿拉贝拉的同伴彼此瞧了瞧，挤挤眼，嘻嘻笑起来了。一个走到阿拉贝拉旁边，紧挨着，尽管近边没人，她还是低声教了办法，另一个蛮有兴趣地仔细看着阿拉贝拉有什么反应。 “唉！”阿拉贝拉慢吞吞说，“我承认没想到那个办法！……可他万一不讲体面呢？我看女人顶好别试这一套！” “想做生意，先别怕赔本儿！再说，你开始干之前，先得有把握他讲体面，那你跟你的人就绝对保险啦。我但愿也有这个缘分呢！好多女孩儿都这么干；你想想她们后来还不是成了家吗？” 阿拉贝拉默默思考着，继续走下去。“我要试试！”她声音挺小，可不是跟她们说话。 Part 1 Chapter 8 ONE week's end Jude was as usual walking out to his aunt's at Marygreen from his lodging in Alfredston, a walk which now had large attractions for him quite other than his desire to see his aged and morose relative. He diverged to the right before ascending the hill with the single purpose of gaining, on his way, a glimpse of Arabella that should not come into the reckoning of regular appointments. Before quite reaching the homestead his alert eye perceived the top of her head moving quickly hither and thither over the garden hedge. Entering the gate he found that three young unfattened pigs had escaped from their sty by leaping clean over the top, and that she was endeavouring unassisted to drive them in through the door which she had set open. The lines of her countenance changed from the rigidity of business to the softness of love when she saw Jude, and she bent her eyes languishingly upon him. The animals took a vantage of the pause by doubling and bolting out of the way. "They were only put in this morning!" she cried, stimulated to pursue in spite of her lover's presence. "They were drove from Spaddleholt Farm only yesterday, where Father bought 'em at a stiff price enough. They are wanting to get home again, the stupid toads! Will you shut the garden gate, dear, and help me to get 'em in. There are no men folk at home, only Mother, and they'll be lost if we don't mind." He set himself to assist, and dodged this way and that over the potato rows and the cabbages. Every now and then they ran together, when he caught her for a moment an kissed her. The first pig was got back promptly; the second with some difficulty; the third a long-legged creature, was more obstinate and agile. He plunged through a hole in the garden hedge, and into the lane. "He'll be lost if I don't follow 'n!" said she. "Come along with me!" She rushed in full pursuit out of the garden, Jude alongside her, barely contriving to keep the fugitive in sight. Occasionally they would shout to some boy to stop the animal, but he always wriggled past and ran on as before. "Let me take your hand, darling," said Jude. "You are getting out of breath." She gave him her now hot hand with apparent willingness, and they trotted along together. "This comes of driving 'em home," she remarked. "They always know the way back if you do that. They ought to have been carted over." By this time the pig had reached an unfastened gate admitting to the open down, across which he sped with all the agility his little legs afforded. As soon as the pursuers had entered and ascended to the top of the high ground it became apparent that they would have to run all the way to the farmer's if they wished to get at him. From this summit he could be seen as a minute speck, following an unerring line towards his old home. "It is no good!" cried Arabella. "He'll be there long before we get there. It don't matter now we know he's not lost or stolen on the way. They'll see it is ours, and send un back. Oh dear, how hot I be!" Without relinquishing her hold of Jude's hand she swerved aside and flung herself down on the sod under a stunted thorn, precipitately pulling Jude on to his knees at the same time. "Oh, I ask pardon--I nearly threw you down, didn't I! But I am so tired!" She lay supine, and straight as an arrow, on the sloping sod of this hill-top, gazing up into the blue miles of sky, and still retaining her warm hold of Jude's hand. He reclined on his elbow near her. "We've run all this way for nothing," she went on, her form heaving and falling in quick pants, her face flushed, her full red lips parted, and a fine dew of perspiration on her skin. "Well--why don't you speak, deary?" "I'm blown too. It was all up hill." They were in absolute solitude--the most apparent of all solitudes, that of empty surrounding space. Nobody could be nearer than a mile to them without their seeing him. They were, in fact, on one of the summits of the county, and the distant landscape around Christminster could be discerned from where they lay. But Jude did not think of that then. "Oh, I can see such a pretty thing up this tree," said Arabella. "A sort of a--caterpillar, of the most loveliest green and yellow you ever came across!" "Where?" said Jude, sitting up. "You can't see him there--you must come here," said she. He bent nearer and put his head in front of hers. "No--I can't see it," he said. "Why, on the limb there where it branches off--close to the moving leaf--there!" She gently pulled him down beside her. "I don't see it," he repeated, the back of his head against her cheek. "But I can, perhaps, standing up." He stood accordingly, placing himself in the direct line of her gaze. "How stupid you are!" she said crossly, turning away her face. "I don't care to see it, dear: why should I?" he replied looking down upon her. "Get up, Abby." "Why?" "I want you to let me kiss you. I've been waiting to ever so long!" She rolled round her face, remained a moment looking deedily aslant at him; then with a slight curl of the lip sprang to her feet, and exclaiming abruptly "I must mizzle!" walked off quickly homeward. Jude followed and rejoined her. "Just one!" he coaxed "Shan't!" she said He, surprised: "What's the matter?" She kept her two lips resentfully together, and Jude followed her like a pet lamb till she slackened her pace and walked beside him, talking calmly on indifferent subjects, and always checking him if he tried to take her hand or clasp her waist. Thus they descended to the precincts of her father's homestead, and Arabella went in, nodding good-bye to him with a supercilious, affronted air. "I expect I took too much liberty with her, somehow," Jude said to himself, as he withdrew with a sigh and went on to Marygreen. On Sunday morning the interior of Arabella's home was, as usual, the scene of a grand weekly cooking, the preparation of the special Sunday dinner. Her father was shaving before a little glass hung on the mullion of the window, and her mother and Arabella herself were shelling beans hard by. A neighbour passed on her way home from morning service at the nearest church, and seeing Donn engaged at the window with the razor, nodded and came in. She at once spoke playfully to Arabella: "I zeed 'ee running with 'un--hee-hee! I hope 'tis coming to something?" Arabella merely threw a look of consciousness into her face without raising her eyes. "He's for Christminster, I hear, as soon as he can get there." "Have you heard that lately--quite lately?" asked Arabella with a jealous, tigerish indrawing of breath. "Oh no! But it has been known a long time that it is his plan. He's on'y waiting here for an opening. Ah well: he must walk about with somebody, I s'pose. Young men don't mean much now-a-days. 'Tis a sip here and a sip there with 'em. 'Twas different in my time." When the gossip had departed Arabella said suddenly to her mother: "I want you and Father to go and inquire how the Edlins be, this evening after tea. Or no--there's evening service at Fensworth-- you can walk to that." "Oh? What's up to-night, then?" "Nothing. Only I want the house to myself. He's shy; and I can't get un to come in when you are here. I shall let him slip through my fingers if I don't mind, much as I care for 'n!" "If it is fine we med as well go, since you wish." In the afternoon Arabella met and walked with Jude, who had now for weeks ceased to look into a book of Greek, Latin, or any other tongue. They wandered up the slopes till they reached the green track along the ridge, which they followed to the circular British earth-bank adjoining, Jude thinking of the great age of the trackway, and of the drovers who had frequented it, probably before the Romans knew the country. Up from the level lands below them floated the chime of church bells. Presently they were reduced to one note, which quickened, and stopped. "Now we'll go back," said Arabella, who had attended to the sounds. Jude assented. So long as he was near her he minded little where he was. When they arrived at her house he said lingeringly: "I won't come in. Why are you in such a hurry to go in to-night? It is not near dark." "Wait a moment," said she. She tried the handle of the door and found it locked. "Ah--they are gone to church," she added. And searching behind the scraper she found the key and unlocked the door. "Now, you'll come in a moment?" she asked lightly. "We shall be all alone." "Certainly," said Jude with alacrity, the case being unexpectedly altered. Indoors they went. Did he want any tea? No, it was too late: he would rather sit and talk to her. She took off her jacket and hat, and they sat down--naturally enough close together. "Don't touch me, please," she said softly. "I am part egg-shell. Or perhaps I had better put it in a safe place." She began unfastening the collar of her gown. "What is it?" said her lover. "An egg--a cochin's egg. I am hatching a very rare sort. I carry it about everywhere with me, and it will get hatched in less than three weeks." "Where do you carry it?" "Just here." She put her hand into her bosom and drew out the egg, which was wrapped in wool, outside it being a piece of pig's bladder, in case of accidents. Having exhibited it to him she put it back, "Now mind you don't come near me. I don't want to get it broke, and have to begin another." "Why do you do such a strange thing?" "It's an old custom. I suppose it is natural for a woman to want to bring live things into the world." "It is very awkward for me just now," he said, laughing. "It serves you right. There--that's all you can have of me" She had turned round her chair, and, reaching over the back of it, presented her cheek to him gingerly. "That's very shabby of you!" "You should have catched me a minute ago when I had put the egg down! There!" she said defiantly, "I am without it now!" She had quickly withdrawn the egg a second time; but before he could quite reach her she had put it back as quickly, laughing with the excitement of her strategy. Then there was a little struggle, Jude making a plunge for it and capturing it triumphantly. Her face flushed; and becoming suddenly conscious he flushed also. They looked at each other, panting; till he rose and said: "One kiss, now I can do it without damage to property; and I'll go!" But she had jumped up too. "You must find me first!" she cried. Her lover followed her as she withdrew. It was now dark inside the room, and the window being small he could not discover for a long time what had become of her, till a laugh revealed her to have rushed up the stairs, whither Jude rushed at her heels. 裘德在一个周末从阿尔夫瑞顿的住处回马利格林姑婆家。这段路程如今对他的吸引力，迎非昔日他一心回去给脾气不好的老亲戚请安可比了。他先往北岔过去，然后上了山，目的就是一个，在平常安排好的约会之处，再看看阿拉贝拉。快到小庄院时候，他处处留神，只见园篱高头她的头顶很快地晃来晃去；进了篱笆门，才看到三头还没喂肥的小猪干净利落地跳过猪圈墙，跑出来了，阿拉贝拉一个人正拼命想把它们从她开了的圈门赶回去。她刚一瞧见裘德，脸上那份干正经事的死板样儿就一变而为爱情的柔媚，脉脉含情地盯着他。不料那几个畜牲却钻了这个空子，跑得更快，一下子跑开了。 “今儿早上才把它们关起来的。”她喊着，顾不得情人还在面前，撒腿就追。“爸爸昨几个把它们从斯帕多农场赶回来的，那儿要价可高啦。它们要回家，这些猪崽子！你把园门关上，帮我把它们弄回来好不好？家里头就有妈，没男人。要是咱们不当心，猪就丢啦。” 他赶忙上前相助，在土豆地和苞菜地里头东一脚西一脚。有时候两个人跑到一块儿，他就拉住她，亲她。他们把第一头猪很快弄进了猪圈；第二头费了点事；第三头是个长腿家伙，更不听话，也更利索。它钻过园门上的窟窿，跑上有边篱的小路。 “要不去追它，准得丢了！”她说。“跟我来呀。”她跑出园门，全力冲刺。裘德在旁边跟着，不过他们只能看见这个逃犯的影儿了。有时候碰上个男孩儿，他们就大声喊他把猪拦住，可是它总有办法东窜西拐绕过去，照样往前跑。 “我拉着你手吧，亲爱的，”裘德说，“你气都喘不过来啦。”她把跑热了的手递给他，显然心里挺愿意这样，两个人就拉着手一块儿往前跑。 “这全得怪把它们赶回来，”她认真地说，“你要是把它们赶回来，它们准认得回去的道儿。该拿车装回来嘛。” 猪那会儿已经跑到一扇对着空阔的丘陵地开的、没上栓的篱笆门，刚一穿过门，它就凭小腿子的利索劲儿，加速奔跑。两个追猪的进了篱笆门，跑到高地顶上面，立刻就明白了，要想追上它的话，那只好把全程跑完，直到农场主家。从最高点上望去，猪像个黑点，顺着一条准确无误的路线往老家奔。 “没办法啦！”阿拉贝拉喊着。‘它老早在我们前头到那儿啦！这倒没关系了，它不会在路上丢了，也不会让人偷走了。他们知道是咱们的，会把它送回来。哎，亲爱的，我热死啦！” 她没松开裘德的手，就歪到一边，一下子倒在了一棵长不起来的荆棘下边的草皮上，同时猛一用劲，把裘德拉得跪到了地上。 “哎，对不起哟——我简直把你拽倒啦，真是的！我可真累呀！” 她在山顶斜坡草地上仰面朝天躺着，身子伸直得像箭杆，凝视着浩渺的蓝天。她仍然热烘烘地握着裘德的手。他在她旁边拿胳臂肘撑着，歪着身子。 “咱们这一大趟算白跑啦。”她说下去，胸脯因呼吸急促而起伏，丰满的嘴唇微微张开，脸发红，皮肤上汗涔涔的。“喂——你干吗不说话呀，亲爱的？” “我也没劲啦。都是跑着爬坡累的。” 他们这会儿置身于绝对的空寂——这是达到了极致的空寂，是四野苍茫、极望寥廓的空寂。一个人要是离他们一英里之内，他们就能看得见。他们实际上是在那个郡的诸峰之一的极顶上，从他们歇着的地方望去，基督堂周围的遥远的景色尽收眼底。不过裘德这会儿没有这样的心思。 “哎呀，我可在这树高头瞧见这么个好看玩意儿啦。”阿拉贝拉说。“一种——毛毛虫啊，我真没见过这么绿、这么黄的，太可爱啦！” “在哪儿呀？”裘德说，坐直了。 “你在那儿瞧不见——要到这边儿来。” 他弯下身子，近了点，脑袋放在她脑袋前边。“不行，我瞧不见。” “哪，就在那个大枝子分出来的小权上——离摇摆的叶子挺近，就在那儿哪！”她轻轻地把他拉到身边。 “还是瞧不见。”他又说了一遍，他的黑头发的脑袋挨着她的脸蛋。 “你真笨啊！”她气恼地说，把脸扭开。 “我不一定要看呀，亲爱的，我干吗非看不可呢？”他低头看着她。“起来吧，阿贝。” “干吗？” “我想吻你，叫我吻吧。我等得太长啦！” 她把脸转过来，有一会儿还是绷着脸斜着看他。接着嘴撤了撇，一下子蹦起来，突然大声说：“我得走啦！”立刻朝回家的道上快走。裘德跟着她，走到一块儿。 “就吻一回行不行？”裘德哄她。 “不行！”她说。 他，吃惊了：“怎么回事呀？” 她因为生气，嘴闹得紧紧的，裘德跟着她，就像听话的宠物小羊羔，后来她步子慢了，就跟他并排走，跟没事一样跟他瞎聊。他要是想拉她手，搂她腰，她总把他拦住。就这样，他们从丘陵地下来，走到她父亲的庄院边上。阿拉贝拉进了院子，跟他点点头，表示再见，神气十足，仿佛她高人一等，降格俯就，而他却不知好歹，腆着脸高攀。 “我大概跟她太随便啦。”裘德心里想，一面叹口气，掉头回马利格林去了。 逢礼拜天，阿拉贝拉家里是一片大摆宴席的派头，专门准备礼拜天用的正餐。他父亲正对着挂在窗棂上的镜子刮脸，她妈跟她在旁边一个劲儿剥豆子。有个邻居在紧靠这儿的教堂做完礼拜，正朝家里走，一眼瞧见老邓恩正在窗底下拿着刮脸刀，点点头，就进来了。 她立刻挤眉弄眼地跟阿拉贝拉说话：“我瞧见你跟他一块儿跑哪——嘻嘻！我看有了点眉目吧？” 阿拉贝拉连眼皮也没抬，只露出来懂了的意思。 “我听说他要上基督堂呢，只要一办到，他就走啦。” “你新近听说的——刚刚听说的？”阿拉贝拉问，因为吃醋、冒火，咽住一口气。 “那倒不是。听说他老早就有这个打算哩，他呆在这儿就是等走的那天。哎嗨，我看他大概相中了什么人啦。小伙子这年头什么都不在乎呀。一会儿这个，一会儿那个的。我那时候才不这样呢。” 那个贫嘴恶舌的女人走后，阿拉贝拉突然对她妈说：“今儿晚上吃了茶点，我想你跟爸爸就上艾林家玩玩吧。哦，不必啦——芬司屋那儿做晚礼拜，你们就到那儿好啦。” “啊？晚上有事儿吗？” “没事儿。我就是晚上要呆在家里头。他这人腼腆，你们在家，我不好让他来。我要是一大意，可就要鸡飞蛋打啦，光他喜欢有什么用呢！” “既然你愿意这样，天好，我们就出去。” 下午阿拉贝拉跟裘德见面，还一块儿散步。裘德已经几个礼拜没摸过什么希腊文、拉丁文或者别的文字的书了。他们在山坡上慢慢悠悠地逛荡，一直逛到长满青草的古道，又从古道走到同它连着的环形的不列颠古土堤，裘德不禁想到从前那条土路上牲口贩子经年熙来攘往的伟大时代，恐怕罗马人那时候还对这个国家一无所知呢。教堂众钟和鸣，从他们脚下的平地飘上来了，等会儿就成了一钟独呜，节奏渐快，终于停止。 “咱们该回去啦。”阿拉贝拉说，刚才她对钟声很注意。 裘德也愿意回去。反正能挨着她，他到哪儿都行。到了她家门口，他犹犹豫豫地说，“我不进去了，今天晚上你干吗这么个忙劲儿，天还没黑哪。” “你先等等。”她说。她试了试门把手，发现锁上了。 “哦——他们做礼拜去啦。”她又说了一句。接着在刮泥板后边摸了一阵子，找到了钥匙，把门打开了。“你进来呆会儿吧，好不好？”她柔声问道。“就咱们俩呀。” “行啊。”裘德答应得挺干脆，因为情势意外地大为改观，正合心意。 他们进了屋里。他要不要来点茶点？不要，已经太晚啦；他就想坐坐，跟她聊会儿。她脱了上衣，摘下帽子——两个人很自然地挨着坐在一块儿。 “你可千万别沾我，”她和婉地说，“我身上带着蛋哪。我还是顶好把它放在碰不着的地方吧。”说着就动手解长袍的领子。 “怎么回事呀？”她的情人说。 “是个——交趾鸡的蛋。我正孵个怪少见的蛋呢。我上哪儿都带着它，用不了三个礼拜就孵出来了。” “你带在哪儿呢？” “就在这儿。”她把手伸进怀里头，把蛋掏出来，蛋用一块呢子裹着，外边再拿猪尿泡包起来，免得挤碎了。给他开了眼之后，她又放回去，“你千万别到我这边儿来。我可不想把它弄破了，要不然还得再孵一个。” “你干吗干这样怪事儿呢？” “这可是老风俗哟。我看哪个女人家不想给世上添个活物儿，还不是挺自然的。” “你这会儿这么着，可真是跟我过不去呀。”他说，笑起来了。 “那才活该呢。这儿——全是你的！” 她把椅子掉了个圈，身子高出了椅背，慢吞吞地把脸送到他面前。 “你真能折腾人啊！” “刚才我掏蛋时候，你就该逮住我啊！瞧这儿吧！”她故意撩他。“我蛋没啦！”她第二次很快把蛋掏出来，可是他刚要伸出手够到她，她很快放回去了，因为自己的擒纵术那么有效，兴奋得大笑起来。接着他们两个你争我夺了一会儿，裘德冷不防把手一下子插到她怀里，成功地把蛋抓到手。她脸红了；裘德忽然明白过来，脸也红了。 他们俩对看着，直喘气。“亲一下吧，这会儿我亲你，伤不着宝贝啦；亲完了，我就走啦。” 可是她乘这时候又蹦起来。“你可得抓得着我才行哪。” 她往后退，她的情人就往前跟。屋里已经挺黑了，因为窗子很小，他好一阵没法找着她，她笑了一声，这才露了馅，原来她已经往楼上跑啦，裘德不容分说，紧追不舍。 |
| Part 1 Chapter 9 IT was some two months later in the year, and the pair had met constantly during the interval. Arabella seemed dissatisfied; she was always imagining, and waiting, and wondering. One day she met the itinerant Vilbert. She, like all the cottagers thereabout, knew the quack well, and she began telling him of her experiences. Arabella had been gloomy, but before he left her she had grown brighter. That evening she kept an appointment with Jude, who seemed sad. "I am going away," he said to her. "I think I ought to go. I think it will be better both for you and for me. I wish some things had never begun! I was much to blame, I know. But it is never too late to mend." Arabella began to cry. "How do you know it is not too late?" she said. "That's all very well to say! I haven't told you yet!" and she looked into his face with streaming eyes. "What?" he asked, turning pale. "Not ... ?" "Yes! And what shall I do if you desert me?" "Oh, Arabella--how can you say that, my dear! You _know_ I wouldn't desert you!" "Well then---- "I have next to no wages as yet, you know; or perhaps I should have thought of this before.... But, of course if that's the case, we must marry! What other thing do you think I could dream of doing?" "I thought--I thought, deary, perhaps you would go away all the more for that, and leave me to face it alone!" "You knew better! Of course I never dreamt six months ago, or even three, of marrying. It is a complete smashing up of my plans--I mean my plans before I knew you, my dear. But what are they, after all! Dreams about books, and degrees, and impossible fellowships, and all that. Certainly we'll marry: we must!" That night he went out alone, and walked in the dark self-communing. He knew well, too well, in the secret centre of his brain, that Arabella was not worth a great deal as a specimen of womankind. Yet, such being the custom of the rural districts among honourable young men who had drifted so far into intimacy with a woman as he unfortunately had done, he was ready to abide by what he had said, and take the consequences. For his own soothing he kept up a factitious belief in her. His idea of her was the thing of most consequence, not Arabella herself, he sometimes said laconically. The banns were put in and published the very next Sunday. The people of the parish all said what a simple fool young Fawley was. All his reading had only come to this, that he would have to sell his books to buy saucepans. Those who guessed the probable state of affairs, Arabella's parents being among them, declared that it was the sort of conduct they would have expected of such an honest young man as Jude in reparation of the wrong he had done his innocent sweetheart. The parson who married them seemed to think it satisfactory too. And so, standing before the aforesaid officiator, the two swore that at every other time of their lives till death took them, they would assuredly believe, feel, and desire precisely as they had believed, felt, and desired during the few preceding weeks. What was as remarkable as the undertaking itself was the fact that nobody seemed at all surprised at what they swore. Fawley's aunt being a baker she made him a bride-cake, saying bitterly that it was the last thing she could do for him, poor silly fellow; and that it would have been far better if, instead of his living to trouble her, he had gone underground years before with his father and mother. Of this cake Arabella took some slices, wrapped them up in white note-paper, and sent them to her companions in the pork-dressing business, Anny and Sarah, labelling each packet _"In remembrance of good advice."_ The prospects of the newly married couple were certainly not very brilliant even to the most sanguine mind. He, a stone-mason's apprentice, nineteen years of age, was working for half wages till he should be out of his time. His wife was absolutely useless in a town-lodging, where he at first had considered it would be necessary for them to live. But the urgent need of adding to income in ever so little a degree caused him to take a lonely roadside cottage between the Brown House and Marygreen, that he might have the profits of a vegetable garden, and utilize her past experiences by letting her keep a pig. But it was not the sort of life he had bargained for, and it was a long way to walk to and from Alfredston every day. Arabella, however, felt that all these make-shifts were temporary; she had gained a husband; that was the thing-- a husband with a lot of earning power in him for buying her frocks and hats when he should begin to get frightened a bit, and stick to his trade, and throw aside those stupid books for practical undertakings. So to the cottage he took her on the evening of the marriage, giving up his old room at his aunt's--where so much of the hard labour at Greek and Latin had been carried on. A little chill overspread him at her first unrobing. A long tail of hair, which Arabella wore twisted up in an enormous knob at the back of her head, was deliberately unfastened, stroked out, and hung upon the looking-glass which he had bought her. "What--it wasn't your own?" he said, with a sudden distaste for her. "Oh no--it never is nowadays with the better class." "Nonsense! Perhaps not in towns. But in the country it is supposed to be different. Besides, you've enough of your own, surely?" "Yes, enough as country notions go. But in town the men expect more, and when I was barmaid at Aldbrickham----" "Barmaid at Aldbrickham?" "Well, not exactly barmaid--I used to draw the drink at a public-house there--just for a little time; that was all. Some people put me up to getting this, and I bought it just for a fancy. The more you have the better in Aldbrickham, which is a finer town than all your Christminsters. Every lady of position wears false hair--the barber's assistant told me so." Jude thought with a feeling of sickness that though this might be true to some extent, for all that he knew, many unsophisticated girls would and did go to towns and remain there for years without losing their simplicity of life and embellishments. Others, alas, had an instinct towards artificiality in their very blood, and became adepts in counterfeiting at the first glimpse of it. However, perhaps there was no great sin in a woman adding to her hair, and he resolved to think no more of it. A new-made wife can usually manage to excite interest for a few weeks, even though the prospects of the house-hold ways and means are cloudy. There is a certain piquancy about her situation, and her manner to her acquaintance at the sense of it, which carries off the gloom of facts, and renders even the humblest bride independent awhile of the real. Mrs. Jude Fawley was walking in the streets of Alfredston one market-day with this quality in her carriage when she met Anny her former friend, whom she had not seen since the wedding. As usual they laughed before talking; the world seemed funny to them without saying it. "So it turned out a good plan, you see!" remarked the girl to the wife. "I knew it would with such as him. He's a dear good fellow, and you ought to be proud of un." "I am," said Mrs. Fawley quietly. "And when do you expect?" "Ssh! Not at all." "What!" "I was mistaken." "Oh, Arabella, Arabella; you be a deep one! Mistaken! well, that's clever-- it's a real stroke of genius! It is a thing I never thought o', wi' all my experience! I never thought beyond bringing about the real thing-- not that one could sham it!" "Don't you be too quick to cry sham! 'Twasn't sham. I didn't know." "My word--won't he be in a taking! He'll give it to 'ee o' Saturday nights! Whatever it was, he'll say it was a trick-- a double one, by the Lord!" "I'll own to the first, but not to the second.... Pooh-- he won't care! He'll be glad I was wrong in what I said. He'll shake down, bless 'ee--men always do. What can 'em do otherwise? Married is married." Nevertheless it was with a little uneasiness that Arabella approached the time when in the natural course of things she would have to reveal that the alarm she had raised had been without foundation. The occasion was one evening at bedtime, and they were in their chamber in the lonely cottage by the wayside to which Jude walked home from his work every day. He had worked hard the whole twelve hours, and had retired to rest before his wife. When she came into the room he was between sleeping and waking, and was barely conscious of her undressing before the little looking-glass as he lay. One action of hers, however, brought him to full cognition. Her face being reflected towards him as she sat, he could perceive that she was amusing herself by artificially producing in each cheek the dimple before alluded to, a curious accomplishment of which she was mistress, effecting it by a momentary suction. It seemed to him for the first time that the dimples were far oftener absent from her face during his intercourse with her nowadays than they had been in the earlier weeks of their acquaintance. "Don't do that, Arabella!" he said suddenly. "There is no harm in it, but--I don't like to see you." She turned and laughed. "Lord, I didn't know you were awake!" she said. "How countrified you are! That's nothing." "Where did you learn it?" "Nowhere that I know of. They used to stay without any trouble when I was at the public-house; but now they won't. My face was fatter then." "I don't care about dimples. I don't think they improve a woman-- particularly a married woman, and of full-sized figure like you." "Most men think otherwise." "I don't care what most men think, if they do. How do you know?" "I used to be told so when I was serving in the tap-room." "Ah--that public-house experience accounts for your knowing about the adulteration of the ale when we went and had some that Sunday evening. I thought when I married you that you had always lived in your father's house." "You ought to have known better than that, and seen I was a little more finished than I could have been by staying where I was born. There was not much to do at home, and I was eating my head off, so I went away for three months." "You'll soon have plenty to do now, dear, won't you?" "How do you mean?" "Why, of course--little things to make." "Oh." "When will it be? Can't you tell me exactly, instead of in such general terms as you have used?" "Tell you?" "Yes--the date." "There's nothing to tell. I made a mistake." "What?" "It was a mistake." He sat bolt upright in bed and looked at her. "How can that be?" "Women fancy wrong things sometimes." "But--! Why, of course, so unprepared as I was, without a stick of furniture, and hardly a shilling, I shouldn't have hurried on our affair, and brought you to a half-furnished hut before I was ready, if it had not been for the news you gave me, which made it necessary to save you, ready or no.... Good God!" "Don't take on, dear. What's done can't be undone." "I have no more to say!" He gave the answer simply, and lay down; and there was silence between them. When Jude awoke the next morning he seemed to see the world with a different eye. As to the point in question he was compelled to accept her word; in the circumstances he could not have acted otherwise while ordinary notions prevailed. But how came they to prevail? There seemed to him, vaguely and dimly, something wrong in a social ritual which made necessary a cancelling of well-formed schemes involving years of thought and labour, of foregoing a man's one opportunity of showing himself superior to the lower animals, and of contributing his units of work to the general progress of his generation, because of a momentary surprise by a new and transitory instinct which had nothing in it of the nature of vice, and could be only at the most called weakness. He was inclined to inquire what he had done, or she lost, for that matter, that he deserved to be caught in a gin which would cripple him, if not her also, for the rest of a lifetime? There was perhaps something fortunate in the fact that the immediate reason of his marriage had proved to be non-existent. But the marriage remained. 此后这对情人经常相会，其间又过了两个来月。可是阿拉贝拉看上去老是怏怏不乐，她无时不在盘算，期待，又不知道如何是好。 有一天她碰上江湖医生韦伯，她也跟附近一带草房人家一样，对这个骗子很了解，于是就向他倾诉自己的经历。阿拉贝拉本来愁眉苦脸的，可是他还没走，她脸上就风光起来了。当晚她如约见到裘德，不过裘德似乎很苦恼。 “我要走啦，”他对她说，“我想我得走啦。我觉着这样对咱们俩都好。我但愿压根儿没事儿才好呢！这都得怪我。不过现在改的话，还来得及啊。” 阿拉贝拉哭了。“你怎么就知道来得及呢？说得才轻巧呢。我还什么都没告诉你哪！”她涕泗滂沱，直盯着裘德的脸。 “什么？”他问，脸一白。“难道……？” “对啦！你要是甩了我，我可怎么办呢？” “哎，阿拉贝拉——我的亲爱的，你怎么好这么说呀？我决不会甩了你，这你知道呀！” “那就好啦——” “我简直连一个子儿也没挣，这你也知道；原先就该想到这一点。……不过，当然喽，要是那么回事儿，咱们就结婚好啦。你还想过我不肯这样吗？” “想过——想过哟，亲爱的，也许你就为这个想远走高飞，留下我一个人受罪呢？” “你起先这么想也不怪啊。六个月之前，就说三个月之前吧，我真是想都没想过结婚什么的。这下子把我的计划全给砸啦——我这是说，我认识你之前的计划，亲爱的！可这又算得了什么！做什么念书梦呀，学位梦呀，根本办不到的研究员梦呀，这个梦那个梦呀。咱们当然得结婚：咱们一定得结婚！” 当晚他一个人出门，在黑地里走来走去，自思自量。他很清楚，太清楚了，他脑子里有个难以告人的秘密：按妇道人家的标准，阿拉贝拉实在不够格。话又说回来，在乡下这地方，讲体面的小伙子中间素来是约定俗成：他要是稀里糊涂跟个女人打得火热，就像他不幸于出来的那样，就得说话算数，得承担后果。为了让自己心里舒坦点，他老是把她往好里想。有时候，他说得简单明了，他心目中的她只能算是个势所必至、理有固然的结果，倒不是因为阿拉贝拉之为阿拉贝拉。 到下个礼拜天，他们的结婚预告就公之于众了。教区里的人，个个说年轻的福来算得上头脑简单的二百五。他念了那么多书算白念啦。快把书卖了，买锅盘碗灶吧。那些大致猜出来个中奥妙的人，其中也有阿拉贝拉的爹妈，都声言像裘德那样老老实实的小伙子，他们料得到会有那样的举动，因为那就把他对不起自己那位清白无辜的心上人的事全都补救过来了。 于是他们俩站在上面说的结婚仪式的主持人面前起誓：有生之日，不论何时，他们必将一如既往几个礼拜那样终生厮守、信赖。体贴、期望，永不变心。这一套总算够怪了，可更怪的是，对于他们起的这个誓，哪个人也不觉得有什么怪。 福来的开面包房的姑婆，给他做了块喜庆蛋糕，深恶痛绝地说，她再也不会替那个可怜的蠢驴办什么事啦；要是他当初老早跟他爹娘到了阴曹地府，没叫他活着骚扰她，那真是谢天谢地啦。阿拉贝拉把蛋糕切下来几块，拿自便条纸包上，送给跟她一块儿加工猪肉的伙伴安妮和萨拉，每包上面都贴着条子：“承蒙指教，永志不忘。” 就是看事最乐观的人对新婚夫妇的前景也觉着确实不大妙。他是个石匠的学徒，十九岁，满师前拿半份工钱。妻子住在镇上，没事可干。他起初还认为他们非住在镇上不可，但是增加一向微薄的收入既然成了迫切需要，也就逼得他只好在栋房子和马利格林之间路边一个僻静地方租了间草房，这样他可以靠种菜得点收益，她的养猪的经验也可以派得上用场。不过这可不是他原来指望的那种生活啊。他每天来回一趟阿尔夫瑞顿，路挺长。阿拉贝拉呢，似乎觉得这不过一时权宜之计；反正她已经丈夫到了手；这才是真格的——一个具备赚钱能力、能给她买衣服买帽子的丈夫。到时候，他必定开始觉着有点顶不下去了，自然会紧守着他那个行当，把那些胡说八道的书本都扔到一边，脚踏实地担当起养家糊口的营生。 这样，结婚当晚，他就把她带到那个草房，舍掉了姑婆家那间老屋子——他以前在那儿为学希腊文和拉丁文下过多少苦功啊。 她刚头一回脱下长袍，他就浑身起了鸡皮疙疽。阿拉贝拉本来在后脑勺上绾了老大一个髻，这时候她把它仔仔细细解开了，随着把一大绺头发捋下来，挂在了裘德给她买的穿衣镜上。 “怎么——那不是你自个儿的头发？”他说，突然起了一种厌恶感。 “不是哟——这年头凡是像样的人，哪个不用假发啊。” “胡说。就是城里头也不一定谁都这样，乡里更是另一码事啦。再说，你头发本来挺厚嘛，不错吧？” “对呀，要按乡下人眼光，是够厚的，可是城里头男人喜欢头发更厚呢，我在奥尔布里肯酒吧当招待时候——” “在奥尔布里肯酒吧当招待？” “也不算真正的酒吧女招待——我从前在那儿一家酒馆倒过酒，这也没几天；就是这么回事儿。有人劝我买假发，我觉着挺好玩儿，也就买了。在奥尔布里肯，你头发越多越好。就算把你的七七八八的基督堂全加到一块儿，也还跟不上它漂亮呢。那儿有身份的太太个个戴假发——理发师傅的伙计跟我说的。” 裘德觉着恶心，因为他想到就算她说的有几分是真，但是，就他平日见闻而言，有好多纯朴的姑娘想去、也去过城市，甚至还在那儿呆上好多年，可是她们的生活和衣饰依然简单朴素。也有些，唉，她们的血液里天生一股子装模作样的本能，只要瞧上一眼，就把弄虚做假学会了，学得还挺到家。话又得说回来，妇道人家添点假发，也算不上了不起的罪过呀，他拿定主意不往下想了。 大凡刚当上妻子的女人总有办法在头几个礼拜诱发人家的兴趣，哪怕日后居家过日子，琐琐碎碎弄得减色也不碍事。她这样的身份，以及她因为自觉到这样的身份而拿出来的对熟人周旋的态度，自有一种刺激意味，既把没有光彩的现实遮掩起来，甚至还能帮顶卑下的新娘暂时摆脱她的实际地位。有一天正逢集市，裘德•福来太太就满身这种气味，在阿尔夫瑞顿街上行走，猛孤丁碰上她的老朋友安妮，阿拉贝拉婚后一直没见过她。 她们照例一见面不说话，先笑一阵，就像她们用不着说，这个世界也老是逗乐的。 “这么说，那个计划还真顶用啊，有你的！”姑娘对太太说。“我就知道那一手对他管用。他可是讨人疼的好汉子，你可得拿他当回事哟。” “我是这样。”福来太太不动声色地说。 “你什么时候——？” “嘘！生不了啦！” “什么！” “我搞错啦。” “哎，阿拉贝拉呀，阿拉贝拉；你可真有一套啊！搞错啦，嗨，真精哪——这一手可真叫绝啦！就凭我这两下子经验，我可再想不出来呀！再想不到干起来用不着真刀真熗——想不到也能玩假情假义呀！” “你先别忙着叫这是假情假义！这可不是假情假义。我当时可没往这上边想。” “我说——他可不会老蒙在鼓里头！逢礼拜六晚上他叫你有好受的呢！不管怎么着，他要说你这是拿他要着玩儿——干脆是两面三刀，嘿嘿！” “说我拿他要着玩，那还可以，可决不是两面三刀。……呸——他才不在乎呢，我说我当时说错了，他还要高兴呢。慢慢地他就没事儿啦。为他祝福吧——男人还不都是一个样儿。不这样，又能怎么办？反正是结了婚，生米做成熟饭啦。” 说是这么说，临到她非把原来闹得人仰马翻、可又莫须有的把戏坦白不可的时刻，她还是心里有点七上八下。她选的时间是一个晚上要上床睡觉时候，地点是他们路边上孤零零的房子里的卧室。裘德每天下工都是走回家，这天他整整劳累了十二个钟头，在他妻子之前先歇了。她进屋时候，他已经似睡非睡，迷迷糊糊，不大觉着她就在穿衣镜前面脱衣服。 可是她有个动作却叫他完全醒过来了。她坐在那儿，镜子里的影子正对着他，他看得很清楚，她正把两个腮帮子一咋一咋的，用人工制造酒涡来过痛，这可是她的拿手好戏，令人称奇。他好像头一回觉察到她脸上的酒涡比他们认识头几个礼拜时候出现得少而又少了。 “别搞啦，阿拉贝拉！”他突然说话了。“这样不碍事，可我不爱瞧你这样。” 她脸转过来，笑起来了。“哎呀，我不知道你醒着哪，”她说，“你可太土嘤！这有什么关系呢。” “你哪儿学来的？” “我可没学过。我在酒馆那阵子，酒涡一天到晚都在脸上，这会儿倒不行啦。我那会儿脸胖点儿。” “我倒不在乎酒涡不酒涡。依我看，它帮不了女人什么忙，能叫她漂亮点——特别是成了家的女人，别说长得像你这么丰满啦。” “大多数男人想法跟你可不一样。” “我可不管大多数男人怎么个想法，那随他们便。你怎么知道他们怎么想的？” “我在酒馆帮工时候听人家说的。” “是咬——那就难怪喽，那个礼拜六晚上咱们喝啤酒，你凭酒馆经验一咂就知道搀假了。我没跟你结婚时候，我一直当你没离开过你爸爸家呢。” “你本来应该多知道点才对呢，本来应该看得出来，我要是打一下地就窝在家里头，才不会这么大方呢。家里头没什么事，我又不能一天到晚呆着不动，这才跑到外边干了三个月。” “从这会儿起，你的事情就有得干啦，亲爱的，对不对？” “你这是什么意思？” “海海，就是这样啊——芝麻绿豆的事儿多着哪。” “哦 “倒是什么时候呀？你好不好说个准日子，别老是含含糊糊，不着天不着地的？” “要说吗？” “对，要说——准日子。” “没什么好说的。我全搞错啦。” “什么？” “搞错啦。” 他一下子在床上坐直了，两眼直勾勾地对着她。“怎么搞错啦？” “女人家有时候胡思乱想，一厢情愿，就出了错啦。” “可是——！唉，当然喷，当然喷，想当初我心理上没一点准备，连条家具腿也没有，简直是一文不名，要不是你跟我说了那个信儿，我觉着非救你不可，我哪儿会不管三七二十一把咱们的事儿办了，把你带到这么个半边空的房子来啊，……老天爷哟，苦哇！” “你难受吧，亲爱的。事到如今就算啦，反正木已成舟啦。” “我没得说哟！” 他就回答了这么一句，又躺下来，两个人没再说话。 第二天早上，他一觉醒来，似乎看这个世界的眼光跟以前不同了。至于成问题的那件事，他也无可奈何，只好听她说的那一套。既然是流俗的观点为一般人接受，他也没法自行其是，置之不理。话说回来，流俗的观点又怎么会深入人心呢？ 他隐隐感到，又没想清楚，社会上通行的礼俗准有点不对头的地方。一个人不过是因为一种新的本能的一时冲动，造成了一念之差，而那种本能并不具有一丝一毫邪恶性质，充其极只能说它是意志薄弱；可是礼俗就根据这一点硬要叫他把花费多年思考和勤劳而订立的完善计划，为争取显示自己优于低等动物的机会而做的努力和为自己这一代的普遍进步献出劳作成果的心愿，通通葬送，才肯罢休。他止不住一再追问，就为了那件事，他到底干犯了哪门子天条，她又到底受了什么损害，以至于他罪有应得，把他打进了陷阱，弄得他的大后半辈子，且不说她的，落个终身残废？还好，他当初结婚的直接原因总算证明子虚乌有了，也该说是走了运吧。可是婚姻到底还是婚姻，怎么也变不了啊。 Part 1 Chapter 10 THE time arrived for killing the pig which Jude and his wife had fattened in their sty during the autumn months, and the butchering was timed to take place as soon as it was light in the morning, so that Jude might get to Alfredston without losing more than a quarter of a day. The night had seemed strangely silent. Jude looked out of the window long before dawn, and perceived that the ground was covered with snow-- snow rather deep for the season, it seemed, a few flakes still falling. "I'm afraid the pig-killer won't be able to come," he said to Arabella. "Oh, he'll come. You must get up and make the water hot, if you want Challow to scald him. Though I like singeing best." "I'll get up," said Jude. "I like the way of my own county." He went downstairs, lit the fire under the copper, and began feeding it with bean-stalks, all the time without a candle, the blaze flinging a cheerful shine into the room; though for him the sense of cheerfulness was lessened by thoughts on the reason of that blaze--to heat water to scald the bristles from the body of an animal that as yet lived, and whose voice could be continually heard from a corner of the garden. At half-past six, the time of appointment with the butcher, the water boiled, and Jude's wife came downstairs. "Is Challow come?" she asked. "No." They waited, and it grew lighter, with the dreary light of a snowy dawn. She went out, gazed along the road, and returning said, "He's not coming. Drunk last night, I expect. The snow is not enough to hinder him, surely!" "Then we must put it off. It is only the water boiled for nothing. The snow may be deep in the valley." "Can't be put off. There's no more victuals for the pig. He ate the last mixing o' barleymeal yesterday morning." "Yesterday morning? What has he lived on since?" "Nothing." "What--he has been starving?" "Yes. We always do it the last day or two, to save bother with the innerds. What ignorance, not to know that!" "That accounts for his crying so. Poor creature!" "Well--you must do the sticking--there's no help for it. I'll show you how. Or I'll do it myself--I think I could. Though as it is such a big pig I had rather Challow had done it. However, his basket o' knives and things have been already sent on here, and we can use 'em." "Of course you shan't do it," said Jude. "I'll do it, since it must be done." He went out to the sty, shovelled away the snow for the space of a couple of yards or more, and placed the stool in front, with the knives and ropes at hand. A robin peered down at the preparations from the nearest tree, and, not liking the sinister look of the scene, flew away, though hungry. By this time Arabella had joined her husband, and Jude, rope in hand, got into the sty, and noosed the affrighted animal, who, beginning with a squeak of surprise, rose to repeated cries of rage. Arabella opened the sty-door, and together they hoisted the victim on to the stool, legs upward, and while Jude held him Arabella bound him down, looping the cord over his legs to keep him from struggling. The animal's note changed its quality. It was not now rage, but the cry of despair; long-drawn, slow and hopeless. "Upon my soul I would sooner have gone without the pig than have had this to do!" said Jude. "A creature I have fed with my own hands." "Don't be such a tender-hearted fool! There's the sticking-knife-- the one with the point. Now whatever you do, don't stick un too deep." "I'll stick him effectually, so as to make short work of it. That's the chief thing." "You must not!" she cried. "The meat must be well bled, and to do that he must die slow. We shall lose a shilling a score if the meat is red and bloody! Just touch the vein, that's all. I was brought up to it, and I know. Every good butcher keeps un bleeding long. He ought to be eight or ten minutes dying, at least." "He shall not be half a minute if I can help it, however the meat may look," said Jude determinedly. Scraping the bristles from the pig's upturned throat, as he had seen the butchers do, he slit the fat; then plunged in the knife with all his might. "'Od damn it all!" she cried, "that ever I should say it! You've over-stuck un! And I telling you all the time----" "Do be quiet, Arabella, and have a little pity on the creature!" "Hold up the pail to catch the blood, and don't talk!" However unworkmanlike the deed, it had been mercifully done. The blood flowed out in a torrent instead of in the trickling stream she had desired. The dying animal's cry assumed its third and final tone, the shriek of agony; his glazing eyes riveting themselves on Arabella with the eloquently keen reproach of a creature recognizing at last the treachery of those who had seemed his only friends. "Make un stop that!" said Arabella. "Such a noise will bring somebody or other up here, and I don't want people to know we are doing it ourselves." Picking up the knife from the ground whereon Jude had flung it, she slipped it into the gash, and slit the windpipe. The pig was instantly silent, his dying breath coming through the hole "That's better," she said. "It is a hateful business!" said he. "Pigs must be killed." The animal heaved in a final convulsion, and, despite the rope, kicked out with all his last strength. A tablespoonful of black clot came forth, the trickling of red blood having ceased for some seconds. "That's it; now he'll go," said she. "Artful creatures-- they always keep back a drop like that as long as they can!" The last plunge had come so unexpectedly as to make Jude stagger, and in recovering himself he kicked over the vessel in which the blood had been caught. "There!" she cried, thoroughly in a passion. "Now I can't make any blackpot. There's a waste, all through you!" Jude put the pail upright, but only about a third of the whole steaming liquid was left in it, the main part being splashed over the snow, and forming a dismal, sordid, ugly spectacle-- to those who saw it as other than an ordinary obtaining of meat. The lips and nostrils of the animal turned livid, then white, and the muscles of his limbs relaxed. "Thank God!" Jude said. "He's dead." "What's God got to do with such a messy job as a pig-killing, I should like to know!" she said scornfully. "Poor folks must live." "I know, I know," said he. "I don't scold you." Suddenly they became aware of a voice at hand. "Well done, young married volk! I couldn't have carried it out much better myself, cuss me if I could!" The voice, which was husky, came from the garden-gate, and looking up from the scene of slaughter they saw the burly form of Mr. Challow leaning over the gate, critically surveying their performance. "'Tis well for 'ee to stand there and glane!" said Arabella. "Owing to your being late the meat is blooded and half spoiled! 'Twon't fetch so much by a shilling a score!" Challow expressed his contrition. "You should have waited a bit" he said, shaking his head, "and not have done this-- in the delicate state, too, that you be in at present, ma'am. 'Tis risking yourself too much." "You needn't be concerned about that," said Arabella, laughing. Jude too laughed, but there was a strong flavour of bitterness in his amusement. Challow made up for his neglect of the killing by zeal in the scalding and scraping. Jude felt dissatisfied with himself as a man at what he had done, though aware of his lack of common sense, and that the deed would have amounted to the same thing if carried out by deputy. The white snow, stained with the blood of his fellow-mortal, wore an illogical look to him as a lover of justice, not to say a Christian; but he could not see how the matter was to be mended. No doubt he was, as his wife had called him, a tender-hearted fool. He did not like the road to Alfredston now. It stared him cynically in the face. The wayside objects reminded him so much of his courtship of his wife that, to keep them out of his eyes, he read whenever he could as he walked to and from his work. Yet he sometimes felt that by caring for books he was not escaping common-place nor gaining rare ideas, every working-man being of that taste now. When passing near the spot by the stream on which he had first made her acquaintance he one day heard voices just as he had done at that earlier time. One of the girls who had been Arabella's companions was talking to a friend in a shed, himself being the subject of discourse, possibly because they had seen him in the distance. They were quite unaware that the shed-walls were so thin that he could hear their words as he passed. "Howsomever, 'twas I put her up to it! 'Nothing venture nothing have,' I said. If I hadn't she'd no more have been his mis'ess than I." "'Tis my belief she knew there was nothing the matter when she told him she was ..." What had Arabella been put up to by this woman, so that he should make her his "mis'ess," otherwise wife? The suggestion was horridly unpleasant, and it rankled in his mind so much that instead of entering his own cottage when he reached it he flung his basket inside the garden-gate and passed on, determined to go and see his old aunt and get some supper there. This made his arrival home rather late. Arabella however, was busy melting down lard from fat of the deceased pig, for she had been out on a jaunt all day, and so delayed her work. Dreading lest what he had heard should lead him to say something regrettable to her he spoke little. But Arabella was very talkative, and said among other things that she wanted some money. Seeing the book sticking out of his pocket she added that he ought to earn more. "An apprentice's wages are not meant to be enough to keep a wife on, as a rule, my dear." "Then you shouldn't have had one." "Come, Arabella! That's too bad, when you know how it came about." "I'll declare afore Heaven that I thought what I told you was true. Doctor Vilbert thought so. It was a good job for you that it wasn't so!" "I don't mean that," he said hastily. "I mean before that time. I know it was not your fault; but those women friends of yours gave you bad advice. If they hadn't, or you hadn't taken it, we should at this moment have been free from a bond which, not to mince matters, galls both of us devilishly. It may be very sad, but it is true." "Who's been telling you about my friends? What advice? I insist upon you telling me." "Pooh--I d rather not." "But you shall--you ought to. It is mean of 'ee not to!" "Very well." And he hinted gently what had been revealed to him. "But I don't wish to dwell upon it. Let us say no more about it." Her defensive manner collapsed. "That was nothing," she said, laughing coldly. "Every woman has a right to do such as that. The risk is hers." "I quite deny it, Bella. She might if no lifelong penalty attached to it for the man, or, in his default, for herself; if the weakness of the moment could end with the moment, or even with the year. But when effects stretch so far she should not go and do that which entraps a man if he is honest, or herself if he is otherwise." "What ought I to have done?" "Given me time.... Why do you fuss yourself about melting down that pig's fat to-night? Please put it away!" "Then I must do it to-morrow morning. It won't keep." "Very well--do." 裘德和他的妻子秋天在自己的猪圈里养肥的那头猪到了该宰的时候了，他们定好天一亮就动手，这样裘德到阿尔夫瑞顿干活，顶多误上一天的四分之一工。 夜晚似乎静得出奇。天亮前，裘德朝窗外一瞧，只见满地都是雪——按节气说，雪似乎积得太深了，半天空还飘着雪花。 “我看宰猪的八成来不了啦。”他对阿拉贝拉说。 “哦，会来的。你要是叫查六刮猪毛，就起来把水烧开好啦。我可顶喜欢烫猪毛。” “我就起来，”裘德说，“我喜欢咱们这个郡宰猪的办法。” 他到楼下，把铜锅底下的火点着，开始往里头塞豆秸，因为没点蜡烛，火苗一往上蹿，照得满屋子通亮，叫人觉着欢畅；可是他一想到火光熊熊的原因——水烧热了就是为给那个还活着的畜牲刮毛，这会儿却还听得见它在猪圈角上咕噜咕噜没个完，他的欢畅之感就差多了。到了六点半，也就是跟宰猪的约好的钟点，水开了，裘德的妻子来到楼下。 “查六来了吗？” “还没来。” 他们等着，天亮了点，这是由于下雪天黎明时分才有的阴凄的光。她走到门外，朝大路盯着，然后回来说：“他来不了啦，昨儿晚上大概喝醉了。雪不大，挡不住，没错儿！” “那就算了吧。就当水算自烧了。低谷里的雪大概够深的。” “不能算了。猪食没啦。大麦拌的料，昨儿早上它把剩下的都吃啦。” “昨儿早上。那它后来靠什么呀？” “什么也没有。” “那——它一直饿着？” “对。头一两天，都这么干，省得捣腾内脏时候麻烦。你真不开窍，连这个都不懂！” “怪不得它这么嚎喽，可怜的东西！” “好啦——咱们得自个儿给它一刀，没人帮忙啦。我做给你看，要不然我自个儿来也行——我看我办得到。这么一头大肥猪，我真想查六来宰它呢。反正装他的刀什么的篓子送过来啦，咱们就用他的。” “你千万别干，”裘德说，“要干，那就由我来。” 他出了屋子，往猪圈去，把那儿的雪铲开，留出两码多一块空地，把凳子放到靠前的地方，拿起绳子和刀。一只知更鸟在顶近的树上偷偷瞧着他的准备工作，因为厌恶这丧气的场面，飞走了。阿拉贝拉这时到了丈夫身边。福来拿着绳子进了猪圈，套上又惊又怕的猪的脖子，那畜牲起先吓得吱吱叫，后来不断发出狂怒的吼声。阿拉贝拉打开圈门，两个人把那个受难者抬起来，放到凳子上，四脚朝天，阿拉贝拉乘着裘德把它按住，顺势把它绑死在凳子上，再用绳子把腿拴住，省得它乱踢乱动。 那畜牲的声音渐渐变了调，不是狂怒的吼声了，而是绝望的叫喊，拖得很长，挺慢，表示完全没指望了。 “我拿命起誓，要这么干，倒还不如当初没养它呢！”裘德说，“这家伙是我亲手喂大了哟。” “别充什么心慈面软的二百五吧！这儿就是尖刀——上边有个尖儿。不管你怎么扎，可就是别扎得深。” “我要一刀见效，省得它多受罪。这才要紧呢。” “不许你这样！”她大声喊着。“肉里头的血一定得好好流出来，要这样，它就得死得慢。肉要是红颜色，还带血，那二十磅肉，咱们就损失一先令啦！要整整扎在血管上头，千万别出错。我看宰猪长大的，我知道。宰猪的好把式，哪个都想法叫它血流得工夫长。至少得八九分钟之后死才行呢？” “我要是行好事，就不管肉什么样儿，用不了半分钟它就了啦。”裘德果决地说。他按看见过的宰猪法子，先把猪朝上的咽喉部位的鬃毛刮干净，再开个口子，把里边的肥膘剔出来，然后用尽全力，一刀猛扎进去。 “你要死啦！”她大叫，“你气得我胡说啦！你扎得太厉害啦！我一直跟你说——” “别急，别急，阿拉贝拉，可怜可怜这个畜牲吧！” “快拿桶接血吧，别费话啦！” 不管裘德干得多外行，他总算干了件慈悲事。猪血不像她期望那样涓涓细流，而是洪流汹涌一般。要咽气的畜牲的叫声第三次，也是最后一次变了音，那是充满痛苦的撕心裂腑的尖叫，它两只呆滞无光的眼睛瞪着阿拉贝拉，仿佛那畜牲到了末日才明白过来原先像朋友的那些人居然那么凶狡，因而流露出来叫人望而生畏的强烈的谴责。 “别让它再叫啦！”阿拉贝拉说。“这样叫要把方近左右的人都招来了，我可不愿意人家知道咱们自个儿干这事儿。”她从地上拣起裘德扔下的尖刀，对着刀口往深里一扎，把气管一搅，猪立刻没声了，它最后一口气就是从那个窟窿冒出来的。 “行啦。”她说。 “这活儿太讨厌啦！”他说。 “猪反正得宰呀。” 那头猪最后抽搐时呻吟了一声，尽管绳子绑得结结实实，它还是尽最后剩下的力气挣扎了一下。有一匙子那么多的黑血块流了出来，红血在几秒钟之前就没滴滴答答了。 “好啦，它走啦，”她说，“多刁的东西——只要行，它们总要这样留一手。” 猪最后冷不防来的那个猛烈动作，叫裘德打了个趔趄；他刚想稳住，就把装血的桶踢翻了。 “你瞧瞧！”她大喊大叫，勃然大怒。“我做不成血肠啦！东西糟塌啦，全怪你！” 裘德把桶放正了，但是冒热气的血只剩下三分之一，大部分泼到雪上面——那情景叫那些平常只知道吃猪肉的人会觉着惨。肮脏、丑恶吧。那畜牲的嘴唇和鼻孔变青了，又变白了，四肢的肉也松弛了。 “感谢上帝啊！”裘德说。‘它死啦！” “宰猪这个脏活儿怎么扯得上上帝，我倒要知道知道！”她不屑地说。“穷人得吃饭嘛！” 忽然他们听见旁边有说话声音。 “干得好呀，你们小两口儿！就是我干，也比你们好不到哪儿。” 沙哑的声音是从园门那边过来的；他们从宰猪地方抬头一看，只见查六先生魁梧的身子靠在篱笆门上，用评审的眼光考查他们演的这出戏。 “你还好意思站在那儿说风凉话呢？”阿拉贝拉说。“你这么一耽误，肉里头就留了血啦，一半肉不值钱啦！要二十磅赚一先令，就没那么多啦！” 查六表示了歉意。“你本来可以多等会儿嘛。”他说，摇摇头。“用不着急嘛——再说你这会儿是重身子，才娇贵哪，太太。你可太大意啦。” “这就用不着你操这份心啦。”阿拉贝拉说，笑起来了，裘德也笑了，听他这么说，既觉得逗乐，又感到强烈的苦涩味儿。 查六既然耽误了宰猪活儿，为弥补起见，刮剔起猪毛来就格外卖劲。裘德自以为堂堂男子汉，不该于刚才那样腌臢勾当，感到很不适意；不过他心里也明白，他这么想实在有悖一般情理，何况他不干，也会有人替他于，还不是一样嘛。那个跟他同属天地万物的东西，已经血染白雪了，令他这个自命主持公道的人，姑且不提他这个基督徒吧，感到极端的悖谬。可是他对这类事情也想不出来什么补救之良方，纠正之善策。他妻子称他为心慈面软的二百五，无疑是说对了。 现在他讨厌再走去阿尔夫瑞顿的那条路，因为老觉着那条路嬉皮笑脸地对他不转眼地瞪着，路两边的东西老是叫他回想起当初跟妻子谈情说爱时的情况；为了不看它们，他上下工一路上，不论什么时候，只要可能，就一边走一边看书。然而他有时也觉得，光泡在书里，既摆脱不了庸俗，也没法获得不平凡的思想，何况凡干活的人的趣味现在都是一个样。他经常走过河边他跟阿拉贝拉初次相识时那个地点，有一天听见从前跟阿拉贝拉一伙的一个姑娘正在棚子里跟一个朋友聊天，聊的题目正好是他。说不定她们已经从远处望见他过来了，她们万没想到因为棚壁太薄，她们聊什么，他路过时候都听见了。 “不管怎么说吧，反正都是我指点的！‘想做生意，就先别怕赔本儿。’我说。要是我不指点，她可当不了他房里头的呢。” “我可千信万信，她跟他说了她已经怀了……她明知道根本没那回事儿……” 那个女人究竟怎么指点阿拉贝拉，他就得要她当“房里头的”，或者说做他的老婆？往这上面一想真是觉得可憎到了极点，他心里不由得痛楚万分，以至于过草房之门而不人，把工具篓子往园子里头一扔，决心去看望老站婆，在那儿混顿晚饭。 这一来他到家就很晚了。不过那会儿阿拉贝拉还忙着用死猪肥膘熬油呢，因为她出去逛了一天，把事耽误了。他生怕自己因为一时听到那些话，就对她说出不中听的话，所以一直不吱声。但是阿拉贝拉倒唧唧呱呱没个完，其中一件事就是她需要点钱；她瞧见他口袋里书鼓着，就又说，他应该多赚点钱才对。 “一个当学徒的工钱一般是养不起一个老婆啊，我的亲爱的。” “那你就不该要一个嘛。” “得啦吧！你这话太差劲喽！你明明知道是怎么回事儿嘛。” “我要对着老天爷起誓，我那会儿想的，我跟你说的，都是实话。韦伯大夫也这么想的。没这宗子事，你倒是称心如意啦。” “我可不是这意思。”他赶紧说。“我指的是以前的事。我知道不是你的错；可是你那些朋友替你出了坏点子。要是她们没这样干，要么你当时没听她们的，咱们这会儿哪能捆到一块儿呀，用不着绕着弯儿说啦，这一捆可把咱们俩都害苦啦。这未免叫人太难受啦，可这又一点不假啊。” “谁跟你议论我朋友来着？什么点子？你非告诉我不行。” “呸！我就不说。” “你要说——你该说。你要是不说，就是变着法儿冤枉我。” “那好吧。”于是他用很和缓的口气把人家无意中露给他的那些话大致说了说。“不过我决不想为这个纠缠不清。咱们别再说啦。” 她的守势一败涂地了。“这算得了什么，”她说，皮笑肉不笑的。“随便哪个女人都可以这么干嘛。出了事怪她自个儿就是啦。” “你这话，我可决不承认，贝拉。她那么干，要是没带累男的一辈子受罪，反过来没因为男人胡来，带累她自个儿一辈子受罪，那还说得过去；她那么干，要是出于一时半会儿意志薄弱，把持不住，而且一时半会儿也就过去了，哪怕一年才过去吧，那也还情有可原。可要是男的是个老实人，那么干的结果，影响深远的话，那她就不应该那么干了，老把他套住不放了。反过来，他要是不老实，她也不应该老把自个儿套住不放啊。” “照你看，我从前怎么干才好呢？” “你得给我点时间想想……你干吗晚上紧着熬油呢？算啦，好不好？” “那我就得明儿一大早干啦。这东西放不住。” “好，好——就这么着。” Part 1 Chapter 11 NEXT morning, which was Sunday, she resumed operations about ten o'clock; and the renewed work recalled the conversation which had accompanied it the night before, and put her back into the same intractable temper. "That's the story about me in Marygreen, is it--that I entrapped 'ee? Much of a catch you were, Lord send!" As she warmed she saw some of Jude's dear ancient classics on a table where they ought not to have been laid. "I won't have them books here in the way!" she cried petulantly; and seizing them one by one she began throwing them upon the floor. "Leave my books alone!" he said. "You might have thrown them aside if you had liked, but as to soiling them like that, it is disgusting!" In the operation of making lard Arabella's hands had become smeared with the hot grease, and her fingers consequently left very perceptible imprints on the book-covers. She continued deliberately to toss the books severally upon the floor, till Jude, incensed beyond bearing, caught her by the arms to make her leave off. Somehow, in going so, he loosened the fastening of her hair, and it rolled about her ears. "Let me go!" she said. "Promise to leave the books alone." She hesitated. "Let me go!" she repeated. "Promise!" After a pause: "I do." Jude relinquished his hold, and she crossed the room to the door, out of which she went with a set face, and into the highway. Here she began to saunter up and down, perversely pulling her hair into a worse disorder than he had caused, and unfastening several buttons of her gown. It was a fine Sunday morning, dry, clear and frosty, and the bells of Alfredston Church could be heard on the breeze from the north. People were going along the road, dressed in their holiday clothes; they were mainly lovers--such pairs as Jude and Arabella had been when they sported along the same track some months earlier. These pedestrians turned to stare at the extraordinary spectacle she now presented, bonnetless, her dishevelled hair blowing in the wind, her bodice apart her sleeves rolled above her elbows for her work, and her hands reeking with melted fat. One of the passers said in mock terror: "Good Lord deliver us!" "See how he's served me!" she cried. "Making me work Sunday mornings when I ought to be going to my church, and tearing my hair off my head, and my gown off my back!" Jude was exasperated, and went out to drag her in by main force. Then he suddenly lost his heat. Illuminated with the sense that all was over between them, and that it mattered not what she did, or he, her husband stood still, regarding her. Their lives were ruined, he thought; ruined by the fundamental error of their matrimonial union: that of having based a permanent contract on a temporary feeling which had no necessary connection with affinities that alone render a lifelong comradeship tolerable. "Going to ill-use me on principle, as your father ill-used your mother, and your father's sister ill-used her husband?" she asked. "All you be a queer lot as husbands and wives!" Jude fixed an arrested, surprised look on her. But she said no more, and continued her saunter till she was tired. He left the spot, and, after wandering vaguely a little while, walked in the direction of Marygreen. Here he called upon his great-aunt, whose infirmities daily increased. "Aunt--did my father ill-use my mother, and my aunt her husband?" said Jude abruptly, sitting down by the fire. She raised her ancient eyes under the rim of the by-gone bonnet that she always wore. "Who's been telling you that?" she said. "I have heard it spoken of, and want to know all." "You med so well, I s'pose; though your wife--I reckon 'twas she-- must have been a fool to open up that! There isn't much to know after all. Your father and mother couldn't get on together, and they parted. It was coming home from Alfredston market, when you were a baby-- on the hill by the Brown House barn--that they had their last difference, and took leave of one another for the last time. Your mother soon afterwards died--she drowned herself, in short, and your father went away with you to South Wessex, and never came here any more." Jude recalled his father's silence about North Wessex and Jude's mother, never speaking of either till his dying day. "It was the same with your father's sister. Her husband offended her, and she so disliked living with him afterwards that she went away to London with her little maid. The Fawleys were not made for wedlock: it never seemed to sit well upon us. There's sommat in our blood that won't take kindly to the notion of being bound to do what we do readily enough if not bound. That's why you ought to have hearkened to me, and not ha' married." "Where did Father and Mother part--by the Brown House, did you say?" "A little further on--where the road to Fenworth branches off, and the handpost stands. A gibbet once stood there not onconnected with our history. But let that be." In the dusk of that evening Jude walked away from his old aunt's as if to go home. But as soon as he reached the open down he struck out upon it till he came to a large round pond. The frost continued, though it was not particularly sharp, and the larger stars overhead came out slow and flickering. Jude put one foot on the edge of the ice, and then the other: it cracked under his weight; but this did not deter him. He ploughed his way inward to the centre, the ice making sharp noises as he went. When just about the middle he looked around him and gave a jump. The cracking repeated itself; but he did not go down. He jumped again, but the cracking had ceased. Jude went back to the edge, and stepped upon the ground. It was curious, he thought. What was he reserved for? He supposed he was not a sufficiently dignified person for suicide. Peaceful death abhorred him as a subject, and would not take him. What could he do of a lower kind than self-extermination; what was there less noble, more in keeping with his present degraded position? He could get drunk. Of course that was it; he had forgotten. Drinking was the regular, stereotyped resource of the despairing worthless. He began to see now why some men boozed at inns. He struck down the hill northwards and came to an obscure public-house. On entering and sitting down the sight of the picture of Samson and Delilah on the wall caused him to recognize the place as that he had visited with Arabella on that first Sunday evening of their courtship. He called for liquor and drank briskly for an hour or more. Staggering homeward late that night, with all his sense of depression gone, and his head fairly clear still, he began to laugh boisterously, and to wonder how Arabella would receive him in his new aspect. The house was in darkness when he entered, and in his stumbling state it was some time before he could get a light. Then he found that, though the marks of pig-dressing, of fats and scallops, were visible, the materials themselves had been taken away. A line written by his wife on the inside of an old envelope was pinned to the cotton blower of the fireplace: "HAVE GONE TO MY FRIENDS. SHALL NOT RETURN." All the next day he remained at home, and sent off the carcase of the pig to Alfredston. He then cleaned up the premises, locked the door, put the key in a place she would know if she came back, and returned to his masonry at Alfredston. At night when he again plodded home he found she had not visited the house. The next day went in the same way, and the next. Then there came a letter from her. That she had gone tired of him she frankly admitted. He was such a slow old coach, and she did not care for the sort of life he led. There was no prospect of his ever bettering himself or her. She further went on to say that her parents had, as he knew, for some time considered the question of emigrating to Australia, the pig-jobbing business being a poor one nowadays. They had at last decided to go, and she proposed to go with them, if he had no objection. A woman of her sort would have more chance over there than in this stupid country. Jude replied that he had not the least objection to her going. He thought it a wise course, since she wished to go, and one that might be to the advantage of both. He enclosed in the packet containing the letter the money that had been realized by the sale of the pig, with all he had besides, which was not much. From that day he heard no more of her except indirectly, though her father and his household did not immediately leave, but waited till his goods and other effects had been sold off. When Jude learnt that there was to be an auction at the house of the Donns he packed his own household goods into a waggon, and sent them to her at the aforesaid homestead, that she might sell them with the rest, or as many of them as she should choose. He then went into lodgings at Alfredston, and saw in a shopwindow the little handbill announcing the sale of his father-in-law's furniture. He noted its date, which came and passed without Jude's going near the place, or perceiving that the traffic out of Alfredston by the southern road was materially increased by the auction. A few days later he entered a dingy broker's shop in the main street of the town, and amid a heterogeneous collection of saucepans, a clothes-horse, rolling-pin, brass candlestick, swing looking-glass, and other things at the back of the shop, evidently just brought in from a sale, he perceived a framed photograph, which turned out to be his own portrait. It was one which he had had specially taken and framed by a local man in bird's-eye maple, as a present for Arabella, and had duly given her on their wedding-day. On the back was still to be read, "JUDE TO ARABELLA," with the date. She must have thrown it in with the rest of her property at the auction. "Oh," said the broker, seeing him look at this and the other articles in the heap, and not perceiving that the portrait was of himself: "It is a small lot of stuff that was knocked down to me at a cottage sale out on the road to Marygreen. The frame is a very useful one, if you take out the likeness. You shall have it for a shilling." The utter death of every tender sentiment in his wife, as brought home to him by this mute and undesigned evidence of her sale of his portrait and gift, was the conclusive little stroke required to demolish all sentiment in him. He paid the shilling, took the photograph away with him, and burnt it, frame and all, when he reached his lodging. Two or three days later he heard that Arabella and her parents had departed. He had sent a message offering to see her for a formal leave-taking, but she had said that it would be better otherwise, since she was bent on going, which perhaps was true. On the evening following their emigration, when his day's work was done, he came out of doors after supper, and strolled in the starlight along the too familiar road towards the upland whereon had been experienced the chief emotions of his life. It seemed to be his own again. He could not realize himself. On the old track he seemed to be a boy still, hardly a day older than when he had stood dreaming at the top of that hill, inwardly fired for the first time with ardours for Christminster and scholarship. "Yet I am a man," he said. "I have a wife. More, I have arrived at the still riper stage of having disagreed with her, disliked her, had a scuffle with her, and parted from her." He remembered then that he was standing not far from the spot at which the parting between his father and his mother was said to have occurred. A little further on was the summit whence Christminster, or what he had taken for that city, had seemed to be visible. A milestone, now as always, stood at the roadside hard by. Jude drew near it, and felt rather than read the mileage to the city. He remembered that once on his way home he had proudly cut with his keen new chisel an inscription on the back of that milestone, embodying his aspirations. It had been done in the first week of his apprenticeship, before he had been diverted from his purposes by an unsuitable woman. He wondered if the inscription were legible still, and going to the back of the milestone brushed away the nettles. By the light of a match he could still discern what he had cut so enthusiastically so long ago: THITHER J. F. (with a pointing finger) The sight of it, unimpaired, within its screen of grass and nettles, lit in his soul a spark of the old fire. Surely his plan should be to move onward through good and ill-- to avoid morbid sorrow even though he did see uglinesses in the world? BENE AGERE ET LOETARI--to do good cheerfully-- which he had heard to be the philosophy of one Spinoza, might be his own even now. He might battle with his evil star, and follow out his original intention. By moving to a spot a little way off he uncovered the horizon in a north-easterly direction. There actually rose the faint halo, a small dim nebulousness, hardly recognizable save by the eye of faith. It was enough for him. He would go to Christminster as soon as the term of his apprenticeship expired. He returned to his lodgings in a better mood, and said his prayers. 第二天适逢礼拜天，上午十点钟光景，阿拉贝拉开始熬猪油。她一于这个活儿，马上想起头天晚上熬猪油时候他们两个的谈话，桀骛不驯惯了，又发起脾气来。 “那就是我的新闻，在马利格林传遍了吧，对不对？——我把你套住啦。你可真值得人套住啊！好家伙！”她火冒三丈，一眼瞧见裘德心爱的古典著作放在桌上不该放的地方。“我不许书放在那儿！”她气哼哼地说，抓起书来，一本本往地下摔。 “别动我的书！”他说。“你瞧着不顺眼，随便扔一边去就是啦。可这么糟塌书，未免太不像话啦！”阿拉贝拉熬油的手沾着油，书上明显地留下了她指头印子。她继续故意地把地上的书踢来踢去，裘德实在忍无可忍了，一把抓住她的胳臂，想把她拉到一边去，没想到顺带着碰松了她的发髻，她的头发散了下来。 “放开我！”她说。 “你答应不动书就放开。” 她迟疑了一下，又说，“放开我！” “你答应才行。” 稍停了停：“我答应。” 裘德松开手，她哭丧着脸，穿过屋子，出了门，上了大路，在大路上转来转去，居心不良地把自己弄得披头散发，比他碰上去的时候还乱。她还把长袍上的钮扣解开了几个。那会儿礼拜天上午，晴朗、干燥、霜后清冽，听得见北风送来的阿尔夫瑞顿教堂的钟声。大路上人来人往，穿着度假衣装，他们大都是情侣——一双双一对对跟裘德和阿拉贝拉从前一样。他们俩早几个月也在那条路上蹓跶过。过路人不免扭过头来，盯着她做出来的那副怪模怪样：女帽也没戴，头发乱蓬蓬在风里飘，袖子因为做事一直卷到了肘上边，两手沾着熬化了的猪油。有个过路人装出害怕样子，说，“老天爷救救咱们呀。” “你们都瞧瞧呀，他就是这样收拾我哟。”她哇啦哇啦大叫。“大礼拜天的，我该当上教堂，他叫我在家里干活，还把我头发扯下来，把我的长袍也从背上扯开啦。” 裘德气极败坏，跑出屋子，拼命要把她往回拉。突然一下子，他一点气力都没了。她的丈夫恍然大悟，他们的关系已经完了，不论她还是他，再怎么样也无济于事了。他一动不动地站着，冷冷地看着她。他们两个人的生活都毁啦，他心里想着。他们的结合所以成立，原来是靠了一时冲动、片刻欢娱做基础而订下的永世长存的婚约，根本不具备万不可少的心心相印，相互体贴。而只要是心心相印，相互体贴，就能两情欢洽，终始不渝。 “你一定要像你爸爸虐待你妈，你爸爸的妹妹虐待她男人那样虐待我吗？”她问。“你们家男男女女，丈夫也好，老婆也好，都是一群怪物。” 裘德死死盯住她，眼光流露出惊愕。但是她并没往下说，继续转来转去，后来转得她自己也觉着累了。他离开了她呆的地方，茫无目的地转悠了一会儿，随后向马利格林走去。他要去找姑婆，而她是一天比一天衰弱了。 “姑婆——我爸爸真是虐待我妈吗？我姑姑真是虐待她丈夫吗？”裘德坐在火旁边，没头没脑地问。 她一年到头戴着过时的帽子，老眼昏花，从帽檐底下抬起来看。“哪个跟你说这个啦？” “我听人说过，想从头到尾知道知道。” “我猜你早晚会这样；可我估摸着还是你老婆起的这个头儿，她真是个糊涂虫，要提这事儿。其实也没什么值得知道的。你爸爸跟你妈在一块儿过不下去，就散啦。那会儿是打阿尔夫瑞顿庙会上回来，你还怀抱哪——就在棕房子旁边山上，两个人最后闹翻了，就彼此拜拜，各奔东西啦。以后没多久，你妈死啦——简单说吧，她投水死的。你爸爸就把你带到南维塞克斯去啦，以后压根儿没来过。” 裘德想起来，他父亲对北维塞克斯和裘德母亲的事总是守口如瓶，临死那天也一个字没提。 “你爸爸的妹妹也是那么回事儿。她丈夫惹火了她，她实在讨厌跟他一块儿过，就带了她的小丫头上伦敦啦。福来家的人生来不是成家的料；凡成过家的压根儿没过过好日子。咱们血里总有个什么东西，你要是压着他干，他可是决不买账；要是不压着，倒愿意顺条顺理地干呢。所以说，你本来该好好听我的话，别结婚，道理就在这儿。” “爸爸妈妈在哪儿分的手呢——在栋房子旁边？你这么说的吧？” “稍微往前点——大路就打那儿岔到芬司屋，还立着指路牌呢。以前那儿还立过绞架，跟咱们家历史可没关系。” 天色向晚，裘德在黄昏时分离开姑婆家，意思像是回家。可是刚走到开阔的丘陵地，他就阔步而k，直趋一个圆形大池塘。寒气渐甚，但并不凛冽，大些的星斗缓缓出现在上空，闪烁不定。裘德先一只脚踩在塘边冰上，然后又踩上一只脚：在他的身体的压力下，冰嘎巴嘎巴响起来，不过没把他吓住。他试着一步一步地往里走，到了塘中央，跟着冰响起了爆裂声。差不多到塘中间时候，他朝四处望了望，然后蹦起来一下，又听见了嘎巴嘎巴声。再蹦一下，爆裂声反而停了。裘德回到塘边，到了地上。 这大怪啦，他心里想。把他留下来又有什么用呢？他认为他还没有想自杀的人那种巍巍气度吧，所以温文尔雅的死神看不上他，认为他不配当子民，不肯召走他。 有没有比自己轻生还下一等的死法来结果自己，办法不必那么高尚，可又更适合自己这会儿落到的卑屈处境呢？他可以喝得醺醺大醉嘛，这个办法明摆着，他可忘啦。喝酒一向是沧于绝境的贫苦下贱人消愁解闷的老一套办法。他开始懂得了有些人干吗老是泡在小酒店里头。他朝北大踏步下山，到了一家不起眼的小酒店。进去坐下来之后，他瞧见墙上参孙和大利亚的画像，才认出来就是他跟阿拉贝拉恋爱头一个礼拜天晚上到过的地方。他痛饮了大概一个多钟头。 到了半夜，他晃晃悠悠往家走，沮丧感一点也没有了，头脑倒挺清醒的。他狂笑不已，琢磨着阿拉贝拉看到他这个新鲜样儿，该怎么对付他。进家时候，里头漆黑一片，他跌跌撞撞，好容易才摸着火柴，点起了蜡烛，这才看明白整猪经过收拾，猪油已经熬过，猪肉已经切片的明显痕迹，不过这些东西全拿开了。他的妻子在一个旧信封反面上写了一行字，用针别在壁炉的挡风帘上： “到朋友家。不回来了。” 第二天他整天呆在家里，托人把猪身子送到阿尔夫瑞顿；然后把家里收拾干净，锁好门，把钥匙放在她万一回来能找得到的地方，就上阿尔夫瑞顿石作坊去了。 晚上他又有气无力地回到家里，可是没看到她。第二天、第三天也一样。后来她来了封信。 她直言无隐，承认她已经腻味他。他跟个老牛破车似的，她才不愿意过那样的日子。也看不出来他也好、她也好，以后能好到哪儿去。又接着说，他已经知道她父母考虑移居澳洲有一段时间了，这年头养猪是个穷生意。他们已经最后决定走了，她提出来跟他们一块儿走，要是他们肯的话。像她这样女人到那个地方要比守在死气沉沉的乡下机会总要多些。 裘德回信说他毫无异议，她只管走好啦。他认为，既然她想走，不失为一个好办法，对他们双方都有好处。他在装信的小包里，封进去卖猪的钱，还有他自己不多一点钱。 从那天起，他没再收到她的信，无非间接听到点消息，不过她父亲和全家并没立刻动身，还要等到把货同别的财物出清再说。裘德一听说邓恩家要拍卖，就把自己的一应家私装上一辆货车，送到她那儿，也就是前面提到过的那个小庄院，让她把那些东西跟别的一块儿卖掉，她爱卖什么就卖什么。 他随后搬到阿尔夫瑞顿的住处，看见一家铺子的窗子上有张小招贴，通告甩卖他岳父的家具。他注意出售的日期，那一天来了又过去了，裘德也没往那儿附近去。他也没看到因为拍卖，靠南边路上阿尔夫瑞顿镇外车马比平常真正多起来。又过了几天，他走进镇上一家旧货代理店，店堂后面放着品类繁多的大杂烩，什么汤锅、晾衣架、擀面杖、铜烛台、两面镜子等等，显而易见都是经过甩卖来的，这时他发现一张带框的相片，原来是他自己的尊容。 那张相片是特意请镇上一个人拍的，配上了有椭圆形鸟眼纹的槭木框子，他选在婚礼那天送给她，相片背面还留着“裘德赠给阿拉贝拉”的字样和日期。她准是把它扔到了她要拍卖的财物一块儿了。 “哦。”店老板说。虽然看着他瞧了瞧相片，又瞧了瞧一大堆别的东西，他却没有发觉他就是相片中人，并且向他解释说，“到马利格林那条路上，靠一边有个草房，把东西甩卖了，这玩意儿是搭着卖给我的。要是把相片取下来，镜框还是蛮有用的。你给一先令拿走好啦。” 他的妻子把他的照片和礼物也连着别的东西甩卖，是个不言而喻而又出乎自然的证据，说明了她对他绝情到了多么彻底的地步，而这正是少不了的了却一切的轻轻一击，好把他全部的眷念之情摧毁到家。他付了一先令，把相片带走，到了住处，就把相片带框子烧了。 两三天后，他听说阿拉贝拉和她的父母已经启程远行。事前，他带过口信给她，提出要郑重其事地给她送行，不过她表示她已经志在必走，就不必多此一举，反而好些。她这样说也许不无道理吧。在他们移居国外以后那个晚上，他一天的活已经干完，就离开住处，循着极熟悉的大路，在星光下漫步，向高地走去，那是他有生以来体验从未有过的极度欢娱之情的地方。这会儿高地仿佛又重归他的怀抱了。 他自己究意怎么回事，他也弄不清了。在那条古道上，他好像还是个孩子，比起当年他站在山顶上做梦，胸中头一次燃烧着对基督堂和学问的热烈向往之情的时候，似乎连一天都没长大。“但是我现在是成年人了。”他说。“我有了妻子。不单是这样，我跟她闹别扭，觉着她可厌，还跟她打了架，最后一刀两断，我已经到了一个成熟得多的阶段啦。” 接着他想起来他这会儿站的地方，据姑婆说就是当年他父母仳离的地方。 再往前一点就到了最高处，犹记当年基督堂，或他以为是的那个城市，曾依稀可辨。挨着路边，一直稳稳竖着一块里程碑。裘德慢慢走到它旁边，碑上标的里数已经没法看清楚，只好拿手摸摸。他想起来有一回他在回家路上，一时兴起，自鸣得意地用锐利的新凿子在里程碑碑阴上錾下一行字。还是他当学徒头一个礼拜干的，当时他还没为一个跟他格格不入的女人而偏离自己努力的目标。他不知道字迹如今清楚不清楚，于是转到碑后，拨开了尊麻丛，借着一根火柴的亮光，他终于看清了老早以前自己何等热情奔放地錾下了： 到那边去 J．F． 重睹在蔓草和荨麻掩覆下、略无漫漶的那行字，他心中再次燃起往日的激情的火花。难道他就不想在善与恶交织中把自己的计划推向前进吗？——哪怕实实在在感受了世间丑恶，就不要力戒病态的愁苦吗？Bene agers et loetari——高高兴兴地做好事，这是他听说过的一位名叫斯宾诺沙的人的哲学，现在不也可以成为他自己的哲学吗？ 他要跟命里灾星斗下去，要把他原先的抱负付诸实现。 他走到稍远一点的地方，极目遥注东北方地平线。那儿空中果然有一团微弱的光晕，有一小缕淡淡的烟云，但是倘若不是虔诚的目光，那就不大能看到了。他觉得这样就够了。只要他学徒期一满，他必定前往基督堂。 他回到住处，心情好多了，做了祈祷。 |
Part 2 AT CHRISTMINSTER "Save his own soul he hath no star."--SWINBURNE. "Notitiam primosque gradus vicinia fecit; Tempore crevit amor."--OVID. “唯有他心灵，别无引路里。”——斯文朋 “比邻而居，有幸初结识，时光流转，日久爱情生。”——奥维德 Part 2 Chapter 1 THE next noteworthy move in Jude's life was that in which he appeared gliding steadily onward through a dusky landscape of some three years' later leafage than had graced his courtship of Arabella, and the disruption of his coarse conjugal life with her. He was walking towards Christminster City, at a point a mile or two to the south-west of it. He had at last found himself clear of Marygreen and Alfredston: he was out of his apprenticeship, and with his tools at his back seemed to be in the way of making a new start--the start to which, barring the interruption involved in his intimacy and married experience with Arabella, he had been looking forward for about ten years. Jude would now have been described as a young man with a forcible, meditative, and earnest rather than handsome cast of countenance. He was of dark complexion, with dark harmonizing eyes, and he wore a closely trimmed black beard of more advanced growth than is usual at his age; this, with his great mass of black curly hair, was some trouble to him in combing and washing out the stone-dust that settled on it in the pursuit of his trade. His capabilities in the latter, having been acquired in the country, were of an all-round sort, including monumental stone-cutting, gothic free-stone work for the restoration of churches, and carving of a general kind. In London he would probably have become specialized and have made himself a "moulding mason," a "foliage sculptor"-- perhaps a "statuary." He had that afternoon driven in a cart from Alfredston to the village nearest the city in this direction, and was now walking the remaining four miles rather from choice than from necessity, having always fancied himself arriving thus. The ultimate impulse to come had had a curious origin-- one more nearly related to the emotional side of him than to the intellectual, as is often the case with young men. One day while in lodgings at Alfredston he had gone to Marygreen to see his old aunt, and had observed between the brass candlesticks on her mantlepiece the photograph of a pretty girlish face, in a broad hat with radiating folds under the brim like the rays of a halo. He had asked who she was. His grand-aunt had gruffly replied that she was his cousin Sue Bridehead, of the inimical branch of the family; and on further questioning the old woman had replied that the girl lived in Christminster, though she did not know where, or what she was doing. His aunt would not give him the photograph. But it haunted him; and ultimately formed a quickening ingredient in his latent intent of following his friend the school master thither. He now paused at the top of a crooked and gentle declivity, and obtained his first near view of the city. Grey-stoned and dun-roofed, it stood within hail of the Wessex border, and almost with the tip of one small toe within it, at the northernmost point of the crinkled line along which the leisurely Thames strokes the fields of that ancient kingdom. The buildings now lay quiet in the sunset, a vane here and there on their many spires and domes giving sparkle to a picture of sober secondary and tertiary hues. Reaching the bottom he moved along the level way between pollard willows growing indistinct in the twilight, and soon confronted the outmost lamps of the town--some of those lamps which had sent into the sky the gleam and glory that caught his strained gaze in his days of dreaming, so many years ago. They winked their yellow eyes at him dubiously, and as if, though they had been awaiting him all these years in disappointment at his tarrying, they did not much want him now. He was a species of Dick Whittington whose spirit was touched to finer issues than a mere material gain. He went along the outlying streets with the cautious tread of an explorer. He saw nothing of the real city in the suburbs on this side. His first want being a lodging he scrutinized carefully such localities as seemed to offer on inexpensive terms the modest type of accommodation he demanded; and after inquiry took a room in a suburb nicknamed "Beersheba," though he did not know this at the time. Here he installed himself, and having had some tea sallied forth. It was a windy, whispering, moonless night. To guide himself he opened under a lamp a map he had brought. The breeze ruffled and fluttered it, but he could see enough to decide on the direction he should take to reach the heart of the place. After many turnings he came up to the first ancient mediaeval pile that he had encountered. It was a college, as he could see by the gateway. He entered it, walked round, and penetrated to dark corners which no lamplight reached. Close to this college was another; and a little further on another; and then he began to be encircled as it were with the breath and sentiment of the venerable city. When he passed objects out of harmony with its general expression he allowed his eyes to slip over them as if he did not see them. A bell began clanging, and he listened till a hundred-and-one strokes had sounded. He must have made a mis-take, he thought: it was meant for a hundred. When the gates were shut, and he could no longer get into the quadrangles, he rambled under the walls and doorways, feeling with his fingers the contours of their mouldings and carving. The minutes passed, fewer and fewer people were visible, and still he serpentined among the shadows, for had he not imagined these scenes through ten bygone years, and what mattered a night's rest for once? High against the black sky the flash of a lamp would show crocketed pinnacles and indented battlements. Down obscure alleys, apparently never trodden now by the foot of man, and whose very existence seemed to be forgotten, there would jut into the path porticoes, oriels, doorways of enriched and florid middle-age design, their extinct air being accentuated by the rottenness of the stones. It seemed impossible that modern thought could house itself in such decrepit and superseded chambers. Knowing not a human being here, Jude began to be impressed with the isolation of his own personality, as with a self-spectre, the sensation being that of one who walked but could not make himself seen or heard. He drew his breath pensively, and, seeming thus almost his own ghost, gave his thoughts to the other ghostly presences with which the nooks were haunted. During the interval of preparation for this venture, since his wife and furniture's uncompromising disappearance into space, he had read and learnt almost all that could be read and learnt by one in his position, of the worthies who had spent their youth within these reverend walls, and whose souls had haunted them in their maturer age. Some of them, by the accidents of his reading, loomed out in his fancy disproportionately large by comparison with the rest. The brushings of the wind against the angles, buttresses, and door-jambs were as the passing of these only other inhabitants, the tappings of each ivy leaf on its neighbour were as the mutterings of their mournful souls, the shadows as their thin shapes in nervous movement, making him comrades in his solitude. In the gloom it was as if he ran against them without feeling their bodily frames. The streets were now deserted, but on account of these things he could not go in. There were poets abroad, of early date and of late, from the friend and eulogist of Shakespeare down to him who has recently passed into silence, and that musical one of the tribe who is still among us. Speculative philosophers drew along, not always with wrinkled foreheads and hoary hair as in framed portraits, but pink-faced, slim, and active as in youth; modern divines sheeted in their surplices, among whom the most real to Jude Fawley were the founders of the religious school called Tractarian; the well-known three, the enthusiast, the poet, and the formularist, the echoes of whose teachings had influenced him even in his obscure home. A start of aversion appeared in his fancy to move them at sight of those other sons of the place, the form in the full-bottomed wig, statesman rake, reasoner and sceptic; the smoothly shaven historian so ironically civil to Christianity; with others of the same incredulous temper, who knew each quad as well as the faithful, and took equal freedom in haunting its cloisters. He regarded the statesmen in their various types, men of firmer movement and less dreamy air; the scholar, the speaker, the plodder; the man whose mind grew with his growth in years, and the man whose mind contracted with the same. The scientists and philologists followed on in his mind-sight in an odd impossible combination, men of meditative faces, strained foreheads, and weak-eyed as bats with constant research; then official characters--such men as governor-generals and lord-lieutenants, in whom he took little interest; chief-justices and lord chancellors, silent thin-lipped figures of whom he knew barely the names. A keener regard attached to the prelates, by reason of his own former hopes. Of them he had an ample band--some men of heart, others rather men of head; he who apologized for the Church in Latin; the saintly author of the Evening Hymn; and near them the great itinerant preacher, hymn-writer, and zealot, shadowed like Jude by his matrimonial difficulties. Jude found himself speaking out loud, holding conversations with them as it were, like an actor in a melodrama who apostrophizes the audience on the other side of the footlights; till he suddenly ceased with a start at his absurdity. Perhaps those incoherent words of the wanderer were heard within the walls by some student or thinker over his lamp; and he may have raised his head, and wondered what voice it was, and what it betokened. Jude now perceived that, so far as solid flesh went, he had the whole aged city to himself with the exception of a belated townsman here and there, and that he seemed to be catching a cold. A voice reached him out of the shade; a real and local voice: "You've been a-settin' a long time on that plinth-stone, young man. What med you be up to?" It came from a policeman who had been observing Jude without the latter observing him. Jude went home and to bed, after reading up a little about these men and their several messages to the world from a book or two that he had brought with him concerning the sons of the university. As he drew towards sleep various memorable words of theirs that he had just been conning seemed spoken by them in muttering utterances; some audible, some unintelligible to him. One of the spectres (who afterwards mourned Christminster as "the home of lost causes," though Jude did not remember this) was now apostrophizing her thus: "Beautiful city! so venerable, so lovely, so unravaged by the fierce intellectual life of our century, so serene! ... Her ineffable charm keeps ever calling us to the true goal of all of us, to the ideal, to perfection." Another voice was that of the Corn Law convert, whose phantom he had just seen in the quadrangle with a great bell. Jude thought his soul might have been shaping the historic words of his master-speech: "Sir, I may be wrong, but my impression is that my duty towards a country threatened with famine requires that that which has been the ordinary remedy under all similar circumstances should be resorted to now, namely, that there should be free access to the food of man from whatever quarter it may come.... Deprive me of office to-morrow, you can never deprive me of the consciousness that I have exercised the powers committed to me from no corrupt or interested motives, from no desire to gratify ambition, for no personal gain." Then the sly author of the immortal Chapter on Christianity: "How shall we excuse the supine inattention of the Pagan and philosophic world, to those evidences (miracles) which were presented by Omnipotence? ... The sages of Greece and Rome turned aside from the awful spectacle, and appeared unconscious of any alterations in the moral or physical government of the world." Then the shade of the poet, the last of the optimists: How the world is made for each of us! . . . . . . . . . . . And each of the Many helps to recruit The life of the race by a general plan. Then one of the three enthusiasts he had seen just now, the author of the APOLOGIA: "My argument was ... that absolute certitude as to the truths of natural theology was the result of an assemblage of concurring and converging probabilities ... that probabilities which did not reach to logical certainty might create a mental certitude." The second of them, no polemic, murmured quieter things: Why should we faint, and fear to live alone, Since all alone, so Heaven has will'd, we die? He likewise heard some phrases spoken by the phantom with the short face, the genial Spectator: "When I look upon the tombs of the great, every motion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tombs of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow." And lastly a gentle-voiced prelate spoke, during whose meek, familiar rhyme, endeared to him from earliest childhood, Jude fell asleep: Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed. Teach me to die ... He did not wake till morning. The ghostly past seemed to have gone, and everything spoke of to-day. He started up in bed, thinking he had overslept himself and then said: "By Jove--I had quite forgotten my sweet-faced cousin, and that she's here all the time! ... and my old schoolmaster, too." His words about his schoolmaster had, perhaps, less zest in them than his words concerning his cousin. 裘德采取了他有生以来的又一次值得注意的行动。在瞑色四合、暮野沉沉中，他迈着矫健而轻快的步子，一往直前。从他最初同阿拉贝拉调情到鄙俗的婚姻生活的最后破裂，其间已三历寒暑。如今又到了枝繁叶茂、绿满人间的时节。他正朝基督堂城走去，到了离城西南面一二英里的地方。 他同马利格林和阿尔夫瑞顿的缘分终于结束。他已经学徒期满，这会儿背着工具，像是正走在开辟新生活的起点的途程上——不算他同阿拉贝拉两情缱绻和婚姻生活造成的中断，他对这新起点企盼之殷约有十年之久。 单单形容他这会儿一表人材是不够的，他的神采更其表明他是个刚强自信、好学深思、诚挚严肃的青年。脸上皮色颇深，恰好配上非常合适的黑眼睛；留着修得很齐整的小胡子，而这个年龄的人却很少胡子长得这么冲；黑胡子加上浓密的黑鬈发，做手艺时落上石粉，梳洗起来就很费事了。他在乡下学的石活儿，样样俱全，包括錾各类石碑，修复教堂易切石雕刻，以及一般镌刻。他若是在伦敦，经过努力，大概会专精一门，或当上“造型石匠”，或成为“叶簇雕刻匠”，说不定还做个“雕像师”哩。 那天下午，他在阿尔夫瑞顿坐上四轮运货小马车，按上边说的方向，到了离基督堂最近的村子，这会儿正在走剩下的四英里路，倒不是因为只好这么走，而是他宁愿走，因为他一直想象着有那么一天步行到基督堂。 他终于决定到基督堂有个奇怪的诱因，它同情感方面的关系大大超过了同求知方面的关系，而类似情形，年轻人当中说来并不鲜见。原来他住在阿尔夫瑞顿时候，有一天回马利格林看望老姑婆，注意到壁炉搁板上，铜烛台之间，摆着一张面貌眣丽的少女的相片：她戴着宽边帽，帽缘缀着圆褶，宛如圣洁的光环。他问这是谁。姑婆没好气地回他说，是他一个表姊妹苏•柏瑞和，是那个终年不安生的家门的。他再往下问，姑婆说她人是在基督堂，至于住在哪儿，干什么，她一点不知道。 她不肯把相片给他。不过他心里一直想来想去，这件事终于成了他久已怀着的到基督堂追步他那位老师和朋友的心愿的快速催化剂。 这会儿他正从一条曲折小径走上那个不算陡的斜坡，到了顶上就停下来。这是他头一回从近处观览基督堂景色。灰石头造的、房顶是深褐色的这座城市，同维塞克斯郡界毗连，人语相闻；在透迄的边界线极北端一点上，它的小小脚尖伸到了郡里，泰晤士河就打那儿从容不迫地流经古代王国的田野。基督堂的建筑物在残照中意态安详，许许多多塔尖和圆顶上都露出风信旗，为一幅本来用简净素雅的第二色调和第三色调绘就的图画涂上了闪光点。 他下到坡脚，跟着上了条平坦的道路，截梢柳树夹道而立，暮色苍茫，树影渐见模糊。再往前走，他很快就迎面望见城市边缘的路灯，其中有些盏迎着天空，只见光色溶溶，略显淡彩。在那么多年前，在他对基督堂梦想神驰的日子中，它们不是紧紧吸住过他的紧张的凝望吗？不过这会儿它们似乎露出了犹豫不决，对他眨巴着黄眼睛，像是表示它们本来多少年盼望他负发来学，可是屡屡失望，这会儿不怎么想他来了。 他本属狄克•惠廷顿一流人，他内心为之感动的并非纯属物质方面的满足，而更其是纯粹、美好的事物。他沿着城市外围走下去，步步小心，犹如探测者那样不敢轻忽大意。但是眼前最要紧的事还是先找到落脚地方，于是他留心察看什么地段能向他提供既适合他需要、租金又不高的普通房子。经过一再打听，总算在一个外号 “别是巴”的郊区租到一间屋子，至于这个外号，他当时并不知道。他就在那儿安顿下来，喝了点茶，又出去转了。 那晚上没月亮，风声飒飒，人语悄悄。他在路灯底下展开了随身带着的地图，想弄清楚怎么走法。风吹得地图忽上忽下，一折一弯，不过他到底尽量弄明白了走哪个方向，才到得了市中心。 转了好多个弯儿，他总算遇到一座巍峨的中古时代建筑，根据大门判断，是所学院。进去之后，他到处走，甚至深入到路灯照不到的昏暗角落。紧边上还有一所学院；稍远点又是一所；这样他就让古老庄严的城市的气息和情调包围起来，开始有了充实之感。他只要经过跟它整体形象不相谐调的东西，就有意掉开眼光，像是根本没看见它们。 钟当当响起来，他侧耳细听，一共数了一百零一下，心想大概听错了，准是敲了一百下。 学院大门都关上了，他别再想进哪个学院的四方院，只好在院墙外面。大门左右转悠，摸摸墙上凸起的线纹和雕饰的外缘。一分钟一分钟过去了，人越来越少，他仍然在重重墙影中流连不已。以往十年他不是一直在憧憬着这会儿的情景吗？就算整夜不眠不休，也不过这么一回，又算得了什么呀？一盏路灯倏地闪亮，在黑暗的天空衬托下，把卷叶雕装饰的哥特式尖塔和锯齿形垛谍映得形容毕呈。那些幽晦的夹道现在显然根本没人踩过一脚，大概也没人想到它们的存在吧，而那些按中古样式设计而又加以充实、增华的圆柱门廊。凸窗和门道却朝窄窄小道挤了进去，它们的败象本就明显，却又因石头久经剥蚀的累累痕迹，更为突出。这类老朽不堪、落伍于时代的高堂深院，竟然有近代思想安家落户，看来怎么可能呢？ 他在这地方一个人也不认识，所以一时生出孑然一身、遗世独立之感，仿佛就剩下他一个魂灵了。这种感觉，大凡在一个人独自走路，没法叫谁瞧见。听见时，就免不了。他觉着难受，不由得透了口气，既然他这会儿跟孤魂差不多了，他就忍不住朝那些隐在深处转悠的游魂琢磨起来。 自从他妻于远走高飞，还有那些家具，全同他一刀两断，再也不见踪迹之后，他在准备这次大胆行动过程中间，凡他的条件允许下能找来阅读和研究的卓越人物的著作，他无不—一阅读和研究过。他们就是在那令人肃然起敬的高墙之内度过了青年时代，及至老成持重的年纪，他们的心还是眷念故地，依依不舍。读书时，他不期然而遇到了某些人，他们在他的想象中显得比其他人的形象远为鲜明高大。这时夜风掠过屋角、扶壁和门柱，仿佛这些此地仅有的居民飘忽而过；常春藤相叠的叶子窸窣作响，仿佛他们的凄怆的幽灵正隅隅细语；重重阴影仿佛他们的单薄的身形在局促不安地走动，成了他在孤独中的同志。他好像在昏暗中同他们撞个正着，但是摸不着、碰不到他们的实在的形体。 街头阒寂，而他却因为有了这样的感触，不想回到住所。这儿有古往今来、五湖四海的诗人，从莎士比亚的朋友和榆扬者到晚近弃世、归于沉默的那位人物，还有那位至今健在、在侪辈中以韵律流美而见称的先生。思辨哲学家信步而来，他们可不像装在框子里的肖像那样一概满额皱纹、须发皤然，而是红光满面，高挑身材，行动灵活。现代神学家身穿法衣，最让裘德•福来感到如见其人的莫如号称讲册派的创始人，响当当三位大人物：热心派、诗人、公式派，他们的教诲哪怕在他住过的穷乡僻壤也响起了回应，对他发生过影响。他的幻觉从他们身上陡地一转，一眼瞧见了此地另一类子孙，顿生厌恶之感，其中一个披散着假发，集政治家。浪荡子、善辩者与怀疑派于一身；另一个是脸刮得于干净净的历史家，他对基督教彬彬有礼，其实暗含着讥讽；此外还有跟他们一样的怀疑一切的人物，他们也可以像虔诚的教徒那样，随心所欲地在四方院走廊徜徉。 他还瞧见形形色色的政治家，他们行事果决，难为幻想所动；还有学问家、演说家、事务主义者；有的人随着年事见长，胸襟益见开阔；有的人在同一境况下，胸襟反渐趋狭隘。 在他的幻觉的视界中，跟着出现了难得一见的科学家与语言学家古里古怪地混在一起的群落。他们的神态显着不停地深思冥想，脑门上挤满皱纹，视力因成年累月从事研究已经弱似蝙蝠。接下来是殖民地总督和各郡钦差大臣一类官场人物，他对他们毫无兴趣可言；再有就是首席法官和身兼上议院议长的大法官，这伙人嘴唇薄薄的，不爱说话，他也只略知其名而已。由于他一向抱有的志向，他对于高级神职人员倒是观察得分外仔细，这帮子他道得出一大串——有些人仁爱为怀，有些人理智处事。一位用拉丁文写文章为国教辩护；一位是赞美诗《夕颂》的圣人般的写作者；挨着他们的是那位伟大的巡回布道师，赞美诗写作者和热心家，他跟裘德一样深为不如意的婚姻所苦。 裘德这时候才发觉自己就像跟他们交谈着一样，情不自禁地把心里想的什么全说出来了，这情形类乎一名情节趣剧的演员对着脚灯那边的观众喋喋不休。他一醒悟过来自己够多荒唐，就吓了一跳，立刻刹住不说了。也许有个学院里的学生或思考者正在灯下用功，听见了他这个漫游者的断断续续的话吧，不免抬起头来，奇怪究竟什么人在说话，他说的又是什么意思。裘德这会儿也看出来，除了稀稀落落几个迟归的市民，再没有别的有血有肉的活人，不禁感到这座古老城市成了他一个人的天下，同时觉得自己有点着了凉似的。 有个声音从暗地里传过来，倒是真正活人的本地口音。 “小伙子，你呆在柱石那儿老半天啦，你倒是想干啥呀？” 这是个警察说的，他一直在注意裘德，后者却没瞧见他。 裘德回家了。他来这儿时候就带来了一两本书，是专讲那个大学的子子孙孙的，睡觉之前翻看了点关于他们生平的记载和几段他们给世人的启示。他迷迷糊糊要睡着的时候，好像刚才默记下来的若干值得一记的语句又由他们自己亲口嘟嘟囔囔说出来了，有听得清楚的，有听起来不好懂的。幽灵之一（他后来痛惜基督堂城“此方土地，大道沦丧”，不过这话裘德想不起来就是了）这会儿大声点着那城市名字说： “美丽的城市啊，那样古色古香，那样高雅纯洁，历经我们这个世纪精神生活的激烈纷争，依然那样安然无恙，那样宠辱不惊！……她那无法解释的神奇力量始终号召我们去追求我们大家共有的真正目标，去实现理想，达到尽善尽美的地步。” 另一个声音发自那位始而拥护、继而反对《谷物法》的政治家，裘德在那个有大钟的四方院见过他的魂灵，当他是一直在推敲他那篇演说里最精彩的有历史意义的字句呢： “议长阁下，我也许错了，但是我的立场是：在国家遭受饥荒威胁的时刻，我责无旁贷，要求现在必须采取在任何类似情况下通常要采取的救济手段，也就是让任何人从任何可能的途径自由取得粮食……你们明天就解除我的职务好了，可是你们绝对剥夺不了我的信念：我行使赋予我的权力，决不是出自邪恶的或者私利的动机，决不是出自实现个人野心的欲望，决不为了取得个人的好处。” 接下来是在书里写下不朽的《基督教》篇章的那位不动声色。意在言外的作者：“异教徒和哲学家对万能的上帝展示的种种证据（奇迹）漠然视之，采取不闻不问的态度，我们该怎样为他们开脱。……希腊罗马的往哲先贤对于警世奇迹不予理睬，看来应归之于他们对统驭精神和物质的权威力量的变化、更迭，懵懂无知。” 随后是一位诗人的幽灵，他是最后一位乐观主义者： 世界就是这样为我们构成！ …… 众庶悉应依照计划总体 不惜为充实人类的延续效力。 下面是他刚见过的三位热心派之一，也就是《为我一生而辩》的作者： “我的观点是……自然神学的真理所以具有绝对可信性是多方同时存在的或然性趋同归一的总结果……或然性固然没达到必然性，但可以给思想导出实际可信性。” 第二位热心派不喜欢辩论，他嘟嘟囔囔地说出些不怎么引人注意的话： 我们何必为独个儿活着怕得心惊胆战， 既然上苍的旨意，只好独个儿死了算？ 他也听见那位生来洼心脸的幽灵，和蔼可亲的“旁观者”说出来的几句： “我一见伟大人物独瘗墓中，所有妒羡之心顿时化为乌有；我一见红粉佳人的墓志题名，所有淫邪之念不禁瓦解冰消；我一见为人父母者在墓碑旁哀哀欲绝，就感同身受，不胜同情；我一见父母的坟墓，就思量为我们必将很快随之而去的人痛哭流涕之为虚妄。” 最后那位声音和悦的主教开口了，裘德在孩提时期就听惯了那些柔婉的调子，感到非常亲切，听着听着就酣然入睡了： 教我怎么活，我就不怕 把坟墓当成我的床。 教我怎么死…… 他一觉睡到大天光，夜来出没的鬼魂已悄然离去，明明白白又是一天了。他一骨碌从床上坐起来，心想怎么睡过了头呢，跟着就说： “哎呀呀——我倒把个甜脸蛋的表姊妹忘得一千二净啦，她倒是无时无刻不在这儿啊！还有从前的老师，他也在这儿呀。”不过他提到老师的口气大概不像提到表妹时那么饱含着热情。 Part 2 Chapter 2 NECESSARY meditations on the actual, including the mean bread-and-cheese question, dissipated the phantasmal for a while, and compelled Jude to smother high thinkings under immediate needs. He had to get up, and seek for work, manual work; the only kind deemed by many of its professors to be work at all. Passing out into the streets on this errand he found that the colleges had treacherously changed their sympathetic countenances: some were pompous; some had put on the look of family vaults above ground; something barbaric loomed in the masonries of all. The spirits of the great men had disappeared. The numberless architectural pages around him he read, naturally, less as an artist-critic of their forms than as an artizan and comrade of the dead handicraftsmen whose muscles had actually executed those forms. He examined the mouldings, stroked them as one who knew their beginning, said they were difficult or easy in the working, had taken little or much time, were trying to the arm, or convenient to the tool. What at night had been perfect and ideal was by day the more or less defective real. Cruelties, insults, had, he perceived, been inflicted on the aged erections. The condition of several moved him as he would have been moved by maimed sentient beings. They were wounded, broken, sloughing off their outer shape in the deadly struggle against years, weather, and man. The rottenness of these historical documents reminded him that he was not, after all, hastening on to begin the morning practically as he had intended. He had come to work, and to live by work, and the morning had nearly gone. It was, in one sense, encouraging to think that in a place of crumbling stones there must be plenty for one of his trade to do in the business of renovation. He asked his way to the workyard of the stone-mason whose name had been given him at Alfredston; and soon heard the familiar sound of the rubbers and chisels. The yard was a little centre of regeneration. Here, with keen edges and smooth curves, were forms in the exact likeness of those he had seen abraded and time-eaten on the walls. These were the ideas in modern prose which the lichened colleges presented in old poetry. Even some of those antiques might have been called prose when they were new. They had done nothing but wait, and had become poetical. How easy to the smallest building; how impossible to most men. He asked for the foreman, and looked round among the new traceries, mullions, transoms, shafts, pinnacles, and battlements standing on the bankers half worked, or waiting to be removed. They were marked by precision, mathematical straightness, smoothness, exactitude: there in the old walls were the broken lines of the original idea; jagged curves, disdain of precision, irregularity, disarray. For a moment there fell on Jude a true illumination; that here in the stone yard was a centre of effort as worthy as that dignified by the name of scholarly study within the noblest of the colleges. But he lost it under stress of his old idea. He would accept any employment which might be offered him on the strength of his late employer's recommendation; but he would accept it as a provisional thing only. This was his form of the modern vice of unrest. Moreover he perceived that at best only copying, patching and imitating went on here; which he fancied to be owing to some temporary and local cause. He did not at that time see that mediaevalism was as dead as a fern-leaf in a lump of coal; that other developments were shaping in the world around him, in which Gothic architecture and its associations had no place. The deadly animosity of contemporary logic and vision towards so much of what he held in reverence was not yet revealed to him. Having failed to obtain work here as yet he went away, and thought again of his cousin, whose presence somewhere at hand he seemed to feel in wavelets of interest, if not of emotion. How he wished he had that pretty portrait of her! At last he wrote to his aunt to send it. She did so, with a request, however, that he was not to bring disturbance into the family by going to see the girl or her relations. Jude, a ridiculously affectionate fellow, promised nothing, put the photograph on the mantel-piece, kissed it--he did not know why--and felt more at home. She seemed to look down and preside over his tea. It was cheering--the one thing uniting him to the emotions of the living city. There remained the schoolmaster--probably now a reverend parson. But he could not possibly hunt up such a respectable man just yet; so raw and unpolished was his condition, so precarious were his fortunes. Thus he still remained in loneliness. Although people moved round him he virtually saw none. Not as yet having mingled with the active life of the place it was largely non-existent to him. But the saints and prophets in the window-tracery, the paintings in the galleries, the statues, the busts, the gargoyles, the corbel-heads--these seemed to breathe his atmosphere. Like all new comers to a spot on which the past is deeply graven he heard that past announcing itself with an emphasis altogether unsuspected by, and even incredible to, the habitual residents. For many days he haunted the cloisters and quadrangles of the colleges at odd minutes in passing them, surprised by impish echoes of his own footsteps, smart as the blows of a mallet. The Christminster "sentiment," as it had been called, ate further and further into him; till he probably knew more about those buildings materially, artistically, and historically, than any one of their inmates. It was not till now, when he found himself actually on the spot of his enthusiasm, that Jude perceived how far away from the object of that enthusiasm he really was. Only a wall divided him from those happy young contemporaries of his with whom he shared a common mental life; men who had nothing to do from morning till night but to read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest. Only a wall-- but what a wall! Every day, every hour, as he went in search of labour, he saw them going and coming also, rubbed shoulders with them, heard their voices, marked their movements. The conversation of some of the more thoughtful among them seemed oftentimes, owing to his long and persistent preparation for this place, to be peculiarly akin to his own thoughts. Yet he was as far from them as if he had been at the antipodes. Of course he was. He was a young workman in a white blouse, and with stone-dust in the creases of his clothes; and in passing him they did not even see him, or hear him, rather saw through him as through a pane of glass at their familiars beyond. Whatever they were to him, he to them was not on the spot at all; and yet he had fancied he would be close to their lives by coming there. But the future lay ahead after all; and if he could only be so fortunate as to get into good employment he would put up with the inevitable. So he thanked God for his health and strength, and took courage. For the present he was outside the gates of everything, colleges included: perhaps some day he would be inside. Those palaces of light and leading; he might some day look down on the world through their panes. At length he did receive a message from the stone-mason's yard-- that a job was waiting for him. It was his first encouragement, and he closed with the offer promptly. He was young and strong, or he never could have executed with such zest the undertakings to which he now applied himself, since they involved reading most of the night after working all the day. First he bought a shaded lamp for four and six-pence, and obtained a good light. Then he got pens, paper, and such other necessary books as he had been unable to obtain elsewhere. Then, to the consternation of his landlady, he shifted all the furniture of his room--a single one for living and sleeping--rigged up a curtain on a rope across the middle, to make a double chamber out of one, hung up a thick blind that no-body should know how he was curtailing the hours of sleep, laid out his books, and sat down. Having been deeply encumbered by marrying, getting a cottage, and buying the furniture which had disappeared in the wake of his wife, he had never been able to save any money since the time of those disastrous ventures, and till his wages began to come in he was obliged to live in the narrowest way. After buying a book or two he could not even afford himself a fire; and when the nights reeked with the raw and cold air from the Meadows he sat over his lamp in a great-coat, hat, and woollen gloves. From his window he could perceive the spire of the cathedral, and the ogee dome under which resounded the great bell of the city. The tall tower, tall belfry windows, and tall pinnacles of the college by the bridge he could also get a glimpse of by going to the staircase. These objects he used as stimulants when his faith in the future was dim. Like enthusiasts in general he made no inquiries into details of procedure. Picking up general notions from casual acquaintance, he never dwelt upon them. For the present, he said to himself, the one thing necessary was to get ready by accumulating money and knowledge, and await whatever chances were afforded to such an one of becoming a son of the University. "For wisdom is a defence, and money is a defence; but the excellency of knowledge is, that wisdom giveth life to them that have it." His desire absorbed him, and left no part of him to weigh its practicability. At this time he received a nervously anxious letter from his poor old aunt, on the subject which had previously distressed her-- a fear that Jude would not be strong-minded enough to keep away from his cousin Sue Bridehead and her relations. Sue's father, his aunt believed, had gone back to London, but the girl remained at Christminster. To make her still more objectionable she was an artist or designer of some sort in what was called an ecclesiastical warehouse, which was a perfect seed-bed of idolatry, and she was no doubt abandoned to mummeries on that account--if not quite a Papist. (Miss Drusilla Fawley was of her date, Evangelical.) As Jude was rather on an intellectual track than a theological, this news of Sue's probable opinions did not much influence him one way or the other, but the clue to her whereabouts was decidedly interesting. With an altogether singular pleasure he walked at his earliest spare minutes past the shops answering to his great-aunt's description; and beheld in one of them a young girl sitting behind a desk, who was suspiciously like the original of the portrait. He ventured to enter on a trivial errand, and having made his purchase lingered on the scene. The shop seemed to be kept entirely by women. It contained Anglican books, stationery, texts, and fancy goods: little plaster angels on brackets, Gothic-framed pictures of saints, ebony crosses that were almost crucifixes, prayer-books that were almost missals. He felt very shy of looking at the girl in the desk; she was so pretty that he could not believe it possible that she should belong to him. Then she spoke to one of the two older women behind the counter; and he recognized in the accents certain qualities of his own voice; softened and sweetened, but his own. What was she doing? He stole a glance round. Before her lay a piece of zinc, cut to the shape of a scroll three or four feet long, and coated with a dead-surface paint on one side. Hereon she was designing or illuminating, in characters of Church text, the single word A L L E L U J H "A sweet, saintly, Christian business, hers!" thought he. Her presence here was now fairly enough explained, her skill in work of this sort having no doubt been acquired from her father's occupation as an ecclesiastical worker in metal. The lettering on which she was engaged was clearly intended to be fixed up in some chancel to assist devotion. He came out. It would have been easy to speak to her there and then, but it seemed scarcely honourable towards his aunt to disregard her request so incontinently. She had used him roughly, but she had brought him up: and the fact of her being powerless to control him lent a pathetic force to a wish that would have been inoperative as an argument. So Jude gave no sign. He would not call upon Sue just yet. He had other reasons against doing so when he had walked away. She seemed so dainty beside himself in his rough working-jacket and dusty trousers that he felt he was as yet unready to encounter her, as he had felt about Mr. Phillotson. And how possible it was that she had inherited the antipathies of her family, and would scorn him, as far as a Christian could, particularly when he had told her that unpleasant part of his history which had resulted in his becoming enchained to one of her own sex whom she would certainly not admire. Thus he kept watch over her, and liked to feel she was there. The consciousness of her living presence stimulated him. But she remained more or less an ideal character, about whose form he began to weave curious and fantastic day-dreams. Between two and three weeks afterwards Jude was engaged with some more men, outside Crozier College in Old-time Street, in getting a block of worked freestone from a waggon across the pavement, before hoisting it to the parapet which they were repairing. Standing in position the head man said, "Spaik when he heave! He-ho!" And they heaved. All of a sudden, as he lifted, his cousin stood close to his elbow, pausing a moment on the bend of her foot till the obstructing object should have been removed. She looked right into his face with liquid, untranslatable eyes, that combined, or seemed to him to combine, keenness with tenderness, and mystery with both, their expression, as well as that of her lips, taking its life from some words just spoken to a companion, and being carried on into his face quite unconsciously. She no more observed his presence than that of the dust-motes which his manipulations raised into the sunbeams. His closeness to her was so suggestive that he trembled, and turned his face away with a shy instinct to prevent her recognizing him, though as she had never once seen him she could not possibly do so; and might very well never have heard even his name. He could perceive that though she was a country-girl at bottom, a latter girlhood of some years in London, and a womanhood here, had taken all rawness out of her. When she was gone he continued his work, reflecting on her. He had been so caught by her influence that he had taken no count of her general mould and build. He remembered now that she was not a large figure, that she was light and slight, of the type dubbed elegant. That was about all he had seen. There was nothing statuesque in her; all was nervous motion. She was mobile, living, yet a painter might not have called her handsome or beautiful. But the much that she was surprised him. She was quite a long way removed from the rusticity that was his. How could one of his cross-grained, unfortunate, almost accursed stock, have contrived to reach this pitch of niceness? London had done it, he supposed. From this moment the emotion which had been accumulating in his breast as the bottled-up effect of solitude and the poetized locality he dwelt in, insensibly began to precipitate itself on this half-visionary form; and he perceived that, whatever his obedient wish in a contrary direction, he would soon be unable to resist the desire to make himself known to her. He affected to think of her quite in a family way, since there were crushing reasons why he should not and could not think of her in any other. The first reason was that he was married, and it would be wrong. The second was that they were cousins. It was not well for cousins to fall in love even when circumstances seemed to favour the passion. The third: even were he free, in a family like his own where marriage usually meant a tragic sadness, marriage with a blood-relation would duplicate the adverse conditions, and a tragic sadness might be intensified to a tragic horror. Therefore, again, he would have to think of Sue with only a relation's mutual interest in one belonging to him; regard her in a practical way as some one to be proud of; to talk and nod to; later on, to be invited to tea by, the emotion spent on her being rigorously that of a kinsman and well-wisher. So would she be to him a kindly star, an elevating power, a companion in Anglican worship, a tender friend 实际生活问题，包括最起码的吃饱肚子的问题，暂时驱散了裘德夜来鬼魂出没的幻觉，迫使他不能不好好考虑眼前的迫切需要，高尚思想也只好束之高阁。他得马上起床，想办法找力气活干，很多老手艺人认为他们要干只有这类活儿好干。 他带着这个打算上了街，没想到那会儿一个个学院心怀叵测地变掉了同情的面孔：有些神情据傲，自命不凡；有些阴森森，好比世家大族祖茔的墓穴冒到地上；所有石头造的东西的神态都是粗野蛮横。倒是伟大人物的魂灵一个不见了。 他周围数不清的建筑都是由过世的匠人花了大力气，凭着好手艺，才使设计的图纸得以变为实物的，他看的时候自然而然地用工匠和同道的眼光，而不是站在艺术家 ——批评家的角度。他仔细审视一件件造型，抚摸它们，因为他深知制作它们的始末，讲得出来做的时候是难还是易，费工多还是费工少，胳膊累得酸还是工具用起来顺手。 夜晚看起来形态完美、合乎理想的东西，大白天一看就成了多多少少有缺陷的实在之物。他看得出来，那些年深日久的建筑遭到了怎样的虐害和凌辱。有几件作品，其状之惨不免令他心酸，而他每逢看到有感觉的活物受到残害总有这样的感受。它们曾同岁月、气候和人进行过殊死的搏斗，因此受了伤，破了相，伤痕累累，再也不是本来面目了。 看着看着那些历史纪录的衰残颓败，他猛然想起自己没有好好抓紧时间，利用这个上午按原来想好的目标去办切实有用的事。他先得找活儿干，有活儿干才有日子过呀，但是大半个上午就这么白白过去了。不过这地方既然到处是破破烂烂的石头，那就不愁没有大量的修旧换新的活儿给他这行人干，他往这方面一想，就打起精神来了。原来在阿尔夫瑞顿时候，人家已经把这地方的石匠作坊的名字告诉他，他就向人打听怎么个走法，没多会儿，他就听见了熟悉的錾石头、磨石头的声音。 作坊是个既整旧又成新的小小中心。先前他看见的石头作品都是饱经岁月侵蚀残损了的，这会儿在作坊里又看见同它们一样的整体逼真的仿造物，边角分明，曲线圆活。它们给人的观感是以散文形式表现的，而苔痕斑驳的学院墙壁所展示的则是古代的诗歌。在那些古董中间，有些当初簇簇新时候，也不妨以散文视之；它们以前无所事事，老是傻等着，熬到后来就具备诗意了。顶小的建筑带上诗意非常容易，不过就人而论，大多数可难得熬出来诗意。 他要找掌班的，同时在花格窗、直棂窗、横档、柱身、尖塔、垛堞中间来回浏览。没完工的活计还放在工作台上，完了工的等着运走。它们以精确、数学意味的明快、光洁、严整为鲜明的特色，反观原来创意所在的旧墙壁上，只剩下破碎的线条：曲线变异，精度荡然，图形走样、层次失调。 一刹那间裘德感受到一道启示真理的光芒：眼前这石场不正是多少辈人心血集中的地方吗？论价值，何尝比高贵的学院里备受尊崇的所谓学术研究有半分逊色，怎奈他那些陈旧观点已经积重难返，所以对这样的启示也就失之交臂了。他以前的雇主曾为他大力举荐，不论人家这会儿给他什么活儿干，他都会接下来，不过他接下来也还是当临时过渡。这就是他身上表现出来的现代特有的内心扰攘。见异思迁的毛病。 不但如此，他已经看明白这个作坊充其量无非是复制、修整和仿造；他猜想这种情形缘于当地的某些临时需要。他这会儿还不理解中世纪精神如同煤堆里一片羊齿植物的叶子，已经没有生命了。而与此不同的发展正在他置身其中的世界成熟，哥特式建筑艺术以及与之相关的东西没了立足之地。对于他以诚敬之心虔信不渝的那么多玩意儿，当代逻辑与想象怀有势不两立的仇恨，而他到这会儿还没摸到一点门径呢。 既然他还不能一下子就在这个作坊找到活儿干，他也就出来了，这时却想到那位表亲。就算他不是情动于中吧，也算得兴之所趋，他似乎默默感知她就在什么切近的地方。他多想得到她那张漂亮相片啊！最后他还是写信给姑婆，恳求她把相片寄来。她答应是答应了，不过附带一个要求：他万万不可去看望姑娘和她的亲属，免得把人家扰得鸡犬不宁。裘德为人本来敬老爱幼到了可笑的程度，这一回他可没答应。他把相片放在壁炉搁板上，亲了它（他也说不出道理），心里觉着自在多了。她仿佛在那儿朝下看，张罗着他用茶点。这件事跟他对这个有活力的城市的感情对上了，真是叫人打心眼儿里高兴啊。 还有老师没见到哪——他这会儿大概成了受人尊敬的教区牧师吧，不过眼下他还不宜去寻访这位有身份的人物。他样子多粗鲁不文，难登大雅之堂啊，何况他日子还过得朝不保夕呢，所以他还是一个人寂寞独处。尽管周围人来人往，其实他等于一个人没看见。既然他没跟当地活跃的生活打成一片，这样的生活对他来说也就不存在。但是花格窗上的圣哲和先知。画廊中的肖像、全身雕像、胸像、喷水兽头、壁架上的头像，很像跟他呼吸着同样空气。他也跟初来乍到某个往事历久不磨的地方那样，老听它喋喋不休地诉说过去。然而当地住惯了的老百姓根本不拿它当回事儿，甚至不信它说的那一套。 有好多天，他反正闲看没事，一走过那些学院，就到里边的回廊和四方院转悠，听到自己脚步的回声就像棒槌敲那么爽脆，不禁为之惊奇。所谓基督堂“情结”越来越深入，泱肌泌髓，以至于后来他对那些建筑的物质方面、历史方面和工艺方面了解之深，恐怕里面住的人没哪个比得上。 到了这时候，他才感到自己脚踏实地置身于热烈向往的地方，同时他也恍然大悟，他的热忱倾注的目标离他实在太远了。就是那么一堵墙，就把他跟那些快乐、年轻的同代人完全隔开了，而他同他们过着的精神生活却初无二致。那些人自晨至夕，整天价别无所事，就是广读，约取，深研，明辨。就那么一堵墙啊——可又是怎样一堵墙啊！ 每一天，每一个钟头，他为找活干奔走的时候，他也看到他们来来往往，同他们摩肩而过，听见他们说话，注意他们的举动。因为他来这地方之前经过长期不懈的准备，所以他们中间一些思想较为丰富的人的谈话内容在他是耳熟能详，尤其是思想上同他如出一辙。然而他同他们相距之遥好比他是在地球另一极。这倒也是理所当然啊。他是个穿白大褂、衣服褶子里净是石粉的青年工人嘛。他们从他旁边过去，看都不看他一眼，也不听他说什么。他好像一块玻璃，他们就像透过玻璃瞧那一边的熟人。不论他怎么看待他们，反正他们看他真正是目中无人。然而他以往幻想过他一到这地方，就会跟他们的生活密切接触呢。 不过前程总还是在望啊。要是他运气好，找到份美差，他一定忍受难以避免的磨难，决不气馁。他感谢上帝赐他以结实的身体和充沛的精力，随之鼓起了勇气。眼下固然对什么都望门兴叹，包括学院在内，但是也许有那么一天，他就能升堂入室。就说那些大放光明、领袖群伦的学问宫殿吧，迟早有一天他会在那儿临窗俯瞰人间。 他后来果真收到石作的通知，说有个位子等他去。这让他头一回觉着心强气旺，所以毫不迟疑地接受了这个要求。 他白天干了整天活，晚上还用大半夜读书，满腔热忱，悉力以赴去追求他的事业，要不是他年轻力壮，要这样撑下去是绝对不可能的。他先花四先令六便士买了盏带罩子的灯，这样灯光就足了，又买了笔纸和必不可少的书籍。他又把屋里全部家具挪了地方（其实他活动和睡觉就那么一间），用绳子在墙两头拉起来，上面搭上帘子，一间隔成了两间，还在窗户上挂起厚帘子，晚上谁也看不见他牺牲睡眠，坐下来，摊开书看。房东太太对他屋里的挪动大惑不解。 他以前为成家租房子，置家具，弄得窘迫不堪，到后来妻子远走高飞，那些东西，也就一风吹了。从那回卤莽行事、倒了大霉之后，他压根儿没存过一个子儿，这会儿开始拿工钱了，非得省吃俭用不可。为买一两本书，竟然到了不能举火的地步。到了夜里，阴冷的空气从草场那边袭来，他就把大衣穿上，戴上帽子和毛手套，端坐在灯前。 他打窗户那儿望得见大教堂的塔尖，还有那个双曲拱穹顶，城市大钟在它下面发出宏大声响。走到楼梯平台，还能一瞥河边学院的高塔楼，它的钟楼高官以及高尖塔。每当他对前途的信念发生动摇，他就把这些眼前物当成刺激剂。 他也跟所有凭一股子热劲儿办事的人一样，不去深究如何按部就班去处理细节问题。他固然偶尔也在无意中了解到普通处世之道，但是他根本不放在心上。他对自己说，就眼前而论，他考虑要办的事就是做好存钱和积累知识这两项准备，静待有朝一日能拜受机缘之赐，让他这样的人成为大学学子。“因为智慧护庇人，好像银钱护庇人一样，惟独智慧能保全智慧人的生命。”他现在全神贯注在自己的愿望上，以致匀不出心思来仔细掂量一下这愿望究竟有几分实现的可能。 恰好这时候可怜的姑婆来了一封信，她心神不定，焦虑重重，谈到她以前为之深感苦恼的题目，也就是她非常担心裘德意志不坚，免不了同他的表姊妹苏•柏瑞和和她的家人发生瓜葛。苏的父亲回伦敦去了，不过姑娘还留在基督堂。令姑婆尤为反感的是，姑娘在一家所谓教会圣器店，充当什么工艺师或设计师一类，那地方是个十足的偶像崇拜的温床，毫无疑问，因为这样的身份，她已经放弃了原来的信仰，就算没当纯粹的教皇派，也是在装腔作势来套表演罢了（多喜•福来小姐随风转，是福音派）。 裘德的职志在求知，神学的事不大在意，所以苏在信仰方面可能有什么倾向，对他并无影响，倒是这个有关她本人的线索令他大感兴趣，乐不可支。等到他头一回有空，他就照姑婆信里的形容，满心高兴地一意去寻找那大略仿佛的铺子。在一家他窥见里面有位年轻姑娘坐在书桌旁边，样子叫人疑惑就是相片本人。他乍着胆子进了铺子，买了点小东西之后故意赖着不走。铺子似乎完全由妇女经营，品种有英国国教的图书、文具纸张和杂七杂八的小玩意儿，像配了座子的石膏小天使，嵌在哥特式镜框里的圣人像、跟受难十字架差不多一样的乌木十字架、跟弥撒书差不到哪儿去的公祷书。他不大好意思直看书桌边的姑娘；她那么俏丽，他才不相信她会成他的人呢。正好她跟柜台后面两个年长些的妇女说话，听得出来她的口音带有他的口音的某些特点；不过经她一说，就显得那么柔和，那么甜润，可这到底是他一样的口音啊。她这会儿忙什么呢？她面前放着一块锌板，裁成三四英尺长的长卷状，一面上了无光漆，她正在上面设计或装饰一个词，用的是国教教会经文常用的字体： 阿里路亚 “多甜美、多圣洁的基督徒行业啊，她就干这个啊！”他心里想。 她人为什么在那儿，现在一下子得到充分的说明了。她干这类活的本事无疑是她当教会金属镌刻工的父亲传给她的。她这会儿制作的字母显然是准备装在圣坛上，以使虔诚的气氛更为浓厚。 他从铺子出来。此时此地，他过去跟她说话不见得有什么不便，不过这样做未免把姑婆的嘱咐完全撤到一边了，未免不够光明磊落，诚然她曾经蛮横地支使过他，不过也是她把他带大呀。她这会儿的确没有管束他的权力了，也因为这样反而勾起了令人感到悲哀的情感力量，从而使姑婆力争此事决不可行的希望得到了支持。 因此裘德当时没做任何表示。眼下他还不准备郑重其事地同她会面。另外还有原因使他不便这样。他身穿粗布上装，裤子上满是尘污，而她却显得那么雅洁，以他这副样子跟她邂逅，实在自惭形秽。他之所以不要跟费乐生先生晤面也是这个道理。很可能她禀赋家里人一脉相承的对异性的嫌恶之心，特别是他一旦告诉她他曾经因为自己痛心的婚史而终于一辈子同一个与她同性别而她又决看不起的人拴在一起，她必定按照一个基督徒该做的那样，对他不齿。 所以他只从旁边留心她，想到她人在那儿，心里就喜欢。在他意识里，她的生动鲜明的存在让他不断兴奋。不过她终归是个多多少少理想化了的人物，因而他开始在她身上编织的是个荒唐无稽的白日梦。 过了两三个礼拜，他同几个工友一块儿在古老街上权杖学院外边，把一块加工好的石头从货车上卸下，先抬过人行道，再举上他们正在修复的护墙。各就各位之后，工头说，“我一喊就举啊！嗨——嗬！”他们跟着喊起来。 他刚往上举，冷不防他表亲正站在他胳膊肘紧边上。她一只脚往后一撤，稍等了一下，好让挡路的东西先移开。她那明如秋水、内蕴深沉的双眸注意看着他，目光里融合着或者他仿佛觉得融合着敏慧和温柔，而敏慧与温柔再融入了神秘，就使眼睛的表情，还有嘴唇的表情，在她向同伴说话那一刻，显得那么有生气，而且在看他时，不经意地把这有生气的表情转向他这边。其实她看他，也不过像看他干活时扬起的灰尘而已。 她靠他如此之近，不禁使他深深感到刺激，以致发起抖来；出于羞怯的本能，他把脸转过去了，免得她把他看清楚：既然她以前压根儿没见过他，所以他以为她要把他看清楚是无从说起的，再说她连他姓字名谁根本没听说过。他看得很明白，她虽然原先是个乡下小姑娘，后来几年在伦敦也还是少女，长大成人来到这地方，可是她已经出落得没乡下人的土气了。 她走了，他接着干活，一边心里琢磨着她。她刚才那会儿对他的影响把他搞晕了，弄得他对她的体态和身材没一点数。他能想得起来的是，她体型并不高大，而是轻盈、苗条，人们常说的优雅型。他所看到的无非这些。她外表不是雕像般娴静，动作带有神经质的意味。她顾盼生光，气韵生动，然而画家不会说她大家风范或明艳照人。不过就是到这个程度已经令他大为惊奇了。拿他一比，她已经脱尽了他身上那样的粗俗鄙陋。怪的是，他那家门一向生性乖戾、命途多舛，几乎神人共弃，怎么会出了这样的凤凰，直逼纯美的高度，他想这该是伦敦陶冶之功吧。 他长期受孤寂的封闭影响，搭上他把现在呆的地方诗化的结果，使他心中积蓄的感情此时如火如茶，也从这一刻起倾注到这个半是由幻觉造成的女性身上。他明知这样跟信守姑婆的再三叮咛背道而驰，可是很快他就没法再克制同她结识的欲望了。 他硬装出来想念她完全是因为一个家门的关系，这是因为有种种不容置辩的理由由不得他再有别的想法，也不该再有别的想法。 第一条理由就是他结过婚，有另外的想法，就是错；第二条，就算环境睁只眼闭只眼，表亲恋爱也于情于理不合；第三条，就算他是自由身，在他们这个家门里，婚姻一向是令人伤痛的悲剧，而有血亲关系的婚姻势必使本已不堪的情况变本加厉，令人伤痛的悲剧就会变成令人恐怖的惨剧了。 所以想来想去，他这方面只好本着亲戚之间彼此共有的好感去想念苏；从实际出发去关注她，把她当成一位值得引以为荣的人，值得相互交谈的人，值得向她打招呼的人。以后呢，就成了接受她邀请去喝茶的人；在她身上用情切切要以愿她事事遂心如意的亲眷之情为限。如此这般，她可能成为他的慈心惠爱的天使，催他发愤图强的力量，圣公会礼拜堂的同契，温良可亲的挚友。 Part 2 Chapter 3 BUT under the various deterrent influences Jude's instinct was to approach her timidly, and the next Sunday he went to the morning service in the Cathedral church of Cardinal College to gain a further view of her, for he had found that she frequently attended there. She did not come, and he awaited her in the afternoon, which was finer. He knew that if she came at all she would approach the building along the eastern side of the great green quadrangle from which it was accessible, and he stood in a corner while the bell was going. A few minutes before the hour for service she appeared as one of the figures walking along under the college walls, and at sight of her he advanced up the side opposite, and followed her into the building, more than ever glad that he had not as yet revealed himself. To see her, and to be himself unseen and unknown, was enough for him at present. He lingered awhile in the vestibule, and the service was some way advanced when he was put into a seat. It was a louring, mournful, still afternoon, when a religion of some sort seems a necessity to ordinary practical men, and not only a luxury of the emotional and leisured classes. In the dim light and the baffling glare of the clerestory windows he could discern the opposite worshippers indistinctly only, but he saw that Sue was among them. He had not long discovered the exact seat that she occupied when the chanting of the 119th Psalm in which the choir was engaged reached its second part, IN QUO CORRIGET, the organ changing to a pathetic Gregorian tune as the singers gave forth: Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? It was the very question that was engaging Jude's attention at this moment. What a wicked worthless fellow he had been to give vent as he had done to an animal passion for a woman, and allow it to lead to such disastrous consequences; then to think of putting an end to himself; then to go recklessly and get drunk. The great waves of pedal music tumbled round the choir, and, nursed on the supernatural as he had been, it is not wonderful that he could hardly believe that the psalm was not specially set by some regardful Providence for this moment of his first entry into the solemn building. And yet it was the ordinary psalm for the twenty-fourth evening of the month. The girl for whom he was beginning to nourish an extraordinary tenderness was at this time ensphered by the same harmonies as those which floated into his ears; and the thought was a delight to him. She was probably a frequenter of this place, and, steeped body and soul in church sentiment as she must be by occupation and habit, had, no doubt, much in common with him. To an impressionable and lonely young man the consciousness of having at last found anchorage for his thoughts, which promised to supply both social and spiritual possibilities, was like the dew of Hermon, and he remained throughout the service in a sustaining atmosphere of ecstasy. Though he was loth to suspect it, some people might have said to him that the atmosphere blew as distinctly from Cyprus as from Galilee. Jude waited till she had left her seat and passed under the screen before he himself moved. She did not look towards him, and by the time he reached the door she was half-way down the broad path. Being dressed up in his Sunday suit he was inclined to follow her and reveal himself. But he was not quite ready; and, alas, ought he to do so with the kind of feeling that was awakening in him? For though it had seemed to have an ecclesiastical basis during the service, and he had persuaded himself that such was the case, he could not altogether be blind to the real nature of the magnetism. She was such a stranger that the kinship was affectation, and he said, "It can't be! I, a man with a wife, must not know her!" Still Sue WAS his own kin, and the fact of his having a wife, even though she was not in evidence in this hemisphere, might be a help in one sense. It would put all thought of a tender wish on his part out of Sue's mind, and make her intercourse with him free and fearless. It was with some heartache that he saw how little he cared for the freedom and fearlessness that would result in her from such knowledge. Some little time before the date of this service in the cathedral the pretty, liquid-eyed, light-footed young woman Sue Bridehead had an afternoon's holiday, and leaving the ecclesiastical establishment in which she not only assisted but lodged, took a walk into the country with a book in her hand. It was one of those cloudless days which sometimes occur in Wessex and elsewhere between days of cold and wet, as if intercalated by caprice of the weather-god. She went along for a mile or two until she came to much higher ground than that of the city she had left behind her. The road passed between green fields, and coming to a stile Sue paused there, to finish the page she was reading, and then looked back at the towers and domes and pinnacles new and old. On the other side of the stile, in the footpath, she beheld a foreigner with black hair and a sallow face, sitting on the grass beside a large square board whereon were fixed, as closely as they could stand, a number of plaster statuettes, some of them bronzed, which he was re-arranging before proceeding with them on his way. They were in the main reduced copies of ancient marbles, and comprised divinities of a very different character from those the girl was accustomed to see portrayed, among them being a Venus of standard pattern, a Diana, and, of the other sex, Apollo, Bacchus, and Mars. Though the figures were many yards away from her the south-west sun brought them out so brilliantly against the green herbage that she could discern their contours with luminous distinctness; and being almost in a line between herself and the church towers of the city they awoke in her an oddly foreign and contrasting set of ideas by comparison. The man rose, and, seeing her, politely took off his cap, and cried "I-i-i-mages!" in an accent that agreed with his appearance. In a moment he dexterously lifted upon his knee the great board with its assembled notabilities divine and human, and raised it to the top of his head, bringing them on to her and resting the board on the stile. First he offered her his smaller wares-- the busts of kings and queens, then a minstrel, then a winged Cupid. She shook her head. "How much are these two?" she said, touching with her finger the Venus and the Apollo--the largest figures on the tray. He said she should have them for ten shillings. "I cannot afford that," said Sue. She offered considerably less, and to her surprise the image-man drew them from their wire stay and handed them over the stile. She clasped them as treasures. When they were paid for, and the man had gone, she began to be concerned as to what she should do with them. They seemed so very large now that they were in her possession, and so very naked. Being of a nervous temperament she trembled at her enterprise. When she handled them the white pipeclay came off on her gloves and jacket. After carrying them along a little way openly an idea came to her, and, pulling some huge burdock leaves, parsley, and other rank growths from the hedge, she wrapped up her burden as well as she could in these, so that what she carried appeared to be an enormous armful of green stuff gathered by a zealous lover of nature. "Well, anything is better than those everlasting church fallals!" she said. But she was still in a trembling state, and seemed almost to wish she had not bought the figures. Occasionally peeping inside the leaves to see that Venus's arm was not broken, she entered with her heathen load into the most Christian city in the country by an obscure street running parallel to the main one, and round a corner to the side door of the establishment to which she was attached. Her purchases were taken straight up to her own chamber, and she at once attempted to lock them in a box that was her very own property; but finding them too cumbersome she wrapped them in large sheets of brown paper, and stood them on the floor in a corner. The mistress of the house, Miss Fontover, was an elderly lady in spectacles, dressed almost like an abbess; a dab at Ritual, as become one of her business, and a worshipper at the ceremonial church of St. Silas, in the suburb of Beersheba before-mentioned, which Jude also had begun to attend. She was the daughter of a clergyman in reduced circumstances, and at his death, which had occurred several years before this date, she boldly avoided penury by taking over a little shop of church requisites and developing it to its present creditable proportions. She wore a cross and beads round her neck as her only ornament, and knew the Christian Year by heart. She now came to call Sue to tea, and, finding that the girl did not respond for a moment, entered the room just as the other was hastily putting a string round each parcel. "Something you have been buying, Miss Bridehead?" she asked, regarding the enwrapped objects. "Yes--just something to ornament my room," said Sue. "Well, I should have thought I had put enough here already," said Miss Fontover, looking round at the Gothic-framed prints of saints, the Church-text scrolls, and other articles which, having become too stale to sell, had been used to furnish this obscure chamber. "What is it? How bulky!" She tore a little hole, about as big as a wafer, in the brown paper, and tried to peep in. "Why, statuary? Two figures? Where did you get them?" "Oh--I bought them of a travelling man who sells casts" "Two saints?" "Yes." "What ones?" "St. Peter and St.--St. Mary Magdalen." "Well--now come down to tea, and go and finish that organ-text, if there's light enough afterwards." These little obstacles to the indulgence of what had been the merest passing fancy created in Sue a great zest for unpacking her objects and looking at them; and at bedtime, when she was sure of being undisturbed, she unrobed the divinities in comfort. Placing the pair of figures on the chest of drawers, a candle on each side of them, she withdrew to the bed, flung herself down thereon, and began reading a book she had taken from her box, which Miss Fontover knew nothing of. It was a volume of Gibbon, and she read the chapter dealing with the reign of Julian the Apostate. Occasionally she looked up at the statuettes, which appeared strange and out of place, there happening to be a Calvary print hanging between them, and, as if the scene suggested the action, she at length jumped up and withdrew another book from her box--a volume of verse-- and turned to the familiar poem-- Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean: The world has grown grey from thy breath! which she read to the end. Presently she put out the candles, undressed, and finally extinguished her own light. She was of an age which usually sleeps soundly, yet to-night she kept waking up, and every time she opened her eyes there was enough diffused light from the street to show her the white plaster figures, standing on the chest of drawers in odd contrast to their environment of text and martyr, and the Gothic-framed Crucifix-picture that was only discernible now as a Latin cross, the figure thereon being obscured by the shades. On one of these occasions the church clocks struck some small hour. It fell upon the ears of another person who sat bending over his books at a not very distant spot in the same city. Being Saturday night the morrow was one on which Jude had not set his alarm-clock to call him at his usually early time, and hence he had stayed up, as was his custom, two or three hours later than he could afford to do on any other day of the week. Just then he was earnestly reading from his Griesbach's text. At the very time that Sue was tossing and staring at her figures, the policeman and belated citizens passing along under his window might have heard, if they had stood still, strange syllables mumbled with fervour within--words that had for Jude an indescribable enchantment: inexplicable sounds something like these:-- "ALL HEMIN HEIS THEOS HO PATER, EX HOU TA PANTA, KAI HEMEIS EIS AUTON:" Till the sounds rolled with reverent loudness, as a book was heard to close:-- "KAI HEIS KURIOS IESOUS CHRISTOS, DI HOU TA PANTA KAI HEMEIS DI AUTOU!" 尽管裘德受到各种各样影响的制约，他自身的本能依然促使他去接近她，不过藏头露尾、畏畏缩缩就是了。他预定下个礼拜天到大教堂红衣主教学院礼拜堂做早礼拜，因为他已经发现她常去那地方做礼拜，这样他就有机会把她看得仔细些。 她上午没来。他下午又去等她，下午天气也好了点。他知道，如果她来，必定顺着大绿四方院东面走，那条路可以通到礼拜堂。钟响着时候，他就朝一个角落一站。礼拜开始前几分钟，果然她夹在一群人中间过来了，沿着学院外墙往前走。他一瞧见她就赶忙奔到路对面，紧跟她进了堂。他因为没在她面前露相，心里很得意。眼下只要能瞧见她，又没让她瞧见自己，又不让她知道他是谁，也就够了。 礼拜开始后，他先在门厅里转悠了一下，然后进去找座位坐下。午后浓云密布，气象惨淡，一片沉寂。逢这样天气，只要是宗教，脚踏实地的老百姓似乎都把它当成必需品，而不仅是供多愁善感的有闲阶级专用的奢侈品。堂里光线很暗，两侧高窗透进来的亮光一闪一闪的，他只能模模糊糊地看到邻行坐着的教徒，不过他知道苏就在他们中间，果然没费什么工夫就找到了她坐的地方，一点也不错。唱诗班合唱《诗篇》第一百一十九章，这时唱到了第二节In guo corriget（你怎么改好），在往下唱的时候，风琴转而奏出伤感的格里戈利调， 少年人用什么洁净他们的行为呢？ 此时此刻，这问题就在他心里盘旋不已。想当初他跟畜牲一样发情，在一个女人身上发泄了兽欲；就因为这样，造成多么不幸的后果。后来他想干脆把自己了掉就算了；跟着又自暴自弃，喝得醺醺大醉，足见他是多么卑鄙下贱的家伙！脚踏风琴奏出的乐声波澜壮阔，合着唱诗班的歌声起伏回荡，使人如入神明上界，如同他从前经历过那样。他自幼受神道儒染，难怪这会儿他简直以为慈悲为本的上帝为他头一回瞻礼圣殿，特意给他安排好这章诗篇，——其实每到一个月第二十四个晚上，这章诗篇都照唱不误。 他心里对那位姑娘极其特别的情苗已经开始发荣滋长，觉着她这会儿想必也为这飘进他耳朵的和谐的音乐所陶醉。想到这里，他真是满心欢喜。她大概经常出人这个礼拜堂。由于职业和习惯，她必定整个身心都浸润着对圣教的虔诚。这无疑是他们声气相应的方面啊。对于他这样一个易于感受影响而又索居独处的青年来说，一旦这样意识到精神找到了寄托，而这种寄托对于他想异日在社会和精神方面大显身手的意愿，不啻广开了种种可能的前景，真好比遇到黑门降下了甘露。所以在整个礼拜过程中，他一直持续处在令人情绪高昂、极度欢欣鼓舞的气氛中。 他自己当然可以这样深信不疑，可是别人恐怕会斩钉截铁地提醒他，算了吧，这股从加利利吹过来的大气，还不是跟塞浦路斯那边吹过来的一个样嘛。 裘德一直等到她离开座位，走过隔开圣坛的屏幕，才站起来。她并没朝他这边看，等他到了门口，她已经在宽阔的甬道上走了一半。他穿的是礼拜天服装，所以他很想跟下去，向她自我介绍为何许人。不过他到底没做好充分的心理准备；唉，他究竟该不该因为产生了那样的感情，就不顾一切这么干呢？ 虽然他们做礼拜的时候，似乎彼此有同一宗教信仰做基础，他也极力往这上面想，可是总不能对吸引他的磁力的真正性质成了个睁眼瞎呀！她本来跟他素不相识，形同路人，什么亲戚关系，那还不是自欺欺人之谈？这样一想，他就说， “不行呀，绝对不行呀，我这人有老婆啦，可不能招惹她呀！”苏总还是内亲，再搭上他是有妇之夫，就算他妻子没在这半球露面，这两样缘由在一定意义上总是个帮助吧。苏要是了解了一切，心里就决计不会想到他会有跟她谈恋爱的非分之想，跟他来往也就坦坦然然，不存戒心了。话又说回来，苏要真是心里有数，才坦坦然然，不存戒心，那他可又一点不喜欢，这么一想，他又不免心里难过。 比这次大教堂做礼拜稍早些，那个转盼流波、步态轻盈的年轻标致姑娘苏•柏瑞和有天下午休假。她离开那个既帮活又寄宿的教会圣器店，手上拿本书，到乡间散步。那一天恰好云开日出。好像气象之神发了慈悲开了恩，在维塞克斯郡和别的地方寒冷多雨的日子中间有时插进几天这样好天气。她走了一两英里光景，到了一个地势比她留在后边的城市要高的地方。大路两旁是绿油油田野，她走到一个边篱阶梯处就停步了，她想把正看的那页书看完，后来就回头遥望古老和近时的塔楼、圆顶和尖塔。 她看见篱阶那一边，在一条人踩出的小道上，有个黑头发、黄脸膛的外国人在草地上坐着，身边有块大方板子，上边拴紧许多小石膏像，全都立着放的，挨得很紧，有些还上了青铜色；为了带着这些东西继续上路，他正把它们重新排列。那些像基本上是按大理石雕像原型缩制而成，其中有那姑娘因原来看过画像而知之有素的诸方神祗。要按它们的性质的话，那可是跟她平素的信仰势不两立的。其中一个是典型姿势的维纳斯，一个是戴亚娜，男性方面有阿波罗、拜克斯和马尔斯。虽然那些像距离她好些码，可是在西南方太阳照射下，搭上翠绿繁茂的牧草一陪衬，分外显得光彩夺目，通体轮廊鲜明，纤毫毕呈，她看得清清楚楚。它们的位置差不多正在她同教堂高楼之间的那条线上。这样一对比，不禁激发了她心中一串与她的信仰不合的离经叛道、纯属异端的思想。那个人站起来了，一见她就脱帽行礼，大声喊： “买——像——啊，各式各样啊！”他的口音和外貌是一致的。他随即挺灵便地把大托板带着上面放着的名流显要——神人两界俱全——拿起来放在膝头上，然后举到头那么高，顶在头上，送到她前边，再放到篱梯上面。他先拿小点的货——国王和王后的胸像给她看，又拿行吟诗人、带翅膀的朱庇得。她摇摇头。 “这两个多少钱？”她说，拿指头戳戳维纳斯和阿波罗——这是托板上顶大的两座像。 他说，这两个得十先令。 “我可没那么多钱买。”她说。她还的价非常之低，再没想到，卖像人居然把拴像的细铜丝解开，隔着篱梯把它们递过来。她如获至宝，抱紧了它们。 那个人收了钱就走了。这会儿她反倒为难起来。像一到手里显得老大老大的，还赤身露体，一丝不挂。她天生神经质，因为这事干得出格，不由得哆嗦起来。她把像摆来摆去，又细又白的石膏粉落在她手套和上衣上。带着它们光身子走了一段路以后，她陡然想到个主意，马上从树篱上扯下牛蒡的大叶子、欧芹和别的长野了的植物，用它们把两个累赘密密匝匝裹起来，这样带着它们走，就像大自然爱好者抱着采集来的大捆绿色标本。 “哎，不论什么东西都比教堂那套一成不变、索然寡味的装饰好啊！”她说，不过她还是哆哩哆嗦，瞧那意思倒像后悔买了这两座 她有时候偷偷往叶子里瞧维纳斯的膀子是不是弄断了；带着这两个异教神祗，她挑了条跟主要街道平行的偏僻小街走，进了基督教气味最浓厚的城市，拐过弯儿，就到了她寄宿的房子的傍门。她毫不迟疑，把买的东西带进自己屋里，打算马上锁进她唯一的财产箱子里；无奈又发现它们太大了，就改用大张牛皮纸包起来，立在屋角地上。 房子女主人叫方道悟小姐，是位上了年纪的戴眼镜的女士，穿装打扮就像庵堂堂主，她严守教会礼仪，这也是她的生意。她还是前面提到的“别是巴”郊区的圣•西拉礼拜堂的信徒，裘德也已经开始上那个堂做礼拜了。她是一位穷困潦倒的牧师的女儿，前几年他去世后，她冒着风险把专售教会用品的小铺子盘下来，因为经营得法，扩大到现在这样令人称许的规模，摆脱了一贫如洗的境况。她脖子上挂着十字架和念珠，算是仅有的饰品。她把奇伯尔《基督年纪》记得烂熟，字字不漏。 她正来喊苏用茶，看她没立刻答应，就进了屋子，苏正在匆匆忙忙给每个包捆绳子。 “柏瑞和小姐，你买东西啦？”她问道，瞟着包起来的东西。 “是呀——想把屋子装点装点哪。”苏说。 “哦，我还当这屋子里装得够啦。”方道悟小姐说，看着四周围哥特式镜框里的印版圣人像、国教教会经卷和其他因为太旧不好卖、就摆在这不起眼的屋子里充数的东西。“是什么呀？老大老大的！”她把牛皮纸捅了个圣饼大小的窟窿眯着眼睛尽往里瞧。“哎呀呀，雕像吗？两个都是吗？哪儿买的呀？” “哦——我打一个串街的贩子手里买的，他卖小人什么的。” “两位圣人吗？” “对啦。” “哪两位呀？” “圣彼得和圣抹大拉的马利亚。” “好啦——下来喝茶吧。待会儿要是光线足，你就把风琴上的经文摘句描完吧。” 苏不过是耽于幻想，一时兴起，破了藩篱，一下子也就过去了，可是这小小的干扰反而促使苏格外热切起来，急于打开包扎，瞧瞧她的玩意儿。到了就寝时间，她有了把握，不会再有人上来打搅，就心安理得地把神像外罩都扒了下来，把石膏像摆到五斗橱上，还在它们两头各点上一根蜡烛，然后退到床边，往床后一躺，开始读从箱子里取出的那本书（不过方道悟小姐对此是毫不知情的）。原来那是吉本的著作。她看了记述叛教者朱利安在位那一章。有时候她抬头看看石膏像，凑巧它们上头挂着一幅耶稣受难像的印版画，这让她觉着它们样子真奇怪，在那儿真是阴错阳差。这幅奇景似乎提醒她去做该做的事，于是她从床上蹦下来，又从箱子里拿出一本诗集，翻到自己熟读的那首诗—— 苍白的加利利人啊，你得逞了： 你叱咤间世界就变得带死不活了！ 她把这首诗从头到尾读了一遍，跟着吹熄了烛光，脱了衣服，最后让自己心中之光也熄了——睡了。 她年纪轻轻，平常睡得很沉，不过那晚上她老是睡不实，每回醒来一睁眼，从街上透进屋里的散乱的灯光足够她看明白石膏像，它们立在五斗橱上，同陈设着经卷和殉道者以及装在哥特式框子里的耶稣受难像（勉强看得出来拉丁式十字架，人形为阴影遮住）的环境形成了古怪的对照。 有一回她睁开眼看的时候，教堂的报时钟不是打了一下，就是两下，已到了子夜时分。另一个住在城里、离得不远的人，那会儿正坐在灯前埋头读书，钟声他也听到了。因为是礼拜六晚上，他用不着拨准闹钟，到时把他叫醒，所以他可以睡得更迟些，按习惯要比每礼拜工作日晚上读书时间多两三个钟头。他正专心研读格莱斯巴赫版《新约》，而苏此时却翻来覆去睡不着，盯着她的石膏像。警察和迟归市民经过他窗下时候，要是静静驻足一下，准会听得见情感热烈的咕噜声，那是些莫名其妙的音节；但是对于裘德，又是具有无法形容的感召力的字眼儿啊。下边这些声音就谁都不明白： “All hemin heis Theos ho Pater,ex hou ta panta,kai hemeis eis auton.” 接下去声音琅琅，诚惶诚恐，不绝如缕；随着似乎听见书阖上了： “Kai heis Kurios Iesous Christos,di hou ta panta Kai hemeis di autou!” |
| Part 2 Chapter 4 HE was a handy man at his trade, an all-round man, as artizans in country-towns are apt to be. In London the man who carves the boss or knob of leafage declines to cut the fragment of moulding which merges in that leafage, as if it were a degradation to do the second half of one whole. When there was not much Gothic moulding for Jude to run, or much window-tracery on the bankers, he would go out lettering monuments or tombstones, and take a pleasure in the change of handiwork. The next time that he saw her was when he was on a ladder executing a job of this sort inside one of the churches. There was a short morning service, and when the parson entered Jude came down from his ladder, and sat with the half-dozen people forming the congregation, till the prayer should be ended, and he could resume his tapping. He did not observe till the service was half over that one of the women was Sue, who had perforce accompanied the elderly Miss Fontover thither. Jude sat watching her pretty shoulders, her easy, curiously nonchalant risings and sittings, and her perfunctory genuflexions, and thought what a help such an Anglican would have been to him in happier circumstances. It was not so much his anxiety to get on with his work that made him go up to it immediately the worshipers began to take their leave: it was that he dared not, in this holy spot, confront the woman who was beginning to influence him in such an indescribable manner. Those three enormous reasons why he must not attempt intimate acquaintance with Sue Bridehead, now that his interest in her had shown itself to be unmistakably of a sexual kind, loomed as stubbornly as ever. But it was also obvious that man could not live by work alone; that the particular man Jude, at any rate, wanted something to love. Some men would have rushed incontinently to her, snatched the pleasure of easy friendship which she could hardly refuse, and have left the rest to chance. Not so Jude--at first. But as the days, and still more particularly the lonely evenings, dragged along, he found himself, to his moral consternation, to be thinking more of her instead of thinking less of her, and experiencing a fearful bliss in doing what was erratic, informal, and unexpected. Surrounded by her influence all day, walking past the spots she frequented, he was always thinking of her, and was obliged to own to himself that his conscience was likely to be the loser in this battle. To be sure she was almost an ideality to him still. Perhaps to know her would be to cure himself of this unexpected and unauthorized passion. A voice whispered that, though he desired to know her, he did not desire to be cured. There was not the least doubt that from his own orthodox point of view the situation was growing immoral. For Sue to be the loved one of a man who was licensed by the laws of his country to love Arabella and none other unto his life's end, was a pretty bad second beginning when the man was bent on such a course as Jude purposed. This conviction was so real with him that one day when, as was frequent, he was at work in a neighbouring village church alone, he felt it to be his duty to pray against his weakness. But much as he wished to be an exemplar in these things he could not get on. It was quite impossible, he found, to ask to be delivered from temptation when your heart's desire was to be tempted unto seventy times seven. So he excused himself. "After all," he said, "it is not altogether an EROTOLEPSY that is the matter with me, as at that first time. I can see that she is exceptionally bright; and it is partly a wish for intellectual sympathy, and a craving for loving-kindness in my solitude." Thus he went on adoring her, fearing to realize that it was human perversity. For whatever Sue's virtues, talents, or ecclesiastical saturation, it was certain that those items were not at all the cause of his affection for her. On an afternoon at this time a young girl entered the stone-mason's yard with some hesitation, and, lifting her skirts to avoid draggling them in the white dust, crossed towards the office. "That's a nice girl," said one of the men known as Uncle Joe. "Who is she?" asked another. "I don't know--I've seen her about here and there. Why, yes, she's the daughter of that clever chap Bridehead who did all the wrought ironwork at St. Silas' ten years ago, and went away to London afterwards. I don't know what he's doing now--not much I fancy--as she's come back here." Meanwhile the young woman had knocked at the office door and asked if Mr. Jude Fawley was at work in the yard. It so happened that Jude had gone out somewhere or other that afternoon, which information she received with a look of disappointment, and went away immediately. When Jude returned they told him, and described her, whereupon he exclaimed, "Why--that's my cousin Sue!" He looked along the street after her, but she was out of sight. He had no longer any thought of a conscientious avoidance of her, and resolved to call upon her that very evening. And when he reached his lodging he found a note from her-- a first note--one of those documents which, simple and commonplace in themselves, are seen retrospectively to have been pregnant with impassioned consequences. The very unconsciousness of a looming drama which is shown in such innocent first epistles from women to men, or VICE VERSA, makes them, when such a drama follows, and they are read over by the purple or lurid light of it, all the more impressive, solemn, and in cases, terrible. Sue's was of the most artless and natural kind. She addressed him as her dear cousin Jude; said she had only just learnt by the merest accident that he was living in Christminster, and reproached him with not letting her know. They might have had such nice times together, she said, for she was thrown much upon herself, and had hardly any congenial friend. But now there was every probability of her soon going away, so that the chance of companionship would be lost perhaps for ever. A cold sweat overspread Jude at the news that she was going away. That was a contingency he had never thought of, and it spurred him to write all the more quickly to her. He would meet her that very evening, he said, one hour from the time of writing, at the cross in the pavement which marked the spot of the Martyrdoms. When he had despatched the note by a boy he regretted that in his hurry he should have suggested to her to meet him out of doors, when he might have said he would call upon her. It was, in fact, the country custom to meet thus, and nothing else had occurred to him. Arabella had been met in the same way, unfortunately, and it might not seem respectable to a dear girl like Sue. However, it could not be helped now, and he moved towards the point a few minutes before the hour, under the glimmer of the newly lighted lamps. The broad street was silent, and almost deserted, although it was not late. He saw a figure on the other side, which turned out to be hers, and they both converged towards the crossmark at the same moment. Before either had reached it she called out to him: "I am not going to meet you just there, for the first time in my life! Come further on." The voice, though positive and silvery, had been tremulous. They walked on in parallel lines, and, waiting her pleasure, Jude watched till she showed signs of closing in, when he did likewise, the place being where the carriers' carts stood in the daytime, though there was none on the spot then. "I am sorry that I asked you to meet me, and didn't call," began Jude with the bashfulness of a lover. "But I thought it would save time if we were going to walk." "Oh--I don't mind that," she said with the freedom of a friend. "I have really no place to ask anybody in to. What I meant was that the place you chose was so horrid--I suppose I ought not to say horrid-- I mean gloomy and inauspicious in its associations.... But isn't it funny to begin like this, when I don't know you yet?" She looked him up and down curiously, though Jude did not look much at her. "You seem to know me more than I know you," she added. "Yes--I have seen you now and then." "And you knew who I was, and didn't speak? And now I am going away!" "Yes. That's unfortunate. I have hardly any other friend. I have, indeed, one very old friend here somewhere, but I don't quite like to call on him just yet. I wonder if you know anything of him--Mr. Phillotson? A parson somewhere about the county I think he is." "No--I only know of one Mr. Phillotson. He lives a little way out in the country, at Lumsdon. He's a village schoolmaster." "Ah! I wonder if he's the same. Surely it is impossible! Only a schoolmaster still! Do you know his Christian name-- is it Richard?" "Yes--it is; I've directed books to him, though I've never seen him." "Then he couldn't do it!" Jude's countenance fell, for how could he succeed in an enterprise wherein the great Phillotson had failed? He would have had a day of despair if the news had not arrived during his sweet Sue's presence, but even at this moment he had visions of how Phillotson's failure in the grand university scheme would depress him when she had gone. "As we are going to take a walk, suppose we go and call upon him?" said Jude suddenly. "It is not late." She agreed, and they went along up a hill, and through some prettily wooded country. Presently the embattled tower and square turret of the church rose into the sky, and then the school-house. They inquired of a person in the street if Mr. Phillotson was likely to be at home, and were informed that he was always at home. A knock brought him to the school-house door, with a candle in his hand and a look of inquiry on his face, which had grown thin and careworn since Jude last set eyes on him. That after all these years the meeting with Mr. Phillotson should be of this homely complexion destroyed at one stroke the halo which had surrounded the school-master's figure in Jude's imagination ever since their parting. It created in him at the same time a sympathy with Phillotson as an obviously much chastened and disappointed man. Jude told him his name, and said he had come to see him as an old friend who had been kind to him in his youthful days. "I don't remember you in the least," said the school-master thoughtfully. "You were one of my pupils, you say? Yes, no doubt; but they number so many thousands by this time of my life, and have naturally changed so much, that I remember very few except the quite recent ones." "It was out at Marygreen," said Jude, wishing he had not come. "Yes. I was there a short time. And is this an old pupil, too?" "No--that's my cousin.... I wrote to you for some grammars, if you recollect, and you sent them?" "Ah--yes!--I do dimly recall that incident." "It was very kind of you to do it. And it was you who first started me on that course. On the morning you left Marygreen, when your goods were on the waggon, you wished me good-bye, and said your scheme was to be a university man and enter the Church-- that a degree was the necessary hall-mark of one who wanted to do anything as a theologian or teacher." "I remember I thought all that privately; but I wonder I did not keep my own counsel. The idea was given up years ago." "I have never forgotten it. It was that which brought me to this part of the country, and out here to see you to-night." "Come in," said Phillotson. "And your cousin, too." They entered the parlour of the school-house, where there was a lamp with a paper shade, which threw the light down on three or four books. Phillotson took it off, so that they could see each other better, and the rays fell on the nervous little face and vivacious dark eyes and hair of Sue, on the earnest features of her cousin, and on the schoolmaster's own maturer face and figure, showing him to be a spare and thoughtful personage of five-and-forty, with a thin-lipped, somewhat refined mouth, a slightly stooping habit, and a black frock coat, which from continued frictions shone a little at the shoulder-blades, the middle of the back, and the elbows. The old friendship was imperceptibly renewed, the schoolmaster speaking of his experiences, and the cousins of theirs. He told them that he still thought of the Church sometimes, and that though he could not enter it as he had intended to do in former years he might enter it as a licentiate. Meanwhile, he said, he was comfortable in his present position, though he was in want of a pupil-teacher. They did not stay to supper, Sue having to be indoors before it grew late, and the road was retraced to Christminster. Though they had talked of nothing more than general subjects, Jude was surprised to find what a revelation of woman his cousin was to him. She was so vibrant that everything she did seemed to have its source in feeling. An exciting thought would make her walk ahead so fast that he could hardly keep up with her; and her sensitiveness on some points was such that it might have been misread as vanity. It was with heart-sickness he perceived that, while her sentiments towards him were those of the frankest friendliness only, he loved her more than before becoming acquainted with her; and the gloom of the walk home lay not in the night overhead, but in the thought of her departure. "Why must you leave Christminster?" he said regretfully. "How can you do otherwise than cling to a city in whose history such men as Newman, Pusey, Ward, Keble, loom so large!" "Yes--they do. Though how large do they loom in the history of the world? ... What a funny reason for caring to stay! I should never have thought of it!" She laughed. "Well--I must go," she continued. "Miss Fontover, one of the partners whom I serve, is offended with me, and I with her; and it is best to go." "How did that happen?" "She broke some statuary of mine." "Oh? Wilfully?" "Yes. She found it in my room, and though it was my property she threw it on the floor and stamped on it, because it was not according to her taste, and ground the arms and the head of one of the figures all to bits with her heel--a horrid thing!" "Too Catholic-Apostolic for her, I suppose? No doubt she called them popish images and talked of the invocation of saints." "No.... No, she didn't do that. She saw the matter quite differently." "Ah! Then I am surprised!" "Yes. It was for quite some other reason that she didn't like my patron-saints. So I was led to retort upon her; and the end of it was that I resolved not to stay, but to get into an occupation in which I shall be more independent." "Why don't you try teaching again? You once did, I heard." "I never thought of resuming it; for I was getting on as an art-designer." "DO let me ask Mr. Phillotson to let you try your hand in his school? If you like it, and go to a training college, and become a first-class certificated mistress, you get twice as large an income as any designer or church artist, and twice as much freedom." "Well--ask him. Now I must go in. Good-bye, dear Jude! I am so glad we have met at last. We needn't quarrel because our parents did, need we?" Jude did not like to let her see quite how much he agreed with her, and went his way to the remote street in which he had his lodging. To keep Sue Bridehead near him was now a desire which operated without regard of consequences, and the next evening he again set out for Lumsdon, fearing to trust to the persuasive effects of a note only. The school-master was unprepared for such a proposal. "What I rather wanted was a second year's transfer, as it is called," he said. "Of course your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. 裘德干他本行已经得心应手，成了样样能的全村，大凡乡镇手艺人都能做到这地步。在伦敦，雕刻石叶簇的叶梭的匠人就不屑錾净浮雕中边边角角，仿佛一干整个作品的次要部分就有损身价。裘德要是没多少錾净浮雕的活儿干，或者工作台上也没窗棂格一类可刻，就去凿纪念碑，或者给墓碑镌字，换个活儿，他倒也自得其乐。 他第二次见到她时候，正在一个教堂里边站在梯子上干诸如此类的活儿。教堂要做早礼拜，牧师一进来，他就从梯子下来，凑到总共半打会众中间坐下来。要等祈祷完了，他才好敲敲打打。礼拜做到一半，他才发现苏坐在妇女一边，她是因为迫不得已，才陪方道悟小姐来的。 裘德坐在那儿盯着她那好看的双肩，也盯着她随随便便、心不在焉得奇怪的起起坐坐的动作，还有她勉勉强强、敷衍了事的屈膝下跪的姿势。他一边心里想，要是他的处境比现在适意，这样一位圣公会教友归了他，那该是多么大的帮助呀。教徒一开始离开，他立刻往梯子上爬，倒不是他急着把活赶完，而是因为他不敢在这神圣场合同那位正在以说不清的方式影响着他的女性直接面对面。既然他对苏•柏瑞和的兴趣千真万确是因为她是异性，那么原来不容他存心设法同她过从密切的三条重大理由还是跟以前一样虎视耽耽，不得回避。不过一个人也不能单靠干活活着，这也用不着说，何况像他这样异乎寻常的人，无论如何，爱情方面总得有个出路。有些人可能二话不说，干脆往苏那儿跑，先下手为强，利用她不好意思回绝的态度，一享同她轻松愉快地交朋友之乐，至于下文如何，只有大知道。这一手裘德干不来——开头干不来。 但是过了一天又一天，尤其是过了一个又一个更难熬的孤寂的晚上，裘德却发现他对她的思念非但没减少，反而更厉害，而且还十了起先没想干的。反常而不正当的事，从中得到酣畅的快感，这一切叫他在道德上惶惶不安。她的影响这样成天价缠着他，一走过她常去的地方，他就想她没个完。他只好承认在这场搏斗中，他的良心很可能是个输家。 说真的，她至今只能算他的玄想虚构的产物。也许认识她倒能治好他的违乎常情、有悖正道的情欲，不过有个小小声音说，他固然很想认识她，但他却并不很热心治好他的病。 按他本人一贯信守的正统观点，他的情况正朝道德败坏变，是毫无疑义的。因为一个已经由国家法律授权爱阿拉贝拉到死的男人，不能再随便爱别的女人；而且像裘德这样的人正在极力追求自己的目标，竟然要另寻新欢，也确实恶劣不堪。他的负罪感是那么深刻实在，有一天他跟往常一样独自一人在邻近一个乡村教堂干活的时候，感到非祈祷不足以克服自己的弱点，因为这是他对上帝的责任。但是尽管他想是极想这方面做个好榜样，怎奈他还是祈祷不下去。他发现，你内心深处的欲望既然十之八九非受到诱惑不可，你就是恳求上帝把你从诱惑中拯救出来，也肯定没门儿。他就这样给自己找到了托词。“反正我这回跟上回就是不一样，”他说，“这回根本同色情狂不沾边。我看得出来她聪明过人，也有一部分是希望精神方面得到共鸣，再就是能在孤寂中受到温情眷顾。”于是他继续对她顶礼膜拜，不敢承认这是死心塌地，明知故犯。说苏德性、才情怎么好，说她信教信得怎么五体投地，总而言之，这些花言巧语，都不成其为他对她一片痴情的缘由。 正好这时候，有个下午，一个年轻姑娘有点犹豫不决地进了石匠作坊，撩着裙子，免得沾上白粉末，她穿过场子，往管事房走去。 “这妞儿不错嘛！”一个人称乔爷的说。 “她是谁呀？”又一个问。 “我不知道——我在好些地方瞧见过她。哦，对啦，是那个精明汉子柏瑞和的女儿呀，十年前他在圣•西拉教堂，把所有难干的铁活儿全揽过来啦。我也不知道她回这儿时候，他干什么——我看他不一定混得怎么得意吧。” 同时，年轻女人敲了敲管事房的门，打听裘德•福来先生在不在这儿干活儿。有点不巧，他下午出门到什么地方去了。她一听这回答，露出失望的样子，立刻走了。裘德回来，他们就把这事跟他说了，还把她形容了一下，裘德一听，就大喊大叫的：“哎呀——是我表亲苏呀！” 他沿街追她，她已经走得没影了。他可再不想什么他凭良心得避开她呀，决定当晚就找她。他回到住所，发现门上别着一张她写的条子——第一张条子，是那些文件中一份，它们本身简简单单、平淡无奇，可是一到后来带着思往怀旧的心情去看，就会发现其中孕育着种种充满了炽热情感的后果。女人最早写给男人的，抑或男人最早写给女人的这样一些信，有时候原本率性而为，真心实意，不过从中却可见一出大戏初露端倪，只是戏中人浑然不觉，待到剧情深入展开，那时候在激情的紫红或火红的光焰中重温这些书信，由于当初浑然不觉，就感到它们特别动人，特别充满了神圣感，其中有些情事也特别惊心动魄。 苏这个便条便是纯出自然、胸无渣滓一类，她称他亲爱的表亲裘德，怪他怎么没告诉她。她说，因为她平常只好独来独往，几乎没什么志趣相投的朋友，他们要是聚在一块儿，准是很有意思。不过她现在十之八九很快就走了，所以相处的机会也许永远失去了。 裘德一知道她要走的消息，直冒冷汗。再想不到会这样节外生枝，他只好马上给她写信。他说当天晚上一定跟她见面，时间在写信后一个钟头，地点在人行道上纪念殉道者遇难地方的那个十字架标志。 他把信交给一个男孩送去以后又后悔了。他下笔匆忙，竟然提出在街上见面，而他理应说他要登门见她才对。其实，乡下习惯就是这样约个地方见面，他以前也不知道还有什么别的妙招。他头一回跟阿拉贝拉的不幸见面不也是这么回事。不过他这样对苏这位可亲可爱的姑娘恐怕太失礼吧。可是这会儿也无法可想了，于是他在约好的时间之前几分钟，在刚亮起的路灯光下，朝那个地点走去。 宽阔的街道静悄悄，几乎没有人迹，虽然时间并不晚。他瞧见街对面晃过一个人影，随即看出来果然是她。他们从街两边同时向十字架标志靠拢，还没走到它跟前，她就大声向他招呼： “我才不想在这么个地点跟你见面哪，这是我一辈子头回跟你见面啊！往前走吧。” 她的声音果决、清脆，却有点发颤。他们在街两边并排往前走，裘德候着她那边的表示，一看到她有走过来的意思，就马上迎过去了。那地方白天停两轮运货小车子，不过那会儿一辆也没有。 “我请你到这儿见面，没去找你，实在对不起。”裘德开始说话，态度忸怩像个情人。 “哦——没什么。”她像朋友那样落落大方。“我实在也没个地方招待人。我的意思是你选的这个地方叫人不舒服——我看也不该说不舒服，我是说这地方，还有跟它连着的事儿，叫人难受，怪不吉利的。……不过我还没认识你，就这么开头不是滑稽吗？”她好奇地上下打量着他，但是裘德没怎么看她。 “你像是认识我了，要比我早吧？” “对啦——我瞧见过你几回呢。” “那你知道我是谁啦，干吗不说话呢？这会儿我要离开这地方啦。” “是啊。这太不幸啦。我在这儿实在没朋友。也算有的话，是位年纪挺大的朋友，住在这儿哪个地方。我这会儿还没定规去找他呢。他叫费乐生先生，他的情况你知道不知道？我想他是郡里哪个地方的牧师。” “不知道——我倒是听说过有位费乐生先生。他住在乡下，就是拉姆登，离这儿挺近。他是乡村小学老师。” “怎么！他还是老样儿，真怪啦！绝对不可能！还是个老师！你还知道他教名——是里查吧？” “不错，是里查；我派过书给他，不过我压根儿没见过他。” “那他是一事无成喽！” 裘德顿时黯然失色，因为连了不起的费乐生都失败了的事业，他凭什么能成功呢？要不是他听到这个消息时候，他的甜密的苏就近在身边，他准叫绝望压倒了。但就是他这一刻想象到的费乐生上大学的宏伟计划失败的情景，到苏走后也还是要叫他垂头丧气。 “咱们反正是散步，索性去看看他，好不好？”裘德突然说。“天还不算晚。” 她表示同意。他们往前走，先上了小山，又穿过林木佳胜的郊区，一会儿就看见矗向天空的教堂的有垛谍的高楼和正方形塔楼，随后到了小学校舍。他们向街上一个人打听费乐生先生是否在家，回答说他总是在家。他们一敲门，他就到校门口来了，手持蜡烛，脸上的神气表示你们是干什么来的？自从裘德上一回细瞧过他之后，他的脸显然消瘦了，苍老了。 隔了那么多年，他得以重晤费乐生先生，看见他那份失意样子，一下子就把他心目中费乐生头上的光轮打碎了，同时激起了他对这位备受煎熬和痛感失望的人的同情。裘德告诉他自己的姓名，说他现在是来看望他这位老朋友，他童年时曾蒙他关切爱护。 “我一点也不记得啦。”老师一边想一边说。“你是说你是我的学生，对吧？当然是啦，这没什么疑问；不过我这辈子到了这会儿，学生已经成千上万啦，他们自然变得很厉害，除了最近这些学生，我差不多都想不起来啦。” “那是你在马利格林的时候。”裘德说，但愿自己没来。 “不错，我在那儿呆过很短一段时间。这位也是老学生？” “不是——是我表亲。……要是你再回想一下，大概能想起来我给你写过信，跟你要文法书，你不是给我寄来了吗？” “哦——对啦！这我倒还有点影子。” “你办了这件事，太谢谢啦。你是第一位鼓励我走这条路的。你离开马利格林那天上午，跟我说了再见，说你的计划是当上大学毕业生，进教会——说谁想在事业上干出点名堂，不论当神学家还是当教师，学位总是万不可少的资历。” “我记得自己心里是这么想的，不过我就不明白怎么会连自己的计划都说给人家听呢。我这个想法放弃好多年啦。” “我可始终没忘呢。就是这回事儿把我引到这地方来的，还到这儿来看望你。” “请进吧，”费乐生说，“请令表亲也进来吧。” 他们进了学校小会客室，那儿有一盏带罩子的灯，光线投在三四本书上，费乐生把灯罩下掉，这样他们彼此可以看得比较清楚。灯光照到了苏的神经质的小脸蛋和生机勃发的黑眼睛以及黑头发上；照到她表亲严肃端谨的神态上；也照到老师更老成的脸庞和体态上，看得出他有四十五岁，身材瘦削，富于思想；薄薄的嘴唇，轮廓优雅，习惯哈着腰，穿一件礼服呢大衣，因为磨来磨去，肩头、背部和肘部都有点发亮了。 旧时的友谊不知不觉地恢复了，老师讲了他个人经历，那两个表亲也讲了自己的。他对他们说，他有时候还有进教会的念头；尽管做不到像从前设想那样进教会，还可以凭一名无牧师资格的传道者进去。他说，他对如今这个职位也还感到惬意，不过目前缺个边学边教的小先生。 他们没留下吃饭，苏必须在不太晚之前回到住处，因为他们回基督堂还得走一大段路。虽然他们一路谈的都是无关紧要的普通事，然而裘德却因为发现了这位表亲流露出那么多在他还不了解的女性本色而为之一惊。她感受快、变化急，似乎不管干什么都是感情用事。一个令人兴奋的想法就能叫她走得飞快，他简直跟不上她；她对若干事情表现出来的神经过敏，难免被人误解为轻狂、浮躁。他心知她对他的感情全属最坦率的友爱之情，而他却比认识她之前更爱她，因此他感到非常苦闷；回家路上他心头沉重，不是夜空幽暗引起的，而是因为想到她即将离去。 “你干吗一定离开基督堂？”他带着遗憾意味说，“这个城市历史上出了纽门、普赛、沃德和奇伯尔那样赫赫有名的大人物哪，你不愿意呆下去，那你舍此不图还能有什么出息？” “你说得不错——这些人的确是那么回事儿。可是他们在世界史上能算赫赫有名吗？呆在这儿，就是为这个，这道理未免太可笑啦！”她笑起来了。 “啊——我非走不可。”她接着说。“方道悟小姐，就是我帮活的那个，把我气坏了，我也把她气坏了，所以顶好一走了之。” “出什么事啦？” “她把我的石膏像砸碎啦。” “哦？故意吗？” “故意干的。她在我屋里发现了它们，虽然那是我的财产，她硬给摔到地上，拿脚踩，就因为它们不合她的调调儿。一个像的胳臂跟脑袋，她用脚后跟碾得稀碎——太叫人恶心啦！” “我想，她嫌这些天主教味儿——教皇派味儿太厉害了吧？毫无疑问，她管这叫教皇派的像，还要大讲特讲呢，你这是什么拜神求福喽。” “不对。……才不对呢。她倒没那么干呢。这可完全不一样，是另一码事。” “哈！那我可就觉着太怪啦！” “是啊。她就是因为完全不是那么回事，才恨我的守护神哪。所以我才气得顶她。吵完了，我就决定再不呆下去啦，不过还得找事于，要干就干个我人比较独立的。” “那你干吗不试试教书呢？我听说你干过一回。” “我压根儿没想过再教书；因为我已经当了工艺设计师啦。” “那我一定跟费乐生说说，让你在他的学校里试试本事好啦。要是你愿意干，再上个师范学院，就成了有合格证书的一级女教师啦，这比你现在当设计师或者教会工艺师什么的，收入要多一倍呢，自由也成倍增加啦。” “那好吧——你就跟他说好啦。我得进去了。再见，裘德！咱们到底还是见面啦，我太高兴啦，咱们用不着因为父母吵架也吵架吧，对不对？” 裘德不想叫她看出来他究竟同意了多少，转到他这边路上，便径自走向那条偏僻的街上自己的住所。把苏•柏瑞和留在离他不远的地方，这是他心里老在盘算的念头，后果如何是在所不计的。第二天晚上他又去了拉姆登，因为他担心光凭一纸短信不会起到说服作用。小学老师对这个建议思想上没一点准备。 “我想要的人是所谓的第二年调动，就是教过了一年再调动。”他说。“从令表亲本人条件看，她当然担任得了，不过她什么经验也没有。哦——她有经验，对吧？她是不是真想选教书这门当职业呢？” 裘德说他认为她的确有意从事这类工作；他连编带诌地强调她天生具备了给费乐生先生当助手的适应能力；其实他对她这方面情况毫无所知，不过经他这么一花言巧语，倒把老师心说活了，说他愿意聘请她，并且以朋友资格向裘德郑重表示，如果他的表亲并不是真正愿意走这条路，也不想把这一步当做学习期间第一阶段，尔后进师范学院接受培训为第二阶段，那么她的时间就将白白浪费，况且薪水云云也不过有名无实而已。 这次造访的第二天，费乐生接到裘德一封信，内中说到他已经再次同他的表亲仔细斟酌过了，她从事教学工作的心越来越积极，同意到费乐生那儿工作。那位老师和隐士万万没料到裘德之所以这样极力撺掇这件好事，除了出于一家人天生来就相互照顾的本能，还对苏怀有什么别的感情。 Part 2 Chapter 5 THE schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at-- she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles, Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant-- except that it was what you don't understand!" "I know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know you believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar-- probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. 小学老师坐在他的简朴住宅里，住宅同校舍相连，两者都是现代建筑。他望着路对面的房子，他的教员苏就住在那里边。苏的工作安排很快定下来了。原来准备调到费乐生先生的小学的小先生不肯来，苏暂时顶了这个缺。所有这类临时性安排只能延续到女王陛下的督学下年度视察之后再做定夺。苏要转为常任教职须得经他批准才行。柏瑞和小姐在伦敦时候大概教7两年书，虽然不久前辞掉了，但无论如何不好说她在教学方面全属外行；费乐生认为留她长期担任教职没什么困难；她跟他一块儿工作才三四个礼拜，他就已经希望她继续留下来。他发现她果真像裘德所形容的那样聪明；哪个行业的老师傅不想把一个能叫他节省一半精力的徒弟留在身边？ 那时候是八点半稍过点，他等在那儿是为看到她穿过大路到学校这边来，这样他好随着她过去。八点四十分，她随随便便戴了顶轻便帽子，过了大路；他瞧着她，仿佛瞧着一件稀罕物。那早上她神采飞扬，容态绝尘，犹如为她自己发出的新的霞光所包围，但是这同她的教学能力毫不相干。他随后也到了学校；苏要一直在教室另一头照管她的学生，所以整天都在他的眼皮子底下。她绝对是个优秀教师。 到晚上他要专门给苏一个人上课，这也是他应尽的一项职责。依照有关法令规定，教者与学者如为不同性别，授课时应有一年高德劭的女性在座，云云。里查•费乐生一想到这一条款居然用到他们身上，觉着太可笑了，因为他年纪比她大好多，足可以当她爸爸；个过他还是竭诚遵守规定，跟她一块儿坐在屋里时候，苏的房东寡妇霍太太就在一边，忙着自己的针线活儿。其实这个规定也无从规避，因为这房子只有一间起坐室。 她计数时候——他们上的是算术课——有时候无意中抬头看他一眼，带着询问意味的微笑，意思像表示他既然是老师，她脑子里这会儿转的东西，不管是对还是错，他一定完全清楚。费乐生的心思实际上不在算术上，而是在她身上。按说他身为导师，这样的心境未免反常，恐怕连他自己也觉着前所未有。她呢，也许知道他那会儿正琢磨她吧。 他们这样上课已经几个礼拜，虽然很单调，可是他反而从中感到很大乐趣。恰好有一天学校收到了通知，要他们把学生带到基督堂去参观巡回展览，内容是耶路撒冷的模型。考虑到教育效果，每个学生只要交一便士就可以入场参观。于是他们的学生按两个一排，列队前往。苏在自己班旁边走，拿着一把朴素的遮阳伞，小小的拇指勾着伞把子。费乐生穿着肥肥大大的长袍，跟在后边，斯斯文文地甩着手杖。打她来了，他一直心神不定，左思右想的。那个下午，晴光烈日，尘土蒙蒙，进了展览室一看，除了他们，没几个人。 古城的模型高踞室中央，模型的主人，一副大善士的虔诚样儿，拿着根指点用的小棍儿，绕着模型，给小家伙指着，叫他们看念《圣经》时已经知道名字的区域和地方，摩利亚山呀、约沙法谷呀、锡安城呀、城墙城门呀；一个城门外头有个像大坟头的大土堆，大土堆上面有个又小又白的十字架。他说那地方就是髑髅地。 “据我看，”苏对老师说，她跟他都站在靠后的地方，“这个模型固然是精心造出来的，其实是个凭空想象的作品。有哪个人知道基督活着那会儿，耶路撒冷就是现在这个模样？我敢说连这个人也不知道怎么回事儿。” “这是先根据对这个城实地调查的结果，再参考经过合理推测画出来的最好的地图，这才打样子把模型造出来的。” “我倒是觉着咱们老耶路撒冷、耶路撒冷地够烦啦，”她说，“想想吧，咱们又不是犹太人的后人。干脆说吧，那儿向来就没出过什么了不起的地方、了不起的人物——雅典、罗马、亚历山大，还有别的古城，可都有啊。” “不过，我的亲爱的姑娘，你可别忘了它对咱们意义多大呀！” 她不言语了，因为她很容易给人压下去；随后她瞧见在团团围住模型的孩子后边有个穿白法兰绒上衣的青年，聚精会神地仔细看着约沙法谷，身子躬得很低，所以他的脸差不多全让橄榄山给挡住了。“瞧你表亲裘德。”老师接下去说。‘他可不会觉着咱们耶路撒冷、耶路撒冷地才烦呢。” “哎呀——我怎么没看出来是他呀！”她声音又快又亮地喊了出来。“裘德呀——瞧你这个认真劲儿，钻进去都出不来啦！” 裘德从神游中惊醒过来，瞧见了她。“哦——是苏呀！”他说，一时不知怎么好，心里可又高兴，脸刷地红了。“这全是你的学生吧，没错儿！我看见学校都排在下午入场，所以我猜你们也要来。我看得人了迷，连在哪儿都忘啦。它多叫人缅怀圣世哟！我可以花上几个钟头足足看个够，可我就那么几分钟，糟透啦！因为我这会儿就在这旁边地方干活呢。” “你这位表亲可真聪明得厉害哪，她毫不留情地批评起模型啦。”费乐生说，口气是好意的揶揄。“对它的正确性，她大表怀疑呢。” “不对，不对，费乐生先生，我不是——根本不是那么回事。我讨厌人家叫我聪明女孩什么的——这类货色大多接！”她带着满腹委屈回答他。“我的意思不过是——我也说不上来我什么意思，反正你没懂我意思就是啦！” “我可懂你的意思呢。”裘德热呼呼地说（虽然他并不懂）。“我认为你蛮对呢。” “你真是好裘德哟——我就知道你信得过我啊！”她冲动地抓住他的手，带着责怪的神气看了老师一眼，就扭过身去对着裘德；她话声带颤，这是因为老师不过心平气和地挪输了一下，她就那么放肆，不免觉着自己荒谬。她哪儿意识到，她就这一刹那感情流露竞使两颗心都爱她爱得接心刻骨，矢志不移；而又因如此，她又将如何没完没了地给他们的来日造成何等难解难分的冲突。 那个模型的说教气氛太浓，孩子们很快就腻烦了，下午稍晚一些时候，他们就全体整队返回拉姆登，裘德也回去干活。他目送穿着干净白罩衫和围裙的小羊羔，由费乐生和苏在旁保护，沿街往乡下走去；由于他自己不得不置身于他们的生活进程之外，心里充塞着十分难堪的失落感。费乐生已经邀请他于礼拜五晚上光临做客，苏也不上课。他满口答应，届时必来打扰。 同时学生和老师正在回家路上走。第二天，费乐生在苏上课时向黑板望去，不禁为他的发现大吃一惊，原来那上面有一幅用粉笔熟练地画下来的耶路撒冷示意图，所有的建筑都标在恰如其分的位置上。 “我以为你对那个模型毫无兴趣呢，再说你简直没怎么看，对吧？” “我是没怎么看，”她说，“不过我记得它好多东西。” “你记得的比我多啊。” 女王陛下的督学在那段时间正在这个居民区实行“突击察访”，要出其不意地检查教学情况。两天后，在上午上课中间，他轻轻托起门搭子，那位督学大人，边教边学的小先生眼里的凶神恶煞，走进了教室。 费乐生先生已经有点见怪不怪了，就像某篇小说里那个女人一样，他在毫无准备的情况下给他们捉弄的次数太多了。但是苏这个班是在教室靠里边那头，她背对着门口，所以督学站在后边，看了大概半分钟她教的课，她才察觉有个人在那儿。她一转过身，突然明白过来那个常常把人吓坏了的时刻到来了。她平素就胆怯，这下子受的影响如此之大，禁不住惊叫了一声。费乐生，出自一种极度关心的奇特本能，不由自主地及时跑到她身边，防备她因为虚弱而晕倒。她很快镇静下来，笑起来了；但督学走后，她又有了反应，脸色煞白，费乐生就把她带到自己屋里，给她喝了点白兰地，让她慢慢恢复到常态。她发现他握着她的手。 “你本该先跟我说。”她喘嘘嘘地发脾气说。‘脱有个督学马上要来‘突击察访’嘛！哦，我可怎么办哪！现在他要写报告，告诉主管，说我根本不够格呀，我这辈子要丢人丢到底啦！” 他那样和颜悦色地瞧着她，她感动了，后悔不该抢白他，人觉着好了点就回家了。 裘德在同一时间一直心清烦躁地等着礼拜五的到来。礼拜三、礼拜四两天，他要去会她的愿望对他影响太强烈了，天黑之后，他居然顺着到那个村子的大路走了好远；回到家里，他觉着简直没法集中心思看书。礼拜五晚上一到，他就按自以为苏喜欢的样儿打扮起来、匆匆吃过茶点就起身了，尽管那时候正下雨。茂密的树木笼罩下，那个本来昏暗的时刻就更昏暗了，雨水从树杈上滴下来，凄凉地落在他身上，这光景使他有了深深的不祥之感——没有道理的不祥之感，因为他知道他虽然爱她，但也知道只能到此为止，再往前一步绝对不行。 就在拐个弯儿、进村子的当口，他迎面头一眼就瞧见两个人合打一把伞从教区长住宅大门出来。他是在他们后边，离得很远，不过他立刻认出来是苏和费乐生。后者给她打着伞，显然他们刚走访过教区长——总是为什么跟学校工作有关的事吧。他们顺着雨淋湿的僻静的篱路往前走，裘德这时看见费乐生一只胳臂去搂她的腰；她轻轻推开了他的胳臂，可是他又搂上她，这回她没再管，只很快朝四处瞧了瞧，挺担心的样子。她根本没直接朝后看，也就没看见裘德。这下子裘德如同挨了一闷棍，一头扎进树篱中间藏起来，直到他们走到苏住的房子，她进去了，费乐生就往近边的校舍走去。 “哦，他配她，年纪可太大啦——太大啦！”裘德在爱情受挫、沦于绝望的极度可怕的病态中高声说出来。 他不能干涉。他不是阿拉贝拉的男人吗？他没法再往前走了，掉头回了基督堂。他走的每一步都像跟他说，他没有丝毫理由挡着费乐生，不让他跟苏好。费乐生或许是个比她大二十岁的长者，但是有好多婚姻像这样年龄条件悬殊的，不是也过得很美满吗？不过他的表亲同老师这层亲密关系却是他自己一手策划成功呀，他这么一想，就感到他的悲伤遭到了冷酷无情的奚落。 |
| Part 2 Chapter 6 JUDE'S old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion-- the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you-- only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach-- a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at.... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, and idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary.... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the GENIUS LOCI, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only know a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: "BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. "SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other course. That, therefore, is what I advise you to do. Yours faithfully, "T. TETUPHENAY. "To Mr. J. FAWLEY, Stone-mason." This terribly sensible advice exasperated Jude. He had known all that before. He knew it was true. Yet it seemed a hard slap after ten years of labour, and its effect upon him just now was to make him rise recklessly from the table, and, instead of reading as usual, to go downstairs and into the street. He stood at a bar and tossed off two or three glasses, then unconsciously sauntered along till he came to a spot called The Fourways in the middle of the city, gazing abstractedly at the groups of people like one in a trance, till, coming to himself, he began talking to the policeman fixed there. That officer yawned, stretched out his elbows, elevated himself an inch and a half on the balls of his toes, smiled, and looking humorously at Jude, said, "You've had a wet, young man." "No; I've only begun," he replied cynically. Whatever his wetness, his brains were dry enough. He only heard in part the policeman's further remarks, having fallen into thought on what struggling people like himself had stood at that crossway, whom nobody ever thought of now. It had more history than the oldest college in the city. It was literally teeming, stratified, with the shades of human groups, who had met there for tragedy, comedy, farce; real enactments of the intensest kind. At Fourways men had stood and talked of Napoleon, the loss of America, the execution of King Charles, the burning of the Martyrs, the Crusades, the Norman Conquest, possibly of the arrival of Caesar. Here the two sexes had met for loving, hating, coupling, parting; had waited, had suffered, for each other; had triumphed over each other; cursed each other in jealousy, blessed each other in forgiveness. He began to see that the town life was a book of humanity infinitely more palpitating, varied, and compendious than the gown life. These struggling men and women before him were the reality of Christminster, though they knew little of Christ or Minster. That was one of the humours of things. The floating population of students and teachers, who did know both in a way, were not Christminster in a local sense at all. He looked at his watch, and, in pursuit of this idea, he went on till he came to a public hall, where a promenade concert was in progress. Jude entered, and found the room full of shop youths and girls, soldiers, apprentices, boys of eleven smoking cigarettes, and light women of the more respectable and amateur class. He had tapped the real Christminster life. A band was playing, and the crowd walked about and jostled each other, and every now and then a man got upon a platform and sang a comic song. The spirit of Sue seemed to hover round him and prevent his flirting and drinking with the frolicsome girls who made advances-- wistful to gain a little joy. At ten o'clock he came away, choosing a circuitous route homeward to pass the gates of the college whose head had just sent him the note. The gates were shut, and, by an impulse, he took from his pocket the lump of chalk which as a workman he usually carried there, and wrote along the wall: "I HAVE UNDERSTANDING AS WELL AS YOU; I AM NOT INFERIOR TO YOU: YEA, WHO KNOWETH NOT SUCH THINGS AS THESE?"--Job xii. 3. 裘德的一辈子含辛茹苦的老姑婆在马利格林病倒了，他在下面那个礼拜天去看望她。他本想去趟拉姆登村，忍痛跟他的表亲做一次长谈，借此向她一吐积愫，不过这也很难启口，再说他那天晚上看到的令他极感痛苦的情景，他也只能秘而不宣。他探视站婆正是胜利地克服了原来打算的结果。 他姑婆下不了床，他在那儿短短一天中，绝大部分时间都忙活着种种安排，好让她舒服点。小面包房已经转让给一家邻居。有了变卖所得，加上平时积蓄，她完全用不着为日常吃穿用发愁，再说还有位同村寡妇跟她一块儿过，照她的意思服侍她。到他快走的时候，他才抽出点空跟姑婆安安静静说会子话。他没头没脑地扯到了苏身上。 “苏是在这儿生的吧？” “对啦——就在这间屋里头。他们那会儿就住在这儿。你问这干吗？” “哦——我想知道知道。” “那你一定是跟她常来常往喽！”严厉的老太婆说，“我跟你说什么来着？” “哎——我没跟她常来常往。” “你跟她聊过吧？” “聊过。” “那你就算了吧。她爸爸把她带大了，就是教她恨她妈娘家人。你这么个干苦活儿的，她才看不上眼呢——她这会儿成了城里派头的姑娘啦。我压根儿都是随她去。不听话的小丫头，老是那么个样儿，还神经兮兮的。就为她顶嘴，我敲了她多少回呀。有那么一天，她连鞋带袜子一脱，就下到塘里去啦，裙子都拉到磕膝头上边。我臊得还没喊出来，她就说：‘姑婆，你一边儿去吧。这可不是讲规矩的人瞧的哟！’” “她那会儿还是小孩儿哪。” “怎么说也十二岁啦。” “就是呀。不过她这会儿人大啦，她人心思细，见事快，脾气好，敏感得就跟——” “裘德呀！”他始婆大声喊出来，在床上硬挺了一下。“你可别为她再犯糊涂吧！” “没有，没有，当然没有。” “你娶了那个叫阿拉贝拉的娘儿们，真算是男人变着法儿干出来的坏事哟。可她这会儿总算到天那边去啦，再不会跟你纠缠啦。你是叫人捆死了的，你要是不知好歹在苏身上打主意，那你干的事儿还要坏哪。表妹妹对你客客气气，你就有礼还礼，也跟她客客气气。亲戚跟亲戚好心好意，可你一过这条线，那你就是为她疯得找死啦。她要是跟城里人一样流里流气，那你就算毁啦。” “姑婆，别说她坏话吧！别说啦，行吧！”这时候姑婆那位女伴和护理进来了，裘德这才下了台。她准是听见他们的谈话来着，因为她谈起好多年前的旧事来了，讲到她记得的苏•柏瑞和是个什么样的小女孩儿。她说，她爸爸上伦敦之前，她就在草场对面的村办小学上学，接着形容她是个多么古怪精灵的小丫头——那年教区长办了回朗诵和背诵会，她怎么穿着小白罩衫、矮帮鞋，系着粉红带子上了讲台，比谁都小；她怎么背《再高、再高》、《深夜里欢声雷动》和《大老鸹》；背的时候怎么小眉毛拧着，难过地朝四处眨巴眼儿，对着半空里说话，真像那儿有个大老鸹： “狰狞怕人的大老鸹，你从夜茫茫的海岸出发游荡， 告诉我你那堂皇的名字是什么，在永夜的冥国的榜上！” “她系着粉红带子什么的站在那儿，把吃臭烂肉的脏老鸹真演活啦。”病老太婆也只好跟着帮腔。“她简直就跟真瞧见老鸹似的。裘德呀，你小时候也会来这一套呢，眼朝上望，对着半天空，跟真瞧见什么一样。” 那位邻居又讲了些苏别的趣事。 “她可不是个调皮鬼，你也知道。可是她平常干的事儿，只有男娃儿才干得出来呢。那回我瞧见她嗖地蹦到那边塘里头，跟着一滑就滑得老远的，小崽发随风飘着。那一串有二十个娃儿，她也是一个，他们一气往塘那头滑，滑过来滑过去，没个停，上边顶着天，样儿就像在玻璃上。那里头就她一个女娃儿，他们都给她叫好。她说，‘男娃儿呀，别那么骚不唧儿的！’抽冷子就跑家里去了。他们想法要把她哄出来，她可不干啦。” 她们回想起来的苏的形象反倒让裘德心里更难过，因为他再休想向她求爱了。离开姑婆的小房子时候，他心里沉甸甸的，很想顺路到那个小学，瞧瞧她小小身影呆过的教室，她在那儿曾大放异彩，但是他克制了这个欲望，继续往前走。 因为是礼拜天晚上，有些人穿着顶好的衣服站在一块儿，他住在村里时候，他们都认识他。其中一位挺客气地跟他打招呼，他倒吓了一跳。 “你总算到了那边啦，对吧？” 裘德露出来没明白他说的意思。 “哎呀，就是那个讲学问的老窝子嘛——你还是孩子时候不就常跟我们讲那个‘光明之城’嘛！那儿都跟你想的一样吧？” “是呀，还不止我想的哪！”裘德大声说。 “我有回在那儿呆了一个钟头，我这人可没看到多少东西；全是破旧的老大楼哇，一半儿教堂，一半儿善堂，简直没什么活气儿啊。” “你错啦，约翰；你要是随便在街上逛逛，两只眼就看不出来什么。那儿的活气儿才足哪。它是天下有一无二的思想和宗教的中心哪——存着这个国家学问和精神的大仓库啊。那儿干什么都静悄悄，不那么人来人往闹哄哄的，万有运行，无声无息嘛——借个有名作家打的比方吧，好比陀螺转，瞧着就跟没转一样。” “哦，好啦，大概是那么回事儿吧，可也不一定那么回事儿，所以我才进了馆子，要了一缸子啤酒、一便士面包、半便士干酪，待到该回家时候才走。我想你到这会儿准是上成了大学吧？” “哎，没哪！”裘德说。“我离它还远着呢，简直跟从前没两样。” “怎么搞的？” 裘德拍了拍口袋。 “果然不出所料啊！那地方可不是为你这号人开的——是专门给手里大把大把钱的人开的啊。” “这你又错啦。”裘德说，嘴里硬，心里难受。“就是为我这号人开的呀！” 乡亲的这番议论按理足以给他指点迷津，叫他从新近陷进去的太虚幻境猛醒回头：那儿有个脱离现实的小人物，说起来不就是他嘛，一门心思要高攀艺术与科学的崇高圣境，邑勉以求，务必在大学问家的乐园中博得一席之地。现在乡亲说得这么露骨了，不容他不好好看看自己的前景如何。就拿近的来说吧，他就觉着对希腊文、特别是希腊文剧作的理解程度，连自己也不满意。每天干完活儿，有时候真累得慌，简直没法保持钻研、分析所不可少的注意力，以求透彻了解。他深深感到没有导师绝对不行——需要一位近在身边的朋友，碰上深文奥义、艰涩难解的著作，就是费一个月精力还是苦于索解的时候，能给他提示要领，使他能对问题豁然贯通，掌握精要。 他不能再这样沉湎于空想了，考虑考虑现实情况是绝对必要的。他以前把他的空闲时间一味用在含混的所谓“个人钻研”上，不看一下实效，到头来究竟有什么收获？ “我早就该这样想啦，”他在回家路上说，“我说要按学习计划来，可是方向既不明，目标又不准，那还不如根本不靠什么计划呢。我老是这么在学院外头瞎转悠，仿佛里头真会伸出胳臂，把我举起来，放到里头去，可哪儿有这门子好事呀！我得找到专门的路道才行哪。” 下个礼拜他就按自己的设想开展活动。有天下午似乎机会来了，一位风度高雅的老先生，人家讲他是某学院院长，正在一块花园似的私人界地上的公用小路散步，正好离裘德坐的地方挺近。老先生走近了一点，裘德心急地盯着他脸看。老先生倒是慈眉善目、能替人着想的样子，不过也透着内向，不大爱搭理人。裘德转念一想，还是不宜冒昧上前跟他搭话。不过这回跟他照个面，虽说事出偶然，对他却大有启发：他想倘若他能给几位德高望重、博学强识的老院长写信，陈述自己的困难，征求他们的意见，倒也不失为聪明之举。 下边一两个礼拜，他心里揣着这个主意到城里他认为适宜的地方呆着，便于有机会见到些超群迈众的院长、学监和其他学院负责人之流；最后他算挑中了五位，按人心不同、各如其面的相法，他们都透着目光如炬、慧眼识人；于是他向五位发了信，简述自己种种困难，请求他们对他在这种难乎为继的状况下何去何从，惠予指教。 信付邮后，裘德思想上又开始觉得这事情办得不妥，但愿那些信都没寄到才好。“这年头到处都是乱拉关系、爱出风头、言行粗鄙的家伙，乱写什么申请信，我怎么会不知道不应该给素昧平生的人这样写信呢？他们总不免往坏里头想，认为我是个招摇撞骗的家伙、好吃懒做的饭桶、生来心术不正的东西……也许我还真是那号人呢。” 尽管这样，他还是始终抱着收到回信的希望，把这看成他起死回生的最后机会。他等了一天又一天，嘴里说再盼着回信可太荒唐了，心里还是盼个没完。就在他等信的工夫，无意中听到费乐生的消息，一下子弄得他心乱如麻。费乐生要推掉基督堂城外那所小学，转到更往南去的中维塞克斯一所大点的小学。这究竟是怎么回事？对他的表亲有什么影响？是不是老师因为现在要担负两个人而不是一个人的生活而采取的切实可行的步骤？看来可能是这么回事儿，可他不想就这么肯定。费乐生跟他自己心坎上供养的年轻姑娘之间那层情好关系叫他极为反感，其结果是他决不会为学习计划向费乐生讨教。 同时，学术界名人仍然没给裘德回音，这年轻人只好跟以前一样全靠自己解决问题。但是，希望如此渺茫弄得他心情更加郁闷。他用了间接办法去打听有什么出路，很快就搞清楚了：让他长期疑虑、惴惴不安的事情，只有靠他取得领取奖学金和助学金资格，才是他唯一能走的光明之路。但是，要达到这个目的，非得接受大量的指导不可，此外要有一些生而具备的才干。另一个问题是，靠自订的程序从事自学的人，无论涉猎多广多深，哪怕持续不断花上十年苦功，要想同在训练有素的教师指导下过着学习生活，而且为取得合格条件早经努力的那些人进行竞争，并指望取得成功，那也是谈何容易啊。 还有一条路，姑且这么说吧，就是用“捐班”办法弄到资格，对他这样人倒不失为实实在在的公开的道路，困难只限于物质方面。他按照自己得到的资料开始核计物质方面的障碍有多大规模，最后计算的结果令他心灰意冷，因为就算他财运极为亨通，有能力按一定比率攒钱，其间也将历尽十五年光阴，方能博得向学院院长呈缴个人全面鉴定的正式证明的机会和参加入学考试的资格。所以采取这条道路在他也毫无希望可言。 他看透了这地方对他施展的迷幻术够多迷离惝忄兄而诡谲多端。想当年它就凭它在天际的一片光景对他展示了魔力，他这个做梦的青年就上了钩，一心想到它那儿，一心想在它那儿生活，一心想在学院和教堂中间徜徉，一心想儒染所谓“地方精神”，认为这一切都是彰明较著、要悉心毕力以赴的理想。“只要我到了那儿，”他就像克鲁索那样大言不惭地对他的大船说，“下边什么事就看我的时间精力啦。”如果他当初根本没陷进这假象充斥之地，不慑于它的外观与空谈，而是到热闹繁忙的商业城市去，凭自己的精明强干，以赚钱发财为目标，脚踏实地来评估自己的计划，无论怎么样，一切都会胜强百倍啊。唉，这一比较，事情也就显得十分亮堂。学习计划受到了理性的检验，也就跟五光十色的肥皂泡一样，一下子炸碎了。他回顾以往多年自己的足迹，感触独深，正应了海涅说的话： 在那年轻人的富于灵感而炯炯有神的双眸的上空， 我瞧见身披彩衣、装腔作势的愚人帽在晃动。 所幸的是，他以前没机会把亲爱的苏也牵扯进他这一败涂地的境遇，没给她的生活注入失望。而且他终于明白过来自身本来就有的种种条件限制，而这个痛苦的觉醒过程现在不该让她了解。对他从前如何在妙手空空、一贫如洗、前途难卜的条件下所进行的惨痛的斗争，她毕竟所知有限。 他永远忘不了那个下午他从梦中醒来的光景，当时他恍恍惚惚，不知怎么才好，于是走进了圆形会堂。它是这有异常动人风貌的独特城市的独特建筑，顶上是带天窗的八角形阁楼，每面均有窗户，从那儿可纵览全城和它的巍峨建筑。裘德登上了阁楼，凭窗骋目，景色一望无余。他心绪万千，悲愤填膺，同时屹然不屈，崇楼杰阁以及与它们关联着的事物与特权，根本与他无缘。他凝视从前没工夫一顾的宏大图书馆浮现在空中的房顶，而随着阳光照临之处又是林林总总的尖塔、学院、山墙、街衢、礼拜堂和四方院，这一切构成了举世无双的风光，犹如气势磅礴的大合奏。他看明白他的命运不是寄托在这些东西上，而是留在自己身在其内的劳动者中间，同他们一块儿在自己也寄居的穷街陋巷中安身立命。尽管观光者和颂扬者根本不承认它们是城市本身一部分，然而若没有那儿的栖居者，勤奋的读书人固然读不成书，高尚的思想家也活不下去。 他的目光越过城区，投向远处的乡间，葱笼的林木挡住了他的视线，把她掩蔽起来了。原先她的音容笑貌成了他的心灵的依靠，而同她的睽离却变成令人发狂的精神折磨。对于这一重打击，他或许可以诿之于命该如此，勉能承受。有苏同他形影相依，不论他的野心落到什么样的结局，他总可付之一笑。而没有苏，他长期承受的身心过度紧张所产生的反应势必对他造成悲惨后果。费乐生以前求知问道无疑也曾碰到他所尝到的那样闭门羹而痛感失望。然而小学教师如今有了甜蜜的苏，这就使他得了安慰，也有了福。而他又有谁来安慰呢！ 他从阁楼下来，到了街上，无精打采地往前走，到了一个客店前面，就进去了。他很快一连喝了三杯啤酒，出来时候已是掌灯时分，在闪烁的路灯光下，悠悠荡荡地回家吃晚饭。在桌子旁边没坐多大一会儿，房东太太给他送来一封刚到的信。她放信的时候，脸上煞有介事地一副预感发生大事的神气。裘德一看，上面有个学院的钢印，他曾经向该院院长发过信。“着啊——最后总算来了一个啦！”裘德大声喊道。 信的内容简短，跟他盼望已久的内容未免南辕北辙，不过的确是以院长个人名义寄来的。内容写的是： 石匠 J．福来先生： 接读大函，甚感兴趣。据你所述，得悉你为工人。现不揣冒昧，奉告如次：你似应谨守本业，一以贯之，则成功机会必不负苦心人，较另择高就稗益良多。鄙见如此，谨覆。 T．太徒弗奈于圣书学院 这个意见真是洞明世态，人情人理极了，但是裘德却大为恼火。他本来明知是这么回事，也知道它说的是大实话，可是他感到这是对他的十年辛苦狠狠揍了一巴掌。这下子影响实在太大了，他一气之下，什么都不顾了，猛地从桌边挺起身子，不是照平常那样看书，而是朝楼下跑。他上了街，站在一个吧台旁边，稀里糊涂地三杯酒一饮而尽，然后稀里糊涂地往前走，一直走到城市中部一个叫四路口的地方，昏昏沉沉地盯着一群人，神不守舍。后来他清醒过来了，开始跟站岗的警察搭起话来。 警察打了个阿欠，伸了伸胳臂肘，脚后跟往一块儿一磕，长了一英寸半，觉着挺有味儿地望着裘德，说：“小伙子，你醉了吧？” “没醉，还早着呢。”他故意说俏皮话。 不管他这会儿多软弱，他脑子倒是完全没有乱。警察下边说的话，他只听见了一两句。他苦苦思索，多少像他这样百般苦斗的人站在这十字路口上，从来也没人搭理过。路口的历史比城里最古老的学院的历史还悠久呢。一点也不假，在它那儿着实看得到历代古人阴魂不散，成群结队，挤挤撞撞；他们会聚在那儿，演出过喜剧、悲剧和笑剧；那可是真人真事，真刀真熗的表演，激烈紧张到了无以复加的程度。人们当年站在四路口，大谈特谈拿破仑怎样胜利和失败呀，美洲怎样沦于敌手呀，查理王怎样被处决呀，殉教者怎样受火刑呀，十字军怎样跨海东征呀，诺曼底的威廉怎样征服呀，说不定还要讲到恺撒怎样挥师长驱直入，兵临城下呢。多少男男女女在这儿凑到一块儿，相爱了，反目了；成婚了，仳离了；你等着我，我念着你；你因我吃苦，我为你受罪；你占我上风，我压你气势；吃起醋来，就你骂我不得好死，我咒你不得超生，然后又回心转意，和好如初，但求上天保佑，有福同享。 他开始认识到市井生活是一部人性的万宝全书，它搏动有力，生生不息；它变化多端，花样百出；它小中见大，粗中有细；这样一看，市井生活比长袍先生的学院生活真是无限地高明啊。他前面这些为生活苦苦挣扎的男男女女才是基督堂的真正本色，虽然他们简直不知道什么“基督”呀，或什么“堂”。事情往往就这么令人忍俊不禁，这也是其一。至于那流动不居的学生和导师们固然从他们的角度对“基督”或“堂”自有一番见解，可那完全不是当地原汁原味的基督堂。 他看看表；为了印证他的观感，一直走下去，进了一家大众娱乐厅，里边有个不设座位的音乐会正在演奏。裘德一进去，就瞧见屋里到处是铺子的小伙计。大姑娘、丘八大爷、学徒、叼着香烟的十一岁的娃儿们、还算体面人家的出来想打野食的轻挑娘儿们。真正的基督堂生活啊，他算是人门啦。乐队奏着曲子，大群人转来转去，你推我操。一会儿隔一会儿，汉子们跑上去，唱个凑趣逗乐的歌儿。 但是苏的精灵似乎老跟着他，不许他跟风骚的小妞儿调情、喝酒；她们直往他这边儿凑，变着法儿要在他身上找点乐子。七点钟一到，他就走了，宁肯绕个大圈子往家走，为的是经过给他写信的院长的学院的大门。 大门关着。冲动之下，他从口袋里掏出当工人的总是随身带着的笔，顺着院墙一挥而就： “我也有聪明，与你们一样，并非不及你们；你们所说的， 谁不知道呢？” ——《约伯记》第十二章第三节 Part 2 Chapter 7 THE stroke of scorn relieved his mind, and the next morning he laughed at his self-conceit. But the laugh was not a healthy one. He re-read the letter from the master, and the wisdom in its lines, which had at first exasperated him, chilled and depressed him now. He saw himself as a fool indeed. Deprived of the objects of both intellect and emotion, he could not proceed to his work. Whenever he felt reconciled to his fate as a student, there came to disturb his calm his hopeless relations with Sue. That the one affined soul he had ever met was lost to him through his marriage returned upon him with cruel persistency, till, unable to bear it longer, he again rushed for distraction to the real Christminster life. He now sought it out in an obscure and low-ceiled tavern up a court which was well known to certain worthies of the place, and in brighter times would have interested him simply by its quaintness. Here he sat more or less all the day, convinced that he was at bottom a vicious character, of whom it was hopeless to expect anything. In the evening the frequenters of the house dropped in one by one, Jude still retaining his seat in the corner, though his money was all spent, and he had not eaten anything the whole day except a biscuit. He surveyed his gathering companions with all the equanimity and philosophy of a man who has been drinking long and slowly, and made friends with several: to wit, Tinker Taylor, a decayed church-ironmonger who appeared to have been of a religious turn in earlier years, but was somewhat blasphemous now; also a red-nosed auctioneer; also two Gothic masons like himself, called Uncle Jim and Uncle Joe. There were present, too, some clerks, and a gown- and surplice-maker's assistant; two ladies who sported moral characters of various depths of shade, according to their company, nicknamed "Bower o' Bliss" and "Freckles"; some horsey men "in the know" of betting circles; a travelling actor from the theatre, and two devil-may-care young men who proved to be gownless undergraduates; they had slipped in by stealth to meet a man about bull-pups, and stayed to drink and smoke short pipes with the racing gents aforesaid, looking at their watches every now and then. The conversation waxed general. Christminster society was criticized, the dons, magistrates, and other people in authority being sincerely pitied for their shortcomings, while opinions on how they ought to conduct themselves and their affairs to be properly respected, were exchanged in a large-minded and disinterested manner. Jude Fawley, with the self-conceit, effrontery, and APLOMB of a strong-brained fellow in liquor, threw in his remarks somewhat peremptorily; and his aims having been what they were for so many years, everything the others said turned upon his tongue, by a sort of mechanical craze, to the subject of scholarship and study, the extent of his own learning being dwelt upon with an insistence that would have appeared pitiable to himself in his sane hours. "I don't care a damn," he was saying, "for any provost, warden, principal, fellow, or cursed master of arts in the university! What I know is that I'd lick 'em on their own ground if they'd give me a chance, and show 'em a few things they are not up to yet!" "Hear, hear!" said the undergraduates from the corner, where they were talking privately about the pups "You always was fond o' books, I've heard," said Tinker Taylor, "and I don't doubt what you state. Now with me 'twas different. I always saw there was more to be learnt outside a book than in; and I took my steps accordingly, or I shouldn't have been the man I am." "You aim at the Church, I believe?" said Uncle Joe. "If you are such a scholar as to pitch yer hopes so high as that, why not give us a specimen of your scholarship? Canst say the Creed in Latin, man? That was how they once put it to a chap down in my country." "I should think so!" said Jude haughtily. "Not he! Like his conceit!" screamed one of the ladies. "Just you shut up, Bower o' Bliss!" said one of the undergraduates. "Silence!" He drank off the spirits in his tumbler, rapped with it on the counter, and announced, "The gentleman in the corner is going to rehearse the Articles of his Belief, in the Latin tongue, for the edification of the company." "I won't!" said Jude. "Yes--have a try!" said the surplice-maker. "You can't!" said Uncle Joe. "Yes, he can!" said Tinker Taylor. "I'll swear I can!" said Jude. "Well, come now, stand me a small Scotch cold, and I'll do it straight off." "That's a fair offer," said the undergraduate, throwing down the money for the whisky. The barmaid concocted the mixture with the bearing of a person compelled to live amongst animals of an inferior species, and the glass was handed across to Jude, who, having drunk the contents, stood up and began rhetorically, without hesitation: "CREDO IN UNUM DEUM, PATREM OMNIPOTENTEM, FACTOREM COELI ET TERRAE, VISIBILIUM OMNIUM ET INVISIBILIUM." "Good! Excellent Latin!" cried one of the undergraduates, who, however, had not the slightest conception of a single word. A silence reigned among the rest in the bar, and the maid stood still, Jude's voice echoing sonorously into the inner parlour, where the landlord was dozing, and bringing him out to see what was going on. Jude had declaimed steadily ahead, and was continuing: "CRUCIFIXUS ETIAM PRO NOBIS: SUB PONTIO PILATO PASSUS, ET SEPULTUS EST. ET RESURREXIT TERTIA DIE, SECUNDUM SCRIPTURAS." "That's the Nicene," sneered the second undergraduate. "And we wanted the Apostles'!" "You didn't say so! And every fool knows, except you, that the Nicene is the most historic creed!" "Let un go on, let un go on!" said the auctioneer. But Jude's mind seemed to grow confused soon, and he could not get on. He put his hand to his forehead, and his face assumed an expression of pain. "Give him another glass--then he'll fetch up and get through it," said Tinker Taylor. Somebody threw down threepence, the glass was handed, Jude stretched out his arm for it without looking, and having swallowed the liquor, went on in a moment in a revived voice, raising it as he neared the end with the manner of a priest leading a congregation: "ET IN SPIRITUM SANCTUM, DOMINUM ET VIVIFICANTEM, QUI EX PATRE FILIOQUE PROCEDIT. QUI CUM PATRE ET FILIO SIMUL ADORATUR ET CONGLORIFICATUR. QUI LOCUTUS EST PER PROPHETAS. "ET UNAM CATHOLICAM ET APOSTOLICAM ECCLESIAM. CONFITEOR UNUM BAPTISMA IN REMISSIONEM PECCATORUM. ET EXSPECTO RESURRECTIONEM MORTUORUM. ET VITAM VENTURI SAECULI. AMEN." "Well done!" said several, enjoying the last word, as being the first and only one they had recognized. Then Jude seemed to shake the fumes from his brain, as he stared round upon them. "You pack of fools!" he cried. "Which one of you knows whether I have said it or no? It might have been the Ratcatcher's Daughter in double Dutch for all that your besotted heads can tell! See what I have brought myself to--the crew I have come among!" The landlord, who had already had his license endorsed for harbouring queer characters, feared a riot, and came outside the counter; but Jude, in his sudden flash of reason, had turned in disgust and left the scene, the door slamming with a dull thud behind him. He hastened down the lane and round into the straight broad street, which he followed till it merged in the highway, and all sound of his late companions had been left behind. Onward he still went, under the influence of a childlike yearning for the one being in the world to whom it seemed possible to fly-- an unreasoning desire, whose ill judgement was not apparent to him now. In the course of an hour, when it was between ten and eleven o'clock, he entered the village of Lumsdon, and reaching the cottage, saw that a light was burning in a downstairs room, which he assumed, rightly as it happened, to be hers. Jude stepped close to the wall, and tapped with his finger on the pane, saying impatiently, "Sue, Sue!" She must have recognized his voice, for the light disappeared from the apartment, and in a second or two the door was unlocked and opened, and Sue appeared with a candle in her hand. "Is it Jude? Yes, it is! My dear, dear cousin, what's the matter?" "Oh, I am--I couldn't help coming, Sue!" said he, sinking down upon the doorstep. "I am so wicked, Sue--my heart is nearly broken, and I could not bear my life as it was! So I have been drinking, and blaspheming, or next door to it, and saying holy things in disreputable quarters-- repeating in idle bravado words which ought never to be uttered but reverently! Oh, do anything with me, Sue--kill me--I don't care! Only don't hate me and despise me like all the rest of the world!" "You are ill, poor dear! No, I won't despise you; of course I won't! Come in and rest, and let me see what I can do for you. Now lean on me, and don't mind." With one hand holding the candle and the other supporting him, she led him indoors, and placed him in the only easy chair the meagrely furnished house afforded, stretching his feet upon another, and pulling off his boots. Jude, now getting towards his sober senses, could only say, "Dear, dear Sue!" in a voice broken by grief and contrition. She asked him if he wanted anything to eat, but he shook his head. Then telling him to go to sleep, and that she would come down early in the morning and get him some breakfast, she bade him good-night and ascended the stairs. Almost immediately he fell into a heavy slumber, and did not wake till dawn. At first he did not know where he was, but by degrees his situation cleared to him, and he beheld it in all the ghastliness of a right mind. She knew the worst of him--the very worst. How could he face her now? She would soon be coming down to see about breakfast, as she had said, and there would he be in all his shame confronting her. He could not bear the thought, and softly drawing on his boots, and taking his hat from the nail on which she had hung it, he slipped noiselessly out of the house. His fixed idea was to get away to some obscure spot and hide, and perhaps pray; and the only spot which occurred to him was Marygreen. He called at his lodging in Christminster, where he found awaiting him a note of dismissal from his employer; and having packed up he turned his back upon the city that had been such a thorn in his side, and struck southward into Wessex. He had no money left in his pocket, his small savings, deposited at one of the banks in Christminster, having fortunately been left untouched. To get to Marygreen, therefore, his only course was walking; and the distance being nearly twenty miles, he had ample time to complete on the way the sobering process begun in him. At some hour of the evening he reached Alfredston. Here he pawned his waistcoat, and having gone out of the town a mile or two, slept under a rick that night. At dawn he rose, shook off the hayseeds and stems from his clothes, and started again, breasting the long white road up the hill to the downs, which had been visible to him a long way off, and passing the milestone at the top, whereon he had carved his hopes years ago. He reached the ancient hamlet while the people were at breakfast. Weary and mud-bespattered, but quite possessed of his ordinary clearness of brain, he sat down by the well, thinking as he did so what a poor Christ he made. Seeing a trough of water near he bathed his face, and went on to the cottage of his great-aunt, whom he found breakfasting in bed, attended by the woman who lived with her. "What--out o' work?" asked his relative, regarding him through eyes sunken deep, under lids heavy as pot-covers, no other cause for his tumbled appearance suggesting itself to one whose whole life had been a struggle with material things. "Yes," said Jude heavily. "I think I must have a little rest." Refreshed by some breakfast, he went up to his old room and lay down in his shirt-sleeves, after the manner of the artizan. He fell asleep for a short while, and when he awoke it was as if he had awakened in hell. It WAS hell--"the hell of conscious failure," both in ambition and in love. He thought of that previous abyss into which he had fallen before leaving this part of the country; the deepest deep he had supposed it then; but it was not so deep as this. That had been the breaking in of the outer bulwarks of his hope: this was of his second line. If he had been a woman he must have screamed under the nervous tension which he was now undergoing. But that relief being denied to his virility, he clenched his teeth in misery, bringing lines about his mouth like those in the Laocoon, and corrugations between his brows. A mournful wind blew through the trees, and sounded in the chimney like the pedal notes of an organ. Each ivy leaf overgrowing the wall of the churchless church-yard hard by, now abandoned, pecked its neighbour smartly, and the vane on the new Victorian-Gothic church in the new spot had already begun to creak. Yet apparently it was not always the outdoor wind that made the deep murmurs; it was a voice. He guessed its origin in a moment or two; the curate was praying with his aunt in the adjoining room. He remembered her speaking of him. Presently the sounds ceased, and a step seemed to cross the landing. Jude sat up, and shouted "Hoi!" The step made for his door, which was open, and a man looked in. It was a young clergyman. "I think you are Mr. Highridge," said Jude. "My aunt has mentioned you more than once. Well, here I am, just come home; a fellow gone to the bad; though I had the best intentions in the world at one time. Now I am melancholy mad, what with drinking and one thing and another." Slowly Jude unfolded to the curate his late plans and movements, by an unconscious bias dwelling less upon the intellectual and ambitious side of his dream, and more upon the theological, though this had, up till now, been merely a portion of the general plan of advancement. "Now I know I have been a fool, and that folly is with me," added Jude in conclusion. "And I don't regret the collapse of my university hopes one jot. I wouldn't begin again if I were sure to succeed. I don't care for social success any more at all. But I do feel I should like to do some good thing; and I bitterly regret the Church, and the loss of my chance of being her ordained minister." The curate, who was a new man to this neighbourhood, had grown deeply interested, and at last he said: "If you feel a real call to the ministry, and I won't say from your conversation that you do not, for it is that of a thoughtful and educated man, you might enter the Church as a licentiate. Only you must make up your mind to avoid strong drink." "I could avoid that easily enough, if I had any kind of hope to support me!" 怨气出了，他心里舒坦了。第二天早上，他一想自己那么狂妄自大，又大笑了一阵。不过他这笑是病态的、苦涩的。他又把院长来信看了一遍，字里行间的至理明言起先叫他大力气恼，这会儿却叫他寒了心，泄了气。他自认实在是个糊涂虫。 他在学问和爱情两方面的追求都让人勾销了，也就没心肠再去接着干活。每当他自认命中注定当不上大学生，心境逐渐平静下来时候，他跟苏之间绝无任何希望的关系就来搅扰他。他这辈子遇上的这个本来是内亲的意中人，因为他结过婚，已经完全落空，可是前尘旧影一直残酷地索绕在他心头，逼得他没法忍受。为了消愁解闷，他只好一头奔出去，寻找那真正的基督堂生活。在一个坐落在大院子里的不起眼的矮屋顶小酒馆，他找到了这样的生活。当地的一些名流也一样光顾那地方。要是在他平时心情比较畅快的时候，他顶多不过欣赏欣赏它的特殊情调，不过这会儿就不然了，他在那儿一坐差不多一整天，认定自己反正是生性下劣，没有指望，不可救药。 到了晚上，小酒馆的常客陆续光临了，裘德还是坐在屋角的座位上不动，钱已经花得一文不剩，整天只吃了块糕。他一副老饮客的派头，把酒时长，啜酒时慢，沉着老到，冷眼旁观，——觑着那帮子凑到一块儿的酒友。他还跟其中几个混得挺熟：算一算有潦倒的补锅匠泰勒，他原先专做教堂五金生意，那会儿信教信得挺诚的样儿，这会儿一开口就有点对教会不敬了；再就是酒糟鼻子的拍卖商；还有两个跟他一块儿干哥特式石雕的石匠，人称吉爷和乔爷。在座的另有几个小职员；一个专做长袍和法衣的裁缝的帮工；外号叫‘安乐窝”和“麻点子”的两个女人，她们的道德品味按搭配的变化，高下不等；几个号称赛马场上“懂道儿”的赌家；一个离开剧院走四方的艺人；两个没穿长袍、可又叫人认出来的大学生，他们偷偷溜进了酒馆，为小母哈巴狗的事跟一个人接头，赖着没走，跟刚提到的赌赛马的几位爷们在一块儿喝酒，拿短烟管抽烟，隔会儿就看看表。 聊着聊着，他们就聊到一般事情上了，批评基督堂的社会，对那些导师、地方官儿和其他大权在握的人物的缺点，实心实意表示了遗憾，同时对他们如何立身行事，如何得到应有的尊敬，也有所建言。在交流意见的时候，他们都抱着与人为善，不以个人成见为转移的态度。 裘德•福来在这中间也老脸皮厚，盛气凌人地插了嘴，他痛饮之余，脑子不乱，还是机敏样儿。他这人多年死抱住自己目标不放，所以不管别人议论什么，一到他嘴里，就三句话不离本行，扯到做学问和念大学的事情上，拼命吹嘘自己学问有多大。他要是在头脑清醒时候，见到自己这么出洋相，准要羞愧得无地自容。 “我他妈根本瞧不起大学里什么院长喽、学监喽。校长喽、研究员喽，还什么乌七八糟的文学士喽，”裘德不住嘴地说下去，“我可清楚得很哪，要是他们也给我个机会，我在他们那行里头，准把他们打得一败涂地；我再亮出来几手，叫他们大伙儿都看看，他们到这会儿连边儿也没沾哪。” “说得对呀，说得对呀！”大学生在屋角上说，他们正背着人谈哈巴狗生意。 “我听说过你是看书没个完的。”补锅匠泰勒说。“你刚说的，我倒没什么不信的。可我想的就不一样啦。我向来觉着书外头的东西比书里头的东西多得多；我就是走这么个道道儿过来的，要不然我这会儿能这个样儿吗？” “我猜你是一心想进教会吧？”乔爷说，“你真要是那么有学问，把希望标得那么老高老高的，干吗不给咱们露一手呢？你会讲拉丁文《信经》吗？有一回在咱们乡下，他们就这样给那个小伙子将了一军啊。” “我想我讲得了！”裘德傲慢地说。 “别听他的！他净是瞎吹！”两个女人里头一个尖叫着。 “你把嘴闭上吧，安乐窝！”大学生里头一个说。“现在谁也别说话啦！”他把平底杯里的酒喝光，用杯子敲着柜台，大声宣布，“角上那位大先生要开导开导咱们大伙儿，用拉丁文背他的信条啦。” “我才不干呢。”裘德说。 “好啦——就试试瞧嘛！”做法衣的说。 “你不行啊！”乔爷说。 “他行，他行！”补锅匠泰勒说。 “我他妈的就是行，不含糊！”裘德说。“好啦，那就来吧，拿一小杯加冰苏格兰威士忌过来，我马上就背。” “挺公道嘛。’大学生说，把买威士忌的钱丢过去。 酒吧女招待把酒调好了，她那样儿就仿佛一个人跟一群劣等动物呆在一块儿。杯子传到裘德手上，他喝完了站起来，没一点犹豫，开始一字一板背起来： “Credo in unum Deum,patrem omnipotentem.Factorem coeli et terrae,visibilium omnium et invisibilium.” “好哇！拉丁文呱呱叫嘛！”大学生之一大声喊，其实他连一个词的意思也不懂。 酒吧里的人屏息静听，女招待站着纹丝不动，裘德的洪亮的声音一直传进了后边的休息室，把原来在里边打盹的老板弄醒了，他跑出来要瞧瞧外面出了什么事。裘德毫不停顿地高声往下背： “Crucifixus etiam pro pobis!sub Pontio Pilato passus,et sepultus,est.Et resurrexit teria die,Secundum Scripturas.” “你背的《尼西亚信经》嘛！”另一个大学生轻蔑地说，“我们要听《使徒信经》！” “你懂个屁！除了你，连傻瓜都知道《尼西亚信经》才是顶有历史意义的信条哪！” 但是看上去裘德人已经迷乱了，他没背下去，手放到额头上，脸上出现了痛苦的表情。 “再给他来一杯好啦——他一喝，劲儿就缓过来啦，就背完啦。”补锅匠泰勒说。 有人丢出去三便士；酒传过来，裘德伸出胳臂接过来，连看都没看，就咕嘟嘟喝下去，紧跟着嗓音又有了劲，立刻接着背；到了快背完的地方，他把声音提高了，就像牧师领着会众祈祷： “Et in Spritum Sanctum,Dominum et vivificantem,quiex ex Patre Filioque procedit.Qui cum Patre et Filio Simul adoratur et conglorificatur.Qui locutusest per prophetas. “Et unam Catholicam et Apostolicam Ecclesiam.Confiteor unum Baptisma in remissionem peccatorum.Etexspecto Resurretionem mortuorum.Et vitam venturi sacculi,Amen.” retionem mortuorum.Et vitam venturi saeculi.Amen.” “背得好哇！”几个人说。他们最欣赏最后一个词，因为这是他们唯一听得懂的词。 裘德直勾勾地看着四下里的人，似乎一下子把闷在他脑子里的浊气发散出来了。 “你们这群笨蛋哟！”他大声叫道。“我说没说，我说了什么，你们哪个知道呀？可你们那稀里糊涂的脑袋瓜儿听来听去也听不出所以然，还直当我背的大概是《逮耗子人的闺女》那套胡说八道呢！瞧我把自个儿作践到什么地步啦——跟这些东西混到了一块儿啦！” 老板从前就因为收留过身份不明、行迹可疑的人，他的特许卖酒的执照已经记录在案，这会儿怕出事，赶紧跑到柜台外边。可是裘德的理性突然闪现了一下，厌恶地转过身来，离开了那个场面，把门砰地关上就走了。 他沿着小路急急忙忙走，转过弯到了又宽又直的大街上，又沿街一直走，岔进了大路，离开刚才那些酒伴的喧闹声已经老远了。他仍然朝前走，有如孩子常为渴望所催迫那样，去投奔世界上可能是唯一可以信赖的人，而这愿望却是完全违背理性的，但他的判断力显然已经麻木，无从想到由此产生的后果。他走了一个钟头（介乎夜间十点到十一点光景）进了拉姆登村，到了小房子前面，看到楼下房间有灯光，猜想就是她的灯光。果然不错。 裘德慢慢走近墙边，拿指头敲了敲窗玻璃，着急地说，“苏，苏！” 她一定听出来他的声音，因为灯光倏地没了，顷刻间，锁转了一下，门开了，苏手持蜡烛出现了。 “是裘德吧？哦，是嘛！我的亲爱的、亲爱的表亲呀，是怎么回事呀？” “哦，我是——我管不住自己啦，苏呀！”他说，一屁股坐到台阶上。“我太坏啦——苏呀，我的心简直要碎啦，我再受不了从前那样的生活啦。我一直喝酒，欺神背教，不敬上帝，就算不这样，也差不多啦。还在些肮脏的地方讲圣道，呆里巴唧、胡作非为，翻来覆去说呀说的，那都是不该随便说的呀，要说也得毕恭毕敬地说才行啊！哦，苏呀，随便你拿我怎么办吧——我都不管啦。可是你千万别厌恶我，别瞧不起我，别像世上人那样厌恶我，瞧不起我呀！” “你病啦，可怜的亲人！不会呀，我决不会瞧不起你，当然不会的。快进来休息休息吧，我来想怎么帮帮你好吧，靠着我好啦，不要紧。”她一只手拿着蜡烛，一只手搀着他，把他带到屋里，安置在那设备简陋的房子里唯一的安乐椅上，先把他的腿拉直，两只脚放在另一把椅子上，再把他的短靴脱下来。裘德到这时候开始有点明白过来，只能说，“亲爱的、亲爱的苏呀！”他的话因为伤心和悔恨而走了音。 她问他吃不吃点东西，他摇摇头。她就让他先睡觉，自己明天一大早下楼给他做早饭，然后道了晚安，上楼去了。 他差不多立刻酣然入睡了，醒来已经天亮。起初他不知身在何处，但是他逐渐明白过来自己真正的所在。他的心理这时已经恢复正常，看着眼前一切，不禁毛骨悚然。她已经了解了他身上坏透了的东西啦——真坏透了的东西啊。他怎么能再有脸见她啊？她等等就要照她说过的下楼做早饭，他可不能厚颜无耻地跟她见面啊。这一想，他真是受不了，赶快轻轻套上短靴，帽子原来由她挂上钉子上，他取下来戴好，悄没声地从房子里溜出去。 他拿定主意找个偏僻地方躲起来，也许还要在那儿祈祷，忽然间想到马利格林岂不就是这样的地方。他回了基督堂住处，发现等在那儿的是石作老板给他的一纸辞退通知。打点好衣物之后，他就不屑一顾地甩掉了那个给他添了无限苦恼的城市，大踏步向南走进了维塞克斯郡。他口袋里没剩下钱，幸好在基督堂一家银行里少许存款还原封未动，所以他这会儿只好靠两只脚走到马利格林。两地距离大约二十英里，这样也好，他倒有了充裕时间在路上把他已经开始恢复神智的行程同时完成。 不知晚上什么时候，他到了阿尔夫瑞顿。他在那儿当了背心，走到镇外一两英里处，就在一个干草垛子下边过了一夜。黎明时分他起来了，先把衣服上的草籽草秸抖落下来，然后起程赶路。那条老长的白晃晃大路，他从很远地方就望见了，硬撑着走上小山，下到丘陵地，总算把那条路走完了。路上还经过高处那块里程碑，几年前他曾在碑上镌下对未来的希望。 他到了古老的小村落，人们还在吃早饭呢。虽然他疲惫不堪，浑身灰土，头脑却已恢复到平日清晰的程度。他在井边上坐下来，思前想后，要按他于过的那一切，他算是多可怜的基督徒啊。近处有个水槽，他过去洗了一把脸，然后走到姑婆的小房子，看到她在床上吃早饭，跟她住一块儿的女人在伺候她。 “怎么啦——没活儿干啦？”他的长亲问道，她眼眶陷得很深，从耷拉下来的深重的眼皮底下勉强望着他。一个为吃穿苦苦忙了一辈子的人，用不着别的记号，一看他那狼狈样儿，自然都明白了。 “对啦，”裘德闷闷不乐地说，“我看我得休息会儿啦。” 吃了早饭，他精神有点恢复，就到楼上自己那间老屋子，把外衣一脱就躺下了。手艺人全是这个样。他并没睡多大工夫，一醒过来就觉着自己像才从十八层地狱里还了魂似的。那可真是个地狱啊——无论是他的野心还是他的爱情一齐葬送在“毫不含糊的失败的地狱”里了。他回想起来在他离开乡下这块地方之前掉进去的那个万丈深渊，当时还当是深得不能再深了，但是它还不如现在这地狱深呢。以前那仅仅是突破了他的希望的外围工事，这会儿是真真深入到内线来了。 如果他是个妇女，他准会因为这会儿经受的极度神经紧张而尖叫起来。然而他既身为男子汉，就不该用这样的办法来缓解痛苦。他伤心地咬紧牙关，嘴唇的线条犹如拉奥孔受罪时一样，眉心紧锁不开。 一阵凄恻的风吹过了树木，在烟囱里发出闷声，犹如脚踏风琴奏鸣的一个大音响；还吹得毁弃的教堂大院旧址墙头上蔓生的常春藤叶子轻快地互相拍打；新址上的新维多利亚一哥特式教堂的风信旗也开始猎猎作响。他听到低沉的轻微的声音，肯定绝对不是外面风刮出来的，是人在说话哪。他很快猜出来声音是从哪儿过来的，原来隔壁屋里牧师正同姑婆祈祷呢。他想起来始婆提到过这个人。过一会儿声音就没了，脚步声好像移到楼梯平台上。裘德坐了起来，喊着“嗨，嗨！” 脚步声朝他这边过来了，他的门本来开着，那个人探头往里瞧，正是年轻的牧师。 “我想你是何立志先生吧！”裘德说。“姑婆跟我提过你好几回呢。呃，我这是才到家；这个家伙变坏啦，不过有段时间存的心愿在这世界上倒是上上啊。我这会儿心里闷得快疯了，喝酒喝得没个完，还随便乱来。” 裘德对牧师一五一十地讲了他从前的计划和活动，没什么保留，不过无意之间也有所侧重，对以前求学问、向上爬那部分谈得比较少，对治神学部分谈得多些，虽然神学在他奋发图强的总纲领中只占有限的地位，而且就到说话这会儿也还是一样。 “我知道自个儿是个糊涂虫，一直糊糊涂涂过来的。”裘德又添了两句，算是讲完。“我上学的理想完全破灭了，我这会儿倒一点不为这个觉着可惜。就算我有把握上成了，我这会儿也不会另起炉灶啦。这会儿也再不想在社会上出人头地啦。不过我还是实实在在想总得干点好事。没进成教会，失掉当完全合格牧师的机会，我倒是万分遗憾呢。” 副牧师刚到这个居民点上，听他说完了，深感兴趣，最后说，“听你说了这些，我看你的确向往着圣职，因为有思想有教养的人才有这样的谈吐；要是你诚心诚意要这样，那么你还可以进教会当个有特许资格的讲道师，当然你先得把喝酒的毛病戒掉。” “我但分还有点希望能挺下来，戒酒的事儿容易得很。” |
| Part 3 AT MELCHESTER "For there was no other girl, O bridegroom, like her!"--SAPPHO (H.T. Wharton). “啊，新郎，何尝有姑娘才貌堪比伊人！” ——萨芙（H.T.沃顿） Part 3 Chapter 1 IT was a new idea--the ecclesiastical and altruistic life as distinct from the intellectual and emulative life. A man could preach and do good to his fellow-creatures without taking double-firsts in the schools of Christminster, or having anything but ordinary knowledge. The old fancy which had led on to the culminating vision of the bishopric had not been an ethical or theological enthusiasm at all, but a mundane ambition masquerading in a surplice. He feared that his whole scheme had degenerated to, even though it might not have originated in, a social unrest which had no foundation in the nobler instincts; which was purely an artificial product of civilization. There were thousands of young men on the same self-seeking track at the present moment. The sensual hind who ate, drank, and lived carelessly with his wife through the days of his vanity was a more likable being than he. But to enter the Church in such an unscholarly way that he could not in any probability rise to a higher grade through all his career than that of the humble curate wearing his life out in an obscure village or city slum--that might have a touch of goodness and greatness in it; that might be true religion, and a purgatorial course worthy of being followed by a remorseful man. The favourable light in which this new thought showed itself by contrast with his foregone intentions cheered Jude, as he sat there, shabby and lonely; and it may be said to have given, during the next few days, the COUP DE GRACE to his intellectual career--a career which had extended over the greater part of a dozen years. He did nothing, however, for some long stagnant time to advance his new desire, occupying himself with little local jobs in putting up and lettering headstones about the neighbouring villages, and submitting to be regarded as a social failure, a returned purchase, by the half-dozen or so of farmers and other country-people who condescended to nod to him. The human interest of the new intention--and a human interest is indispensable to the most spiritual and self-sacrificing-- was created by a letter from Sue, bearing a fresh postmark. She evidently wrote with anxiety, and told very little about her own doings, more than that she had passed some sort of examination for a Queen's Scholarship, and was going to enter a training college at Melchester to complete herself for the vocation she had chosen, partly by his influence. There was a theological college at Melchester; Melchester was a quiet and soothing place, almost entirely ecclesiastical in its tone; a spot where worldly learning and intellectual smartness had no establishment; where the altruistic feeling that he did possess would perhaps be more highly estimated than a brilliancy which he did not. As it would be necessary that he should continue for a time to work at his trade while reading up Divinity, which he had neglected at Christminster for the ordinary classical grind, what better course for him than to get employment at the further city, and pursue this plan of reading? That his excessive human interest in the new place was entirely of Sue's making, while at the same time Sue was to be regarded even less than formerly as proper to create it, had an ethical contradictoriness to which he was not blind. But that much he conceded to human frailty, and hoped to learn to love her only as a friend and kinswoman. He considered that he might so mark out his coming years as to begin his ministry at the age of thirty--an age which much attracted him as being that of his exemplar when he first began to teach in Galilee. This would allow him plenty of time for deliberate study, and for acquiring capital by his trade to help his aftercourse of keeping the necessary terms at a theological college. Christmas had come and passed, and Sue had gone to the Melchester Normal School. The time was just the worst in the year for Jude to get into new employment, and he had written suggesting to her that he should postpone his arrival for a month or so, till the days had lengthened. She had acquiesced so readily that he wished he had not proposed it-- she evidently did not much care about him, though she had never once reproached him for his strange conduct in coming to her that night, and his silent disappearance. Neither had she ever said a word about her relations with Mr. Phillotson. Suddenly, however, quite a passionate letter arrived from Sue. She was quite lonely and miserable, she told him. She hated the place she was in; it was worse than the ecclesiastical designer's; worse than anywhere. She felt utterly friendless; could he come immediately?--though when he did come she would only be able to see him at limited times, the rules of the establishment she found herself in being strict to a degree. It was Mr. Phillotson who had advised her to come there, and she wished she had never listened to him. Phillotson's suit was not exactly prospering, evidently; and Jude felt unreasonably glad. He packed up his things and went to Melchester with a lighter heart than he had known for months. This being the turning over a new leaf he duly looked about for a temperance hotel, and found a little establishment of that description in the street leading from the station. When he had had something to eat he walked out into the dull winter light over the town bridge, and turned the corner towards the Close. The day was foggy, and standing under the walls of the most graceful architectural pile in England he paused and looked up. The lofty building was visible as far as the roofridge; above, the dwindling spire rose more and more remotely, till its apex was quite lost in the mist drifting across it. The lamps now began to be lighted, and turning to the west front he walked round. He took it as a good omen that numerous blocks of stone were lying about, which signified that the cathedral was undergoing restoration or repair to a considerable extent. It seemed to him, full of the superstitions of his beliefs, that this was an exercise of forethought on the part of a ruling Power, that he might find plenty to do in the art he practised while waiting for a call to higher labours. Then a wave of warmth came over him as he thought how near he now stood to the bright-eyed vivacious girl with the broad forehead and pile of dark hair above it; the girl with the kindling glance, daringly soft at times--something like that of the girls he had seen in engravings from paintings of the Spanish school. She was here-- actually in this Close--in one of the houses confronting this very west facade. He went down the broad gravel path towards the building. It was an ancient edifice of the fifteenth century, once a palace, now a training-school, with mullioned and transomed windows, and a courtyard in front shut in from the road by a wall. Jude opened the gate and went up to the door through which, on inquiring for his cousin, he was gingerly admitted to a waiting-room, and in a few minutes she came. Though she had been here such a short while, she was not as he had seen her last. All her bounding manner was gone; her curves of motion had become subdued lines. The screens and subtleties of convention had likewise disappeared. Yet neither was she quite the woman who had written the letter that summoned him. That had plainly been dashed off in an impulse which second thoughts had somewhat regretted; thoughts that were possibly of his recent self-disgrace. Jude was quite overcome with emotion. "You don't--think me a demoralized wretch--for coming to you as I was-- and going so shamefully, Sue?" "Oh, I have tried not to! You said enough to let me know what had caused it. I hope I shall never have any doubt of your worthiness, my poor Jude! And I am glad you have come!" She wore a murrey-coloured gown with a little lace collar. It was made quite plain, and hung about her slight figure with clinging gracefulness. Her hair, which formerly she had worn according to the custom of the day was now twisted up tightly, and she had altogether the air of a woman clipped and pruned by severe discipline, an under-brightness shining through from the depths which that discipline had not yet been able to reach. She had come forward prettily, but Jude felt that she had hardly expected him to kiss her, as he was burning to do, under other colours than those of cousinship. He could not perceive the least sign that Sue regarded him as a lover, or ever would do so, now that she knew the worst of him, even if he had the right to behave as one; and this helped on his growing resolve to tell her of his matrimonial entanglement, which he had put off doing from time to time in sheer dread of losing the bliss of her company. Sue came out into the town with him, and they walked and talked with tongues centred only on the passing moments. Jude said he would like to buy her a little present of some sort, and then she confessed, with something of shame, that she was dreadfully hungry. They were kept on very short allowances in the college, and a dinner, tea, and supper all in one was the present she most desired in the world. Jude thereupon took her to an inn and ordered whatever the house afforded, which was not much. The place, however, gave them a delightful opportunity for a TETE-A-TETE, nobody else being in the room, and they talked freely. She told him about the school as it was at that date, and the rough living, and the mixed character of her fellow-students, gathered together from all parts of the diocese, and how she had to get up and work by gas-light in the early morning, with all the bitterness of a young person to whom restraint was new. To all this he listened; but it was not what he wanted especially to know--her relations with Phillotson. That was what she did not tell. When they had sat and eaten, Jude impulsively placed his hand upon hers; she looked up and smiled, and took his quite freely into her own little soft one, dividing his fingers and coolly examining them, as if they were the fingers of a glove she was purchasing. "Your hands are rather rough, Jude, aren't they?" she said. "Yes. So would yours be if they held a mallet and chisel all day." "I don't dislike it, you know. I think it is noble to see a man's hands subdued to what he works in.... Well, I'm rather glad I came to this training-school, after all. See how independent I shall be after the two years' training! I shall pass pretty high, I expect, and Mr. Phillotson will use his influence to get me a big school." She had touched the subject at last. "I had a suspicion, a fear," said Jude, "that he--cared about you rather warmly, and perhaps wanted to marry you." "Now don't be such a silly boy!" "He has said something about it, I expect." "If he had, what would it matter? An old man like him!" "Oh, come, Sue; he's not so very old. And I know what I saw him doing "Not kissing me--that I'm certain!" "No. But putting his arm round your waist." "Ah--I remember. But I didn't know he was going to." "You are wriggling out if it, Sue, and it isn't quite kind!" Her ever-sensitive lip began to quiver, and her eye to blink, at something this reproof was deciding her to say. "I know you'll be angry if I tell you everything, and that's why I don't want to!" "Very well, then, dear," he said soothingly. "I have no real right to ask you, and I don't wish to know." "I shall tell you!" said she, with the perverseness that was part of her. "This is what I have done: I have promised--I have promised--that I will marry him when I come out of the training-school two years hence, and have got my certificate; his plan being that we shall then take a large double school in a great town--he the boys' and I the girls'-- as married school-teachers often do, and make a good income between us." "Oh, Sue! ... But of course it is right--you couldn't have done better!" He glanced at her and their eyes met, the reproach in his own belying his words. Then he drew his hand quite away from hers, and turned his face in estrangement from her to the window. Sue regarded him passively without moving. "I knew you would be angry!" she said with an air of no emotion whatever. "Very well--I am wrong, I suppose! I ought not to have let you come to see me! We had better not meet again; and we'll only correspond at long intervals, on purely business matters!" This was just the one thing he would not be able to bear, as she probably knew, and it brought him round at once. "Oh yes, we will," he said quickly. "Your being engaged can make no difference to me whatever. I have a perfect right to see you when I want to; and I shall!" "Then don't let us talk of it any more. It is quite spoiling our evening together. What does it matter about what one is going to do two years hence!" She was something of a riddle to him, and he let the subject drift away. "Shall we go and sit in the cathedral?" he asked, when their meal was finished. "Cathedral? Yes. Though I think I'd rather sit in the railway station," she answered, a remnant of vexation still in her voice. "That's the centre of the town life now. The cathedral has had its day!" "How modern you are!" "So would you be if you had lived so much in the Middle Ages as I have done these last few years! The cathedral was a very good place four or five centuries ago; but it is played out now ... I am not modern, either. I am more ancient than mediaevalism, if you only knew." Jude looked distressed. "There--I won't say any more of that!" she cried. "Only you don't know how bad I am, from your point of view, or you wouldn't think so much of me, or care whether I was engaged or not. Now there's just time for us to walk round the Close, then I must go in, or I shall be locked out for the night." He took her to the gate and they parted. Jude had a conviction that his unhappy visit to her on that sad night had precipitated this marriage engagement, and it did anything but add to his happiness. Her reproach had taken that shape, then, and not the shape of words. However, next day he set about seeking employment, which it was not so easy to get as at Christminster, there being, as a rule, less stone-cutting in progress in this quiet city, and hands being mostly permanent. But he edged himself in by degrees. His first work was some carving at the cemetery on the hill; and ultimately he became engaged on the labour he most desired-- the cathedral repairs, which were very extensive, the whole interior stonework having been overhauled, to be largely replaced by new. It might be a labour of years to get it all done, and he had confidence enough in his own skill with the mallet and chisel to feel that it would be a matter of choice with himself how long he would stay. The lodgings he took near the Close Gate would not have disgraced a curate, the rent representing a higher percentage on his wages than mechanics of any sort usually care to pay. His combined bed and sitting-room was furnished with framed photographs of the rectories and deaneries at which his landlady had lived as trusted servant in her time, and the parlour downstairs bore a clock on the mantelpiece inscribed to the effect that it was presented to the same serious-minded woman by her fellow-servants on the occasion of her marriage. Jude added to the furniture of his room by unpacking photographs of the ecclesiastical carvings and monuments that he had executed with his own hands; and he was deemed a satisfactory acquisition as tenant of the vacant apartment. He found an ample supply of theological books in the city book-shops, and with these his studies were recommenced in a different spirit and direction from his former course. As a relaxation from the Fathers, and such stock works as Paley and Butler, he read Newman, Pusey, and many other modern lights. He hired a harmonium, set it up in his lodging, and practised chants thereon, single and double. 进教会为他人谋福和勤学问为自身进取本是风马牛不相及的两回事：这就是裘德现在形成的新见解。一个人就算没在基督堂的学院得过双优，或者只有一般常识，别无他长，他照样可以布道传经，为自己的同类做好事。他原先的梦想是力争扶摇直上，以有朝一日荣登主教宝座为一生光辉的顶点，其实那不过是用宗教法衣伪装起来的凡夫俗子的野心罢了，哪儿谈得上积德行善，宏扬圣教的热忱。他现在很担心自己原来的计划，不论立意如何，已经堕落到钻社会空子，以求个人发迹，因为它根本不是以高尚信念为基础，纯属人类文明制造的一类赝品。眼下不是正有成千上万的青年一心在谋求私利的道路上奔竞征逐吗？倒是那“食、色，性也”的乡下当长工的，只管酒足饭饱，胡乱跟老婆睡热炕头，终年浑浑噩噩过日子，还要比他叫人多几分好感呢。 但是，如果他不以学者之身进教会，他肯定毕生不得跻身高级神职，充其极不过在偏僻乡村和城市贫民窟当个默默无闻的副牧师，朝夕奔忙，了此一生——不过这也许另具一种高尚品格，可以称之为名副其实的宗教吧，对于一个已追悔过去、天良发现的人，更不失为一条涤净灵魂污浊的道路。 他坐在那儿固然一副孤单寒酸相，但是这种有益的启示展现了他的新思想与旧意图之间的强烈对比，使他深受鼓舞。无妨说，以后若干天，他终于对以往十二年中占了大部分时间的求知生活做了彻底的清算。不过，此后相当一段时间，他却无所作为，停滞不前，没有把新理想积极向前推进，而是一天到晚在邻近村子就地忙着錾墓碑、镌碑文之类零活儿，甘心让六七个庄稼汉和老乡把他当个被社会甩掉的失败分子、卖不出去的废品，赏脸跟他打打招呼。 他的新意图也夹进了对人的情趣（连四大皆空。舍身殉道的人物也难免有对人的情趣），而这又是苏的来信一手制造的，信封上有个新地点邮戳。显然她因挂念他才写信，对自己究竟干什么语焉不详，只讲了通过什么考试，取得女王助学金，即将去麦尔切斯特一所进修学校上学，以取得她选择的职业所必备的资格云云——说实在的，她之做这样的选择不无他一份功劳。麦尔切斯特有所神学院；麦尔切斯特又是恬静宁谧的地方，差不多处处充满基督教气息，令人尘虑顿消，心旷神。冶，在那样的地方可没有卖弄世上风行的学问和聪明的地盘；他现在有心舍己为人，在当地或许比他所缺少的才华更受人尊重。 他在基督堂时专心致志于一般古典著作，对神学有所忽视，现在当然须在这方面补读才是，不过他也不能不继续干自己那行。那么到稍远的城市找职业，同时把这项读书计划付诸实现，岂不是一举两得的好办法？至于说他因新地方所引起的对人的情趣过于浓厚，究其所以，苏难辞共咎，因为她恰在此时兴此事端，比之以往，就更不相宜。就他本身而言，与此有关的伦理道德方面的矛盾性质，他并非视而不见，不过他又承认人类固有的弱点在所难免，他希望做到能在朋友和表亲关系范围内爱她就好。 他考虑今后这样划分自己的岁月：三十岁开始自己的传教事业——这个年纪对他颇有吸引力，因为先圣就是这个年纪头一次在加利利开始布道。这样他既可以有充裕时间潜心研究，又能靠手艺赚到足够的钱，以备他日支应在神学院修完各学期的必修课。 圣诞节来了又过去了，苏已到麦尔切斯特入学。然而对裘德来说，这恰好是一年里顶难找到工作的季节，于是他写信给苏，表示大概得推迟个把月才能到麦尔切斯特，因为到彼时天就长了。她随即表示同意，不过这又叫他后悔不迭，不该提那个意见——显然她拿他不当回事儿，虽说她压根儿没对他那晚上到她那儿，之后又偷偷溜走的古怪行为加以责备。她跟费乐生的关系，她也压根儿只字不提。 但是没想到她又来了封情真意挚的信。她告诉他，她觉得很孤独、很忧伤。她讨厌她呆的地方，它比她当过圣器设计师的地方还糟，比什么地方都糟。她感受不到一丁点友爱之情。他能不能马上就来呢？——不过就算他来了，她也只能在限定时间内跟他见面。她认为学校种种规定太严，与自己格格不入。原来是费乐生先生力促她到这地方，早知如此，她当初决不会听他的话。 显而易见，费乐生的求婚过程不见得一帆风顺。裘德因此而幸灾乐祸地感到高兴。于是他束装就道，前往麦尔切斯特，心情比前几个月轻松多了。 他的生活至此翻开了新篇，所以特意要住不卖酒的旅馆，结果在通往车站的路上找到一家，门面不大，条件合适。吃了点东西，他就出了旅馆，在冬日阴凄的光芒下走上市桥，转个弯，朝大教堂的界园走去。那天雾濛濛的，他在那座在英国以精美绝伦著称的建筑学杰作的围墙外止步不前，举目观赏。气势恢宏的大教堂的屋脊分明可见，其上塔楼身影则越往上越模糊，最后塔尖就在飘动的雾中隐没。 街灯这时亮起来了，他转到大教堂正西面，走了个来回。那儿堆放着很多大块石头，说明大教堂正在进行全面修复或大面积整修，他感到这是个好兆头。他现在信仰里的迷信色彩很浓，以为这正是统驭万方的神明力量有心预先安排，以便在他等着从事更高一筹的劳动时候，先把他熟练的那行的大堆活儿给他干。 他不由得想到那姑娘，她目光莹澈，前额广洁，额上乌发堆云，洋溢着欢快活泼的青春气息；她顾盼之间，自然流露着明亮的温柔，令人心醉，那意态叫他想起看过的西班牙派铜版画上的女郎。她这会儿离他站的地方够多近啊，想到这里，一股暖流通过了他的全身。她就在这儿啊，绝对在这界园之内啊，就在正对大教堂的西前脸的房子中间的一座里边啊。 他顺着宽阔的石铺甬道向那座十五世纪的古老壮观的大楼走去。它原先是王宫，如今成了进修学校，上面装有直棂窗和横槅窗，楼前是大院，围墙把外面的道路界开。裘德开了界园大门，走到楼门，打听他的表亲，人家把他轻手轻脚引进接待室。几分钟后，她进来了。 虽然她到那地方为时甚暂，但与他上次所见大为改观，以往轻快活泼的风度完全不见了，原来的切娜多姿转为板滞生硬。往常她对习俗虚与委蛇，巧妙周旋，绝不形诸词色，此时也同样见不到了。然而她又不完全是那位写信召他前来的女人。那封信显然是她一时冲动，不暇细择，仓促落笔的，过后一想，又有点后悔莫及，而她之作如此想，恐怕跟他前次自己造孽、丑态百出大有关系。想到这里，裘德不禁方寸大乱。 “苏，你不会因为我上回到你那儿那个狼狈样——又那样不要脸地溜掉，把我当成堕落的坏蛋吧？” “哦，我可是费了好大劲儿才不那么想呢！你已经跟我说了怎么回事，说也说够了。我的亲爱的裘德，我希望从今以后再不会对你高尚的情操发生怀疑啦！你来了，我多高兴啊！” 她穿着带小花边领子的深绛色长袍，这件衣服做得朴实无华，恰好紧裹住她那苗条的腰身，分外显得淡雅宜人。她以前头发是按通行样式梳的，现在紧紧绾成个髻，整个神态表明她是个经过严厉纪律约束与调教的女人。但纪律无法管到她内心深处，潜在的灵性依然放出光芒。 她款款走过来，姿态美妙。裘德本来心急火燎地要吻她，但感到她不大会让他吻，他们只能守着表亲规矩，不可逾越。他的确看不出来苏有哪一点把他看成情人的迹象，或者以后会这样。既然她已了解他的最差一面，就算他有权得为情人，那也办不到了；不过这也有好处，可以促使他的决心下得越来越大，一定把他的一团糟的婚姻状况向她说个明白，而他先前所以一再延迟，就是因为实在怕失去同她相处的无穷乐趣。 她跟他一块儿走到市内，一路上谈个不停，无非是些闲杂话。裘德说他想买件小礼物送她，她却有点不好意思地表示她实在饿得慌。她们在学校只靠那么点津贴过日子，她这会儿极想得到的礼物就是把正餐、茶点和晚餐并起来，大吃一顿。裘德把她带到一家小客店，凡能上桌的东西都要到了，其实也没多少样。不过屋子里没人，倒给他们提供了称心的促膝交谈的机会。 她给他讲了那阵子学校的状况：简陋的生活条件，从主教区四面八方聚到一起的同学，各色人等，良莠不齐，以及她如何一大早起床，在汽灯下用功。说话时带着年轻人初次尝到从未经过的约束而引起的满腹牢骚。他只是听，一声不响；不过他特别想知道她跟费乐生的关系，这方面她什么也没提。在他们吃个不停的中间，裘德一时动情，把手放在她手上，她抬起头来，微微一笑，很自然地把他的手放在自己的柔软的小手上，掰开他的指头，不动声色地细细察看，仿佛它们是她正要买的手套的指头部分。 “裘德，你手真够粗的，对吧？”她说。 “对啊，你要是手指头天天抓锤子、凿子，也要这么粗啊。” “我可不是不喜欢这样，这你明白。我认为一个人因为干活，手指头那样粗，你一看就觉着多高尚……好啦，我到了这个学校，心里还算高兴。两年一过，你就看见我独立到了什么程度！我的毕业成绩一定相当不错，费乐生先生要利用各方面关系，替我弄个大点小学教。” 她终于接触到这个话题。“我以前有点怀疑，有点不放心，”裘德说：“他待你这么热乎，怕是想跟你结婚吧。” “别这样瞎七瞎八好吧。” “我看他准是提过啦。” “就是提了，又怎么样？他那么老大不小的。” “哦，得了吧，苏，他年纪还不算大。我知道我瞧见过他干什么来着——” “总不是吻我吧——这我敢打保票！” “不是。不过他拿胳臂搂着你的腰来着。” “哎——这我倒记得。可是我当时不知道他要这样。” “你别这么兜圈子，一点不沾边，苏，你这样可不好啊。” 她的一向敏感的嘴唇颤动起来，眼睛开始一眨一眨的，这表示她为了这样的责难，忍不住要说什么。 “我知道我要是什么都跟你说了，你准生气，所以我才不想跟你说。” “好啦，好啦，亲爱的，”裘德宽慰她，“我根本无权过问，再说我也不想知道。” “我一定跟你说！”她说，表现出与生俱来的桀骛不驯。“我干的就是这个：我答应过——答应过，两年之后，我打师范学校毕业，拿到文凭，就嫁给他。他计划在大城市找个规模大的男女生合校的小学——他管男生，我管女生——结了婚的小学老师夫妇都这么办，这一来我们的收入就可观了。” “哦，苏啊！……不过这当然合适不过喽——你这么着太好啦。” 他倏地瞧了她一眼，两下里眼光一对，他话里没说的意思，由眼睛说出来了。接着他把手从她手上抽出来，不高兴地掉开脸不看她，对着窗户。苏可是纹丝没动，只是冷冷地看他。 “我知道你准生气！”苏说，脸上看不出来感情变化。“那好吧——我看我还是错啦！我根本不该要你上这儿来看我。咱们顶好以后别见面；隔一大段时间写写信就行啦，信里纯粹谈点不痛不痒的官腔就行啦！” 这话正好触到他的痛处，大概她心里也知道，于是他又立刻把脸掉过来。“哦，对呀，咱们就这么办，”他挺麻利地说，“你订不订婚在我反正都一样。我完全有权利来看你，什么时想来看，就来看。我一定这样！” “那咱们就别往下谈这个啦。这晚上，咱们在一块儿好好的，这一下给砸啦。两年之后，到底干什么，谁说得准呢！” 对他来说，她可是不大容易猜透的，他也就把这个题目撂开了。“咱们上大教堂那儿坐坐，好不好？”吃完饭，他问道。 “大教堂？好吧。不过我宁可上火车站坐坐。”她答道，声音里还留有一丝不快之意。“那地方现在是城市生活的中心呢。大教堂兴旺日子过去啦。” “瞧你可真够新派的！” “你要是跟我一样，前几年在中世纪过了那么久，你也要这个样啊！四五个世纪以前，大教堂的确是非常好的地方，可是这会儿它的戏唱完啦。……我倒算不上什么新派。我比古老的中世纪还古老，你但凡懂得就好啦。” 裘德露出难受样子。 “算啦——我决不再说这话啦！”她大声说。“现在问题是，按你的看法，你并不知道我有多坏，要不然你就不会为我想了那么多，也不会为我订了婚还是没订婚，心里老嘀咕。现在咱们绕着界园走过去吧，正好是时候，等下我就得进去，要不然整夜都给钞在外头啦。” 他陪她到了大门，就跟她分手了。裘德深信准是那个可悲的夜晚，他对她的讨厌的骚扰促成了那个婚约。就他而言，也就成了他的不幸。所以她是用这种形式责怪他，而非形诸言语。尽管如此，第二天他仍然着手找工作，这可不像在基督堂那么容易，在那座宁谧的城市，凿石之声罕闻，而且这方面人手大多是长期雇用的。不过他还是想方设法慢慢挤了进去，先是在山岗上墓园找到镌刻活儿，最后人家还是雇了他去干他一心想干的活儿——大教堂修复工程，规模很大，内部所有石头作品都要大修，基本上更新。 要完成大教堂修复工程大概要花好几年时间，他对自己运用锤子和凿子的本领信心十足，因此他认为干长干短，都看他自己怎么选择。 他在界园大门附近的住处，要按副牧师的身份，面子上也过得去，租金占他的工钱的比例，要比一般干技术活的师傅通常愿意出的高一截。他那间兼做卧室和起坐室的屋子里原来摆着教区长和大教长住宅的加了框子的照片，女房东当年是这两处的管家，在里边住过。楼下客厅的壁炉搁板上放着一口钟，上面刻的字说明它是当时与这个正派女人同事的仆人在她结婚时送的礼品。裘德也把自己的包打开，取出自己亲手制作的教会装饰用石刻作品和纪念碑的照片，与原来的陈设并列。房东认为他租了这间空屋子确实不错，是位令人满意的房客。 他发现市内书店大量供应神学读物。有别于从前的路子，如今他是按新精神和新方向重新开始学习。他读了《神父文集》和诸如佩利和巴特勒的大部头著作；作为调剂，又改读纽门、普赛和其他近代著名人士的著作。他还租了架小风琴摆在家里，用它练习弹奏单、复式重唱的圣歌。 Part 3 Chapter 2 "TO-MORROW is our grand day, you know. Where shall we go?" "I have leave from three till nine. Wherever we can get to and come back from in that time. Not ruins, Jude--I don't care for them." "Well--Wardour Castle. And then we can do Fonthill if we like-- all in the same afternoon." "Wardour is Gothic ruins--and I hate Gothic!" "No. Quite otherwise. It is a classic building--Corinthian, I think; with a lot of pictures." "Ah--that will do. I like the sound of Corinthian. We'll go." Their conversation had run thus some few weeks later, and next morning they prepared to start. Every detail of the outing was a facet reflecting a sparkle to Jude, and he did not venture to meditate on the life of inconsistency he was leading. His Sue's conduct was one lovely conundrum to him; he could say no more. There duly came the charm of calling at the college door for her; her emergence in a nunlike simplicity of costume that was rather enforced than desired; the traipsing along to the station, the porters' "B'your leave!," the screaming of the trains-- everything formed the basis of a beautiful crystallization. Nobody stared at Sue, because she was so plainly dressed, which comforted Jude in the thought that only himself knew the charms those habiliments subdued. A matter of ten pounds spent in a drapery-shop, which had no connection with her real life or her real self, would have set all Melchester staring. The guard of the train thought they were lovers, and put them into a compartment all by themselves. "That's a good intention wasted!" said she. Jude did not respond. He thought the remark unnecessarily cruel, and partly untrue. They reached the park and castle and wandered through the picture-galleries, Jude stopping by preference in front of the devotional pictures by Del Sarto, Guido Reni, Spagnoletto, Sassoferrato, Carlo Dolci, and others. Sue paused patiently beside him, and stole critical looks into his face as, regarding the Virgins, Holy Families, and Saints, it grew reverent and abstracted. When she had thoroughly estimated him at this, she would move on and wait for him before a Lely or Reynolds. It was evident that her cousin deeply interested her, as one might be interested in a man puzzling out his way along a labyrinth from which one had one's self escaped. When they came out a long time still remained to them and Jude proposed that as soon as they had had something to eat they should walk across the high country to the north of their present position, and intercept the train of another railway leading back to Melchester, at a station about seven miles off. Sue, who was inclined for any adventure that would intensify the sense of her day's freedom, readily agreed; and away they went, leaving the adjoining station behind them. It was indeed open country, wide and high. They talked and bounded on, Jude cutting from a little covert a long walking-stick for Sue as tall as herself, with a great crook, which made her look like a shepherdess. About half-way on their journey they crossed a main road running due east and west--the old road from London to Land's End. They paused, and looked up and down it for a moment, and remarked upon the desolation which had come over this once lively thoroughfare, while the wind dipped to earth and scooped straws and hay-stems from the ground. They crossed the road and passed on, but during the next half-mile Sue seemed to grow tired, and Jude began to be distressed for her. They had walked a good distance altogether, and if they could not reach the other station it would be rather awkward. For a long time there was no cottage visible on the wide expanse of down and turnip-land; but presently they came to a sheepfold, and next to the shepherd, pitching hurdles. He told them that the only house near was his mother's and his, pointing to a little dip ahead from which a faint blue smoke arose, and recommended them to go on and rest there. This they did, and entered the house, admitted by an old woman without a single tooth, to whom they were as civil as strangers can be when their only chance of rest and shelter lies in the favour of the householder. "A nice little cottage," said Jude. "Oh, I don't know about the niceness. I shall have to thatch it soon, and where the thatch is to come from I can't tell, for straw do get that dear, that 'twill soon be cheaper to cover your house wi' chainey plates than thatch." They sat resting, and the shepherd came in. "Don't 'ee mind I," he said with a deprecating wave of the hand "bide here as long as ye will. But mid you be thinking o' getting back to Melchester to-night by train? Because you'll never do it in this world, since you don't know the lie of the country. I don't mind going with ye some o' the ways, but even then the train mid be gone." They started up. "You can bide here, you know, over the night--can't 'em, Mother? The place is welcome to ye. 'Tis hard lying, rather, but volk may do worse." He turned to Jude and asked privately: "Be you a married couple?" "Hsh--no!" said Jude. "Oh--I meant nothing ba'dy--not I! Well then, she can go into Mother's room, and you and I can lie in the outer chimmer after they've gone through. I can call ye soon enough to catch the first train back. You've lost this one now." On consideration they decided to close with this offer, and drew up and shared with the shepherd and his mother the boiled bacon and greens for supper. "I rather like this," said Sue, while their entertainers were clearing away the dishes. "Outside all laws except gravitation and germination." "You only think you like it; you don't: you are quite a product of civilization," said Jude, a recollection of her engagement reviving his soreness a little. "Indeed I am not, Jude. I like reading and all that, but I crave to get back to the life of my infancy and its freedom." "Do you remember it so well? You seem to me to have nothing unconventional at all about you." "Oh, haven't I! You don't know what's inside me." "What?" "The Ishmaelite." "An urban miss is what you are." She looked severe disagreement, and turned away. The shepherd aroused them the next morning, as he had said. It was bright and clear, and the four miles to the train were accomplished pleasantly. When they had reached Melchester, and walked to the Close, and the gables of the old building in which she was again to be immured rose before Sue's eyes, she looked a little scared. "I expect I shall catch it!" she murmured. They rang the great bell and waited. "Oh, I bought something for you, which I had nearly forgotten," she said quickly, searching her pocket. "It is a new little photograph of me. Would you like it?" "WOULD I!" He took it gladly, and the porter came. There seemed to be an ominous glance on his face when he opened the gate. She passed in, looking back at Jude, and waving her hand. “明天咱们该痛痛快快玩一天，对不对？你看咱们上哪儿去好！” “三点到九点，我可以自己支配。随便上哪儿去，都得按时来回。裘德，别到什么古迹之类的地方——那玩意儿我可不想看。” “那就到沃都堡好啦。要是玩得有意思，还可以到圣泉冈——一个下午足够啦。” “沃都堡是哥特式遗迹——我讨厌哥特式！” “你错了，恰好相反，它是个古典建筑——我想是哥林多式；里边有好多绘画。” “啊——那行啊。我喜欢哥林多这个声音。咱们去好啦。” 这次谈话是在他们上次见面几个礼拜之后。第二天早晨他们做了出发准备。裘德觉着这次远足的每个细节都跟钻石的棱面一样闪闪发光，但是他根本没仔细想想他这样的生活够多么矛盾。他的苏的一言一行在他看就妙在捉摸不透，所以他也不便再说什么。 他满心高兴到校门口等苏。她打扮得很简朴，像是位修女，但这纯粹是不得已而为之，并非她性之所好。他们悠悠荡荡走到车站，乘务员喊着“一路好！”，火车发出尖叫声——一切的一切构成一块美丽的晶体的必不可少的侧面。一路上没人死盯着苏看，因为她的装束平淡无奇，一点不惹眼。这反倒叫裘德感到舒眼，因为他觉着只有他才知道在这样服饰掩盖下的魅力。其实很简单，只要到服装店花上十镑，苏就能叫麦尔切斯特全城为之倾倒，但这跟她的真正生活真正本色又何尝有一点关系。车上的乘警以为他们是情侣，就把他们安置在一个隔间，让他们两个单独呆在那儿。 “这可是好心白费蜡！”她说。 裘德没答话。他觉着她说得这么残酷，大可不必，再说也不算全对。 他们到了园林和城堡，信步浏览了几处画廊，裘德爱驻足代尔•萨托、居多•莱尼、斯派诺莱托、萨索费拉托、卡洛•多尔齐等人的虔诚之作前细心观看，苏也耐心陪着，一面偷偷观察和分析他脸上的表情，只见他看到圣母图、神圣家庭图和诸圣图，都是毕恭毕敬，如人忘我之境。她对他的心意有了透彻了解之后，自己就朝前边去了，在列里和雷诺兹的画前等他。显然她对这位表亲的兴趣非常之高，好比一个人自己已经从迷宫逃出来，却兴味盎然地瞧着另一个人还在迷宫里边瞎转悠，出不来。 从沃都堡出来的时候，他们剩的时间还很敷余。裘德提出来一吃完饭，他们就从现在的地点穿过北面高地，直达大约七英里外的车站，迎上从另一条铁路开过来的回麦尔切斯特的火车。苏呢，她一心想的是，不管什么惊险之举，只要加强这一天自由感就行，所以立刻表示赞成。他们就这样走了，把近边的车站甩到后边。 那一带乡下真是纵横开阔，地头又远，地势又高。他们一边聊着，一边深一脚浅一脚地往前走。裘德在小野林子里砍下一根长枝子，给苏当拐棍儿，跟她身量一般高，上头还有个弯把儿，她拿着它就像个牧羊姑娘。这段路程走了大约一半的时候，又穿过一条东西打直的大路，那就是从前伦敦到地角的老路。他们站了一下，环顾左右，只见当年那条车水马龙的通衢大道满目荒凉；风从地上掠过，扬起了碎麦秸和草杆儿。 他们穿过大路后继续往前走，可是才走了半英里，苏就显出累了。裘德一看她这样，不由得急起来。他们前前后后已经走了老远，要是走不到车站，可就麻烦了。有好长时间，在广袤的丘陵和萝卜地上，看不见乡下房子的影子，不过他们没多会儿就到了一个羊圈边上，牧羊人正在旁边扎篱笆帐。他指着前面小山洼子冒出的一缕青烟，对他们说这一带只有他妈和他两个住家；好意劝他们再往前走走，就上那边歇歇脚。 他们听了他的话，进了那家房子，一位没牙瘪嘴老太婆把他们让到里边。他们俩尽量客客气气的，出门人全靠主人家好心，才有机会歇脚，躲避风吹雨打，所以都是这样客气。 “小房子蛮好嘛。”裘德说。 “哦，怎么个好法，我还看不出来。我倒想该加加草才行，可哪儿去弄草呢，我也说不上，干草贵得那么厉害，很快你房子盖屋顶就得用磁盘子，那比草还便宜多呢。” 他们坐着休息，牧羊人进了家。“你们用不着管我。”他说，摇摇手，示意他们别动。“随你们便，呆多长都行。可你们还想坐火车回麦尔切斯特吧？你们没到这方来过。就闹不清乡下地脚儿。我倒不在乎陪你们走段路，不过就算这么着，火车怕也过去啦。” 他们马上跳起来。 “你们就凑合着在这儿过夜吧——妈，你瞧行不行？这地方可是要委屈委屈你们。这儿是怪不舒服的，可有的地方还糟呢。”他转过身来对裘德悄悄地问：“你们这对儿结了婚吧？” “嘘——不是一对儿！”裘德说。 “哦——我可不是瞎说八道——我可不是！那好吧，回头她先上我妈屋里，你跟我睡在外边灶间好啦。我准早早地叫你们赶头班火车，这班车已经误啦。” 他们商量之后决定接受这番好意，又坐下来，然后跟牧羊人和他妈一块儿吃了顿咸肉燉青菜的晚饭。 “我挺喜欢这样的日子。”苏说，款待他们的主人这时把盘子拿到一边去了。“这儿只有万有引力定律和万物萌长定律，没别的法呀、律呀，无法无天啦。” “你这是自以为喜欢这样的日子，实际上你不喜欢，你是地地道道的文明产物啊。”裘德说，一想起她订了婚，醋劲又有点上来了。 “我才不是你说的那样呢，裘德。我喜欢看看书什么的，这倒是，可我老渴望回到婴儿期，还有那会儿的自由。” “你真把婴儿期记得那么清楚吗？依我看你根本没什么超出习俗的地方。” “哦，我没有！你是一点也不知道我的底细。” “什么底细？” “以实玛利的后人。” “可你是个地地道道城里头的小姐啊。” 她明显不同意他说的，神情严厉，走到一边去了。 牧羊人照他说的，第二天一早把他们喊起来。天朗气清，他们轻松愉快地走完了赶火车的四英里路，然后到了麦尔切斯特，随即走到界园，她露出一点惊怕的样子，因为那座要把她再次圈禁的大楼的山墙赫然耸立在眼前。“我盼着它好好整我吧！”她嘟嘟囔囔的。 他们扯动大门的门铃，等着。 “哦，我给你买了件东西，简直忘光啦。”她说得很快，在口袋里摸着。“这是我新照的一张小相片。你大概喜欢吧？” “我大概喜欢！”他高兴地接过相片，这时门房来了。他一边开门，一边脸上闪了那么丧气的一眼。她进去了，回头看了看裘德，摇摇手。 Part 3 Chapter 4 JUDE'S reverie was interrupted by the creak of footsteps ascending the stairs. He whisked Sue's clothing from the chair where it was drying, thrust it under the bed, and sat down to his book. Somebody knocked and opened the door immediately. It was the landlady. "Oh, I didn't know whether you was in or not, Mr. Fawley. I wanted to know if you would require supper. I see you've a young gentleman----" "Yes, ma'am. But I think I won't come down to-night. Will you bring supper up on a tray, and I'll have a cup of tea as well." It was Jude's custom to go downstairs to the kitchen, and eat his meals with the family, to save trouble. His landlady brought up the supper, however, on this occasion, and he took it from her at the door. When she had descended he set the teapot on the hob, and drew out Sue's clothes anew; but they were far from dry. A thick woollen gown, he found, held a deal of water. So he hung them up again, and enlarged his fire and mused as the steam from the garments went up the chimney. Suddenly she said, "Jude!" "Yes. All right. How do you feel now?" "Better. Quite well. Why, I fell asleep, didn't I? What time is it? Not late surely?" "It is past ten." "Is it really? What SHALL I do!" she said, starting up. "Stay where you are." "Yes; that's what I want to do. But I don't know what they would say! And what will you do?" "I am going to sit here by the fire all night, and read. To-morrow is Sunday, and I haven't to go out anywhere. Perhaps you will be saved a severe illness by resting there. Don't be frightened. I'm all right. Look here, what I have got for you. Some supper." When she had sat upright she breathed plaintively and said, "I do feel rather weak still. l thought I was well; and I ought not to be here, ought I?" But the supper fortified her somewhat, and when she had had some tea and had lain back again she was bright and cheerful. The tea must have been green, or too long drawn, for she seemed preternaturally wakeful afterwards, though Jude, who had not taken any, began to feel heavy; till her conversation fixed his attention. "You called me a creature of civilization, or something, didn't you?" she said, breaking a silence. "It was very odd you should have done that." "Why?" "Well, because it is provokingly wrong. I am a sort of negation of it." "You are very philosophical. 'A negation' is profound talking." "Is it? Do I strike you as being learned?" she asked, with a touch of raillery. "No--not learned. Only you don't talk quite like a girl--well, a girl who has had no advantages." "I have had advantages. I don't know Latin and Greek, though I know the grammars of those tongues. But I know most of the Greek and Latin classics through translations, and other books too. I read Lempriere, Catullus, Martial, Juvenal, Lucian, Beaumont and Fletcher, Boccaccio, Scarron, De Brantame, Sterne, De Foe, Smollett, Fielding, Shakespeare, the Bible, and other such; and found that all interest in the unwholesome part of those books ended with its mystery." "You have read more than I," he said with a sigh. "How came you to read some of those queerer ones?" "Well," she said thoughtfully, "it was by accident. My life has been entirely shaped by what people call a peculiarity in me. I have no fear of men, as such, nor of their books. I have mixed with them--one or two of them particularly-- almost as one of their own sex. I mean I have not felt about them as most women are taught to feel--to be on their guard against attacks on their virtue; for no average man-- no man short of a sensual savage--will molest a woman by day or night, at home or abroad, unless she invites him. Until she says by a look 'Come on' he is always afraid to, and if you never say it, or look it, he never comes. However, what I was going to say is that when I was eighteen I formed a friendly intimacy with an undergraduate at Christminster, and he taught me a great deal, and lent me books which I should never have got hold of otherwise." "Is your friendship broken off?" "Oh yes. He died, poor fellow, two or three years after he had taken his degree and left Christminster." "You saw a good deal of him, I suppose?" "Yes. We used to go about together--on walking tours, reading tours, and things of that sort--like two men almost. He asked me to live with him, and I agreed to by letter. But when I joined him in London I found he meant a different thing from what I meant. He wanted me to be his mistress, in fact, but I wasn't in love with him--and on my saying I should go away if he didn't agree to MY plan, he did so. We shared a sitting-room for fifteen months; and he became a leader-writer for one of the great London dailies; till he was taken ill, and had to go abroad. He said I was breaking his heart by holding out against him so long at such close quarters; he could never have believed it of woman. I might play that game once too often, he said. He came home merely to die. His death caused a terrible remorse in me for my cruelty-- though I hope he died of consumption and not of me entirely. l went down to Sandbourne to his funeral, and was his only mourner. He left me a little money--because I broke his heart, I suppose. That's how men are--so much better than women!" "Good heavens!--what did you do then?" "Ah--now you are angry with me!" she said, a contralto note of tragedy coming suddenly into her silvery voice. "I wouldn't have told you if I had known!" "No, I am not. Tell me all." "Well, I invested his money, poor fellow, in a bubble scheme, and lost it. I lived about London by myself for some time, and then I returned to Christminster, as my father-- who was also in London, and had started as an art metal-worker near Long-Acre--wouldn't have me back; and I got that occupation in the artist-shop where you found me.... I said you didn't know how bad I was!" Jude looked round upon the arm-chair and its occupant, as if to read more carefully the creature he had given shelter to. His voice trembled as he said: "However you have lived, Sue, I believe you are as innocent as you are unconventional!" "I am not particularly innocent, as you see, now that I have 'twitched the robe From that blank lay-figure your fancy draped,'" said she, with an ostensible sneer, though he could hear that she was brimming with tears. "But I have never yielded myself to any lover, if that's what you mean! I have remained as I began." "I quite believe you. But some women would not have remained as they began." "Pehaps not. Better women would not. People say I must be cold-natured--sexless--on account of it. But I won't have it! Some of the most passionately erotic poets have been the most self-contained in their daily lives." "Have you told Mr. Phillotson about this university scholar friend?" "Yes--long ago. I have never made any secret of it to anybody." "What did he say?" "He did not pass any criticism--only said I was everything to him, whatever I did; and things like that." Jude felt much depressed; she seemed to get further and further away from him with her strange ways and curious unconsciousness of gender. "Aren't you REALLY vexed with me, dear Jude?" she suddenly asked, in a voice of such extraordinary tenderness that it hardly seemed to come from the same woman who had just told her story so lightly. "I would rather offend anybody in the world than you, I think!" "I don't know whether I am vexed or not. I know I care very much about you!" "I care as much for you as for anybody I ever met." "You don't care MORE! There, I ought not to say that. Don't answer it!" There was another long silence. He felt that she was treating him cruelly, though he could not quite say in what way. Her very helplessness seemed to make her so much stronger than he. "I am awfully ignorant on general matters, although I have worked so hard," he said, to turn the subject. "I am absorbed in theology, you know. And what do you think I should be doing just about now, if you weren't here? I should be saying my evening prayers. I suppose you wouldn't like----" "Oh no, no," she answered, "I would rather not, if you don't mind. I should seem so--such a hypocrite." "I thought you wouldn't join, so I didn't propose it. You must remember that I hope to be a useful minister some day." "To be ordained, I think you said?" "Yes." "Then you haven't given up the idea?--I thought that perhaps you had by this time." "Of course not. I fondly thought at first that you felt as I do about that, as you were so mixed up in Christminster Anglicanism. And Mr. Phillotson----" "I have no respect for Christminster whatever, except, in a qualified degree, on its intellectual side," said Sue Bridehead earnestly. "My friend I spoke of took that out of me. He was the most irreligious man I ever knew, and the most moral. And intellect at Christminster is new wine in old bottles. The mediaevalism of Christminster must go, be sloughed off, or Christminster itself will have to go. To be sure, at times one couldn't help having a sneaking liking for the traditions of the old faith, as preserved by a section of the thinkers there in touching and simple sincerity; but when I was in my saddest, rightest mind I always felt, 'O ghastly glories of saints, dead limbs of gibbeted Gods!'"... "Sue, you are not a good friend of mine to talk like that!" "Then I won't, dear Jude!" The emotional throat-note had come back, and she turned her face away. "I still think Christminster has much that is glorious; though I was resentful because I couldn't get there." He spoke gently, and resisted his impulse to pique her on to tears. "It is an ignorant place, except as to the townspeople, artizans, drunkards, and paupers," she said, perverse still at his differing from her. "THEY see life as it is, of course; but few of the people in the colleges do. You prove it in your own person. You are one of the very men Christminster was intended for when the colleges were founded; a man with a passion for learning, but no money, or opportunities, or friends. But you were elbowed off the pavement by the millionaires' sons." "Well, I can do without what it confers. I care for something higher." "And I for something broader, truer," she insisted. "At present intellect in Christminster is pushing one way, and religion the other; and so they stand stock-still, like two rams butting each other." "What would Mr. Phillotson----" "It is a place full of fetishists and ghost-seers!" He noticed that whenever he tried to speak of the schoolmaster she turned the conversation to some generalizations about the offending university. Jude was extremely, morbidly, curious about her life as Phillotson's PROTEGEE and betrothed; yet she would not enlighten him. "Well, that's just what I am, too," he said. "I am fearful of life, spectre-seeing always." "But you are good and dear!" she murmured. His heart bumped, and he made no reply. "You are in the Tractarian stage just now, are you not?" she added, putting on flippancy to hide real feeling, a common trick with her. "Let me see--when was I there? In the year eighteen hundred and----" "There's a sarcasm in that which is rather unpleasant to me, Sue. Now will you do what I want you to? At this time I read a chapter, and then say prayers, as I told you. Now will you concentrate your attention on any book of these you like, and sit with your back to me, and leave me to my custom? You are sure you won't join me?" "I'll look at you." "No. Don't tease, Sue!" "Very well--I'll do just as you bid me, and I won't vex you, Jude," she replied, in the tone of a child who was going to be good for ever after, turning her back upon him accordingly. A small Bible other than the one he was using lay near her, and during his retreat she took it up, and turned over the leaves. "Jude," she said brightly, when he had finished and come back to her; "will you let me make you a NEW New Testament, like the one I made for myself at Christminster?" "Oh yes. How was that made?" "I altered my old one by cutting up all the Epistles and Gospels into separate BROCHURES, and rearranging them in chronological order as written, beginning the book with Thessalonians, following on with the Epistles, and putting the Gospels much further on. Then I had the volume rebound. My university friend Mr. ---- --but never mind his name, poor boy-- said it was an excellent idea. I know that reading it afterwards made it twice as interesting as before, and twice as understandable." "H'm!" said Jude, with a sense of sacrilege. "And what a literary enormity this is," she said, as she glanced into the pages of Solomon's Song. "I mean the synopsis at the head of each chapter, explaining away the real nature of that rhapsody. You needn't be alarmed: nobody claims inspiration for the chapter headings. Indeed, many divines treat them with contempt. It seems the drollest thing to think of the four-and-twenty elders, or bishops, or whatever number they were, sitting with long faces and writing down such stuff." Jude looked pained. "You are quite Voltairean!" he murmured. "Indeed? Then I won't say any more, except that people have no right to falsify the Bible! I HATE such hum-bug as could attempt to plaster over with ecclesiastical abstractions such ecstatic, natural, human love as lies in that great and passionate song!" Her speech had grown spirited, and almost petulant at his rebuke, and her eyes moist. "I WISH I had a friend here to support me; but nobody is ever on my side!" "But my dear Sue, my very dear Sue, I am not against you!" he said, taking her hand, and surprised at her introducing personal feeling into mere argument. "Yes you are, yes you are!" she cried, turning away her face that he might not see her brimming eyes. "You are on the side of the people in the training-school--at least you seem almost to be! What I insist on is, that to explain such verses as this: 'Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women?' by the note: 'THE CHURCH PROFESSETH HER FAITH,' is supremely ridiculous!" "Well then, let it be! You make such a personal matter of everything! I am--only too inclined just now to apply the words profanely. You know YOU are fairest among women to me, come to that!" "But you are not to say it now!" Sue replied, her voice changing to its softest note of severity. Then their eyes met, and they shook hands like cronies in a tavern, and Jude saw the absurdity of quarrelling on such a hypothetical subject, and she the silliness of crying about what was written in an old book like the Bible. "I won't disturb your convictions--I really won't!" she went on soothingly, for now he was rather more ruffled than she. "But I did want and long to ennoble some man to high aims; and when I saw you, and knew you wanted to be my comrade, I-- shall I confess it?--thought that man might be you. But you take so much tradition on trust that I don't know what to say." "Well, dear; I suppose one must take some things on trust. Life isn't long enough to work out everything in Euclid problems before you believe it. I take Christianity." "Well, perhaps you might take something worse." "Indeed I might. Perhaps I have done so!" He thought of Arabella. "I won't ask what, because we are going to be VERY nice with each other, aren't we, and never, never, vex each other any more?" She looked up trustfully, and her voice seemed trying to nestle in his breast. "I shall always care for you!" said Jude. "And I for you. Because you are single-hearted, and forgiving to your faulty and tiresome little Sue!" He looked away, for that epicene tenderness of hers was too harrowing. Was it that which had broken the heart of the poor leader-writer; and was he to be the next one? ... But Sue was so dear! ... If he could only get over the sense of her sex, as she seemed to be able to do so easily of his, what a comrade she would make; for their difference of opinion on conjectural subjects only drew them closer together on matters of daily human experience. She was nearer to him than any other woman he had ever met, and he could scarcely believe that time, creed, or absence, would ever divide him from her. But his grief at her incredulities returned. They sat on till she fell asleep again, and he nodded in his chair likewise. Whenever he aroused himself he turned her things, and made up the fire anew. About six o'clock he awoke completely, and lighting a candle, found that her clothes were dry. Her chair being a far more comfortable one than his she still slept on inside his great-coat, looking warm as a new bun and boyish as a Ganymede. Placing the garments by her and touching her on the shoulder he went downstairs, and washed himself by starlight in the yard. 一阵嘎吱嘎吱上楼声打断了裘德的遐想。 他赶紧把放在椅子上烘的苏的衣服拽下来，往床底下一塞，然后坐到椅子上，装出看书的样子。有人敲了敲门，跟着门就开了。来人是房东太太。 “福来先生，我不知道你在不在家。我想问一下你吃不吃晚饭。我看你这儿有位年轻先生嘛——” “是啊，太太。我今儿晚上不打算下去啦。好不好请你拿个盘子把晚饭端上来。我还要杯茶。” 按裘德平日习惯，为图省事，他该下楼跟房东一家一块儿吃饭。不过房东太太还是把晚饭端上楼，他在门口接过来。 她下去之后，他就把茶壶搁在炉边支架上，又把苏的衣服从床下拽出来；但是衣服离干了还老远呢。他摸摸厚呢长袍，觉着还是水渍渍的，又把衣服都挂起来，把火升旺，水蒸气就往烟囱里冒，他在一边默默想着。 突然她说，“裘德呀！” “哎。我在这儿。你觉着怎么样？” “好多啦，全好啦。哎，我睡着了，对吧？什么时候啦？还不怎么晚吧？” “十点多啦。” “真的吗？那我该怎么办哪！”她说，一下子站起来。 “你还是呆在这儿吧。” “好吧；我就想这样儿。可不知道别人会怎么嚼舌根呢！那你怎么办哪？” “我要一夜坐在炉子边看书。明天是礼拜天，我哪儿也不用去。你就在那儿好好休息吧，大概生不了大病啦。用不着大惊小怪的。我这样好得很。你瞧这儿，是我弄来的东西，是点晚饭。” 她坐直了，呼吸还不大自然，就说，“我觉着人还是怪软的，刚才还当是好了。我不应该在这儿呆下去，对不对？”但是晚饭给她添了劲，她喝了点茶，又往后一靠，心情这会儿开朗了，人也透着精神了。 她喝的茶一定是绿茶，要么就是泡得太久了，因为她后来精神显得足得不得了；但裘德一点茶没喝，开始困得很厉害，她一说话才把他的注意力拉回来。 “你说我是个文明的产物，还是什么的，对不对？”她说，打破了沉默。“亏你这么说，真是驴唇不对马嘴。” “为什么？” “哎，就因为你根本说错了呗，错得叫人气啊。我该是文明的对立面。” “你可是哲学意味深长啊，‘对立面’这个提法够深奥的。” “是吗？那你是不是觉得我学问高深呢？”她问，带着取笑的意思。 “不是——你不是学问高深。倒是你的谈吐不像出自一个姑娘之口——哦，不像出自一个浅薄无知的姑娘之口。” “我可真有点学问底子呢。我固然不懂拉丁文和希腊文，可懂希腊义和拉丁文文法。不过我是靠英文译本看了大部分希腊文和拉丁文的经典著作，也看过别的书。我看过兰普里耶、加特卢斯、马夏勒、朱文纳尔、卢西昂、毕蒙和弗来彻、薄伽丘、斯卡隆、德•勃朗托姆，还有斯特恩、笛福、斯摩勒特、菲尔丁、莎士比亚、《圣经》，等等，等等。我意想不到的是，这些书凡是蛊惑人心的地方全都引人入胜，最后总叫人生出神秘感。” “你看得可比我多啊，”他叹了口气说，“在那些希奇古怪的书里头，你居然看了好几本，又是怎么回事呢？” “哎，”她说，显出来有心事的样子，“那就出乎偶然啦。人家说我怪僻乖张，我这人生来是这么捏成的。我才不怕男人哪，因为这样，我也就不怕他们作的书。我跟他们搅和在一块儿——特别是其中一两个，跟男的简直没两样。我这是说，大多数女人从小受家教，就学到了那一套，什么老要提防着，别让人糟踏了贞操呀，我对男人的看法可跟这不一样。因为，不说只管泄欲的野蛮人吧，一般的男人，她要是不先招惹他，哪个也不会白天黑日里、家里头外边，老纠缠她。要是她那个样儿不像说‘来吧’，那他是绝不敢上来冒犯。要是她压根儿没说，也没露相，他就压根儿不会来。不过我这会儿想说的是我十八岁那会儿的事儿。我那会儿在基督堂，跟个大学生交上朋友，还挺亲密的，他教了我好多好多东西，借书给我看，要不然的话，我就压根儿没碰过它们。” “你们的友谊吹啦？” “是啊。他拿到学位之后，就离开基督堂，过了两三年就死啦，这家伙可怜哪。” “我看你们是常来常往喽？” “是这样。我们俩老一块儿出去转——徒步旅行呀，看书探奇呀什么的，跟两个男的在一块儿简直没两样。他要我跟他住到一块儿，我也就写信答应啦。不过等我到了伦敦，跟他到了一块儿，才闹明白他的意思跟我的是两码事。实际上，他要我当他的情妇，可我一点不爱他。我就说，他要是不赞成我的计划，我只好走啦，这一来他就依我的啦。我们俩有十五个月共用一间起坐室、他在伦敦一家大报当社论撰稿人，后来病了，只好出国治病。他说咱们俩的屋子靠得这么紧，过了这么久，我没完没了跟他别扭着，把他心都弄碎了；他真不信女人会这么个样儿。他说我要是玩惯了这套把戏，以后有得后悔呢。后来他回国了，就是为死在故上上。他这一死叫我觉得自己真残酷。虽说我希望他完全是害肺痨死的，不是为我的缘故，我还是后悔得要死。我到沙庄去看他下葬，就我这么一个送葬。他给我留了点钱——我想是因为我让他心碎了吧。男子汉就是这个样儿啊——比女人强得多啦！” “天哪！瞧你怎么干得出来哟？” “啊，你生我的气，是不是！”她说，她那银铃般声音突然搀进了悲怆的女低音。“要是我知道你这样，我才不告诉你呢！” “我没生气。都告诉我吧。” “唉，可怜的人哪，我把他的钱一起投进了一家皮包公司，全都赔光啦。我一个人在伦敦住了些时候，然后回到基督堂。因为我爸爸那会儿也在伦敦，在长开地开了个五金工艺店，他不容我再到他那儿，所以我就在基督堂那家圣器店找了个事做，你就是在那儿找着我的……我所以说你不知道我够多坏！” 裘德对着那张安乐椅和椅上坐着的苏看来看去，好像要更加仔细地把他庇护起来的这个宝贝看清楚。他声音发抖地说：“苏啊，不管你至今日子怎么过来的，我既相信你脱弃凡俗，也相信你纯真无暇。” “我可不像你说的那么纯真无假；既然我已经 把那空心大老官身上 你用幻觉披上的袍子扯光！” 她说。虽然她强作不屑，但他已经听得出来她眼圈湿了。“不过我绝对没委身什么情人，要是你说的纯真无瑕指这个，就对了！我起头什么样，还是什么样。” “我完全相信。不过有些女人不会老跟先头一模一样啊。” “也许不老是一模一样吧。好女人就不会。人家说我大概天生冷感——不解男欢女爱。我可不信这套话！情欲顶炽烈的诗人里头大多数在日常生活中就是最能检点、最能克制自己的人啊。” “这个大学生的事，你跟费乐生先生说了没有？” “说啦——老早说过啦。这件事，我向来不瞒谁。” “他说什么啦。” “他没说什么批评的话——就说了不管我干过什么，反正我是他的一切，还有诸如此类的话。” 裘德心里非常懊丧；她那样的做人方式实在稀罕，她又毫无性的意识，也实在荒诞不经，看样子，她跟他越来越不合拍了。 “亲爱的裘德，你真是没生我的气吗？”她突然问道，声音里含有平时那么难得的温柔，这怎么也不像出自那个刚才还毫不经意述说自己生活史的女人之口。“我就想，我哪怕把世上所有人都得罪了，也不愿意得罪你呀！” “我也不知道我气不气，反正我就知道我非常关心你！” “我关心你也跟我关心我碰上的人没两样。” “就不对我格外关心！行啦，这话我不该说。别提这个吧！” 有好大一阵子，他们俩又相对无言。他感到她对他冷酷无情，可是怎么个冷酷无情法又完全说不上来。看来她茕茕无助的处境使她确实比他坚强多了。 “虽说我读书挺用功，可是讲到一般事物，真是无知透啦。”他说，想换个话题。“你知道，我这阵子正全神贯注在神学上。假定你没在这儿，你猜猜我这会儿该干什么？我要做晚间祈祷。我看你是不愿意——” “不愿意，不愿意。”她答道。“你要是不介意，我就不来这个。要来，那我就——未免透着太虚伪啦。” “我想过你不会跟我一块儿祈祷，也就没提。想必你还记得我希望有那么一天当上有益于人的牧师吧？” “经过审定合格的，我想你指的是这个？” “对啦。” “这么说，这个打算你至今没放弃喽！——我也想过，时至今日，说不定你放弃啦。” “当然没放弃。我原先以为你既然受基督堂圣公会薰陶那么深，就稀里糊涂当你对这事跟我如出一辙呢。况且费乐生先生——” “我对基督堂绝对没一丝一毫敬意，对那儿的治学方面倒还有点，不过程度也有限。”苏•柏瑞和说这话态度很认真。“我那位朋友把我心里对它的敬重之念一扫而光啦。他是我见过的人里头反宗教反得顶彻底的，为人的道德也是顶高尚的。在基督堂，聪明才智好比是新酒装进了旧皮囊。基督堂的中世纪传统得彻底垮掉才行，得把它摔到垃圾箱里头，要不然基督堂本身非彻底垮掉不可。不错，那儿是有一帮子思想家的确怀着单纯而感人的诚心把古老信仰的传统保存下来了，也难怪人们时时对这东西恋恋不舍，但我在心情最愁闷，也最严肃的时候，总感到 ‘圣者头上阴森森的荣光，无非绞死了的诸神的残骸枯骨！’” “苏啊，你说这样的话可算不得我的朋友啦！” “那我就别当好啦，亲爱的裘德呀！”她的感情激昂的喉音又恢复了，脸也扭到一边去了。 “我因为进不了基督堂，固然心里愤慨，我还是认为它有好多地方光芒万丈。”他话说得很宛转，遏制住自己想逼她掉眼泪的那股冲动。 “那是个纯然愚昧无知的地方，可是对市民、手艺人、醉鬼和穷光蛋就不好这么说了。”她说，因为他不肯附和，所以依然很任性。“他们眼里的生活是实打实的生活，绝对是这样；可是在那些学院里头就没什么人做得到。你不是就在自个儿身上证明了这一点吗？当年创办那些学院的时候，基督堂原想招的就是你这样的人，满怀热情、有志于学问的人，没钱、没机会、没朋友，结果怎样呢，百万富翁的子孙把你给挤到圈子外头去啦。” “哎，没基督堂抬举，我还是能照干哪。我关心的是更高尚的东西啊。” “我呢，关心的是更广泛、更实在的东西。”她一着不让。“这会儿，在基督堂，真才实学坚持走的是一条路，宗教走的是另一条路；两方面僵在那儿，大眼瞪小眼，好比两只公羊的犄角顶到一块儿。” “费乐生先生该怎么——” “那地方净是烧香拜神跟见神见鬼的人哪。” 他注意到他一想法提到小学老师，她就把话头转到那个叫人恼火的大学身上，说些不着边际的东西。裘德由于自己病态心理作祟，对她这受费乐生监护的人，他的未婚妻怎么个过法极想探明个究竟；但是她对他一点也没启发。 “哎，我也就是那样的人哪。”他说。“我就是怕实打实的生活，老是见神见鬼的。” “不过你是又善良又可亲呀！” 他的心怦怦直跳，没回答什么。 “你这会儿还没脱讲册派窠臼哪，不是吗？”她又添上这句话，还故意装得轻率无礼来掩饰真正的感情，这是她常爱玩的一手。“我想想——我这是呆在哪儿，是哪一年？——一千八百——” “苏呀，你这话是挖苦人呢，叫我很不舒服啊。我要你做的事，你做不做？我跟你说过了，这会儿我都是诵经一章，然后祈祷，现在你就随便找本爱看的书，把注意力集中到上边，背对我坐着，让我按我的习惯做，行吧？你真不跟我一块儿祈祷？” “我要瞧着你。” “不行。苏，别拿我开心好吧！” “好，好，你怎么想，我怎么办，行吧，裘德，我不气你。”她答道，口气就跟小孩子表示今后永远变得乖乖听话的时候那样，接着转过身去，背对着他。除了他正用的《圣经》，还有个缩印本放在她旁边；他静修中间，她把它拿起来，一页一页翻。 裘德做完祈祷，回到她身边。“裘德呀，”她兴高采烈地说，“我给你做本新《新约》，你愿意不愿意，就跟我在基督堂时候做的那本一模一样？” “哦，行啊。怎么做呢？” “我先把我那个旧本子的《使徒书》和《福音》都剪开，分成一本一本的，再按它们的写作年代顺序排好，先让《帖撒罗尼迦前书》和《后书》打头，接下来是各部《使徒书》，《福音》排到顶后面。然后就把它装订起来，成了一本。我那位大学生朋友——不提他的名宇啦，可怜的小子啊——说这个主意才妙不可言呢。我知道以后再读《圣经》，就比以前加倍有意思了，比以前加倍地容易懂了。” “哼！”裘德说，觉得这样做真是亵渎神明。 “你再看它在文学方面造了多大孽啊，”她一边随便翻着《雅歌》，一边说，“我指的是每一章前边提要的内容，经它这么一解释，整部叙事诗的性质全给阔割啦。你用不着这么惊慌失措，一听说有人不赞成每一章提要的神来之笔，就吓得浑身冒汗。说实在的，好多造诣高深的神职人员都看不起这种东西。一想到有二十四位长老，坐在那儿，道貌岸然、装腔作势地写下来这么一大堆废话，简直叫人笑掉了大牙啦！” 裘德露出了难过的样子。“你真是个地道的伏尔泰派！”他嘟嘟囔囔的。 “真的？要是任何人都没权利证明《圣经》里头有假货，那我就什么也不说吧！那些骗子手妄图用教会的名义，把隐藏在伟大而富于激情的诗歌中的热烈而自然的人类爱情肆意抹黑，我恨透了！”她的话变得那么奔放有力，简直是对他的讥刺的怒斥，她的眼睛湿了。“我但愿这儿有个朋友支持我；可是没人站在我一边！” “我的亲爱的苏呀，我的顶亲爱的苏呀，我可没反对你啊！”他说，把她的手拉起来，对于她仅仅为说明自己的论点也大动感情，未免吃惊。 “你就是反对，你就是反对！”她大声说，扭开脸，不让他看见她热泪盈眶。“你就站在进修学校那帮人一边啊——至少看起来是这样！我始终坚持的是，凡是把这样的诗句：‘啊！你这女子中极美丽的，你的良人转向何处去了。’硬加个注，硬说成‘教会申明其信仰’，不都是十二万分的可笑吗？” “好啦，就到此为止吧！你瞧你把什么事都跟自个儿的感情联上啦！我是——这会儿只不过太一边倒，亵渎的话说不出口啊！说实话，你就是我的女子中极美丽的哟！” “可你这会儿先别这么说吧！”苏回答说，她的声音在严厉中一变而为万种温柔。接着他们的目光不期而遇，握起手来，犹如酒馆里边的老朋友那样。裘德深感对这样游谈无根的问题争得面红耳赤，未免大荒唐，而她呢，也明白为了《圣经》这类古书里的东西搞得声泪俱下，未免太愚蠢。 “我并不想扰乱你的信念——我的确不想这么干！”她继续用抚慰的口气说，因为他显得比她还心烦意乱。“不过我的确希望过，渴求过，能促成某个人胸怀高尚的理想，追求远大的目标；我当初一瞧见你，就知道你想要做我的同志，我——我还是干脆说明白好吧？——我当时就想你这个人大概就是的。可是你对许许多多传统的东西抱着深信不疑的态度，我也就没得可说啦。” “哎，亲爱的；我以为，人要是没什么东西深信不疑，那就不成了。生命那么短促，你哪能先把欧几里德列出来的所有命题逐一证明之后才相信它们呢。我对基督教是深信不疑的。” “哎，也许还有比这更坏的东西，你也深信不疑吧？” “我的确会这样。也许我已经对更坏的东西深信不疑过啦！”他想到了阿拉贝拉。 “这我不想问你个究竟，因为咱们两个是你对我非常够意思，我对你也这样，对不对？咱们以后永远不、永远不你气我，我恼你，是吧？”她带着信任的态度抬起头望着他，仿佛要尽量让她的声音逗留在他胸窝里。 “我要永远关心你！”裘德说。 “我也要永远关心你。因为你是心眼儿单纯、诚实，压根儿不计较你那个毛病多、讨人嫌的小苏苏啊。” 她往旁边看，因为她那样娇痴、柔媚，实在叫人心旌摇摇，把持不住自己。难道那位可怜的社论撰稿人就是因为她这样才心碎吗？下一个是不是该轮到他呢。……可是苏够多么可亲可爱啊！如果他也能像她那样轻易不以他是男人为意，而他也不拿她当女人看待，那么她必定成为他的志同道合的伙伴，因为他们虽然对那类空泛无当的问题意见不一，但是他们各自的人生体验却使他们的关系更为贴近了。在他以往认识的女人当中，哪一个也不像她跟他那么亲。他坚信：从今以后，纵使岁月无情，信仰有异，云山阻隔，天各一方，他的心必将永远和她同在。 不过他对她的怀疑一切的态度还是忧虑。他们坐着坐着，到后来她又睡着了，他在自己椅子上也困眼懵腾；一惊醒，就把她的衣服翻动翻动，又把火升大点。六点钟光景，他完全醒过来了，点了根蜡烛，看看她的衣服全干了。她的椅子比他的舒服得多，她裹着他的大衣睡得很沉，小脸暖融融的，宛如刚出炉的小圆面包，莹润鲜洁好似甘尼密德。他把衣服放在她旁边，轻轻拍了拍她的肩膀，然后下楼，到小院里，在星光下洗了脸。 Part 3 Chapter 5 WHEN he returned she was dressed as usual. "Now could I get out without anybody seeing me?" she asked. "The town is not yet astir." "But you have had no breakfast." "Oh, I don't want any! I fear I ought not to have run away from that school! Things seem so different in the cold light of morning, don't they? What Mr. Phillotson will say I don't know! It was quite by his wish that I went there. He is the only man in the world for whom I have any respect or fear. I hope he'll forgive me; but he'll scold me dreadfully, I expect!" "I'll go to him and explain--" began Jude. "Oh no, you shan't. I don't care for him! He may think what he likes-- I shall do just as I choose!" "But you just this moment said----" "Well, if I did, I shall do as I like for all him! I have thought of what I shall do--go to the sister of one of my fellow-students in the training-school, who has asked me to visit her. She has a school near Shaston, about eighteen miles from here-- and I shall stay there till this has blown over, and I get back to the training-school again." At the last moment he persuaded her to let him make her a cup of coffee, in a portable apparatus he kept in his room for use on rising to go to his work every day before the household was astir. "Now a dew-bit to eat with it," he said; "and off we go. You can have a regular breakfast when you get there." They went quietly out of the house, Jude accompanying her to the station. As they departed along the street a head was thrust out of an upper window of his lodging and quickly withdrawn. Sue still seemed sorry for her rashness, and to wish she had not rebelled; telling him at parting that she would let him know as soon as she got re-admitted to the training-school. They stood rather miserably together on the platform; and it was apparent that he wanted to say more. "I want to tell you something--two things," he said hurriedly as the train came up. "One is a warm one, the other a cold one!" "Jude," she said. "I know one of them. And you mustn't!" "What?" "You mustn't love me. You are to like me--that's all!" Jude's face became so full of complicated glooms that hers was agitated in sympathy as she bade him adieu through the carriage window. And then the train moved on, and waving her pretty hand to him she vanished away. Melchester was a dismal place enough for Jude that Sunday of her departure, and the Close so hateful that he did not go once to the cathedral services. The next morning there came a letter from her, which, with her usual promptitude, she had written directly she had reached her friend's house. She told him of her safe arrival and comfortable quarters, and then added:-- What I really write about, dear Jude, is something I said to you at parting. You had been so very good and kind to me that when you were out of sight I felt what a cruel and ungrateful woman I was to say it, and it has reproached me ever since. IF YOU WANT TO LOVE ME, JUDE, YOU MAY: I don't mind at all; and I'll never say again that you mustn't! Now I won't write any more about that. You do forgive your thoughtless friend for her cruelty? and won't make her miserable by saying you don't?--Ever, SUE. It would be superfluous to say what his answer was; and how he thought what he would have done had he been free, which should have rendered a long residence with a female friend quite unnecessary for Sue. He felt he might have been pretty sure of his own victory if it had come to a conflict between Phillotson and himself for the possession of her. Yet Jude was in danger of attaching more meaning to Sue's impulsive note than it really was intended to bear. After the lapse of a few days he found himself hoping that she would write again. But he received no further communication; and in the intensity of his solicitude he sent another note, suggesting that he should pay her a visit some Sunday, the distance being under eighteen miles. He expected a reply on the second morning after despatching his missive; but none came. The third morning arrived; the postman did not stop. This was Saturday, and in a feverish state of anxiety about her he sent off three brief lines stating that he was coming the following day, for he felt sure something had happened. His first and natural thought had been that she was ill from her immersion; but it soon occurred to him that somebody would have written for her in such a case. Conjectures were put an end to by his arrival at the village school-house near Shaston on the bright morning of Sunday, between eleven and twelve o'clock, when the parish was as vacant as a desert, most of the inhabitants having gathered inside the church, whence their voices could occasionally be heard in unison. A little girl opened the door. "Miss Bridehead is up-stairs," she said. "And will you please walk up to her?" "Is she ill?" asked Jude hastily. "Only a little--not very." Jude entered and ascended. On reaching the landing a voice told him which way to turn--the voice of Sue calling his name. He passed the doorway, and found her lying in a little bed in a room a dozen feet square. "Oh, Sue!" he cried, sitting down beside her and taking her hand. "How is this! You couldn't write?" "No--it wasn't that!" she answered. "I did catch a bad cold-- but I could have written. Only I wouldn't!" "Why not?--frightening me like this!" "Yes--that was what I was afraid of! But I had decided not to write to you any more. They won't have me back at the school--that's why I couldn't write. Not the fact, but the reason!" "Well?" "They not only won't have me, but they gave me a parting piece of advice----" "What?" She did not answer directly. "I vowed I never would tell you, Jude--it is so vulgar and distressing!" "Is it about us?" "Yes." "But do tell me!" "Well--somebody has sent them baseless reports about us, and they say you and I ought to marry as soon as possible, for the sake of my reputation! ... There--now I have told you, and I wish I hadn't!" "Oh, poor Sue!" "I don't think of you like that means! It did just OCCUR to me to regard you in the way they think I do, but I hadn't begun to. I HAVE recognized that the cousinship was merely nominal, since we met as total strangers. But my marrying you, dear Jude--why, of course, if I had reckoned upon marrying you l shouldn't have come to you so often! And I never supposed you thought of such a thing as marrying me till the other evening; when I began to fancy you did love me a little. Perhaps I ought not to have been so intimate with you. It is all my fault. Everything is my fault always!" The speech seemed a little forced and unreal, and they regarded each other with a mutual distress. "I was so blind at first!" she went on. "I didn't see what you felt at all. Oh, you have been unkind to me--you have-- to look upon me as a sweetheart without saying a word, and leaving me to discover it myself! Your attitude to me has become known; and naturally they think we've been doing wrong! I'll never trust you again!" "Yes, Sue," he said simply; "I am to blame--more than you think. I was quite aware that you did not suspect till within the last meeting or two what I was feeling about you. I admit that our meeting as strangers prevented a sense of relationship, and that it was a sort of subterfuge to avail myself of it. But don't you think l deserve a little consideration for concealing my wrong, very wrong, sentiments, since I couldn't help having them?" She turned her eyes doubtfully towards him, and then looked away as if afraid she might forgive him. By every law of nature and sex a kiss was the only rejoinder that fitted the mood and the moment, under the suasion of which Sue's undemonstrative regard of him might not inconceivably have changed its temperature. Some men would have cast scruples to the winds, and ventured it, oblivious both of Sue's declaration of her neutral feelings, and of the pair of autographs in the vestry chest of Arabella's parish church. Jude did not. He had, in fact, come in part to tell his own fatal story. It was upon his lips; yet at the hour of this distress he could not disclose it. He preferred to dwell upon the recognized barriers between them. "Of course--I know you don't--care about me in any particular way," he sorrowed. "You ought not, and you are right. You belong to-- Mr. Phillotson. I suppose he has been to see you?" "Yes," she said shortly, her face changing a little. "Though I didn't ask him to come. You are glad, of course, that he has been! But I shouldn't care if he didn't come any more!" It was very perplexing to her lover that she should be piqued at his honest acquiescence in his rival, if Jude's feelings of love were deprecated by her. He went on to something else. "This will blow over, dear Sue," he said. "The training-school authorities are not all the world. You can get to be a student in some other, no doubt." "I'll ask Mr. Phillotson," she said decisively. Sue's kind hostess now returned from church, and there was no more intimate conversation. Jude left in the afternoon, hopelessly unhappy. But he had seen her, and sat with her. Such intercourse as that would have to content him for the remainder of his life. The lesson of renunciation it was necessary and proper that he, as a parish priest, should learn. But the next morning when he awoke he felt rather vexed with her, and decided that she was rather unreasonable, not to say capricious. Then, in illustration of what he had begun to discern as one of her redeeming characteristics there came promptly a note, which she must have written almost immediately he had gone from her: Forgive me for my petulance yesterday! I was horrid to you; I know it, and I feel perfectly miserable at my horridness. It was so dear of you not to be angry! Jude please still keep me as your friend and associate, with all my faults. I'll try not to be like it again. I am coming to Melchester on Saturday, to get my things away from the T.S., &c. I could walk with you for half an hour, if you would like?--Your repentant SUE. Jude forgave her straightway, and asked her to call for him at the cathedral works when she came. 他回到屋里时候，她已经像平常一样穿戴好了。 “要是我这会儿出去，不会有人看见吧？”她问道。“街上还没什么人哪。” “可是你还没吃早饭呢。” “哎，我什么也不想吃。我现在后悔那会儿不该从学校跑出来。在清晨的寒光里再一琢磨，就觉着事情完全不对头了，不是那么回事吗？我还不知道费乐生先生怎么说呢！我是按他的意思上那个学校的，世界上就他这个人，我还有那么点敬重，或者说有点怕。但愿他能原谅我，不过我倒盼着他把我大骂一顿呢。” “我去跟他解释解释就是了——”裘德开始说。 “哎，你别去，千万别去。他怎么样，我根本不在乎！他爱怎么想就怎么想——我想怎么干就怎么于！” “可你刚才不是说——” “哎，就算我说了，反正随他怎么着，我还是照我的意思办！我考虑过怎么办啦——进修学校我有个同学，她姐姐邀过我到她那儿玩，我就上她家里去。她在沙氏顿管一所小学。离这儿大概十八英里，我要在那儿待到这阵风过去，再回进修学校。” 她临走前，他好容易才劝住她，等他先给她煮杯咖啡，他屋里有一套简便的煮咖啡的器具，平时房子里早晨别人还没动静的时候，他就先煮了咖啡，喝完了去上班。 “还有点东西，你一边喝，一边就着吃吧。”他说。“喝完了咱们就走。你到了那儿，就可以正儿八经吃顿早饭啦。” 他们不做声不做气地溜出那个房子，裘德陪着她上火车站。他们刚沿街往前走，从他屋子上边一扇窗户就伸出个脑袋，很快又缩回去了。苏似乎还在为自己行事操切而后悔，但愿起先前没违抗校方的决定。分手时候，她对他说，校方一允许她回校，她就马上告诉他。他们一块儿站在月台上，心里都很不好受。裘德那样子好像还有话要说。 “我想跟你说点事——两件事，”火车开过来的时候，他急急忙忙说，“一件热乎乎，一件冷冰冰。” “裘德，”她说，“有一件我知道。你可不许那样！” “什么呀？” “不许你爱我。你以后只要喜欢我就行啦——这就够啦！” 裘德一时愁云满面，苦恼万状的样子，而她在车窗后面向他表示再见的时候，因为对他同情，似乎也露出来心乱如麻。火车紧跟着开走了，她一边用很美的手向他招呼，一边随着车行缓缓离去。 礼拜天她一走，裘德就觉着麦尔切斯特这地方沉闷无聊，大教堂界园显得那么可憎，他索性不到大教堂做礼拜。第二天早晨她的信就到了，照她平常说话做事的利索劲儿，这封信准是她一到朋友家就立刻动笔的。她告诉他一路平安，住处舒适，接下去说： 亲爱的裘德，我真心想写出的是分手时我对你说的话。你对我一向好心好意，平和宽容，所以一看不到你，我就觉着我说了那样的话，该是个多么冷酷无情、忘恩负义的女人啊；从今以后，我都要为那句话受谴责。如果你想爱我，就爱吧；我绝对不嫌弃，我决不会再说不许你这样的话！ 这件事，我就不多写了。你真会原谅你这个没心没肺的朋友的冷酷无情吗？你不会说不行叫她伤心吧？——永久的 苏 他究竟怎么回的信；他怎么寻思着，如果他是个自由身，无牵挂，苏就完全不必以女友身份长期住在他那儿，那他又该怎么办——这种种在此不需细表。他觉得万一在他和费乐生之间兴起苏将谁属之争，他颇有把握可操胜券。 然而裘德对苏这一时冲动之下写的短信加上了比它的实际意思更深的含义，而这对他自己未免危险。 又过了几天，他发现自己十分希望她再有信来。但是他没收到她那边继续传来的音讯。他在强烈的孤独感中，又给她写了信，表示他有意找个礼拜天去看望她，好在路程不足十八英里。他发信后盼望第二天早晨就有回音，但是没有。第三天早晨到了，信差没在他门前止步。那天是礼拜六，他急得像热锅上蚂蚁，忙不迭地写了三行就寄走了，说他行将于次日到达。他这样做是因为他确实感到事情不妙。 他头一个，也是极其自然的想法是，她因为蹚水，身上弄湿了，因此生了病，不过他很快又想到，果真如此，也可以托人写信嘛。及至他在礼拜天早上到达沙氏顿附近乡村小学的校舍，种种无端猜测才告一段落。当时那个教区空荡荡的犹如沙漠一般，大多数村民聚集在教堂里边，间或听得见那儿发出来的齐声唱诵的声音。 一个小姑娘开了门。“柏瑞和小姐在楼上。”她说。“请你上楼见她。” “她病啦？”他仓促地问了一句。 “有一点——不厉害。” 裘德进门之后跟着上了楼。他走到楼梯平台，就听见叫他往哪边走的声音——原来苏喊他的名字哪。他走过过道，就看见在那间大约十二平方英尺的屋里，苏躺在一张小床上， “哦，苏呀！”他大声说，一边在她旁边坐下来，拉起她的手，“怎么回事呀？你连信都写不了啦？” “不是——才不是那样哪！”她答道。“我确实得了重感冒，不过信还是能写。我是不想写！” “干吗不想写——把我吓成了这个样儿！” “是呀——我所怕的就是这个！不过我已经决定再也不给你写信啦。她们不许我回学校——就为这个，才没法给你写信。倒不是为这件事本身什么的，而是她们提出来的理由！” “什么理由？” “她们不单不许我回学校，还夹来一张退学意见——” “什么意见。” 她没直接回答。“我起过誓，决不告诉你，裘德——这东西太下作、太气人啦！” “是说咱们的事吧？” “对啦。” “那你一定得告诉我！” “好吧——不知道什么人造谣生事，给她们上了个关于咱们的报告，她们就说，为我的名声起见，我得马上结婚！……哪——我这不是说了吗，我但愿没说才好呢！” “哎，可怜的苏呀！” “我直到这会儿也还没想到按那么个意思看待你。我刚才的确想了一下子，就照她们的意思看待你吧，可我没开始那么办。我已经明白过来了，所谓表亲云云不过说说好听而已，咱们初见面时本来就素昧平生。但是我嫁给你这宗事儿，亲爱的裘德呀——哈，该这么说吧，我要是已经存心嫁给你，我又何必那么频频不断往你那儿跑来跑去呢！那个晚上之前，我压根儿没想到你有娶我的意思，直到那会儿，我才开始估摸着你是有那么点爱我的样子。也许我跟你两下里不该过从那么亲密吧。这全是我的错。反正不管什么，全是我的错就是啦！” 她的话说得不自然，也不像由衷之言，两个人你看我，我看你，都感到难过。 “我起初真是两眼黑糊糊！”她说下去。“我就没看出来你到底是怎么个感想。唉，你待我可忍心哪——你拿我当心上人，可你就是一个字不吐，还让我自个儿瞎摸是怎么回事！你对我的态度已经尽人皆知喽；她们认为咱们做了见不起人的事，那也是顺理成章呀！我是决不再信任你啦！” “你说得不错，苏。”他简单地说。“这全怪我，——该怪我的还不止你说的这些呢。我心里完全清楚，直到上两回咱们见面，我心里对你怎么个感想，你没起过疑心。我承认咱们本来是素昧平生，说不上有什么表亲的感觉，表亲云云无非我利用它做个托词，方便自己。不过我是因为压不住非分越礼的感情，很非分越礼的感情，才不得不多方掩盖，我这点苦心难道你不想想也该得到你点体谅吗？” 她的眼光转过来对着他，满腹狐疑的样子；仿佛生怕自己原谅他，又把眼光掉开了。 按照自然界规律和两性间规律，此时此刻，此情此景，只要一吻就万事大吉了，苏既为这一吻具有的说服力所动，她对他那有心含而不露的相思大概不会出人意料地降低温度。有些男人就根本不管苏自称如何对男女之情毫无感觉，也不管阿拉贝拉那个教区的教堂法衣室大柜里存着的一对签名，这一切一切全不在话下，而是单刀直入，一吻了之。无奈裘德做不到。实际上，他这回来，一部分原因就是要谈自己一辈子翻不了身的那段经历。话已经到了嘴边上，可是在这样令人心痛的时刻，他还是难以一吐为快。他只好在他所深知的横在他们中间的障碍面前越趄不前。 “当然——我知道你并不——怎么特别关心我。”他幽幽地说。‘你当然无需这样，你做得完全对。你是费乐生先生的人。我想他已经上你这儿来过吧？” “来过啦。”她简短地说了下，脸上的表情略有变化。“那可不是我自己请他来的。他来啦，你当然高兴了。以后他来不来，我都无所谓。” 如果说裘德对她的爱恋之心已为她拒之门外，她又何必因为他老老实实承认他的情敌的权利而愤愤不平。这就不免使她这位情人为之惶惑了。他接着说起别的事。 “这阵风是要过去的，亲爱的苏。”他说。“进修学校不等于整个世界。你还可以上别的学校，这是无可置疑的。” “这我得问问费乐生先生。”她说得斩钉截铁的。 苏的和蔼的主人从教堂回来了，他们不好再说知心话。裘德下午离开苏住的地方，无法排解自己的烦恼。不过他总算见到她，跟她坐在一块儿。在他今后的岁月中，若能有如此来往，也足以使他心满意足了。况且他既立志要做教区牧师，那么修炼慎躬胜己之功既是必行之道，也是得宜之方。 但他第二天早晨醒来时，却感到对苏不满，姑且不说她负气使性，肯定她这人多少是强词夺理。不过她也有勇于认错的长处，他汗始想找出这样的例子来证明，恰好这时信到了，准是他刚走了一会儿她就写了的： 原谅我昨天对你的冒犯吧！你觉得我太可怕了，这我也知道，我对自己的可怕之处也深感难过。你对我那么亲切，一点没生我的气！裘德，不论我错了多少，望你始终把我当朋友，当同志。我今后当竭力避免重蹈覆辙。 我将于礼拜六去麦尔切斯特，到进修学校取回东西。如你愿意，我可有半小时同你散步，如何？——你的后悔的 苏 裘德立刻原谅了她，请她届时去大教堂工地找他。 |
| Part 3 Chapter 6 MEANWHILE a middle-aged man was dreaming a dream of great beauty concerning the writer of the above letter. He was Richard Phillotson, who had recently removed from the mixed village school at Lumsdon near Christminster, to undertake a large boys' school in his native town of Shaston, which stood on a hill sixty miles to the south-west as the crow flies. A glance at the place and its accessories was almost enough to reveal that the schoolmaster's plans and dreams so long indulged in had been abandoned for some new dream with which neither the Church nor literature had much in common. Essentially an unpractical man, he was now bent on making and saving money for a practical purpose--that of keeping a wife, who, if she chose, might conduct one of the girls' schools adjoining his own; for which purpose he had advised her to go into training, since she would not marry him offhand. About the time that Jude was removing from Marygreen to Melchester, and entering on adventures at the latter place with Sue, the schoolmaster was settling down in the new school-house at Shaston. All the furniture being fixed, the books shelved, and the nails driven, he had begun to sit in his parlour during the dark winter nights and re-attempt some of his old studies-- one branch of which had included Roman-Britannic antiquities-- an unremunerative labour for a national school-master but a subject, that, after his abandonment of the university scheme, had interested him as being a comparatively unworked mine; practicable to those who, like himself, had lived in lonely spots where these remains were abundant, and were seen to compel inferences in startling contrast to accepted views on the civilization of that time. A resumption of this investigation was the outward and apparent hobby of Phillotson at present--his ostensible reason for going alone into fields where causeways, dykes, and tumuli abounded, or shutting himself up in his house with a few urns, tiles, and mosaics he had collected, instead of calling round upon his new neighbours, who for their part had showed themselves willing enough to be friendly with him. But it was not the real, or the whole, reason, after all. Thus on a particular evening in the month, when it had grown quite late-- to near midnight, indeed--and the light of his lamp, shining from his window at a salient angle of the hill-top town over infinite miles of valley westward, announced as by words a place and person given over to study, he was not exactly studying. The interior of the room--the books, the furniture, the schoolmaster's loose coat, his attitude at the table, even the flickering of the fire, bespoke the same dignified tale of undistracted research--more than creditable to a man who had had no advantages beyond those of his own making. And yet the tale, true enough till latterly, was not true now. What he was regarding was not history. They were historic notes, written in a bold womanly hand at his dictation some months before, and it was the clerical rendering of word after word that absorbed him. He presently took from a drawer a carefully tied bundle of letters, few, very few, as correspondence counts nowadays. Each was in its envelope just as it had arrived, and the handwriting was of the same womanly character as the historic notes. He unfolded them one by one and read them musingly. At first sight there seemed in these small documents to be absolutely nothing to muse over. They were straightforward, frank letters, signed "Sue B--"; just such ones as would be written during short absences, with no other thought than their speedy destruction, and chiefly concerning books in reading and other experiences of a training school, forgotten doubtless by the writer with the passing of the day of their inditing. In one of them--quite a recent note-- the young woman said that she had received his considerate letter, and that it was honourable and generous of him to say he would not come to see her oftener than she desired (the school being such an awkward place for callers, and because of her strong wish that her engagement to him should not be known, which it would infallibly be if he visited her often). Over these phrases the school-master pored. What precise shade of satisfaction was to be gathered from a woman's gratitude that the man who loved her had not been often to see her? The problem occupied him, distracted him. He opened another drawer, and found therein an envelope, from which he drew a photograph of Sue as a child, long before he had known her, standing under trellis-work with a little basket in her hand. There was another of her as a young woman, her dark eyes and hair making a very distinct and attractive picture of her, which just disclosed, too, the thoughtfulness that lay behind her lighter moods. It was a duplicate of the one she had given Jude, and would have given to any man. Phillotson brought it half-way to his lips, but withdrew it in doubt at her perplexing phrases: ultimately kissing the dead pasteboard with all the passionateness, and more than all the devotion, of a young man of eighteen. The schoolmaster's was an unhealthy-looking, old-fashioned face, rendered more old-fashioned by his style of shaving. A certain gentlemanliness had been imparted to it by nature, suggesting an inherent wish to do rightly by all. His speech was a little slow, but his tones were sincere enough to make his hesitation no defect. His greying hair was curly, and radiated from a point in the middle of his crown. There were four lines across his forehead, and he only wore spectacles when reading at night. It was almost certainly a renunciation forced upon him by his academic purpose, rather than a distaste for women, which had hitherto kept him from closing with one of the sex in matrimony. Such silent proceedings as those of this evening were repeated many and oft times when he was not under the eye of the boys, whose quick and penetrating regard would frequently become almost intolerable to the self-conscious master in his present anxious care for Sue, making him, in the grey hours of morning, dread to meet anew the gimlet glances, lest they should read what the dream within him was. He had honourably acquiesced in Sue's announced wish that he was not often to visit her at the training school; but at length, his patience being sorely tried, he set out one Saturday afternoon to pay her an unexpected call. There the news of her departure-- expulsion as it might almost have been considered--was flashed upon him without warning or mitigation as he stood at the door expecting in a few minutes to behold her face; and when he turned away he could hardly see the road before him. Sue had, in fact, never written a line to her suitor on the subject, although it was fourteen days old. A short reflection told him that this proved nothing, a natural delicacy being as ample a reason for silence as any degree of blameworthiness. They had informed him at the school where she was living, and having no immediate anxiety about her comfort his thoughts took the direction of a burning indignation against the training school committee. In his bewilderment Phillotson entered the adjacent cathedral, just now in a direly dismantled state by reason of the repairs. He sat down on a block of freestone, regardless of the dusty imprint it made on his breeches; and his listless eyes following the movements of the workmen he presently became aware that the reputed culprit, Sue's lover Jude, was one amongst them. Jude had never spoken to his former hero since the meeting by the model of Jerusalem. Having inadvertently witnessed Phillotson's tentative courtship of Sue in the lane there had grown up in the younger man's mind a curious dislike to think of the elder, to meet him, to communicate in any way with him; and since Phillotson's success in obtaining at least her promise had become known to Jude, he had frankly recognized that he did not wish to see or hear of his senior any more, learn anything of his pursuits, or even imagine again what excellencies might appertain to his character. On this very day of the schoolmaster's visit Jude was expecting Sue, as she had promised; and when therefore he saw the school master in the nave of the building, saw, moreover, that he was coming to speak to him, he felt no little embarrassment; which Phillotson's own embarrassment prevented his observing. Jude joined him, and they both withdrew from the other workmen to the spot where Phillotson had been sitting. Jude offered him a piece of sackcloth for a cushion, and told him it was dangerous to sit on the bare block. "Yes; yes," said Phillotson abstractedly, as he reseated himself, his eyes resting on the ground as if he were trying to remember where he was. "I won't keep you long. It was merely that I have heard that you have seen my little friend Sue recently. It occurred to me to speak to you on that account. I merely want to ask about her." "I think I know what!" Jude hurriedly said. "About her escaping from the training school, and her coming to me?" "Yes." "Well"--Jude for a moment felt an unprincipled and fiendish wish to annihilate his rival at all cost. By the exercise of that treachery which love for the same woman renders possible to men the most honourable in every other relation of life, he could send off Phillotson in agony and defeat by saying that the scandal was true, and that Sue had irretrievably committed herself with him. But his action did not respond for a moment to his animal instinct; and what he said was, "I am glad of your kindness in coming to talk plainly to me about it. You know what they say?--that I ought to marry her." "What!" "And I wish with all my soul I could!" Phillotson trembled, and his naturally pale face acquired a corpselike sharpness in its lines. "I had no idea that it was of this nature! God forbid!" "No, no!" said Jude aghast. "I thought you understood? I mean that were I in a position to marry her, or someone, and settle down, instead of living in lodgings here and there, I should be glad!" What he had really meant was simply that he loved her. "But--since this painful matter has been opened up--what really happened?" asked Phillotson, with the firmness of a man who felt that a sharp smart now was better than a long agony of suspense hereafter. "Cases arise, and this is one, when even ungenerous questions must be put to make false assumptions impossible, and to kill scandal." Jude explained readily; giving the whole series of adventures, including the night at the shepherd's, her wet arrival at his lodging, her indisposition from her immersion, their vigil of discussion, and his seeing her off next morning. "Well now," said Phillotson at the conclusion, "I take it as your final word, and I know I can believe you, that the suspicion which led to her rustication is an absolutely baseless one?" "It is," said Jude solemnly. "Absolutely. So help me God!" The schoolmaster rose. Each of the twain felt that the interview could not comfortably merge in a friendly discussion of their recent experiences, after the manner of friends; and when Jude had taken him round, and shown him some features of the renovation which the old cathedral was undergoing, Phillotson bade the young man good-day and went away. This visit took place about eleven o'clock in the morning; but no Sue appeared. When Jude went to his dinner at one he saw his beloved ahead of him in the street leading up from the North Gate, walking as if no way looking for him. Speedily overtaking her he remarked that he had asked her to come to him at the cathedral, and she had promised. "I have been to get my things from the college," she said-- an observation which he was expected to take as an answer, though it was not one. Finding her to be in this evasive mood he felt inclined to give her the information so long withheld. "You have not seen Mr. Phillotson to-day?" he ventured to inquire. "I have not. But I am not going to be cross-examined about him; and if you ask anything more I won't answer!" "It is very odd that--" He stopped, regarding her. "What?" "That you are often not so nice in your real presence as you are in your letters!" "Does it really seem so to you?" said she, smiling with quick curiosity. "Well, that's strange; but I feel just the same about you, Jude. When you are gone away I seem such a coldhearted----" As she knew his sentiment towards her Jude saw that they were getting upon dangerous ground. It was now, he thought, that he must speak as an honest man. But he did not speak, and she continued: "It was that which made me write and say--I didn't mind your loving me--if you wanted to, much!" The exultation he might have felt at what that implied, or seemed to imply, was nullified by his intention, and he rested rigid till he began: "I have never told you----" "Yes you have," murmured she. "I mean, I have never told you my history--all of it." "But I guess it. l know nearly." Jude looked up. Could she possibly know of that morning performance of his with Arabella; which in a few months had ceased to be a marriage more completely than by death? He saw that she did not. "I can't quite tell you here in the street," he went on with a gloomy tongue. "And you had better not come to my lodgings. Let us go in here." The building by which they stood was the market-house, it was the only place available; and they entered, the market being over, and the stalls and areas empty. He would have preferred a more congenial spot, but, as usually happens, in place of a romantic field or solemn aisle for his tale, it was told while they walked up and down over a floor littered with rotten cabbage-leaves, and amid all the usual squalors of decayed vegetable matter and unsaleable refuse. He began and finished his brief narrative, which merely led up to the information that he had married a wife some years earlier, and that his wife was living still. Almost before her countenance had time to change she hurried out the words, "Why didn't you tell me before!" "I couldn't. It seemed so cruel to tell it." "To yourself, Jude. So it was better to be cruel to me!" "No, dear darling!" cried Jude passionately. He tried to take her hand, but she withdrew it. Their old relations of confidence seemed suddenly to have ended, and the antagonisms of sex to sex were left without any counter-poising predilections. She was his comrade, friend, unconscious sweetheart no longer; and her eyes regarded him in estranged silence. "I was ashamed of the episode in my life which brought about the marriage," he continued. "I can't explain it precisely now. I could have done it if you had taken it differently!" "But how can I?" she burst out. "Here I have been saying, or writing, that-- that you might love me, or something of the sort!--just out of charity-- and all the time--oh, it is perfectly damnable how things are!" she said, stamping her foot in a nervous quiver. "You take me wrong, Sue! I never thought you cared for me at all, till quite lately; so I felt it did not matter! Do you care for me, Sue?--you know how I mean?--I don't like 'out of charity' at all!" It was a question which in the circumstances Sue did not choose to answer. "I suppose she--your wife--is--a very pretty woman even if she's wicked?" she asked quickly. "She's pretty enough, as far as that goes." "Prettier than I am, no doubt!" "You are not the least alike. And I have never seen her for years.... But she's sure to come back--they always do!" "How strange of you to stay apart from her like this!" said Sue, her trembling lip and lumpy throat belying her irony. "You, such a religious man. How will the demi-gods in your Pantheon--I mean those legendary persons you call saints-- intercede for you after this? Now if I had done such a thing it would have been different, and not remarkable, for I at least don't regard marriage as a sacrament. Your theories are not so advanced as your practice!" "Sue, you are terribly cutting when you like to be--a perfect Voltaire! But you must treat me as you will!" When she saw how wretched he was she softened, and trying to blink away her sympathetic tears said with all the winning reproachfulness of a heart-hurt woman: "Ah--you should have told me before you gave me that idea that you wanted to be allowed to love me! I had no feeling before that moment at the railway-station, except--" For once Sue was as miserable as he, in her attempts to keep herself free from emotion, and her less than half-success. "Don't cry, dear!" he implored. "I am--not crying--because I meant to--love you; but because of your want of--confidence!" They were quite screened from the market-square without, and he could not help putting out his arm towards her waist. His momentary desire was the means of her rallying. "No, no!" she said, drawing back stringently, and wiping her eyes. "Of course not! It would be hypocrisy to pretend that it would be meant as from my cousin; and it can't be in any other way." They moved on a dozen paces, and she showed herself recovered. It was distracting to Jude, and his heart would have ached less had she appeared anyhow but as she did appear; essentially large-minded and generous on reflection, despite a previous exercise of those narrow womanly humours on impulse that were necessary to give her sex. "I don't blame you for what you couldn't help," she said, smiling. "How should I be so foolish? I do blame you a little bit for not telling me before. But, after all, it doesn't matter. We should have had to keep apart, you see, even if this had not been in your life." "No, we shouldn't, Sue! This is the only obstacle." "You forget that I must have loved you, and wanted to be your wife, even if there had been no obstacle," said Sue, with a gentle seriousness which did not reveal her mind. "And then we are cousins, and it is bad for cousins to marry. And--I am engaged to somebody else. As to our going on together as we were going, in a sort of friendly way, the people round us would have made it unable to continue. Their views of the relations of man and woman are limited, as is proved by their expelling me from the school. Their philosophy only recognizes relations based on animal desire. The wide field of strong attachment where desire plays, at least, only a secondary part, is ignored by them--the part of--who is it?-- Venus Urania." Her being able to talk learnedly showed that she was mistress of herself again; and before they parted she had almost regained her vivacious glance, her reciprocity of tone, her gay manner, and her second-thought attitude of critical largeness towards others of her age and sex. He could speak more freely now. "There were several reasons against my telling you rashly. One was what I have said; another, that it was always impressed upon me that I ought not to marry--that I belonged to an odd and peculiar family-- the wrong breed for marriage." "Ah--who used to say that to you?" "My great-aunt. She said it always ended badly with us Fawleys." "That's strange. My father used to say the same to me!" They stood possessed by the same thought, ugly enough, even as an assumption: that a union between them, had such been possible, would have meant a terrible intensification of unfitness--two bitters in one dish. "Oh, but there can't be anything in it!" she said with nervous lightness. "Our family have been unlucky of late years in choosing mates-- that's all." And then they pretended to persuade themselves that all that had happened was of no consequence, and that they could still be cousins and friends and warm correspondents, and have happy genial times when they met, even if they met less frequently than before. Their parting was in good friendship, and yet Jude's last look into her eyes was tinged with inquiry, for he felt that he did not even now quite know her mind. 与此同时，有个中年人正在上面那个写信的女人身上做着非凡的美梦。他就是里查•费乐生。前不久他从基督堂附近的拉姆登男女合校的乡村小学迁回本乡沙氏顿，在一所规模较大的男生小学任教。该镇坐落在一个山崖上，拉直了算，两地相距六十英里。 只要对那地方和周遭一切瞧上一眼，就足以了解那位老师已经把他长期热中的计利和梦想通通放弃了，取而代之的是个新梦想，不过这新梦想无论同教会，还是同文学都一点不沾边。他天生不善料理实际生活，现在却为一个一个全属实际的目标，也就是为了养得起一个妻子而挣钱和攒钱。她要是愿意，还可以管理紧挨着他的小学的一所女校。正是出自这个打算，他才劝说她去进修，何况她并不准备匆匆忙忙跟他结婚。 大约在裘德从马利格林移居麦尔切斯特，并且在那儿同苏一起闹出风波的那段时间，老师也在沙氏顿新任小学的新校舍安顿停当。他修理了所有家具，把书籍一一插在书架上，钉好了钉子。一切就绪之后，在昏暗的寒冬夜晚，他开始坐在小会客室里，重理旧业，再做研究，其中一项就是罗马占领时期的不列颠古文物；一位国立小学教师为这门学问耗费精力固然换不来任何报酬，但他从放弃上大学的宏愿后就乐此不疲了。相对来说，这个领域还是到那时尚未开采的矿藏。对于类似他那样的人，住在那样偏僻闭塞的地方，古文物遗址可谓俯拾皆是，研究起来，日积月累，必定会对那个时期的文明做出新论断，与流行见解大异其趣，足以令人耳目一新。 从表面看，费乐生重做调查研究无疑是他目前的业余爱好——他可以独来独往，深入到遍布着湿地埂路、水道和坟冢的旷野荒郊；可以闭门玩赏收集到的古陶、陈瓦和各色镶嵌物；他还可以以此为冠冕堂皇的理由，不必挨家挨户去拜访邻居，虽然左邻右舍都表示过愿和他友好来往。然而这毕竟不是他的真正理由，也不是全部理由。只要看看那个月与平常不大相同的某个晚上，就会恍然大悟。沙氏顿在山崖上，下面是西向绵亘无垠的山谷，他的窗户开在镇上一个凸出的犄角地方，时间已近半夜，灯光依然射到窗外，仿佛申明此处有人还在埋头研究。其实满不是那么回事，他什么也没研究。 那间居室的内部——书籍、教师的宽松的外套，他伏案的姿势，甚至炉火的跳动，在展示着一个始终孜孜兀兀、研究不辍的庄严过程，再看他苦心孤诣，全无优越条件可资依傍，那就更非难能可贵一语所能尽。不过这个过程虽然到前些日子是真实可信的，此刻却大谬不然了，因为他心无旁骛的不在于历史本身，而是一份由他口述，并由一只刚健的女性之手记录下来的，于他有历史意义的记录。他这会儿正对着字字清晰的笔记发呆。 随后他从一个抽屉里拿出一叠细心扎好的信件，若拿这年头通信频繁的标准比较，为数未免少得可怜。所有信的内件依然装在信到时的原来信封里，信上笔迹一如那份有历史意义的笔记，具有相同的女性特点。他一份份打开，看得津津有味。乍一看，也许觉得这些小小的一张纸实在不像有什么叫人咂摸不完的东西。它们写得简单明了、直言不讳，信未署名“苏•柏——”；属于那类短时间分别后所写的信，看完了就顺手撕掉。至于内容主要不外乎谈些进修学校上课情况等等的经验，写信人那天一写完肯定把它们忘得一于二净。其中有一封才到，那位年轻的女人说她已经收到他那封体谅人的信，既然他以后将依她的愿望避免常去学校看望她，足证他为人宽厚，令人感佩。（学校这地方对来访者多有刁难，她非常希望她同他订婚一事不要走露风声，如果他频频来访，难免喧腾众口。）这些话，老师揣摩来揣摩去。女人不让爱她的男人常去看她，还因为他答应了，感激不尽，要是他该满意的话，到底哪一桩该满意呢？这个问题在他是个问葫芦，难解其中奥妙。 他拉开另一个抽屉，从中找着一个信封，打里面抽出苏孩子时一张相片，是老早以前他还不认识她时候拍的；她手里拿着小篮子，站在凉棚底下，还有一张，她已经长成年轻的女人了，黑眼睛黑头发使她在照片上显得别具风韵，非常美丽，在她的轻松愉快的气质中，多思虑的习性已灼然可见。这张相片跟她给裘德的一样，她也可以把它随便赠给别人。费乐生拿着它往唇边送，才送到一半就停了，因为他对她说的费解的话还满腹狐疑，无奈何只吻了吻贴相片的纸版，吻时一往情深，就连十八岁小伙子那种倾心相爱劲儿，也不免逊色。 老师的脸不怎么健康，显得老气横秋，又因为胡子留的样式，也就愈显老气了。他赋性耿介，有君子之风，一言一行必求光明磊落，无愧于心。他说话有点慢吞吞，但口气诚恳，间有打顿，却无伤大雅。头发鬈曲，渐见灰白，从头顶中部向周遭披开。前额有四条皱纹，晚上看书才戴眼镜。他并非对女人无动于衷，而是刻意学问而不得不敛情自抑，情形大概如此，所以他迄今未同哪个女人缔结良缘。 当他不在男孩子眼皮底下时，像那样默不作声的举动已重复多次，习以为常了。一向腼腆的老师现在正因苏的态度惴惴不安，孩子们打量他时，眼睛一扫，尖得像穿透了他的心，老是叫他受不了，弄得他天天一大早就想避开他们锥子样的目光，唯恐他们琢磨出他梦中也没忘的心事。 他慷慨同意苏表明的愿望之后，就不常去进修学校看苏了；到后来，他的耐心已经耗尽，再也熬不下去，于是在一个礼拜六上午出发去找她，给她个措手不及。他在校门口等了几分钟，待她出来；但是里边传出来她已经离校——也无妨认为被开除——的消息。由于事前没得到预告或讽示，弄得他顿时晕头转向。他转身就走，几乎连眼前的道路都认不出来了。 实际上，尽管她出事已有两礼拜之久，她却连一行也没写给她的求婚者。他前思后想了一下，觉得她没告诉他还说明不了什么，她因为自己不免有该受指责的地方，以女人天生面嫩好强而论，保持沉默也在情理之中，不足好奇。 学校的人已经把她的去向告诉他；眼下既然还不必为她的生活条件担忧，他就转而把满腔怒火发泄到进修学校委员会身上。费乐生六神无主，不觉走进了旁边的大教堂。因为那儿正修复，拆得乱七八糟，他也顾不得屁股沾上脏印子，就坐到一块易切石上，两眼无神，随着工人动作转，猛然间看出来其中就有那众口一词的罪魁祸首，苏的情人裘德。 裘德打从他在耶路撒冷模型旁边见过他从前崇拜的这位人物之后，再没跟他说过话。事有凑巧，他目睹了费乐生在有边篱的小路上试探着对苏做了求爱的动作，从此这年轻人心里对他滋生了异乎寻常的恶感，不愿想到他，也不愿见到他，不愿跟他互通音问。而且在他知道费乐生至少赢得她的许诺之后，他索性承认此后决不愿见到那位长辈或者听到他什么事，也不想知道他治学方面的进展，甚至连他的人品也不再想象有什么过人之处。老师来找苏，正好是他跟她约好、等她来的那天。所以他一瞧见老师坐在大教堂的中殿上，而且看出来他正走过来要跟他说话，觉得非常尴尬。费乐生自己也很尴尬，反倒没看出裘德怎么样。 裘德过到他这边来，两个人躲开别的工人，走到费乐生刚坐过的地方，裘德递给他一块帆布当垫子，告诉他坐在光石头上有危险。 “是，是。”费乐生一边坐下来，一边心不在焉地说，眼睛盯着地面，仿佛要极力想起来他这会儿究竟是在哪儿。“我耽误不了你多大工夫。因为听说你近来见过我的小朋友苏，就是为这个。我想就这件事跟你谈谈。我不过是想问问——她怎么啦？” “我想我都知道！”裘德急忙说。“是她离开进修学校、到我这儿来的事吧？” “就是。” “好吧；”——裘德一刹那突然冒出一股伤天害理、心狠手辣的冲动，要不惜一切把他的情敌一举毁掉。男子汉素常为人处世光明磊落，豪迈大方，可是一跟人争起同一个女人的爱情，就变得阴贼忍刻，不惜狠下毒手。裘德只要说一句丑闻一点不假，苏已经跟他跟定了，就可以把费乐生打得一败涂地，终生受罪。不过他的行动在这一刹那却没有跟上他的动物本能；他说的却是：“你跟我直截了当地说这事，这番好意我领了。你知道她们怎么说的？——顶好是我跟她结婚。” “什么！” “我也是巴不得如愿以偿呢！” 费乐生浑身哆嗦起来，他的脸天生苍白，这一刻上面的线条变得死人般僵硬刻板了。“我可一点没想到事情闹到了这个地步哟！上帝不答应哟！” “不是这么回事，不是这么回事呀。”裘德吓得直说。“我还当你听懂了呢！我这意思是，要是按我这会儿的处境，能跟她或是别的女人结了婚，成了家，安居乐业，用不着东跑西颠，老换地方住，那我就觉着太美啦！” 他真正的意思不过是说他爱她而已。 “可是——这么叫人受不了的事情既然闹开了——它到底是怎么回事呢？”费乐生问，这时他表现出男子汉的镇定果决，因为与其长期担惊害怕，受尽煎熬，不如爽爽快快，一了百了。“大凡出了事，就如同这个，就顾不得器量狭小，只好刨根问底，弄个水落石出，才好攻破谣言，消灭丑闻。” 裘德很快解释了一遍；把那次奇特的历程从头到尾都介绍了，包括他们那晚上怎么会呆在牧羊人家里；她怎么浑身湿透了，到了他的住处；她怎么因为泡了水，泡得生了病；他们俩怎么几乎通宵达旦地讨论不休；第二天早晨他怎么送她上火车。 “好极啦，”听完之后费乐生说，“我看你是把底都交啦，我知道你说的是可信的，也认为她们瞎猜疑，逼她退了学，绝对没道理。” “没道理。”裘德十分严肃地说。“绝对没道理。上帝可以做证。” 老师站起来。他们两个心里都明白，经过这番交谈，他们再不能以朋友身份彼此心安理得地讨论他们近来的经历了。于是裘德领着他到处走了走，指给他看大教堂正在全面修复的特色，然后费乐生向年轻人告别，自己走了。 费乐生找到他大概在上午十一点，但是苏始终没露面。裘德一点钟去吃饭，忽然在通往“北门”的街上瞧见他心爱的女人正在他前面，看不出来一点要找他的意思。他赶紧快步追上去，说他原先就要她上大教堂他那儿去，她也答应过。 “我是到学校取东西。”她说——这句话虽然算不上回答，她却盼着他当回答就行了。他一看她这样答非所问，躲躲闪闪，觉得这会儿已经到时候了，非得把他长久避而不谈的情况说给她听不可。 “难道你今天没瞧见费乐生先生？”他乍着胆子质问她。 “没瞧见。我可不是来叫人盘问他的事的，你要是再问什么，我是决不答理！” “那可太奇啦——”他停下来，盯着她。 “什么奇不奇？” “你平常在人前可不像信里那样讨喜哪！” “你真觉着这样！”她微笑着说，带出来一闪而过的想弄明白的意思。“唉，这可真怪啦，可是裘德呀，我可觉着待你始终一个样呢。你只要一走，我就觉着像那么个无情无义的——” 她既然知道他对她的感情，他深深感到此时此刻他们正滑向一失足成千古恨的深渊。他一个堂堂正正男子汉，一定得把一切都讲个一清二楚才行。 但是他没说出来，而她却接着说：“就因为我那么想，我才写，才说——你爱我，我没什么不愿意的——你想爱就爱吧，怎么爱都行！” 按说她话里的含义，或者似乎这样的意思，本当叫他欣喜欲狂，可是他已经胸有成竹，就把这样的情感压灭了。他本立在那儿，没有动静，半天才说： “我还压根儿没跟你说——” “你说过啦。”她嘟囔着。 “我的意思是，我压根儿没把我的历史——全部历史告诉你。” “不过我猜到啦。” 裘德抬头看；难道她竟然听说过他那个早晨跟阿拉贝拉上演的那出戏；那几个月后比当事人死亡还彻底失败的婚姻？他看出来她并不知道。 “我在街上不便跟你都说。”他接着说，声音闷闷的。“再说你还是别到我住的地方为好。咱们就到这里边去好啦。” 他们站的地方旁边有座建筑物，是个市场，他们只好凑合着在那儿呆呆，于是进去了。那时已经下市，摊位和场区空空的，没什么人。他当然也想找个比较合适的地方，无奈跟通常情形一样，既没有充满浪漫情调的郊野，也没有气度庄严的教堂走廊做背景，只好踩着狼藉满地的烂苞菜叶子，在大堆腐烂变味的蔬菜和卖不掉的破烂东西之间来回转悠。一边走，他一边谈自己的经历。从开头到说完，不多几句，无非他早几年娶了老婆，眼下她还活着。她脸上还没变色，就马上迸出一句： “你干吗早不跟我说！” “我办不到。讲这事儿似乎太残酷。” “那是对你残酷哟，裘德！对我要是残酷，那反倒好！” “不对，你这么说不对，亲爱的宝贝儿！”裘德动情地大声说。他要拉她手，可她把手缩了回来。他们原来历时已久的推心置腹的关系猝然终止了，剩下的不过是男女之间无以缓和，也难以迁就的对抗情绪。她再也不成其为他的同志、朋友和生来就是他的心上人了。 “我这辈子闹出来的这段婚姻，我觉得真丢人哪。”他继续说。‘我这会儿也没法说明。要是你对这件事换个看法，我倒好说明白。” “我怎么能换个看法呢？”她一下子发作了。“我不是一直写，一直说——你可以爱我，或者这类话嘛。——这全是发慈悲，为你好呀——到头来——啊，样样事一团糟，真恨死人哪！”她说，又急义气，神经质地哆嗦起来，直跺脚。 “苏呀，你错会我的意思啦！我压根儿就没想到你对我有意，到最近才明白过来，所以我觉得没关系。——你对我有意，还是大概这样呢，苏呀？——你明白我这话什么意思吧？我可不喜欢你说什么‘发慈悲，做好事’这样话！” 这个问题，当下的情势也不容苏回答。 “我想她——你那位夫人——就算她人不正派吧——也是个——挺漂亮的女人吧？” “要说的话，她还够漂亮的。” “比我漂亮，那没错啦。” “你跟她完全是两码事呀。这几年我一直没见过她……不过她总是要回来的，她们这类人向来是这样！” “你对她这么甩手不管，也太少见啦！”她说，故作讥讽，实则嘴唇颤动，喉头哽咽。“你，还是个信教信得诚的人呢。你那个万神殿里托生为人的神仙——我是指你称之为圣人的那伙传奇人物——知道这件事，该怎么样替你打圆场呢？哪，要是我干了这样事儿，那可就不一样，我根本不当回事，因为我至少没把结婚当圣礼。你那套理论可跟不上你实践那么进步哟！” “苏呀，你一想当个——十足的伏尔泰，嘴就跟刀子一样厉害！反正你怎么待我，都随你便！” 她看见他难过到那种地步，心也就软下来了，眨眨眼睛把眼泪眨掉，然后带着个伤透了心的女人的得理不饶人的气势说：“哎——你——想到求我爱你，就应该先把那件事跟我说才对！在火车站那回子之前，我还没那样感觉呢，除了——”这回苏可是跟他一样悲伤起来，虽然她极力要控制自己的感情，还是不大能奏效。 “别哭啦，亲爱的！”他恳求着。 “我——没哭呀——因为我本来就——不爱你呀——倒是因为你对我——不信任哪！” 市场外面的广场完全把他们遮住了，他情不自禁地把胳臂伸到她腰那儿。他一刹那的欲望反而做成了她振作起来、借题发挥的机会。“不行，不行！”她板着脸往后一退，擦了擦眼泪。“既然口口声声咱们是表亲，这么一装腔作势就透着虚伪啦；不管怎么着，是表亲就没门儿。” 他们往前走了十多步光景，这时她显得镇静如常了。裘德却让她刚才那下于弄得要发狂。要是她没来那一套，随便她怎么样，他的心也不会那么痛楚，其实她那样的表现无非一时冲动，因为她也跟别的女人一样，受不得半点委屈，所以才大发脾气，要说是女人，本来在所难免；可是她这人心胸宽、度量大，凡事一经多方考虑，是不会苛求于人的。 “你当初办不到的事，我才不怪你呢。”她说，破涕为笑。“我哪儿会蠢到那个份儿上呢？我是因为你先前没跟我说，才怪了你一点点。不过，说到底，这又算得了什么。咱们本来就不该凑到一块儿，就算你生活里没有过那个事，还不是一样？” “那可不行呀，苏呀，咱们不能那样哟！那件事只能算个障碍！” “你忘啦，就算没那个障碍，也得我爱你，想做你的妻子才行哪。”苏说，口气既严肃，又宛转，心意到底如何一点没露出来。“再说咱们是表亲，表亲联姻总不是好事，何况——我已经跟人订了婚啦。至于说咱们还照以前那样一块儿出出进进，我看周围的人也饶不了咱们。他们对两性之间的关系看得太狭隘了，她们把我从那个学校开除了，还不足以证明吗？他们的哲学只承认以兽欲为基础的两性关系。说到强烈的男恋女慕，那本来就是个广大的感情世界，情欲无论如何只占个次要地位；他们那些人有眼无珠，根本不通。那是谁的领域呢？是维纳斯•尤莱尼亚的！” 她能这样旁征博引，滔滔不绝，说明她已经神完气足；分手以前，她已照常一样顾盼神飞，应对从容，意态欣欣然；对于和她年龄相若、性别相同的人的态度固然不免有所挑剔，可是一经反思，她还是宽大为怀，不再计较。 他这会儿也好从容自在地说话了。“有好几个理由不许我仓卒行事，才没跟你说。一个我已经说过；再一个一直不断地影响我——我命里不该结婚——我属于那个又古怪又特别的家门——那个生来不宜结婚的怪种。” “哦——谁跟你这么说来着？” “我姑婆。她说咱们福来家的人结婚总没好结果。” “这可奇啦，我爸爸先前也常跟我说这样的话！” 他们站在那儿，心里都让同样的思想占据了，且不说别的，就算假设吧，那也够丑恶啦。因为万一可能的话，他们结合到一块儿，那不是要颠倒错乱到了极端可怕的程度——一个盘子里盛着两道苦菜吗？ “哦，这说来说去毫无意义！”她说，面上故作轻松，内里其实紧张。“咱们家那些年选择对象都挺不吉利——就是这么回事儿！” 于是他们装出来自己已经想开了的样子，刚才那些事没什么影响，他们仍旧是表亲、朋友和热情的通信人，见面时还会亲切愉快，哪怕比以前见面机会少了也没关系。他们在深厚的友情中惜别，然而裘德看了她最后一眼，不免心里打鼓，因为就在那阵子，他还是揣摩不透她的真心实意到底如何。 Part 3 Chapter 7 TIDINGS from Sue a day or two after passed across Jude like a withering blast. Before reading the letter he was led to suspect that its contents were of a somewhat serious kind by catching sight of the signature-- which was in her full name, never used in her correspondence with him since her first note: MY DEAR JUDE,--I have something to tell you which perhaps you will not be surprised to hear, though certainly it may strike you as being accelerated (as the railway companies say of their trains). Mr. Phillotson and I are to be married quite soon-- in three or four weeks. We had intended, as you know, to wait till I had gone through my course of training and obtained my certificate, so as to assist him, if necessary, in the teaching. But he generously says he does not see any object in waiting, now I am not at the training school. It is so good of him, because the awkwardness of my situation has really come about by my fault in getting expelled. Wish me joy. Remember I say you are to, and you mustn't refuse!-- Your affectionate cousin, SUSANNA FLORENCE MARY BRIDEHEAD. Jude staggered under the news; could eat no breakfast; and kept on drinking tea because his mouth was so dry. Then presently he went back to his work and laughed the usual bitter laugh of a man so confronted. Everything seemed turning to satire. And yet, what could the poor girl do? he asked himself: and felt worse than shedding tears. "O Susanna Florence Mary!" he said as he worked. "You don't know what marriage means!" Could it be possible that his announcement of his own marriage had pricked her on to this, just as his visit to her when in liquor may have pricked her on to her engagement? To be sure, there seemed to exist these other and sufficient reasons, practical and social, for her decision; but Sue was not a very practical or calculating person; and he was compelled to think that a pique at having his secret sprung upon her had moved her to give way to Phillotson's probable representations, that the best course to prove how unfounded were the suspicions of the school authorities would be to marry him off-hand, as in fulfilment of an ordinary engagement. Sue had, in fact, been placed in an awkward corner. Poor Sue! He determined to play the Spartan; to make the best of it, and support her; but he could not write the requested good wishes for a day or two. Meanwhile there came another note from his impatient little dear: Jude, will you give me away? I have nobody else who could do it so conveniently as you, being the only married relation I have here on the spot, even if my father were friendly enough to be willing, which he isn't. I hope you won't think it a trouble? I have been looking at the marriage service in the prayer-book, and it seems to me very humiliating that a giver-away should be required at all. According to the ceremony as there printed, my bridegroom chooses me of his own will and pleasure; but I don't choose him. Somebody GIVES me to him, like a she-ass or she-goat, or any other domestic animal. Bless your exalted views of woman, O churchman! But I forget: I am no longer privileged to tease you.--Ever, SUSANNA FLORENCE MARY BRIDEHEAD. Jude screwed himself up to heroic key; and replied: MY DEAR SUE,--Of course I wish you joy! And also of course I will give you away. What I suggest is that, as you have no house of your own, you do not marry from your school friend's, but from mine. It would be more proper, I think, since I am, as you say, the person nearest related to you in this part of the world. I don't see why you sign your letter in such a new and terribly formal way? Surely you care a bit about me still!--Ever your affectionate, JUDE. What had jarred on him even more than the signature was a little sting he had been silent on--the phrase "married relation"-- What an idiot it made him seem as her lover! If Sue had written that in satire, he could hardly forgive her; if in suffering-- ah, that was another thing! His offer of his lodging must have commended itself to Phillotson at any rate, for the schoolmaster sent him a line of warm thanks, accepting the convenience. Sue also thanked him. Jude immediately moved into more commodious quarters, as much to escape the espionage of the suspicious landlady who had been one cause of Sue's unpleasant experience as for the sake of room. Then Sue wrote to tell him the day fixed for the wedding; and Jude decided, after inquiry, that she should come into residence on the following Saturday, which would allow of a ten days' stay in the city prior to the ceremony, sufficiently representing a nominal residence of fifteen. She arrived by the ten o'clock train on the day aforesaid, Jude not going to meet her at the station, by her special request, that he should not lose a morning's work and pay, she said (if this were her true reason). But so well by this time did he know Sue that the remembrance of their mutual sensitiveness at emotional crises might, he thought, have weighed with her in this. When he came home to dinner she had taken possession of her apartment. She lived in the same house with him, but on a different floor, and they saw each other little, an occasional supper being the only meal they took together, when Sue's manner was something like that of a scared child. What she felt he did not know; their conversation was mechanical, though she did not look pale or ill. Phillotson came frequently, but mostly when Jude was absent. On the morning of the wedding, when Jude had given himself a holiday, Sue and her cousin had breakfast together for the first and last time during this curious interval; in his room--the parlour-- which he had hired for the period of Sue's residence. Seeing, as women do, how helpless he was in making the place comfortable, she bustled about. "What's the matter, Jude?" she said suddenly. He was leaning with his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands, looking into a futurity which seemed to be sketched out on the tablecloth. "Oh--nothing!" "You are 'father', you know. That's what they call the man who gives you away." Jude could have said "Phillotson's age entitles him to be called that!" But he would not annoy her by such a cheap retort. She talked incessantly, as if she dreaded his indulgence in reflection, and before the meal was over both he and she wished they had not put such confidence in their new view of things, and had taken breakfast apart. What oppressed Jude was the thought that, having done a wrong thing of this sort himself, he was aiding and abetting the woman he loved in doing a like wrong thing, instead of imploring and warning her against it. It was on his tongue to say, "You have quite made up your mind?" After breakfast they went out on an errand together moved by a mutual thought that it was the last opportunity they would have of indulging in unceremonious companionship. By the irony of fate, and the curious trick in Sue's nature of tempting Providence at critical times, she took his arm as they walked through the muddy street--a thing she had never done before in her life--and on turning the corner they found themselves close to a grey perpendicular church with a low-pitched roof-- the church of St. Thomas. "That's the church," said Jude. "Where I am going to be married?" "Yes." "Indeed!" she exclaimed with curiosity. "How I should like to go in and see what the spot is like where I am so soon to kneel and do it." Again he said to himself, "She does not realize what marriage means!" He passively acquiesced in her wish to go in, and they entered by the western door. The only person inside the gloomy building was a charwoman cleaning. Sue still held Jude's arm, almost as if she loved him. Cruelly sweet, indeed, she had been to him that morning; but his thoughts of a penance in store for her were tempered by an ache: ... I can find no way How a blow should fall, such as falls on men, Nor prove too much for your womanhood! They strolled undemonstratively up the nave towards the altar railing, which they stood against in silence, turning then and walking down the nave again, her hand still on his arm, precisely like a couple just married. The too suggestive incident, entirely of her making, nearly broke down Jude. "I like to do things like this," she said in the delicate voice of an epicure in emotions, which left no doubt that she spoke the truth. "I know you do!" said Jude. "They are interesting, because they have probably never been done before. I shall walk down the church like this with my husband in about two hours, shan't I!" "No doubt you will!" "Was it like this when you were married?" "Good God, Sue--don't be so awfully merciless! ... There, dear one, I didn't mean it!" "Ah--you are vexed!" she said regretfully, as she blinked away an access of eye moisture. "And I promised never to vex you! ... I suppose I ought not to have asked you to bring me in here. Oh, I oughtn't! I see it now. My curiosity to hunt up a new sensation always leads me into these scrapes. Forgive me! ... You will, won't you, Jude?" The appeal was so remorseful that Jude's eyes were even wetter than hers as he pressed her hand for Yes. "Now we'll hurry away, and I won't do it any more!" she continued humbly; and they came out of the building, Sue intending to go on to the station to meet Phillotson. But the first person they encountered on entering the main street was the schoolmaster himself, whose train had arrived sooner than Sue expected. There was nothing really to demur to in her leaning on Jude's arm; but she withdrew her hand, and Jude thought that Phillotson had looked surprised. "We have been doing such a funny thing!" said she, smiling candidly. "We've been to the church, rehearsing as it were. Haven't we, Jude?" "How?" said Phillotson curiously. Jude inwardly deplored what he thought to be unnecessary frankness; but she had gone too far not to explain all, which she accordingly did, telling him how they had marched up to the altar. Seeing how puzzled Phillotson seemed, Jude said as cheerfully as he could, "I am going to buy her another little present. Will you both come to the shop with me?" "No," said Sue, "I'll go on to the house with him"; and requesting her lover not to be a long time she departed with the schoolmaster. Jude soon joined them at his rooms, and shortly after they prepared for the ceremony. Phillotson's hair was brushed to a painful extent, and his shirt collar appeared stiffer than it had been for the previous twenty years. Beyond this he looked dignified and thoughtful, and altogether a man of whom it was not unsafe to predict that he would make a kind and considerate husband. That he adored Sue was obvious; and she could almost be seen to feel that she was undeserving his adoration. Although the distance was so short he had hired a fly from the Red Lion, and six or seven women and children had gathered by the door when they came out. The schoolmaster and Sue were unknown, though Jude was getting to be recognized as a citizen; and the couple were judged to be some relations of his from a distance, nobody supposing Sue to have been a recent pupil at the training school. In the carriage Jude took from his pocket his extra little wedding-present, which turned out to be two or three yards of white tulle, which he threw over her bonnet and all, as a veil. "It looks so odd over a bonnet," she said. "I'll take the bonnet off." "Oh no--let it stay," said Phillotson. And she obeyed. When they had passed up the church and were standing in their places Jude found that the antecedent visit had certainly taken off the edge of this performance, but by the time they were half-way on with the service he wished from his heart that he had not undertaken the business of giving her away. How could Sue have had the temerity to ask him to do it-- a cruelty possibly to herself as well as to him? Women were different from men in such matters. Was it that they were, instead of more sensitive, as reputed, more callous, and less romantic; or were they more heroic? Or was Sue simply so perverse that she wilfully gave herself and him pain for the odd and mournful luxury of practising long-suffering in her own person, and of being touched with tender pity for him at having made him practise it? He could perceive that her face was nervously set, and when they reached the trying ordeal of Jude giving her to Phillotson she could hardly command herself; rather, however, as it seemed, from her knowledge of what her cousin must feel, whom she need not have had there at all, than from self-consideration. Possibly she would go on inflicting such pains again and again, and grieving for the sufferer again and again, in all her colossal inconsistency. Phillotson seemed not to notice, to be surrounded by a mist which prevented his seeing the emotions of others. As soon as they had signed their names and come away, and the suspense was over, Jude felt relieved. The meal at his lodging was a very simple affair, and at two o'clock they went off. In crossing the pavement to the fly she looked back; and there was a frightened light in her eyes. Could it be that Sue had acted with such unusual foolishness as to plunge into she knew not what for the sake of asserting her independence of him, of retaliating on him for his secrecy? Perhaps Sue was thus venturesome with men because she was childishly ignorant of that side of their natures which wore out women's hearts and lives. When her foot was on the carriage-step she turned round, saying that she had forgotten something. Jude and the landlady offered to get it. "No," she said, running back. "It is my handkerchief. I know where I left it." Jude followed her back. She had found it, and came holding it in her hand. She looked into his eyes with her own tearful ones, and her lips suddenly parted as if she were going to avow something. But she went on; and whatever she had meant to say remained unspoken. 一两天后，苏的信到了，犹如一阵摧毁万物的恶风猛撼着裘德。 他还没看信的内容，先一眼瞧见了她的签字，是她一本正经写的姓名全称，不简不缩，她从头一封信起，向来没这样用过。 我的亲爱的裘德：现有一事奉告，谅你得悉后当不为意外，不过你难免顿生速度加快（铁路公司的火车用语）之感。费乐生先生和我很快就要结婚，约在三四个礼拜之后。你当然知道，我们原意是先要等我完成进修，领到文凭，并且如有必要，能以协助他教学，此后再办结婚之事。但是他慷慨表示，既然我已不在进修学校就读，似无再等下去之理。这实属他的美意，因为我确实由于一时不慎，致遭开除，处境十分困难。 给我道喜吧。务必记住我要你这样做，不得拒绝！你的亲爱的表亲 苏珊娜•弗洛仑•马利•柏瑞和 这个消息对他真是五雷轰顶；他吃不下饭，口干舌燥，拼命喝茶。过了会儿，他就去上班了，也跟所有碰到这类情况的人一样，大声发出苦笑。万事万物似乎都在跟他作对。然而他又自问：可怜的姑娘不这样，又能怎么办？他觉得自己就是痛哭流涕，也于事无补。 “唉，苏珊娜•弗洛仑•马利呀！”他一边干活一边说。“你可不知道结婚是什么滋味哟！” 上回他醉醺醺跑到她那儿去，逼得她订了婚，难道这一回因为他对她讲了自己结婚的事，又逼得她走这一步吗？不错，说不定还有实际的和社会的因素促成她的决定。不过苏才不是个重实际、使心眼的人哪。他不能不认为，是他吐露的秘密对她是如此意外，因而她才在盛怒之下，给费乐生的并无把握的请求开了方便之门，并且要证明学校当局的谰言纯属无稽之谈，像一般履行婚约那样，跟费乐生仓卒结婚是顶好的办法。实际上，苏已经被逼得走投无路了。可怜的苏呀！ 他决心扮演侠客角色；为给她撑腰，一定要演得淋漓尽致。不过他还是有一两天没法接她的请求写信表示良好的祝愿。而这会儿，他那可爱的小宝贝儿却耐不住了，又来了一封信： 裘德：你愿不愿为我主婚？我在此地别无他人能像你办这样的事那么方便合适，因为你是我在此地的唯一已婚亲属。即使我父亲的态度好了起来，有这么个意思，实际上他也不肯办。我在祈祷书里看过结婚仪式中一节，无论如何总得有主婚人在场，我觉得真是出洋相。据那上面印的仪文说，我的新郎是按他的意愿和爱好选中了我，可我不是选中他。是某个人替我做主，把我交给了他，我就跟一头母驴或一头母羊，或者别的什么家畜一样。啊，教会的使者哟，敬祝你对人的见解那么超群迈众哟！可是我又忘了，我无权再返你玩啦！——永久的 苏珊娜•弗洛仑•马利•柏瑞和 裘德一咬牙，亮出了英雄气概，回信说： 我的亲爱的苏，我当然给你道喜，当然也当你的主婚人。我提个建议，你现在既然没你的住所，你就从我的住所，而不是你的朋友的地方，出门子吧。我认为这样做比较恰当，因为如你所说，我是你在世界上这块地方最近的亲人哪。 我不懂何以你在信末签名用那么一种又新鲜而又郑重得肉麻的方式？的确你至少还想着我一点点呢。——永远是你的亲爱的 裘德 其实他感到尤为刺心的倒不仅仅是她的署名方式，而是他对之保持缄默的所谓“已婚的亲属”的说法——她把他这人这么一形容，弄得他简直像个二百五了。如果她这样写是意在讽刺，他很难原谅她；如果是因为苦恼不堪——那又当别论啦！ 他提出用他的住所无论如何博得了费乐生的赞许，因为小学教师寄来一封短简，对他热烈地表示谢意，接受了这个权宜办法。苏也向他道谢。裘德立即迁人一个比较宽敞的公寓，他之所以换地方是为避开那位疑神疑鬼的房东太太的窥伺，因为她正是造成苏的倒霉的经历的起因。 接着苏来信告诉她婚礼日期已定。经过打听，裘德决定要她下礼拜六来住那个地方，也就可以在婚礼前在镇内居留十天。对法定婚前应居留十五天的期限，名义上完全可以马虎充数了。 她那天乘上午十点钟火车到达，根据她的要求，他没去车站接她，因为她说他不必因此白白误半天工，少拿半天工资（假定她这个理由果真），但是他此时此刻对苏了解如此之深，知道她这是由于前一阵感情纠葛的危机所引起的相互之间的过敏反应，在她是记忆犹新，影响犹在，只好出此一策。他到家吃饭的时候，看见她已经在自己的居室安顿就绪。 她同他住同一所房子，但楼层不同，彼此极少见面，偶然在～块儿吃晚饭，仅此而已。苏的神情像一个受惊的孩子。他不了解她心里什么感觉；他们的谈话纯属敷衍性质；不过她脸色并不苍白，也不像不舒服。费乐生常来，大多乘裘德不在家的时候。婚礼那天，裘德给自己放了一天假，苏和她的表亲，在这个希奇的短暂过渡期，头一回，也是最后一回，在一块儿吃早饭。饭是在他的屋子（小起坐室）里吃的，他是因为苏住在这儿，才临时租了这间屋子。跟所有女人一样，她一眼就看出来，要把它收拾得舒舒服服，他是无能为力的，于是她风风火火地给他整理了一番。 “你怎么啦，裘德？”她突然说。 他胳臂肘支在桌子上，手托着下巴颏，眼盯着桌布，仿佛上面画出来一幅飘渺的未来景象。 “哦——没事儿！” “你知道，你现在是‘爸爸’啦。凡是主婚人，人家都这么叫他。” 裘德本想说“费乐生的年纪才够格让人叫爸爸呢！”可是他不想这么庸俗地抵她。 她话说得没完没了，好像她生怕裘德一味陷入沉思。饭没吃完，两个人都觉得在这新局面下装得那么安之若素太没意思，于是各到一边去吃了。裘德心里倍感沉重，因为他不断在想自己当初做过这类错事，如今他不单没恳求她、警告她别干这样的事，反而帮助和鼓励自己爱的人做同样的错事。他欲言又止，“你真是拿定了主意吗？” 早饭后，他们一块儿外出，他们的心也想到一块儿了，因为这是他们最后一次能随心所欲，不因俗礼而拘泥的相伴活动的机会。既是命运的捉弄，也因为苏天性爱在严重的转折关头，开点玩笑，侮慢神明，所以她就挽起了裘德的胳臂一路走过泥泞的街道——她这样做还是这辈子头一回呢——转过街角，他们发现走到了一座屋顶缓斜的灰色垂直式教堂——圣•托马斯教堂前面。 “就是那座教堂。”裘德说。 “我就在那儿结婚？” “对。” “真是呀！”她由于好奇心驱使大声喊叫出来。“我可真想进去开开眼，瞧瞧我待会儿就跪下来行礼的地方什么样。” 他再次对自己说，“她还不知道结婚什么滋味呢！” 他莫奈何只好顺从她要进去的愿望，就从教堂西门进去了。教堂内部光线暗淡，只有一个女工在打扫。她仍然挽着他，简直跟爱他一样。那个早晨，她对他那么甜蜜，而甜蜜中含有残酷意味。他想到她终将有后悔的一天，不禁心痛难忍，更觉不堪： ……我无从感受也无从验证 落在男人头上的打击，一旦降临 你们女子身上，是何等样沉重！ 他们毫无表情地缓步走向中殿，到了圣坛栏杆旁，凭倚栏杆，在一片沉寂中站着，然后转身从中殿走回来。她的手仍然挽着他的胳臂，俨然刚成婚的夫妇。这个活动全由她一手操持，其中有太多的暗示意味，令裘德差不多撑不下去了。 “我喜欢来这么一遍。”她说，因为情感上得到了充分的满足，声音是那么宛转、娇柔，而她的话是真情，那是绝对无疑的。 “我知道你喜欢啊！”裘德说。 “这倒怪有意思呢，因为别人从前都没这么来过呀。大概过两个钟头，我就跟我丈夫这样走过教堂吧，不是吗？” “一定这样，毫无疑问！” “你结婚时候就这样？” “天哪，苏啊——你可别厉害到这么歹毒啊！……唉，亲爱的，我本来是不想这么说哟！” “哦，你气啦！”她带着悔意说，一边眨眨眼，不让眼泪掉下来。“我不是答应再不叫你生气吗？……我想我真不该叫你把我带到这里边来。哦，我太不该啦！我这会儿明白过来啦。我的好奇心老叫我找刺激，结果就弄得自己下不了台啦。原谅我吧！……裘德呀，你原谅还是不原谅呢？” 她的求恕满含着悔恨，裘德握紧了她的手，表示原谅，自己的眼睛比她的还湿。 “咱们这会儿得赶快出去，我不想再这么干啦！”她低声下气地继续说。于是他们走出教堂，苏要到车站接费乐生。可是他们刚走到街上，迎面来的头一个人恰好是小学教师，他坐的火车比苏要等的那趟要早些。她靠在裘德膀子上本来无可非议，不过她还是把手抽回来。裘德觉得费乐生一副吃惊的样子。 “我们刚干了一件挺好笑的事儿！”她说，笑得那么坦荡。“我们到教堂去过啦，演习了一下，咱们不是演习过吗，裘德！” “怎么回事呀！”费乐生说，感到莫名其妙。 裘德心里懊恼，认为她何必这么直言无隐，但是到了这地步，他也不好不解释，就把经过讲了讲，告诉他他们怎么齐步走向圣坛的。 裘德一看费乐生惶恐不安，就尽可能高高兴兴说，“我还得去给她买件小礼物，你们跟我一块儿到店里去，好吗？” “不去啦，”苏说，“我得跟他回住的地方。”她要求她的情人别耽误太久，随即同小学教师一块儿走了。 裘德很快回到自己家里，跟他们到了一块儿。过了会儿，他们开始做婚礼的准备。费乐生把头发刷来刷去，那样子叫人瞧着受不了。他把衬衫领子浆得那么硬，二十年来都没见过。不说这些，他外表庄重，富于思想，整个来看，说这个人是位脾气好、善体贴的丈夫，决不会有差池，不对路。他对苏的崇拜是明显的，不过看她的神气，倒像她觉着自己不配呢。 虽然路挺近，裘德还是叫了辆红狮车行的轻便马车。他们出来时候，门口围着六七个女人和孩子。他们不知道小学教师和苏是何许人，不过他们已经慢慢拿裘德当本镇人了，又猜测那一对是他的外地来的亲戚，谁也料不到苏不久前还是进修学校学生呢。 在马车里，他从衣袋里掏出来特意给她买的小贺礼，原来是两三码白纱。他把它整个蒙在她的帽子和身上当婚纱。 “放在帽子上太怪模怪样的，”她说，“我要把帽子摘下来。” “哦，不必啦——这样挺好。”费乐生说。她听了他的话。 他们进了教堂，站到自己的位置上，这时裘德却想到前面那回演习准把这回仪式的精神冲淡，可是他们行礼如仪到一半的时候，他满心不愿再充当主婚人角色。苏怎么会大发奇想叫他干这样的事呢？这不仅对他是件残酷事，对她自己何尝不一样残酷。女人在这类事情上就是跟男人不一样。难道她们并不像公认的那样比男人更敏感，而是感情更冷，更乏浪漫情趣吗？否则就是她们比男人还有胆气？莫非苏生性如此乖僻顽梗，不惜一意孤行，不惜痛彻肺腑，要练习长期受罪，把给她和他造成痛苦，当成一种享受；又因为把他牵进去受罪而于心不忍，对他不胜怜惜？他分明看到她脸上强作无动于衷，却难掩内心骚乱；及至裘德以主婚人身份把她交给费乐生那折磨人的一刻，她真是失魂落魄，难以支持下去了；但是看上去，这似乎不是她一心为自己着想，倒是因为她深知那位表亲心里是怎么一种滋味，而她本来就不该让他来啊。说不定而今而后因为她反复无常，颠倒错乱，将会屡屡加给他这样的痛苦，而她自己也将屡屡为因她而受罪的人悲伤欲绝。 看来费乐生什么也没注意，他周围一层薄雾挡住了他的视线，看不到别人的情绪变化。他们一签好名就离开教堂，裘德不必再提心吊胆，一块石头总算落了地。 在他的住处吃饭很简单，两点钟他们就动身了。在走过人行道去上马车的时候，她回头看了看，目光露出一丝惊恐。难道苏就是为了表示她不受他的影响，为了他向她保守秘密而蓄意报复，竟会以难得糊涂而投身前途莫测的生活吗？也许她对于男人满不在乎吧，其实她像小孩子一样无知，不了解男人天性中原来就有蚀耗女人的心灵和生命的那一面。 她踏上了马车的踏板，忽然转过身，说她忘了样东西。裘德和房东都热心要替她去拿。 “不成。”她说完就往回跑。“是我的手绢儿。我知道放在哪儿。” 裘德跟她回去。她找到手绢，抓在手里，双目含泪凝视裘德的眼睛，突然丹唇微启，似欲有所表白。但是她走了，到底有什么难言之隐，终于没有透露。 Part 3 Chapter 8 JUDE wondered if she had really left her handkerchief behind; or whether it were that she had miserably wished to tell him of a love that at the last moment she could not bring herself to express. He could not stay in his silent lodging when they were gone, and fearing that he might be tempted to drown his misery in alcohol he went upstairs, changed his dark clothes for his white, his thin boots for his thick, and proceeded to his customary work for the afternoon. But in the cathedral he seemed to hear a voice behind him, and to be possessed with an idea that she would come back. She could not possibly go home with Phillotson, he fancied. The feeling grew and stirred. The moment that the clock struck the last of his working hours he threw down his tools and rushed homeward. "Has anybody been for me?" he asked. Nobody had been there. As he could claim the downstairs sitting-room till twelve o'clock that night he sat in it all the evening; and even when the clock had struck eleven, and the family had retired, he could not shake off the feeling that she would come back and sleep in the little room adjoining his own in which she had slept so many previous days. Her actions were always unpredictable: why should she not come? Gladly would he have compounded for the denial of her as a sweetheart and wife by having her live thus as a fellow-lodger and friend, even on the most distant terms. His supper still remained spread, and going to the front door, and softly setting it open, he returned to the room and sat as watchers sit on Old-Mid-summer eves, expecting the phantom of the Beloved. But she did not come. Having indulged in this wild hope he went upstairs, and looked out of the window, and pictured her through the evening journey to London, whither she and Phillotson had gone for their holiday; their rattling along through the damp night to their hotel, under the same sky of ribbed cloud as that he beheld, through which the moon showed its position rather than its shape, and one or two of the larger stars made themselves visible as faint nebulae only. It was a new beginning of Sue's history. He projected his mind into the future, and saw her with children more or less in her own likeness around her. But the consolation of regarding them as a continuation of her identity was denied to him, as to all such dreamers, by the wilfulness of Nature in not allowing issue from one parent alone. Every desired renewal of an existence is debased by being half alloy. "If at the estrangement or death of my lost love, I could go and see her child--hers solely--there would be comfort in it!" said Jude. And then he again uneasily saw, as he had latterly seen with more and more frequency, the scorn of Nature for man's finer emotions, and her lack of interest in his aspirations. The oppressive strength of his affection for Sue showed itself on the morrow and following days yet more clearly. He could no longer endure the light of the Melchester lamps; the sunshine was as drab paint, and the blue sky as zinc. Then he received news that his old aunt was dangerously ill at Marygreen, which intelligence almost coincided with a letter from his former employer at Christminster, who offered him permanent work of a good class if he would come back. The letters were almost a relief to him. He started to visit Aunt Drusilla, and resolved to go onward to Christminster to see what worth there might be in the builder's offer. Jude found his aunt even worse than the communication from the Widow Edlin had led him to expect. There was every possibility of her lingering on for weeks or months, though little likelihood. He wrote to Sue informing her of the state of her aunt, and suggesting that she might like to see her aged relative alive. He would meet her at Alfredston Road, the following evening, Monday, on his way back from Christminster, if she could come by the up-train which crossed his down-train at that station. Next morning, according, he went on to Christminster, intending to return to Alfredston soon enough to keep the suggested appointment with Sue. The city of learning wore an estranged look, and he had lost all feeling for its associations. Yet as the sun made vivid lights and shades of the mullioned architecture of the facades, and drew patterns of the crinkled battlements on the young turf of the quadrangles, Jude thought he had never seen the place look more beautiful. He came to the street in which he had first beheld Sue. The chair she had occupied when, leaning over her ecclesiastical scrolls, a hog-hair brush in her hand, her girlish figure had arrested the gaze of his inquiring eyes, stood precisely in its former spot, empty. It was as if she were dead, and nobody had been found capable of succeeding her in that artistic pursuit. Hers was now the city phantom, while those of the intellectual and devotional worthies who had once moved him to emotion were no longer able to assert their presence there. However, here he was; and in fulfilment of his intention he went on to his former lodging in "Beersheba," near the ritualistic church of St. Silas. The old landlady who opened the door seemed glad to see him again, and bringing some lunch informed him that the builder who had employed him had called to inquire his address. Jude went on to the stone-yard where he had worked. But the old sheds and bankers were distasteful to him; he felt it impossible to engage himself to return and stay in this place of vanished dreams. He longed for the hour of the homeward train to Alfredston, where he might probably meet Sue. Then, for one ghastly half-hour of depression caused by these scenes, there returned upon him that feeling which had been his undoing more than once--that he was not worth the trouble of being taken care of either by himself or others; and during this half-hour he met Tinker Taylor, the bankrupt ecclesiastical ironmonger, at Fourways, who proposed that they should adjourn to a bar and drink together. They walked along the street till they stood before one of the great palpitating centres of Christminster life, the inn wherein he formerly had responded to the challenge to rehearse the Creed in Latin-- now a popular tavern with a spacious and inviting entrance, which gave admittance to a bar that had been entirely renovated and refitted in modern style since Jude's residence here. Tinker Taylor drank off his glass and departed, saying it was too stylish a place now for him to feel at home in unless he was drunker than he had money to be just then. Jude was longer finishing his, and stood abstractedly silent in the, for the minute, almost empty place. The bar had been gutted and newly arranged throughout, mahogany fixtures having taken the place of the old painted ones, while at the back of the standing-space there were stuffed sofa-benches. The room was divided into compartments in the approved manner, between which were screens of ground glass in mahogany framing, to prevent topers in one compartment being put to the blush by the recognitions of those in the next. On the inside of the counter two barmaids leant over the white-handled beer-engines, and the row of little silvered taps inside, dripping into a pewter trough. Feeling tired, and having nothing more to do till the train left, Jude sat down on one of the sofas. At the back of the barmaids rose bevel-edged mirrors, with glass shelves running along their front, on which stood precious liquids that Jude did not know the name of, in bottles of topaz, sapphire, ruby and amethyst. The moment was enlivened by the entrance of some customers into the next compartment, and the starting of the mechanical tell-tale of monies received, which emitted a ting-ting every time a coin was put in. The barmaid attending to this compartment was invisible to Jude's direct glance, though a reflection of her back in the glass behind her was occasionally caught by his eyes. He had only observed this listlessly, when she turned her face for a moment to the glass to set her hair tidy. Then he was amazed to discover that the face was Arabella's. If she had come on to his compartment she would have seen him. But she did not, this being presided over by the maiden on the other side. Abby was in a black gown, with white linen cuffs and a broad white collar, and her figure, more developed than formerly, was accentuated by a bunch of daffodils that she wore on her left bosom. In the compartment she served stood an electro-plated fountain of water over a spirit-lamp, whose blue flame sent a steam from the top, all this being visible to him only in the mirror behind her; which also reflected the faces of the men she was attending to--one of them a handsome, dissipated young fellow, possibly an undergraduate, who had been relating to her an experience of some humorous sort. "Oh, Mr. Cockman, now! How can you tell such a tale to me in my innocence!" she cried gaily. "Mr. Cockman, what do you use to make your moustache curl so beautiful?" As the young man was clean shaven the retort provoked a laugh at his expense. "Come!" said he, "I'll have a curacao; and a light, please." She served the liqueur from one of the lovely bottles and striking a match held it to his cigarette with ministering archness while he whiffed. "Well, have you heard from your husband lately, my dear?" he asked. "Not a sound," said she. "Where is he?" "I left him in Australia; and I suppose he's there still." Jude's eyes grew rounder. "What made you part from him?" "Don't you ask questions, and you won't hear lies." "Come then, give me my change, which you've been keeping from me for the last quarter of an hour; and I'll romantically vanish up the street of this picturesque city." She handed the change over the counter, in taking which he caught her fingers and held them. There was a slight struggle and titter, and he bade her good-bye and left. Jude had looked on with the eye of a dazed philosopher. It was extraordinary how far removed from his life Arabella now seemed to be. He could not realize their nominal closeness. And, this being the case, in his present frame of mind he was indifferent to the fact that Arabella was his wife indeed. The compartment that she served emptied itself of visitors, and after a brief thought he entered it, and went forward to the counter. Arabella did not recognize him for a moment. Then their glances met. She started; till a humorous impudence sparkled in her eyes, and she spoke. "Well, I'm blest! I thought you were underground years ago!" "Oh!" "I never heard anything of you, or I don't know that I should have come here. But never mind! What shall I treat you to this afternoon? A Scotch and soda? Come, anything that the house will afford, for old acquaintance' sake!" "Thanks, Arabella," said Jude without a smile. "But I don't want anything more than I've had." The fact was that her unexpected presence there had destroyed at a stroke his momentary taste for strong liquor as completely as if it had whisked him back to his milk-fed infancy. "That's a pity, now you could get it for nothing." "How long have you been here?" "About six weeks. I returned from Sydney three months ago. I always liked this business, you know." "I wonder you came to this place!" "Well, as I say, I thought you were gone to glory, and being in London I saw the situation in an advertisement. Nobody was likely to know me here, even if I had minded, for I was never in Christminster in my growing up." "Why did you return from Australia?" "Oh, I had my reasons.... Then you are not a don yet?" "No." "Not even a reverend?" "No." "Nor so much as a rather reverend dissenting gentleman?" "I am as I was." "True--you look so." She idly allowed her fingers to rest on the pull of the beer-engine as she inspected him critically. He observed that her hands were smaller and whiter than when he had lived with her, and that on the hand which pulled the engine she wore an ornamental ring set with what seemed to be real sapphires--which they were, indeed, and were much admired as such by the young men who frequented the bar. "So you pass as having a living husband," he continued. "Yes. I thought it might be awkward if I called myself a widow, as I should have liked." "True. I am known here a little." "I didn't mean on that account--for as I said I didn't expect you. It was for other reasons." "What were they?" "I don't care to go into them," she replied evasively. "I make a very good living, and I don't know that I want your company." Here a chappie with no chin, and a moustache like a lady's eyebrow, came and asked for a curiously compounded drink, and Arabella was obliged to go and attend to him. "We can't talk here," she said, stepping back a moment. "Can't you wait till nine? Say yes, and don't be a fool. I can get off duty two hours sooner than usual, if I ask. I am not living in the house at present." He reflected and said gloomily, "I'll come back. I suppose we'd better arrange something." "Oh, bother arranging! I'm not going to arrange anything!" "But I must know a thing or two; and, as you say, we can't talk here. Very well; I'll call for you." Depositing his unemptied glass he went out and walked up and down the street. Here was a rude flounce into the pellucid sentimentality of his sad attachment to Sue. Though Arabella's word was absolutely untrustworthy, he thought there might be some truth in her implication that she had not wished to disturb him, and had really supposed him dead. However, there was only one thing now to be done, and that was to play a straightforward part, the law being the law, and the woman between whom and himself there was no more unity than between east and west being in the eye of the Church one person with him. Having to meet Arabella here, it was impossible to meet Sue at Alfredston as he had promised. At every thought of this a pang had gone through him; but the conjuncture could not be helped. Arabella was perhaps an intended intervention to punish him for his unauthorized love. Passing the evening, therefore, in a desultory waiting about the town wherein he avoided the precincts of every cloister and hall, because he could not bear to behold them, he repaired to the tavern bar while the hundred and one strokes were resounding from the Great Bell of Cardinal College, a coincidence which seemed to him gratuitous irony. The inn was now brilliantly lighted up, and the scene was altogether more brisk and gay. The faces of the barmaidens had risen in colour, each having a pink flush on her cheek; their manners were still more vivacious than before-- more abandoned, more excited, more sensuous, and they expressed their sentiments and desires less euphemistically, laughing in a lackadaisical tone, without reserve. The bar had been crowded with men of all sorts during the previous hour, and he had heard from without the hubbub of their voices; but the customers were fewer at last. He nodded to Arabella, and told her that she would find him outside the door when she came away. "But you must have something with me first," she said with great good humour. "Just an early night-cap: I always do. Then you can go out and wait a minute, as it is best we should not be seen going together." She drew a couple of liqueur glasses of brandy; and though she had evidently, from her countenance, already taken in enough alcohol either by drinking or, more probably, from the atmosphere she had breathed for so many hours, she finished hers quickly. He also drank his, and went outside the house. In a few minutes she came, in a thick jacket and a hat with a black feather. "l live quite near," she said, taking his arm, "and can let myself in by a latch-key at any time. What arrangement do you want to come to?" "Oh--none in particular," he answered, thoroughly sick and tired, his thoughts again reverting to Alfredston, and the train he did not go by; the probable disappointment of Sue that he was not there when she arrived, and the missed pleasure of her company on the long and lonely climb by starlight up the hills to Marygreen. "l ought to have gone back really! My aunt is on her deathbed, I fear." "I'll go over with you to-morrow morning. I think I could get a day off." There was something particularly uncongenial in the idea of Arabella, who had no more sympathy than a tigress with his relations or him, coming to the bedside of his dying aunt, and meeting Sue. Yet he said, "Of course, if you'd like to, you can." "Well, that we'll consider.... Now, until we have come to some agreement it is awkward our being together here--where you are known, and I am getting known, though without any suspicion that I have anything to do with you. As we are going towards the station, suppose we take the nine-forty train to Aldbrickham? We shall be there in little more than half an hour, and nobody will know us for one night, and we shall be quite free to act as we choose till we have made up our minds whether we'll make anything public or not." "As you like." "Then wait till I get two or three things. This is my lodging. Sometimes when late I sleep at the hotel where I am engaged, so nobody will think anything of my staying out." She speedily returned, and they went on to the railway, and made the half-hour's journey to Aldbrickham, where they entered a third-rate inn near the station in time for a late supper. 她究竟真把手绢忘了，还是她因为伤心，希望在最后一刻要向他倾诉衷情？裘德百思不得其解。 他们走了，家里一片寂静，他没法再呆下去。他又怕自己把持不住，可能重蹈借酒浇愁的覆辙，于是到楼上脱下黑衣服，换上白的，把薄高帮鞋换成厚的，照常上班干下半天的活。 但是他在大教堂时候老仿佛听见身后有人说话，心里一直前咕着她要回来。他想入非非，认为她不大可能跟费乐生一块儿回家。这种感觉越来越强，而且越来越有刺激性。下班钟一敲，他就把工具一甩，直往家里奔。‘有人找过我吗？” 没人来过。 那个晚上，他有权使用楼下起坐室直到十二点，所以他整晚都坐在那儿；甚至钟打了十一点，房东全家都已进入睡乡，他还是摆脱不掉那个预感：她会回来，睡在他隔壁的小屋里，她先前不就睡过好多大吗？她的行动总是难以预料，既然如此，她又为什么不能回来？有她住一块儿，有她做紧邻的房客和朋友，哪怕同她的关系疏远得不能再疏远，他也就非常高兴啦，而绝对不会再生出拿她当情人和妻子的念头。他的晚饭仍然摆在桌上没动。他走到前门，轻轻把它开了，然后回到屋里坐着，就像旧历中夏日前几个夜晚害相思病的守候者那样盼望着心爱的人儿的幻影出现。 他胡思乱想一阵之后就上了楼，从窗口向外瞭望，心中绘出一幅她夜行前往伦敦，同费乐生到那儿度假的情景：他们旅途中的天空正像他现在所望见的那样，游云缕缕，月亮从云层中露出，略见朦胧，一两颗大星星皎然可辨，宛如迷茫的星云。在潮湿的夜气中，车声磷磷，他们到了下榻的旅馆，苏的历史翻开了新篇。接着他的心思投射到未来，看见她周围是些多多少少长得像她的孩子们；但是大自然铁面无私，决不许单凭一个爹或单凭一个妈就能一线单传，所以他把那些孩子想象成苏的形体奕世再传，从中聊以自慰的那个梦，也不免像其他人做那类梦一样，无法实现。凡是存这类打算，想恢复这样单根独脉制造出来的生命，一概被称之为半吊子货，为人所贱视。裘德说， “倘若我这无根无寄的爱情此生长隔，又或沦于渐灭，那么我能去看望看望她的孩子——她一个人生的孩子——不也是乐在其中吗？”他又像以往频频经历过那样，颓然醒悟，原来造物主对于人类的微妙感情深怀鄙夷，对他的热烈向往不屑一顾。 第二天和以后几天，他对苏的深情怀念所引起的强烈的压抑感更为显著了。他再也没法忍受麦尔切斯特的灯光；麦尔切斯特的阳光给他的感觉就像失掉光泽的油漆；蔚蓝的天空竟然跟锌板一样青白。随后他接到马利格林的老姑婆病重的消息；巧的是几乎同时，他收到从前在基督堂时的雇主的来信，提出他如果愿意，可以回去长期担任高等手艺活儿。两封信多少减轻了他的苦恼。他立即起身去探视多喜姑婆，还决定顺路到基督堂了解一下建筑商的意见有多大实际价值。 裘德发现姑婆的病情比艾林寡妇信中说的还严重。大概她还能拖几个礼拜或几个月，不过这种可能性微乎其微。他写信给苏，说明姑婆的病情，嘱她考虑是否在这位高龄亲戚在世时来探望一回。如果她能乘上火车在礼拜一晚上到达阿尔夫瑞顿站，同他从基督堂乘的回程车正好错车，那么他将在阿尔夫瑞顿大路上接她。这样他第二天早晨就去了基督堂，打算尽快回来，以便如约同苏见面。 那座学问之城显得疏远、冷漠，而他自己对于同它有关系的一切事物也不再有什么感情。但是在灿烂阳光下，那些有直棂窗的建筑学作品的正面光影交织，色彩鲜明，并已在四方院嫩草地上面绘出逶迤的垛堞的图形。裘德感到他以前从没见过这地方景色如此之美。他走到头一回看见苏的那条街。当初她坐在椅子上，俯身对着教会经卷，手拿猪鬃笔，那少女般光彩形象吸住他的想一询究竟的目光。椅子这会儿虽然还是不偏不离摆在原处，人则沓然。这光景就如同物在人亡，再无从找到合适的人能以接替她，致力于工艺方面的研究。她的形象现在成了那个城市的魂灵，至于从前一度使他大动感情的学问渊博、矢志不移的非凡人物却再也没有力量独占一方了。 尽管如此，他总还是到了那地方。为了实现自己的打算，他先到从前在“别是巴”靠近礼仪派圣•西拉教堂的住所。年老的房东太太开了门，一见他来了，似乎挺高兴，给他端来点午饭，跟他说以前雇他的建筑商来打听过他的通信处。 裘德去了以前干活的石作。但是老工棚和老工作台叫他大倒胃口，他深深感到不可能回到旧日梦想破灭了的地方，再在那儿呆下去。他渴望开往阿尔夫瑞顿的回程火车的钟点快快到来。他多半能迎上苏。 他看到的情景令他的心情异常恶劣，往下半个钟头，他就像中了魔一样活受罪，以往多次使他陷入绝望的感想又向他袭来——他这人实在不值得他自己，也不值得别人因为替他操心费力而惹起种种烦恼。恰好这半个钟头中间，他在四路口碰上破了产的经营圣器的五金商，也就是补锅匠泰勒，此人提出不妨到酒吧喝上一杯解解闷。于是他们一路沿街走去，到了基督堂的很有气派的热闹生活中心之一前面就站住了。原来就是那个小酒馆啊，他上次就是在那儿让人将了军，为回击而高诵拉丁文《信经》的。打他从那地方搬走以后，它已经按现代风貌彻底翻修，装磺得焕然一新，成为远近驰名的酒馆。门面富丽堂皇，颇能招徕顾客。 泰勒把自己一杯喝干就走了，他说那地方搞得太讲究，他觉着不自在；要不然他得是个酒鬼，不计较手里多少钱，硬拼一下就算了。裘德又稍呆了会儿才喝完，无精打采地站在一阵子人极少的酒吧中间，默不作声。酒吧拆掉了原来的装置，重新安排过了，红木件替换了漆件，在后方站位放满了软凳，室内按核定样式隔成包间，包间之内隔以镶着红木框子的磨砂玻璃，以防此一包间的酒客因被彼一包间的酒客认出来而感到难堪。柜台里边有两个女招待，她们靠着安着白把子的啤酒机，机上装有一排镀银小龙头，啤酒从龙头慢慢滴到锡囗槽子里。 裘德很乏，再说开往阿尔夫瑞顿的火车的时间没到，既然没事可做，他就坐到一个沙发上。女招待身后斜装着一排镜子，镜子前面是一溜儿玻璃槅子，上面陈列着各种各样的黄玉色、蓝宝石色、红宝石色和紫水晶色的瓶子，里边装的都是裘德叫不出名字的名酒。几个顾客走进了隔壁包间，空气一下子活跃起来，收银机开始操作，顾客每丢进一个硬币，就发出叮叮声。 裘德没法直接看到那个包间的女招待，不过他偶尔瞥见她身后镜子映出的背影。他本来有意无意地看看而已，不料她陡然掉过脸来，对镜整理头发。他吓了一跳，原来那是阿拉贝拉的脸。 要是她过到他这个包间来，她就会看见他。但是她没来，因为这由另一边的女招待负责。阿贝穿一件黑长袍，袖口上镶着白亚麻布花边，领子是白的，开口很大，体态较前更丰满，搭上左胸前佩一簇水仙花就更惹眼。她侍候的那个包间里边放着一盏酒精灯，冒着发蓝的火苗，正在催热上面的电镀水壶，水蒸气直往上飘。不过他只能从她身后的镜子里分辨出这些东西。镜子也映出她侍候的那些人的面孔，其中一个是年轻漂亮的浪荡儿，多半是个大学生，正对她说一件挺逗趣的经历。 “哎，考克门先生，行啦！你怎敢跟咱这清白人讲这事儿！”她快活地高声说，“考克门先生，你把胡子鬈得这么个漂亮劲儿，是干啥用啊？”小伙子胡子刮得光光的，她这一回嘴逗引得哄堂大笑。 “得啦！”他说。“给我来杯柑香酒，点个火吧。” 她从那些好看的瓶子中间拿出一个倒了酒，又擦了根火柴，讨好地猫着腰送到他的烟卷上，他立刻吸了一口。 “好啦，亲爱的，你男人最近有消息吗？” “一个字儿也没有。”她说。 “他在哪儿呀？” “我是在澳洲离开他的，估摸他还在那儿。” 裘德的眼睛瞪得更大了。 “你怎么跟他散了呀？” “不问问题，也就听不见瞎话。” “那就是啦，把找的零给我吧，你卡在手里有一刻钟啦。我还要在这风景如画的城里再风流一阵子，就无影无踪喽。” 她把零钱从柜台上递给他，他顺手抓住她的手指头，还捏着不放。阿拉贝拉稍微挣了一下，哧哧地笑了笑。 裘德就像个头昏眼花的哲学家一直看下去。阿拉贝拉这会儿看起来跟他的生活居然拉开得这么远，真是太离谱了。就拿名分上的密切关系讲，他也看不出来还剩下什么。既然事情变化到了这地步，按他这会儿的心境，阿拉贝拉到底算得上还是算不上他妻子，他实在无所谓。 她侍候的那个包间已经空下来，他稍微想了想，就进去了。阿拉贝拉起初没认出他来。接着他们目光一对。她一下子愣住了，随即眼神露出了涎皮赖脸、满不在乎的味道，跟着开了口： “哎呀呀，我的天哪！我还当你早就人士为安啦！” “哦！” “我一直没听见你什么，要不然我才不上这儿来呢。不过这也算不了什么！我这个下午怎么招待招待你？威士忌加苏打？论咱们老交情，这屋子里的东西，随你点什么都行！” “谢谢，阿拉贝拉。”裘德说，没有笑容。“我什么也不想要，我已经喝够啦。”事实是她这出乎意料的出现倒掉了他一瞬间曾想喝烈酒的胃口，像是把他推回到吃奶的襁褓期。 “这倒怪可惜的，那你就什么不用吧。” “你到这儿多久啦？” “大概六个礼拜吧。我是三个月之前从悉尼回来的。我向来喜欢这生意，这你知道。” “我不懂你怎么会上这儿来！” “好啦，我就说说吧，我原来当你一命归天啦。我在伦敦那会儿瞧见过这个位子招人的广告，我琢磨来琢磨去，反正这儿总没人认得我，因为我长大成人以后压根儿没到过基督堂。” “你干吗从澳洲向后转呢？” “哦，我自有道理。……那你现在还没当上大学学监吧？” “没有。” “连个牧师也没当上？” “没有。” “也没当反国教的老爷子？” “我原来什么样还是什么样。” “这话不错——瞧你这样儿就知道啦。”她一边上上下下打量他，一边懒洋洋地把手指头放在啤酒机的拉把上。他注意到她的手比他们在一块儿生活的时候还小还白，放在拉把儿上的手戴了只镶宝戒指，看上去真像蓝宝石——果然不错，而且常来这酒吧的小伙子们一见就赞不绝口。 “这么说，你还冒着男人活着的名儿在混着哪。”他继续说。 “对啦，我想我总得这么办才对路。我觉着说自己是寡妇，未免太别扭。” “这倒是实话。这儿知道我的人可不算少。” “我可不是那个意思——我已经说了，我早拿你不算数啦。这其间另有道理。” “什么道理？” “这会儿我不想说。”她没正面回答。“我眼下日子好得很，我可不想跟你缠到一块儿。” 这时进来一个没下巴颏的阔少，小胡子留得像女人的眉毛，他点名要一种挺希奇的搀合酒；阿拉贝拉只好先去招呼他。“咱们不好在这儿谈。”她说，犹豫了一下。“你还能等到九点再来？干脆说个行，别那么二百五似的。我可以请假，比平常早两个钟头下班。” 他想了想，闷声闷气地说，“我来就是啦。我看咱们倒得安排安排。” “哦，安排个屁！我才不要什么安排哪！” “不过我总得了解这么一两样才行呢；就照你说的办，咱们不在这儿谈。” 他把杯子里剩的酒倒掉，离开酒吧，到街上走来走去。他苦苦恋着苏，缠绵悱恻，本是一泓澄碧，不料被这突如其来的冲击搅浑了。阿拉贝拉的话固然绝不可信，可是她话里也透露出来她并不打算跟他纠缠的意思，以前当他离开人世，恐怕话中也有几分真。话说回来，现在还有唯一一件事得办，那非得采取一杆子到底办法不可，因为法律总是法律，再说就算她跟这个女人已经两不相干，比如一个东头一个西头，可是在教会眼里，他们还是合成一体呢。 既然他非在这儿跟阿拉贝拉碰头不可，那就不可能如约到阿尔夫瑞顿去迎苏了。这么一想，他就心里觉着刺痛；不过事情自有前缘，莫非天定。也许就因为他对苏的爱情踰分非礼，上苍有意把阿拉贝拉插进来，以示惩罚。所以这个晚上他只好在城里到处转悠，等着会她；同时他又避开每个有学院回廊和会堂的地方，因为他瞧见它们就觉得难受得不得了。在走回酒馆的路上，红衣主教学院大钟正好响了一百零一下，这种巧合简直就像对他存心嘲弄。酒馆已经灯火辉煌，场面一片欢腾，纵情嬉笑。女招待粉面生春，个个颊上飞红；她们一举一动比先前更来得轻快自然——更大胆、更兴奋、更富于肉感，表现自己的情绪与欲望不再躲躲闪闪、扭扭捏捏，而是懒洋洋。软绵绵，笑个没完。 前一个钟头，酒吧挤满各色人等，他在外面听得见他们大声喧呼；但到得后来，剩下的顾客不多了。他对阿拉贝拉点点头，示意她出来时候可以在门外找到他。 “不过你先得跟我来点什么。”她兴致勃勃地说。“先来个睡前杯吧，我天天这样。然后你就先出去，等个分把钟，咱们顶好别让人瞧见在一块儿。”她倒了两杯白兰地；虽然她脸上明明是喝足了，或者说她吸足那么多钟头的酒气，把她薰够了，她还是一倾而尽。他也喝了自己的一杯，然后走到酒馆外面。 几分钟后她出来了，穿着一件厚上衣，戴着一顶上插黑羽毛的帽子。“我住得挺近。”她说，挽起他的胳臂。“我有前门钥匙，什么时候都进得去。你倒是要怎么个安排法儿？” “哦——没什么特别的。”他回答，又难受又累。他的思想又转到阿尔夫瑞顿，他赶不上那趟火车了。苏到时看不到他，难免大失所望，他也错过了跟她同行，爬上往马利格林的又长又僻静的山路的乐趣。“我真应该回去。我担心姑婆都停床啦。” “明儿早上我跟你过那边去。我看我可以请天假。” 阿拉贝拉平素就像母夜叉，无论对他的亲人还是他本人，哪有什么情义可言，这会儿居然准备到他的垂死的姑婆床前，还要跟苏见面，他觉得真是太出格了。不过他说：“当然，你要愿意去，就去好啦。” “好吧，咱们得考虑考虑啊……就说这会儿吧，咱们先得来个协议，要不然咱们在这地方呆在一块儿就啰嗦啦，因为这儿人家本来认识你，慢慢儿也认识我啦，眼下自然还没人瞎猜疑我跟你有什么关系。咱们这会儿正朝车站那边走，你瞧咱们就搭九点四十分的火车上奥尔布里肯好不好？不到半个钟头就到啦，也没人认得咱们，想干什么，就干什么，谁也管不着。以后咱们再定关系公开不公开好啦。” “随你便吧。” “那你就等着我去拿两三样东西。我就住这儿。有时候晚了，我才歇在干活儿的饭店里头，所以没人会想到我在外面过夜。” 她很快回来了，他们接着走到车站，坐半个钟头火车去奥尔布里肯；到达后住进靠火车站一家三等客店，刚好赶上来顿晚饭。 |
| Part 3 Chapter 9 ON the morrow between nine and half-past they were journeying back to Christminster, the only two occupants of a compartment in a third-class railway-carriage. Having, like Jude, made rather a hasty toilet to catch the train, Arabella looked a little frowsy, and her face was very far from possessing the animation which had characterized it at the bar the night before. When they came out of the station she found that she still had half an hour to spare before she was due at the bar. They walked in silence a little way out of the town in the direction of Alfredston. Jude looked up the far highway. "Ah ... poor feeble me!" he murmured at last. "What?" said she. "This is the very road by which I came into Christminster years ago full of plans!" "Well, whatever the road is I think my time is nearly up, as I have to be in the bar by eleven o'clock. And as I said, I shan't ask for the day to go with you to see your aunt. So perhaps we had better part here. I'd sooner not walk up Chief Street with you, since we've come to no conclusion at all." "Very well. But you said when we were getting up this morning that you had something you wished to tell me before I left?" "So I had--two things--one in particular. But you wouldn't promise to keep it a secret. I'll tell you now if you promise? As an honest woman I wish you to know it.... It was what I began telling you in the night--about that gentleman who managed the Sydney hotel." Arabella spoke somewhat hurriedly for her. "You'll keep it close?" "Yes--yes--I promise!" said Jude impatiently. "Of course I don't want to reveal your secrets." "Whenever I met him out for a walk, he used to say that he was much taken with my looks, and he kept pressing me to marry him. I never thought of coming back to England again; and being out there in Australia, with no home of my own after leaving my father, I at last agreed, and did." "What--marry him?" "Yes." "Regularly--legally--in church?" "Yes. And lived with him till shortly before I left. It was stupid, I know; but I did! There, now I've told you. Don't round upon me! He talks of coming back to England, poor old chap. But if he does, he won't be likely to find me." Jude stood pale and fixed. "Why the devil didn't you tell me last, night!" he said. "Well--I didn't.... Won't you make it up with me, then?" "So in talking of 'your husband' to the bar gentlemen you meant him, of course--not me!" "Of course.... Come, don't fuss about it." "I have nothing more to say!" replied Jude. "I have nothing at all to say about the--crime--you've confessed to!" "Crime! Pooh. They don't think much of such as that over there! Lots of 'em do it.... Well, if you take it like that I shall go back to him! He was very fond of me, and we lived honourable enough, and as respectable as any married couple in the colony! How did I know where you were?" "I won't go blaming you. I could say a good deal; but perhaps it would be misplaced. What do you wish me to do?" "Nothing. There was one thing more I wanted to tell you; but I fancy we've seen enough of one another for the present! I shall think over what you said about your circumstances, and let you know." Thus they parted. Jude watched her disappear in the direction of the hotel, and entered the railway station close by. Finding that it wanted three-quarters of an hour of the time at which he could get a train back to Alfredston, he strolled mechanically into the city as far as to the Fourways, where he stood as he had so often stood before, and surveyed Chief Street stretching ahead, with its college after college, in picturesqueness unrivalled except by such Continental vistas as the Street of Palaces in Genoa; the lines of the buildings being as distinct in the morning air as in an architectural drawing. But Jude was far from seeing or criticizing these things; they were hidden by an indescribable consciousness of Arabella's midnight contiguity, a sense of degradation at his revived experiences with her, of her appearance as she lay asleep at dawn, which set upon his motionless face a look as of one accurst. If he could only have felt resentment towards her he would have been less unhappy; but he pitied while he contemned her. Jude turned and retraced his steps. Drawing again towards the station he started at hearing his name pronounced-- less at the name than at the voice. To his great surprise no other than Sue stood like a vision before him--her look bodeful and anxious as in a dream, her little mouth nervous, and her strained eyes speaking reproachful inquiry. "Oh, Jude--I am so glad--to meet you like this!" she said in quick, uneven accents not far from a sob. Then she flushed as she observed his thought that they had not met since her marriage. They looked away from each other to hide their emotion, took each other's hand without further speech, and went on together awhile, till she glanced at him with furtive solicitude. "I arrived at Alfredston station last night, as you asked me to, and there was nobody to meet me! But I reached Marygreen alone, and they told me Aunt was a trifle better. I sat up with her, and as you did not come all night I was frightened about you-- I thought that perhaps, when you found yourself back in the old city, you were upset at--at thinking I was--married, and not there as I used to be; and that you had nobody to speak to; so you had tried to drown your gloom--as you did at that former time when you were disappointed about entering as a student, and had forgotten your promise to me that you never would again. And this, I thought, was why you hadn't come to meet me!" "And you came to hunt me up, and deliver me, like a good angel!" "I thought I would come by the morning train and try to find you--in case-- in case----" "I did think of my promise to you, dear, continually! I shall never break out again as I did, I am sure. I may have been doing nothing better, but I was not doing that--I loathe the thought of it." "I am glad your staying had nothing to do with that. But," she said, the faintest pout entering into her tone, "you didn't come back last night and meet me, as you engaged to!" "I didn't--I am sorry to say. I had an appointment at nine o'clock-- too late for me to catch the train that would have met yours, or to get home at all." Looking at his loved one as she appeared to him now, in his tender thought the sweetest and most disinterested comrade that he had ever had, living largely in vivid imaginings, so ethereal a creature that her spirit could be seen trembling through her limbs, he felt heartily ashamed of his earthliness in spending the hours he had spent in Arabella's company. There was something rude and immoral in thrusting these recent facts of his life upon the mind of one who, to him, was so uncarnate as to seem at times impossible as a human wife to any average man. And yet she was Phillotson's. How she had become such, how she lived as such, passed his comprehension as he regarded her to-day. "You'll go back with me?" he said. "There's a train just now. I wonder how my aunt is by this time.... And so, Sue, you really came on my account all this way! At what an early time you must have started, poor thing!" "Yes. Sitting up watching alone made me all nerves for you, and instead of going to bed when it got light I started. And now you won't frighten me like this again about your morals for nothing?" He was not so sure that she had been frightened about his morals for nothing. He released her hand till they had entered the train,-- it seemed the same carriage he had lately got out of with another-- where they sat down side by side, Sue between him and the window. He regarded the delicate lines of her profile, and the small, tight, applelike convexities of her bodice, so different from Arabella's amplitudes. Though she knew he was looking at her she did not turn to him, but kept her eyes forward, as if afraid that by meeting his own some troublous discussion would be initiated. "Sue--you are married now, you know, like me; and yet we have been in such a hurry that we have not said a word about it!" "There's no necessity," she quickly returned. "Oh well--perhaps not.... But I wish" "Jude--don't talk about ME--I wish you wouldn't!" she entreated. "It distresses me, rather. Forgive my saying it! ... Where did you stay last night?" She had asked the question in perfect innocence, to change the topic. He knew that, and said merely, "At an inn," though it would have been a relief to tell her of his meeting with an unexpected one. But the latter's final announcement of her marriage in Australia bewildered him lest what he might say should do his ignorant wife an injury. Their talk proceeded but awkwardly till they reached Alfredston. That Sue was not as she had been, but was labelled "Phillotson," paralyzed Jude whenever he wanted to commune with her as an individual. Yet she seemed unaltered--he could not say why. There remained the five-mile extra journey into the country, which it was just as easy to walk as to drive, the greater part of it being uphill. Jude had never before in his life gone that road with Sue, though he had with another. It was now as if he carried a bright light which temporarily banished the shady associations of the earlier time. Sue talked; but Jude noticed that she still kept the conversation from herself. At length he inquired if her husband were well. "O yes," she said. "He is obliged to be in the school all the day, or he would have come with me. He is so good and kind that to accompany me he would have dismissed the school for once, even against his principles--for he is strongly opposed to giving casual holidays-- only I wouldn't let him. I felt it would be better to come alone. Aunt Drusilla, I knew, was so very eccentric; and his being almost a stranger to her now would have made it irksome to both. Since it turns out that she is hardly conscious I am glad I did not ask him." Jude had walked moodily while this praise of Phillotson was being expressed. "Mr. Phillotson obliges you in everything, as he ought," he said. "Of course." "You ought to be a happy wife." "And of course I am." "Bride, I might almost have said, as yet. It is not so many weeks since I gave you to him, and----" "Yes, I know! I know!" There was something in her face which belied her late assuring words, so strictly proper and so lifelessly spoken that they might have been taken from a list of model speeches in "The Wife's Guide to Conduct." Jude knew the quality of every vibration in Sue's voice, could read every symptom of her mental condition; and he was convinced that she was unhappy, although she had not been a month married. But her rushing away thus from home, to see the last of a relative whom she had hardly known in her life, proved nothing; for Sue naturally did such things as those. "Well, you have my good wishes now as always, Mrs. Phillotson." She reproached him by a glance. "No, you are not Mrs. Phillotson," murmured Jude. "You are dear, free Sue Bridehead, only you don't know it! Wifedom has not yet squashed up and digested you in its vast maw as an atom which has no further individuality." Sue put on a look of being offended, till she answered, "Nor has husbandom you, so far as I can see!" "But it has!" he said, shaking his head sadly. When they reached the lone cottage under the firs, between the Brown House and Marygreen, in which Jude and Arabella had lived and quarrelled, he turned to look at it. A squalid family lived there now. He could not help saying to Sue: "That's the house my wife and I occupied the whole of the time we lived together. I brought her home to that house." She looked at it. "That to you was what the school-house at Shaston is to me." "Yes; but I was not very happy there as you are in yours." She closed her lips in retortive silence, and they walked some way till she glanced at him to see how he was taking it. "Of course I may have exaggerated your happiness--one never knows," he continued blandly. "Don't think that, Jude, for a moment, even though you may have said it to sting me! He's as good to me as a man can be, and gives me perfect liberty-- which elderly husbands don't do in general.... If you think I am not happy because he's too old for me, you are wrong." "I don't think anything against him--to you dear." "And you won't say things to distress me, will you?" "I will not." He said no more, but he knew that, from some cause or other, in taking Phillotson as a husband, Sue felt that she had done what she ought not to have done. They plunged into the concave field on the other side of which rose the village--the field wherein Jude had received a thrashing from the farmer many years earlier. On ascending to the village and approaching the house they found Mrs. Edlin standing at the door, who at sight of them lifted her hands deprecatingly. "She's downstairs, if you'll believe me!" cried the widow. "Out o' bed she got, and nothing could turn her. What will come o't I do not know!" On entering, there indeed by the fireplace sat the old woman, wrapped in blankets, and turning upon them a countenance like that of Sebastiano's Lazarus. They must have looked their amazement, for she said in a hollow voice: "Ah--sceered ye, have I! I wasn't going to bide up there no longer, to please nobody! 'Tis more than flesh and blood can bear, to be ordered to do this and that by a feller that don't know half as well as you do your-self! ... Ah--you'll rue this marrying as well as he!" she added, turning to Sue. "All our family do-- and nearly all everybody else's. You should have done as I did, you simpleton! And Phillotson the schoolmaster, of all men! What made 'ee marry him?" "What makes most women marry, Aunt?" "Ah! You mean to say you loved the man!" "I don't meant to say anything definite." "Do ye love un?" "Don't ask me, Aunt." "I can mind the man very well. A very civil, honourable liver; but Lord!-- I don't want to wownd your feelings, but--there be certain men here and there that no woman of any niceness can stomach. I should have said he was one. I don't say so NOW, since you must ha' known better than I--but that's what I SHOULD have said!" Sue jumped up and went out. Jude followed her, and found her in the outhouse, crying. "Don't cry, dear!" said Jude in distress. "She means well, but is very crusty and queer now, you know." "Oh no--it isn't that!" said Sue, trying to dry her eyes. "I don't mind her roughness one bit." "What is it, then?" "It is that what she says is--is true!" "God--what--you don't like him?" asked Jude. "I don't mean that!" she said hastily. "That I ought-- perhaps I ought not to have married!" He wondered if she had really been going to say that at first. They went back, and the subject was smoothed over, and her aunt took rather kindly to Sue, telling her that not many young women newly married would have come so far to see a sick old crone like her. In the afternoon Sue prepared to depart, Jude hiring a neighbour to drive her to Alfredston. "I'll go with you to the station, if you'd like?" he said. She would not let him. The man came round with the trap, and Jude helped her into it, perhaps with unnecessary attention, for she looked at him prohibitively. "I suppose--I may come to see you some day, when I am back again at Melchester?" he half-crossly observed. She bent down and said softly: "No, dear--you are not to come yet. I don't think you are in a good mood." "Very well," said Jude. "Good-bye!" "Good-bye!" She waved her hand and was gone. "She's right! I won't go!" he murmured. He passed the evening and following days in mortifying by every possible means his wish to see her, nearly starving himself in attempts to extinguish by fasting his passionate tendency to love her. He read sermons on discipline, and hunted up passages in Church history that treated of the Ascetics of the second century. Before he had returned from Marygreen to Melchester there arrived a letter from Arabella. The sight of it revived a stronger feeling of self-condemnation for his brief return to her society than for his attachment to Sue. The letter, he perceived, bore a London postmark instead of the Christminster one. Arabella informed him that a few days after their parting in the morning at Christminster, she had been surprised by an affectionate letter from her Australian husband, formerly manager of the hotel in Sydney. He had come to England on purpose to find her; and had taken a free, fully-licensed public, in Lambeth, where he wished her to join him in conducting the business, which was likely to be a very thriving one, the house being situated in an excellent, densely populated, gin-drinking neighbourhood, and already doing a trade of 200 pounds a month, which could be easily doubled. As he had said that he loved her very much still, and implored her to tell him where she was, and as they had only parted in a slight tiff, and as her engagement in Christminster was only temporary, she had just gone to join him as he urged. She could not help feeling that she belonged to him more than to Jude, since she had properly married him, and had lived with him much longer than with her first husband. In thus wishing Jude good-bye she bore him no ill-will, and trusted he would not turn upon her, a weak woman, and inform against her, and bring her to ruin now that she had a chance of improving her circumstances and leading a genteel life. 第二天早上九点到九点半之间，他们又坐火车返回基督堂，两个人占了三等车厢的一个隔间。阿拉贝拉因为要赶火车，草草梳洗了一下，样子有点邋遢，脸比起头天晚上在酒吧时候容光焕发。生气盎然，简直判若两人。出站时，她才知道离酒吧上班还有半个钟头。他们不言不语走了一段路，到了市外。路是通到阿尔夫瑞顿的，裘德朝着远处的大道张望。 “哎……我这个没用处的可怜东西哟！”他看完了嘴里直嘟囔。 “怎么回事？”她问。 “我当初上基督堂就走的这条路，还满脑子宏图大略呢！” “算了吧，管它什么路不路，我得十一点到酒吧上班呢，这会儿快到了。我跟你说过了，我不会请假跟你一块儿去看你姑婆。我看咱们顶好就在这儿散了。反正什么也没商量好，我这会儿得赶快离开你，别一块儿往大成街那边走。” “那好吧。不过早上起床的时候，你不是有点事想在我走之前跟我说吗？” “我是要说——两件事——一件得特别说说。不过你是不会答应替我守秘密的。我这会儿就说，你答应不答应守秘密？因为我是个老实巴交的女人，才想着告诉你这件事。昨儿个晚上我已经开了个头了——就是那位在悉尼开旅馆的先生。”阿拉贝拉说话显得比平常有点急。“你嘴能紧吗？” “好啦，好啦——我答应就是啦！”裘德不耐烦地说。“我当然不想把你的秘密捅出去。” “这么说吧，我跟他一约着到外头散步，他就老是说我模样长得俊，把他迷住啦，死盯着要我嫁他。我压根儿没想回英国，可我人远在澳洲，离开我爸爸之后，又没个自个儿的家，最后我还是答应嫁给他啦。” “什么——嫁给他啦？” “对啦。” “在教堂里头，按正式手续，按法律规定嫁给他吗？” “对啦。我回来之前一直跟他一块儿过。这事儿办得有点稀里糊涂，我也知道。哪，我全告诉你啦。你可别给抖露出去呀！他说他要回英国呢，可怜的老不死的。他要是真回来，也不大能找着我。” 裘德怔怔地站着，脸发白。 “见鬼喽！你昨晚上干吗不讲呀？”他说。 “唉——我没……那你不打算跟我摆摆平喽？” “这么说你跟酒吧客人说的‘你男人’就是指他喽，当然——不是指我。” “当然不指你。……得啦，别这么大惊小怪的。” “我还有什么可说的！”裘德回嘴说。“你招认了这个——罪——我还有什么可说呀！” “罪！呸！他们那边才不把这个当回事呢！……好吧，你要是这么个看法，我干脆就回他那儿去。他才喜欢我呢，我们过得体面极了，跟殖民地别的明媒正娶的夫妻一样，人家才看得起哪！再说我怎么知道你先前在哪儿？” “我用不着训你啦。我要是说，有一大堆话要说呢。不过说了也许全是对牛弹琴。你希望我干什么？” “什么也不叫你干。本来还有件事要告诉你，可我觉着咱们见这回面已经够了。你也讲了你这会儿的情形，我要考虑考虑，以后告诉你吧。” 他们就这样散了。裘德看着她往旅馆的那个方向消失以后，就进了旁边的火车站，看看还得等三刻钟，回阿尔夫瑞顿的火车才能开过来，于是茫茫然晃悠到城里，一直晃到四路口，跟从前常伫立它前面一样，又站住谛视向前延展的大成街，但见街旁学院林立，美轮美奂，如临画境，普天下也只有热内亚宫苑大街的大陆风的景色差堪媲美。那些崇楼杰阁在清晨的空气中，线条分外明晰，宛如绘好了的建筑底图。但是看归看，裘德其实对它们视而不见，心里也没什么批评的意思。因为他还让半夜里同阿拉贝拉的肌肤之欢以及黎明时看到她横陈大睡的姿态的那种说不出的感觉纠缠着，因而不由得产生了自甘堕落之恨，而正是这种感觉把那些实在的建筑物遮挡起来了。他脸上木然，显出负罪的表情。如果他能把一切都归罪于她，倒也罢了，可以少难受点。怎奈他此时不只瞧不起她，他还怜悯她。 裘德掉头往回走，快到车站的时候，忽然听见有人喊他的名字，他大吃一惊——惊的不只是有人喊他名字，更是喊他名字的那个声音。果然不错，真是个苏啊，他是太意外了，只见她如幻影般站在他面前——神情犹如梦中身临险境，又惊慌又焦急，双唇微颤，眼睛睁得大大的，分明表现出既有怨意，又有责难。 “哦，裘德呀——这样见到你，我真高兴啊！”她急促地说，声音起伏不定，如泣如诉。打她婚后，他们从未见过面，这会儿她要看他思想有什么变化，不期然而脸红了。 他们俩都朝别处看，好把自己的感情掩藏。他们相互拉着手，没再说别的；等到往前走了会儿，她才惴惴不安地偷看了他一眼。“我按你说的，昨天晚上到了阿尔夫瑞顿，可那儿没人接我呀！不过我还是一个人到了马利格林，人家跟我说姑婆的病稍微见好点。我坐着陪了她一夜；因为你没来，我一直不放心——我当时想你又回到那个呆过的城市，不免想到 ——我结婚了——心里头就怪乱的；我人不在那地方，你连个说话的人也没有；这么着，你又想借酒浇愁吧——跟上回你因为当不上大学生失了望一样，也就把从前答应我决不再犯的话忘光啦……我当时想这一定是你没来接我的缘故啊。” “所以你就像心慈的天使，想方设法来找我，要把我救出来！” “我当时就想坐早班车来，要想法把你找到——怕万一——万一……” “亲爱的，我答应你的话，我始终没忘啊！我现在敢保我决不会再跟从前一样突然犯毛病啦。比那还好的事，我大概也做不到，可是那样的事也不会再干啦——一想到它，我就恶心极啦。” “你呆在城里，没干那样事，我才高兴呢。不过，”她说，话里捎带着点难以察觉的不快，“你昨晚上没按约好的回来接我呀！” “我没做到——真对不起。晚上九点我跟人有个约会——太晚了，想赶上那趟车接你，要么直接回马利格林，都不行啦。” 他看着他所爱的女人这会儿的样子，在他的温柔的心中把她这个人世间对他来说最甜蜜、最无私。D的人引为同志，而她主要生活在一个充满灵性的幻想世界中。她有如天仙化人，纯净明洁，她的灵魂就在自己肢体上颤动。一想到他自己竟然同阿拉贝拉同床共枕，那么龌龊下流，不由得羞愧难当。他要是把他刚刚所做所为直戳进她心里，他就是十足的恬不知耻的恶棍啦。她这人摈绝欢爱，脱弃凡俗，有时看起来殆难嫁与常人，做个通达人情的妻子，然而她又的的确确是费乐生的妻子。她怎么会成了这个样？而她成了这个样又怎么生活下去？他瞧着此时此刻的她，对个中奥妙殊难索解。 “你跟我回去好不好？”他说，“火车等等就到了。我还不知道姑婆这会儿怎么样。……苏呀，你是为我跑了这么多路啊。你得起多早动身啊，可怜的孩子！” “是哟。一个人坐在那儿看姑婆，我一心都想着你怎么啦。我根本没睡过，天一亮就动身了。以后你不会再平白无故地乱来，弄得我担惊害怕吧！” 裘德倒不一定认为她所以担惊害怕，完全是因为他平白无故地乱来。上车之前，他才把她的手松开——他先前跟另外那个人好像也坐的这节车箱。他们并排坐着，苏坐在他和车窗之间。他打量着她的侧影，线条是那么精致优雅。她穿的是紧身衣，胸部绷得紧紧的，凸起的部分小小的，像是苹果，同阿拉贝拉丰满硕大的胸部大异其趣。他看着她，她却没转过脸来，眼睛一直朝前看，仿佛怕一跟他四目相对，就免不了惹起一番令人烦恼的争端。 “苏啊——你这会儿跟我一样结了婚啦，可咱们一直忙手忙脚的，这件事咱们还没顾得上谈哪！” “没有谈的必要！”她很快顶回去。 “哦，嗬——也许没……可是我希望——” “裘德——别谈我好吧——我希望你别提啦！”她恳求着。“一提这事，我就难受。我不该说这个话，你就担待着吧！……，你昨天在哪儿过的夜呀？” 她这样问纯属无心，无非想借此换个话题。他心里明白，所以另说了句，“在客店里过的。”按说他要是把意外遇到另外那个人的事告诉她，心里倒要舒坦些，但是那个人既然最后已经讲明白在澳洲结了婚，他反而觉着为难，唯恐他无论怎么说，都不免对他那个无知无识的妻子有所损害。 他们一路谈着，就到了阿尔夫瑞顿，不过谈来谈去总是不自然。苏非复过去可比了，她的名字冠上了“费乐生”这个标签，即使他一心想把她当成独立的个人跟她谈谈心，这一来，也叫他泄了气，难以启齿。然而她似乎依然故我，没有变化——不过对这他也讲不出个所以然。现在还剩下往乡下走的五英里路，大部分是上坡路，走起来跟坐车一样不方便。裘德这辈子是头一回跟苏一块儿走这条路，从前他是跟另外那个人一块儿走的。这会儿他仿佛举着一盏明灯，暂时把阴暗的过去驱散了。 她还在说话；但是裘德注意到她仍然设法避免提到她自己。最后他就问她的丈夫情况如何。 “哦，是啊。”她说。“他成天价拴在学校里头，脱不开身，要不然就跟我一块儿来啦。他这人心才好哪，老替人家想，为着陪我来，连他自己立的规矩也顾不得了，只好请回假——因为他一向是坚决反对请假，还是我把他劝住了。我觉着一个人来倒好些。多喜姑婆这个人我知道，脾气特古怪。她等于不认识他，那就把两边都弄得别别扭扭的。既然她神志不清，我倒高兴他没来啊。” 裘德一边听着这番对费乐生的夸奖，一边闷闷不乐地往前走。“费乐生先生凡是该为你想的，处处都替你想周到啦。”他说。 “可不是嘛。” “你准是位快活的太太喽。” “那还用说嘛。” “新娘子呀，到现在，我大概还该这么称呼吧。我把你交给他到现在还没几个礼拜吧，再说——” “好啦，我知道！我知道！”她脸上那股子神气跟她刚说出来的理直气壮的话不太搭配，因为她刚才说得那么有板有眼，那么于干巴巴，就如同把《家庭主妇指南》里的模范语言照本宣科了一遍。裘德深知苏说话声音每一点颤动都有其含义，他能解读她心清变化的每一点迹象。她结婚固然不到一个月，但她是不快活的，这一点他深信不疑。不过单凭她仓促离家，远道而来，同这辈子几乎不相识的亲戚诀别，也证明不了什么道理；因为她做起这样的事来自自然然，也跟做别的事一样。 “好啦，费乐生太太，请你接受我这会儿是、也永远是对你的良好祝愿吧。” 她瞪了他一眼，表示责怪。 “不是呀，你不是费乐生太太。”裘德嘟囔着。“你是亲爱的、独立不羁的苏•柏瑞和呀，你自己还没明白呢！相夫持家之道好比其大无比的牛胃，还没把你这个微不足道的东西吞噬消化，临了让你没了自己的个性呢。” 苏装出气恼的样子，然后她回答说：“照我看，当家作主的为夫之道也没把你——” “可是它的确弄得我没个性啦！”他说，伤心地摇摇头。 他们走到了棕房子和马利格林之间冷杉下，裘德和阿拉贝拉一同生活过、争吵过的孤零零的小房子，他这时掉过头来看它。那儿住着一个挺穷苦的人家。他忍不住对苏说：“我跟妻子一块儿过的那阵子，一直住那个房子里头。我从她家把她带过来的。” 她瞧着房子。“那房子跟你的关系如同小学校舍跟我的关系。” “那倒是不错，不过我当初住在那儿，可不像你这会儿在家里那么快活！” 她闭着嘴，以沉默表示不以为然。他们又往前走了一段路，这时她又对他看着，想弄明白他对她这样的态度有什么反应。“当然我也许把你这会儿的快活说得过分了——这谁又知道呢。”他淡淡地说下去。 “裘德，就算你说这样的话是刺我，你也别再往这上头想好吧。他对我不错，凡是按男人该做的，他都做到了，也给了我充分的活动自由——年纪大的男人一般做不到这地步。……要是你认为他年纪太大，对我不合适，我就不快活，那你就错啦。” “亲爱的，我可没想说他什么坏话——没想对你说呀。” “那你就别再说叫我难过的事好吧，行不行？” 他没再说什么，不过他知道，总是有什么原因让苏感到她选择费乐生做丈夫，是做了件不该做的事动 他们下降到低洼处的麦田，它的一侧上面就是马利格林村——裘德多年前就在这块麦田里让庄稼汉陶大抽打过。他们爬上坡子，朝村里走，快到姑婆家的时候，看见艾林太太站在门口。她一瞧见他们，就把手举起来，似乎表示他们来得不合时宜。“她下楼啦，信不信你们看就是了！”寡妇嚷嚷着。“她硬是下了床，怎么劝也不行。我真不知道要出什么事哪！” 他们进门的时候，老太婆的确坐在壁炉边上，身上裹着毯子，脸掉过来对着他们看，那张脸活像塞巴斯蒂亚诺画的拉萨路的脸。他们准是露出惊讶的神气，因为她用虚弱的声音说： “唉——我把你们吓着啦！我可要在这儿呆长了，才不想让人家心里高兴哪！我可不想找个不懂事的，知道的还没你一半多，把你折腾来折腾去的，哪个身子骨吃得消哟！唉，你就要跟他一样后悔这个婚姻啦！”她转过脸来，对苏接着说，“咱们家的人全这样——别的人也差不多哟！你就得像我这么着才行哪，你这个傻丫头！何况你又是那么百里挑一地找了那个小学老师费乐生！你嫁给他倒是图什么呀？” “姑婆，难道大多数女人嫁人都是为图什么？” “唉！你这是想说你爱那个男人！” “我什么明明白白的话都没说。” “那你是爱他喽？” “别问我啦，姑婆。” “那男人我记得挺清楚。是个挺斯文、也挺体面的人物；不过老天爷哟！——我不是要伤你的感情，不过到处都有那么些男人，什么讨人疼的女人都吃不消。我本来想说他就是一个。我这会儿就不说啦，因为你大概知道得比我清楚啦——不过这也是我早该说的呀！” 她跳起来，跑出了屋子。裘德跟着她出去，在披子里找到她，她哭了。 “别哭啦，亲爱的！”裘德痛苦地说，“她本意还是好的，不过她这会儿粗里粗气、怪里怪气就是啦，你知道。” “哦，不是——不是那么回事。”苏说，想擦干眼泪。“她粗不粗，我一点不在乎。” “那又为什么呢？” “因为她说的是实话！” “上帝啊——怎么——你不喜欢他？”裘德问。 “我不是那个意思！”她脱口而出。“我顶好——也许顶好没结婚！” 他怀疑她原来是不是真想说出这样的话。他们回到屋子里，原来谈的事算过去了。姑婆对苏相当亲热，对她说，刚结婚的年轻女人难得像她这么老远地来看一个生了病的讨厌的老家伙。苏要在下午离开，裘德便找了一位邻居赶车送她到阿尔夫瑞顿。 “要是你愿意，我跟你一块儿到车站好吧？”他说。 她不愿他去。邻居赶着马车过来了，裘德扶她上了车，也许这样显得过分热心吧，因为她看看他，示意他不该这样。 “我打算——我回麦尔切斯特以后，哪天去看看你，你看行吧？”他悻悻地说。 她俯下身来，温柔地说：“不行，亲爱的——你想来，可还不是时候。我觉得你现在心情不怎么好。” “就是啦。”裘德说。“再见！” “再见！”她摇摇手就走了。 “她说得不错！我不该去！”他嘟囔着。 那天晚上和以后几大，他死命压制自己要想去看她的愿望。为了存心扼杀使他神魂颠倒的爱情，把这种愿望消灭于无形中，他差点没把自己饿垮。他诵读自律训条，还专门捡出教会史讲述第二世纪苦行主义的篇章来学习。他还没从马利格林回麦尔切斯特，就收到阿拉贝拉的一封信。他一看到信，就为自己裹进了她那个世界而良心受到谴责，要比他因恋恋于苏而自责更为强烈。 他一眼看出来信上盖的不是基督堂邮戳，而是伦敦的。阿拉贝拉告诉他，他们俩那天早晨在基督堂分手后没几天，她很意外地收到先前在悉尼一家旅馆当经理的澳洲丈夫的亲切的来信。他是专门到英国来找她的，在兰贝斯地方开了家有全份营业执照、便于经营的酒馆，盼望她到他那儿，一块儿做生意，以后酒馆大概会生意兴隆，因为它地处人烟稠密，爱喝金酒的头等居民区，现在一个月生意已经做到两百镑，往后不用费劲就能加一倍。 因为那个人说他至今还非常爱她，求她告诉他她在什么地方，再说他们分手不过因为小吵小闹，而她在基督堂干的活儿也不过临时性质，所以经他一劝，就上他那儿去了。她总不免觉得她跟他的关系比跟裘德的近乎多了，因为她是明媒正娶嫁他的，在一块儿过的日子也比跟头一个丈夫长得多。她这样向裘德表示各奔前程，决不是对他抱有恶感，也完全相信他不会跟她这软弱无能的女人过不去，不会给她到处宣扬，不会在她现在刚有个机会改善境遇，过上体面生活的时候，把她毁掉。 Part 3 Chapter 10 JUDE returned to Melchester, which had the questionable recommendation of being only a dozen and a half miles from his Sue's now permanent residence. At first he felt that this nearness was a distinct reason for not going southward at all; but Christminster was too sad a place to bear, while the proximity of Shaston to Melchester might afford him the glory of worsting the Enemy in a close engagement, such as was deliberately sought by the priests and virgins of the early Church, who, disdaining an ignominious flight from temptation, became even chamber-partners with impunity. Jude did not pause to remember that, in the laconic words of the historian, "insulted Nature sometimes vindicated her rights" in such circumstances. He now returned with feverish desperation to his study for the priesthood-- in the recognition that the single-mindedness of his aims, and his fidelity to the cause, had been more than questionable of late. His passion for Sue troubled his soul; yet his lawful abandonment to the society of Arabella for twelve hours seemed instinctively a worse thing-- even though she had not told him of her Sydney husband till afterwards. He had, he verily believed, overcome all tendency to fly to liquor-- which, indeed, he had never done from taste, but merely as an escape from intolerable misery of mind. Yet he perceived with despondency that, taken all round, he was a man of too many passions to make a good clergyman; the utmost he could hope for was that in a life of constant internal warfare between flesh and spirit the former might not always be victorious. As a hobby, auxiliary to his readings in Divinity, he developed his slight skill in church-music and thorough-bass, till he could join in part-singing from notation with some accuracy. A mile or two from Melchester there was a restored village church, to which Jude had originally gone to fix the new columns and capitals. By this means he had become acquainted with the organist, and the ultimate result was that he joined the choir as a bass voice. He walked out to this parish twice every Sunday, and sometimes in the week. One evening about Easter the choir met for practice, and a new hymn which Jude had heard of as being by a Wessex composer was to be tried and prepared for the following week. It turned out to be a strangely emotional composition. As they all sang it over and over again its harmonies grew upon Jude, and moved him exceedingly. When they had finished he went round to the organist to make inquiries. The score was in manuscript, the name of the composer being at the head, together with the title of the hymn: "The Foot of the Cross." "Yes," said the organist. "He is a local man. He is a professional musician at Kennetbridge--between here and Christminster. The vicar knows him. He was brought up and educated in Christminster traditions, which accounts for the quality of the piece. I think he plays in the large church there, and has a surpliced choir. He comes to Melchester sometimes, and once tried to get the cathedral organ when the post was vacant. The hymn is getting about everywhere this Easter." As he walked humming the air on his way home, Jude fell to musing on its composer, and the reasons why he composed it. What a man of sympathies he must be! Perplexed and harassed as he himself was about Sue and Arabella, and troubled as was his conscience by the complication of his position, how he would like to know that man!" He of all men would understand my difficulties," said the impulsive Jude. If there were any person in the world to choose as a confidant, this composer would be the one, for he must have suffered, and throbbed, and yearned. In brief, ill as he could afford the time and money for the journey, Fawley resolved, like the child that he was, to go to Kennetbridge the very next Sunday. He duly started, early in the morning, for it was only by a series of crooked railways that he could get to the town. About mid-day he reached it, and crossing the bridge into the quaint old borough he inquired for the house of the composer. They told him it was a red brick building some little way further on. Also that the gentleman himself had just passed along the street not five minutes before. "Which way?" asked Jude with alacrity. "Straight along homeward from church." Jude hastened on, and soon had the pleasure of observing a man in a black coat and a black slouched felt hat no considerable distance ahead. Stretching out his legs yet more widely he stalked after. "A hungry soul in pursuit of a full soul!" he said. "I must speak to that man!" He could not, however, overtake the musician before he had entered his own house, and then arose the question if this were an expedient time to call. Whether or not he decided to do so there and then, now that he had got here, the distance home being too great for him to wait till late in the afternoon. This man of soul would understand scant ceremony, and might be quite a perfect adviser in a case in which an earthly and illegitimate passion had cunningly obtained entrance into his heart through the opening afforded for religion. Jude accordingly rang the bell, and was admitted. The musician came to him in a moment, and being respectably dressed, good-looking, and frank in manner, Jude obtained a favourable reception. He was nevertheless conscious that there would be a certain awkwardness in explaining his errand. "I have been singing in the choir of a little church near Melchester," he said. "And we have this week practised 'The Foot of the Cross,' which I understand, sir, that you composed?" "I did--a year or so ago." "I--like it. I think it supremely beautiful!" "Ah well--other people have said so too. Yes, there's money in it, if I could only see about getting it published. I have other compositions to go with it, too; I wish I could bring them out; for I haven't made a five-pound note out of any of them yet. These publishing people--they want the copyright of an obscure composer's work, such as mine is, for almost less than I should have to pay a person for making, a fair manuscript copy of the score. The one you speak of I have lent to various friends about here and Melchester, and so it has got to be sung a little. But music is a poor staff to lean on--I am giving it up entirely. You must go into trade if you want to make money nowadays. The wine business is what I am thinking of. This is my forthcoming list-- it is not issued yet--but you can take one." He handed Jude an advertisement list of several pages in booklet shape, ornamentally margined with a red line, in which were set forth the various clarets, champagnes, ports, sherries, and other wines with which he purposed to initiate his new venture. It took Jude more than by surprise that the man with the soul was thus and thus; and he felt that he could not open up his confidences. They talked a little longer, but constrainedly, for when the musician found that Jude was a poor man his manner changed from what it had been while Jude's appearance and address deceived him as to his position and pursuits. Jude stammered out something about his feelings in wishing to congratulate the author on such an exalted composition, and took an embarrassed leave. All the way home by the slow Sunday train, sitting in the fireless waiting-rooms on this cold spring day, he was depressed enough at his simplicity in taking such a journey. But no sooner did he reach his Melchester lodging than he found awaiting him a letter which had arrived that morning a few minutes after he had left the house. It was a contrite little note from Sue, in which she said, with sweet humility, that she felt she had been horrid in telling him he was not to come to see her, that she despised herself for having been so conventional; and that he was to be sure to come by the eleven-forty-five train that very Sunday, and have dinner with them at half-past one. Jude almost tore his hair at having missed this letter till it was too late to act upon its contents; but he had chastened himself considerably of late, and at last his chimerical expedition to Kennetbridge really did seem to have been another special intervention of Providence to keep him away from temptation. But a growing impatience of faith, which he had noticed in himself more than once of late, made him pass over in ridicule the idea that God sent people on fools' errands. He longed to see her; he was angry at having missed her: and he wrote instantly, telling her what had happened, and saying he had not enough patience to wait till the following Sunday, but would come any day in the week that she liked to name. Since he wrote a little over-ardently, Sue, as her manner was, delayed her reply till Thursday before Good Friday, when she said he might come that afternoon if he wished, this being the earliest day on which she could welcome him, for she was now assistant-teacher in her husband's school. Jude therefore got leave from the cathedral works at the trifling expense of a stoppage of pay, and went. 裘德回到了麦尔切斯特，那儿离苏的永久性寓所不过十二英里半，这当然有好处，不过好处本身就有问题。起初他认为近便正是个明显的理由，他不该南去看苏。但是基督堂又叫他痛心疾首，他也实在不想回去。再说沙氏顿同麦尔切斯特既然有邻近之利，这岂不是让他大可借此同“大敌”短兵相接，取得战而胜之的光荣吗？教会早期的僧侣和贞女就是视逃避诱惑力可耻行径，甚至不惜同处一室而决无苟且之行。可是裘德就是不肯回想一下历史家从前说得多么言简意赅，一针见血：遇到这类情形，“受了凌辱的‘自然’，势必有时为她的权利而肆虐。” 为当牧师，他现在又是废寝忘食，不遗余力地学习，省悟到前一阵子既没有一心扑在自己的目标上，也不是抱住事业不放。他对苏的热烈的爱情搅得他心烦意乱，可是他又甘心同阿拉贝拉鬼混十二个钟头，就算这样做于法有据，就算她事后才说在悉尼有了个丈夫，看来还是他的本能在做怪，所以才干了坏事。他确实自信已经克服了一切纵酒自废的倾向，说实在的，他以前何尝因好酒而贪杯，他痛饮无度无非借此逃避无法忍受的内心痛苦。话虽如此，他还是不免心情沮丧，因为他很明白，就他整个人格而言，他情欲太盛，因此当不了好牧师，充其极量只能希望在一生永不息止的灵与肉之间的内在斗争中，肉并不总是胜方。 在攻读神学著作的同时，他还有一项爱好，就是想把在教堂音乐和通奏低音记谱法方面的粗浅技巧发展起来，能达到相当准确地按谱合乐参加合唱的水平。麦尔切斯特市外一两英里的地方有个新近修好的教堂，裘德在那儿安装过石柱和柱头。他借那次机会结识了教堂风琴师，后来总算以一个低音部歌手进了唱诗班。 每个礼拜天，他两次到那个教区，有时候礼拜中间也去。复活节前有个晚上，唱诗班聚起来练唱，试唱一首新赞美诗，准备下个礼拜正式使用。裘德听人说新赞美诗出自维塞克斯郡一位作曲人之手。试唱结果表明它是一首有非凡的感人力量的曲子。大家唱了又唱，它的和声把他紧紧抓住了，令他极为感动。 试唱一结束，他就走过去向风琴师请教。乐谱还是稿本，作曲人姓名和赞美诗题名《十字架下》都标在稿本上端。 “哦，”风琴师说，“他是本地人，是位职业音乐家，住在肯尼桥，在这儿跟基督堂之间，教区长对他很了解。他可是基督堂的传统培养造就出来的呢。他的作品能有那样的品味，道理就在这儿。我想他这会儿是在一座大点的教堂演奏，还带个穿着白法衣的唱诗班呢。他有时候也到麦尔切斯特来，大教堂风琴师位子有一回出了缺，他很想谋到手。这回复活节，他这首赞美诗已经到处传唱啦。” 裘德在回家的路上一边走，一边哼着赞美诗的调子，老琢磨着那位作曲人是个何等样人物，作那样的曲子又原因何在，他该是多么富于同情心的人哪！他自己这会儿为苏和阿拉贝拉的事弄得焦头烂额，无法收拾，这种纠缠不清的局面叫他觉着良心有亏，他多想认识那个人啊！“只有他那样的人才能理解我的难处啊。”好冲动的裘德说。如果哪个人想在世上觅个可供谈心的知音，恐怕非那位作曲人莫属，因为他必定受过苦，揪过心，做过梦啊。 简单地说吧，福来如同孩子一样决心下个礼拜天到肯尼桥去，虽然来回破费和误工本会承受不起，他也顾不得了。他一大早按时动身，因为坐火车也得经过一段曲折、绕弯的路程，才到得了那个乡镇。傍午他一到，就过桥进了别具风貌的老镇，向人打听作曲人的住址。 人家跟他说再往前走一点，看见红砖房子，就是他家了。那位先生不到五分钟之前才走过那条街。 “他上哪儿去啦？”裘德赶紧问。 “打教堂出来，一直回家了。” 裘德步子加快往前追，一会儿就瞧见前头没多远有个男人，身穿黑外套，头戴黑呢帽，帽檐耷拉着。他心里挺高兴，步子迈得更大，直追上去。“饥渴的心灵在追饱暖的心灵哪！”他说，“我一定得跟他谈谈才行！” 但是没等他追上，音乐家就进了家门。他琢磨这会儿拜访他合不合适，决定既然到了地方，那就一不做二不休，不能再等，不然的话，候到下午，回家的路太远，就赶不及了。那位心灵高尚的人未必那么拘泥礼节，而这会儿他正向圣教敞开心扉之际，俗世的。律法不容的情欲却找到空子，乘虚而入，这个人大概就是给他提出十分中肯的忠告的上佳人选吧。 于是裘德拉了门铃，有人把他让进去了。 音乐家随即出来见他。裘德衣冠楚楚，仪表堂堂，从容大方，当下受到很好的款待，不过要说明来意，他还是觉着为难，不好出口。 “我在麦尔切斯特附近一个小教堂的唱诗班里头。”他说。“这礼拜我们练过《十字架下》，先生，我听说曲子是你作的。” “是我作的——大概一年了。” “我——喜欢这个曲子，我认为它真美极啦！” “哎，呃——好多人也这么说呢。是呀，我要是能想法子把它出版了，那可是一笔钱呢。除了这首，我还谱了别的曲子，也可以一块儿出嘛，但愿能够把它们都印出来啊；因为不论哪一首，到这会儿，我连一张五镑票子也没挣到手呢。出版商呀——他们就是专门弄到我这样没名气的作曲人的作品，出的价简直连我付给抄一份清谱的人的钱还不够呢。这地方跟麦尔切斯特的好多朋友，我都借给他们啦，也就慢慢有人唱它啦。不过音乐这玩意儿，要靠它吃饭，那就太可怜喽——我要把它全甩到一边儿啦。这年头要想弄钱，得去做生意。我这会儿正打算于卖酒这行。这就是我打算经销的货单——现在还没往外发，不过你拿一份也可以嘛。” 他递给裘德一份经销各种酒类的广告，是钉好了的几页小册子，页边套印了红线，品目繁多，有波尔多红酒、香摈酒、葡萄酒、雪利酒等等，他打算一发广告就开张营业。裘德不禁大失所望，想不到那位心灵高尚的人物竞然如此俗鄙，感到自己再没法开口说心里话了。 他们又谈了会儿，不过是没话找话，因为音乐家已经察觉裘德是个穷人，原先让裘德的外貌和谈吐给蒙住了，没弄明白他的真实身份和职业。所以他这会儿的态度跟先前大不相同了。裘德结结巴巴地讲了几句，表示心意，祝贺作者能有这样备受赞赏的曲谱，然后尴里尴尬地告辞而去。 他在开得很慢的火车里，还有刚才在这春寒料峭却没生火的候车室里坐着的时候，想到自己头脑居然如此简单，白跑了这么个来回，着实感到懊丧。但是他刚到麦尔切斯特的家，就发现早晨才离家几分钟，信就到了。原来是苏因为后悔写来一封短信，她说得又甜蜜又谦卑，表示她因为叫他别来，觉着自己实在太不应该，为了自己拘礼从俗而深感惭愧；他一定要在这个礼拜天坐十一点四十五分的火车来，一点半跟他们一块儿吃午饭。 裘德因为自己误了这封信，为时太晚，没法按信里说的去赴约，急得简直要把自己的头发揪下来，不过他近来大有变化，很能克己自制了；再一想他这趟异想天开的肯尼桥之行，真像是天公又一次特意插手，免得他跟诱惑结缘；可是他原先就注意到自己近来对信仰已经多少次不那么恭敬从命了，而且越来越厉害，所以想到上帝出点子叫人冤枉来回，他也只是当个笑话。他渴望见到她。为了错过跟她见面，他一肚子火，于是立刻动手写信，告诉她始末根由，说他可没那么大耐性等到下个礼拜天，随便她定下礼拜哪天，他都去。 他信写得太热火，所以苏按她一向的态度，迟到耶稣受难日的礼拜四才给他回信，说他如想来的话，那天下午来就行了，这是她能欢迎他的最早一天，因为她现在已经在她丈夫的小学里当助理教员了。裘德向大教堂工地管事的告了假，到她那儿去了，好在牺牲的工资为数甚微，不在话下。 |
| Part 4 AT SHASTON "Whoso prefers either Matrimony or other Ordinance before the Good of Man and the plain Exigence of Charity, let him profess Papist, or Protestant, or what he will, he is no better than a Pharisee."-- J. Milton. 人若一味听命于婚姻法律及其他诏令，置道德真谛与仁爱至情于不顾，纵其以教皇派、新教派或其他名号自居，实则与法利赛无异。J．密尔顿 Part 4 Chapter 1 SHASTON, the ancient British Palladour, From whose foundation first such strange reports arise, (as Drayton sang it), was, and is, in itself the city of a dream. Vague imaginings of its castle, its three mints, its magnificent apsidal abbey, the chief glory of South Wessex, its twelve churches, its shrines, chantries, hospitals, its gabled freestone mansions-- all now ruthlessly swept away--throw the visitor, even against his will, into a pensive melancholy, which the stimulating atmosphere and limitless landscape around him can scarcely dispel. The spot was the burial-place of a king and a queen, of abbots and abbesses, saints and bishops, knights and squires. The bones of King Edward "the Martyr," carefully removed hither for holy preservation, brought Shaston a renown which made it the resort of pilgrims from every part of Europe, and enabled it to maintain a reputation extending far beyond English shores. To this fair creation of the great Middle-Age the Dissolution was, as historians tell us, the death-knell. With the destruction of the enormous abbey the whole place collapsed in a general ruin: the Martyr's bones met with the fate of the sacred pile that held them, and not a stone is now left to tell where they lie. The natural picturesqueness and singularity of the town still remain; but strange to say these qualities, which were noted by many writers in ages when scenic beauty is said to have been unappreciated, are passed over in this, and one of the queerest and quaintest spots in England stands virtually unvisited to-day. It has a unique position on the summit of a steep and imposing scarp, rising on the north, south, and west sides of the borough out of the deep alluvial Vale of Blackmoor, the view from the Castle Green over three counties of verdant pasture--South, Mid, and Nether Wessex-- being as sudden a surprise to the unexpectant traveller's eyes as the medicinal air is to his lungs. Impossible to a railway, it can best be reached on foot, next best by light vehicles; and it is hardly accessible to these but by a sort of isthmus on the north-east, that connects it with the high chalk table-land on that side. Such is, and such was, the now world-forgotten Shaston or Palladour. Its situation rendered water the great want of the town; and within living memory, horses, donkeys and men may have been seen toiling up the winding ways to the top of the height, laden with tubs and barrels filled from the wells beneath the mountain, and hawkers retailing their contents at the price of a halfpenny a bucketful. This difficulty in the water supply, together with two other odd facts, namely, that the chief graveyard slopes up as steeply as a roof behind the church, and that in former times the town passed through a curious period of corruption, conventual and domestic, gave rise to the saying that Shaston was remarkable for three consolations to man, such as the world afforded not elsewhere. It was a place where the churchyard lay nearer heaven than the church steeple, where beer was more plentiful than water, and where there were more wanton women than honest wives and maids. It is also said that after the Middle Ages the inhabitants were too poor to pay their priests, and hence were compelled to pull down their churches, and refrain altogether from the public worship of God; a necessity which they bemoaned over their cups in the settles of their inns on Sunday afternoons. In those days the Shastonians were apparently not without a sense of humour. There was another peculiarity--this a modern one--which Shaston appeared to owe to its site. It was the resting-place and headquarters of the proprietors of wandering vans, shows, shooting-galleries, and other itinerant concerns, whose business lay largely at fairs and markets. As strange wild birds are seen assembled on some lofty promontory, meditatively pausing for longer flights, or to return by the course they followed thither, so here, in this cliff-town, stood in stultified silence the yellow and green caravans bearing names not local, as if surprised by a change in the landscape so violent as to hinder their further progress; and here they usually remained all the winter till they turned to seek again their old tracks in the following spring. It was to this breezy and whimsical spot that Jude ascended from the nearest station for the first time in his life about four o'clock one afternoon, and entering on the summit of the peak after a toilsome climb, passed the first houses of the aerial town; and drew towards the school-house. The hour was too early; the pupils were still in school, humming small, like a swarm of gnats; and he withdrew a few steps along Abbey Walk, whence he regarded the spot which fate had made the home of all he loved best in the world. In front of the schools, which were extensive and stone-built, grew two enormous beeches with smooth mouse-coloured trunks, as such trees will only grow on chalk uplands. Within the mullioned and transomed windows he could see the black, brown, and flaxen crowns of the scholars over the sills, and to pass the time away he walked down to the level terrace where the abbey gardens once had spread, his heart throbbing in spite of him. Unwilling to enter till the children were dismissed he remained here till young voices could be heard in the open air, and girls in white pinafores over red and blue frocks appeared dancing along the paths which the abbess, prioress, subprioress, and fifty nuns had demurely paced three centuries earlier. Retracing his steps he found that he had waited too long, and that Sue had gone out into the town at the heels of the last scholar, Mr. Phillotson having been absent all the afternoon at a teachers' meeting at Shottsford. Jude went into the empty schoolroom and sat down, the girl who was sweeping the floor having informed him that Mrs. Phillotson would be back again in a few minutes. A piano stood near-- actually the old piano that Phillotson had possessed at Marygreen-- and though the dark afternoon almost prevented him seeing the notes Jude touched them in his humble way, and could not help modulating into the hymn which had so affected him in the previous week. A figure moved behind him, and thinking it was still the girl with the broom Jude took no notice, till the person came close and laid her fingers lightly upon his bass hand. The imposed hand was a little one he seemed to know, and he turned. "Don't stop," said Sue. "I like it. I learnt it before I left Melchester. They used to play it in the training school." "I can't strum before you! Play it for me." "Oh well--I don't mind." Sue sat down, and her rendering of the piece, though not remarkable, seemed divine as compared with his own. She, like him, was evidently touched-- to her own surprise--by the recalled air; and when she had finished, and he moved his hand towards hers, it met his own half-way. Jude grasped it-- just as he had done before her marriage. "It is odd," she said, in a voice quite changed, "that I should care about that air; because----" "Because what?" "I am not that sort--quite." "Not easily moved?" "I didn't quite mean that." "Oh, but you ARE one of that sort, for you are just like me at heart!" "But not at head." She played on and suddenly turned round; and by an unpremeditated instinct each clasped the other's hand again. She uttered a forced little laugh as she relinquished his quickly. "How funny!" she said. "I wonder what we both did that for?" "I suppose because we are both alike, as I said before." "Not in our thoughts! Perhaps a little in our feelings." "And they rule thoughts.... Isn't it enough to make one blaspheme that the composer of that hymn is one of the most commonplace men I ever met!" "What--you know him?" "I went to see him." "Oh, you goose--to do just what I should have done! Why did you?" "Because we are not alike," he said drily. "Now we'll have some tea," said Sue. "Shall we have it here instead of in my house? It is no trouble to get the kettle and things brought in. We don't live at the school you know, but in that ancient dwelling across the way called Old-Grove Place. It is so antique and dismal that it depresses me dreadfully. Such houses are very well to visit, but not to live in-- I feel crushed into the earth by the weight of so many previous lives there spent. In a new place like these schools there is only your own life to support. Sit down, and I'll tell Ada to bring the tea-things across." He waited in the light of the stove, the door of which she flung open before going out, and when she returned, followed by the maiden with tea, they sat down by the same light, assisted by the blue rays of a spirit-lamp under the brass kettle on the stand. "This is one of your wedding-presents to me," she said, signifying the latter. "Yes," said Jude. The kettle of his gift sang with some satire in its note, to his mind; and to change the subject he said, "Do you know of any good readable edition of the uncanonical books of the New Testament? You don't read them in the school I suppose?" "Oh dear no!--'twould alarm the neighbourhood.... Yes, there is one. I am not familiar with it now, though I was interested in it when my former friend was alive. Cowper's APOCRYPHAL GOSPELS." "That sounds like what I want." His thoughts, however reverted with a twinge to the "former friend"--by whom she meant, as he knew, the university comrade of her earlier days. He wondered if she talked of him to Phillotson. "The Gospel of Nicodemus is very nice," she went on to keep him from his jealous thoughts, which she read clearly, as she always did. Indeed when they talked on an indifferent subject, as now, there was ever a second silent conversation passing between their emotions, so perfect was the reciprocity between them. "It is quite like the genuine article. All cut up into verses, too; so that it is like one of the other evangelists read in a dream, when things are the same, yet not the same. But, Jude, do you take an interest in those questions still? Are you getting up APOLOGETICA?" "Yes. I am reading Divinity harder than ever." She regarded him curiously. "Why do you look at me like that?" said Jude. "Oh--why do you want to know?" "I am sure you can tell me anything I may be ignorant of in that subject. You must have learnt a lot of everything from your dear dead friend!" "We won't get on to that now!" she coaxed. "Will you be carving out at that church again next week, where you learnt the pretty hymn?" "Yes, perhaps." "That will be very nice. Shall I come and see you there? It is in this direction, and I could come any afternoon by train for half an hour?" "No. Don't come!" "What--aren't we going to be friends, then, any longer, as we used to be?" "No." "I didn't know that. I thought you were always going to be kind to me!" "No, I am not." "What have I done, then? I am sure I thought we two---- " The TREMOLO in her voice caused her to break off. "Sue, I sometimes think you are a flirt," said he abruptly. There was a momentary pause, till she suddenly jumped up; and to his surprise he saw by the kettle-flame that her face was flushed. "I can't talk to you any longer, Jude!" she said, the tragic contralto note having come back as of old. "It is getting too dark to stay together like this, after playing morbid Good Friday tunes that make one feel what one shouldn't! ... We mustn't sit and talk in this way any more. Yes--you must go away, for you mistake me! I am very much the reverse of what you say so cruelly--Oh, Jude, it WAS cruel to say that! Yet I can't tell you the truth--I should shock you by letting you know how I give way to my impulses, and how much I feel that I shouldn't have been provided with attractiveness unless it were meant to be exercised! Some women's love of being loved is insatiable; and so, often, is their love of loving; and in the last case they may find that they can't give it continuously to the chamber-officer appointed by the bishop's licence to receive it. But you are so straightforward, Jude, that you can't understand me! ... Now you must go. I am sorry my husband is not at home." "Are you?" "I perceive I have said that in mere convention! Honestly I don't think I am sorry. It does not matter, either way, sad to say!" As they had overdone the grasp of hands some time sooner, she touched his fingers but lightly when he went out now. He had hardly gone from the door when, with a dissatisfied look, she jumped on a form and opened the iron casement of a window beneath which he was passing in the path without. "When do you leave here to catch your train, Jude?" she asked. He looked up in some surprise. "The coach that runs to meet it goes in three-quarters of an hour or so." "What will you do with yourself for the time?" "Oh--wander about, I suppose. Perhaps I shall go and sit in the old church." "It does seem hard of me to pack you off so! You have thought enough of churches, Heaven knows, without going into one in the dark. Stay there." "Where?" "Where you are. I can talk to you better like this than when you were inside.... It was so kind and tender of you to give up half a day's work to come to see me! ... You are Joseph the dreamer of dreams, dear Jude. And a tragic Don Quixote. And sometimes you are St. Stephen, who, while they were stoning him, could see Heaven opened. Oh, my poor friend and comrade, you'll suffer yet!" Now that the high window-sill was between them, so that he could not get at her, she seemed not to mind indulging in a frankness she had feared at close quarters. "I have been thinking," she continued, still in the tone of one brimful of feeling, "that the social moulds civilization fits us into have no more relation to our actual shapes than the conventional shapes of the constellations have to the real star-patterns. I am called Mrs. Richard Phillotson, living a calm wedded life with my counterpart of that name. But I am not really Mrs. Richard Phillotson, but a woman tossed about, all alone, with aberrant passions, and unaccountable antipathies.... Now you mustn't wait longer, or you will lose the coach. Come and see me again. You must come to the house then." "Yes!" said Jude. "When shall it be?" "To-morrow week. Good-bye--good-bye!" She stretched out her hand and stroked his forehead pitifully--just once. Jude said good-bye, and went away into the darkness. Passing along Bimport Street he thought he heard the wheels of the coach departing, and, truly enough, when he reached the Duke's Arms in the Market Place the coach had gone. It was impossible for him to get to the station on foot in time for this train, and he settled himself perforce to wait for the next-- the last to Melchester that night. He wandered about awhile, obtained something to eat; and then, having another half-hour on his hands, his feet involuntarily took him through the venerable graveyard of Trinity Church, with its avenues of limes, in the direction of the schools again. They were entirely in darkness. She had said she lived over the way at Old-Grove Place, a house which he soon discovered from her description of its antiquity. A glimmering candlelight shone from a front window, the shutters being yet unclosed. He could see the interior clearly-- the floor sinking a couple of steps below the road without, which had become raised during the centuries since the house was built. Sue, evidently just come in, as standing with her hat on in this front parlour or sitting-room, whose walls were lined with wainscoting of panelled oak reaching from floor to ceiling, the latter being crossed by huge moulded beams only a little way above her head. The mantelpiece was of the same heavy description, carved with Jacobean pilasters and scroll-work. The centuries did, indeed, ponderously overhang a young wife who passed her time here. She had opened a rosewood work-box, and was looking at a photograph. Having contemplated it a little while she pressed it against her bosom, and put it again in its place. Then becoming aware that she had not obscured the windows she came forward to do so, candle in hand. It was too dark for her to see Jude without, but he could see her face distinctly, and there was an unmistakable tearfulness about the dark, long-lashed eyes. She closed the shutters, and Jude turned away to pursue his solitary journey home. "Whose photograph was she looking at?" he said. He had once given her his; but she had others, he knew. Yet it was his, surely? He knew he should go to see her again, according to her invitation. Those earnest men he read of, the saints, whom Sue, with gentle irreverence, called his demi-gods, would have shunned such encounters if they doubted their own strength. But he could not. He might fast and pray during the whole interval, but the human was more powerful in him than the Divine. 沙氏顿，古代不列颠的帕拉都，诚如德列顿所吟咏的： 一自建置始，多少奇闻异说流布于世。 不论过去，还是现在，它始终是一座梦幻般城市。它拥有过自己的一切：城堡、三所造币厂、以南维塞克斯的主要光荣见称的壮丽的半圆式大教堂、十二座教堂、圣贤凤歌祷堂、医院，以及筑有山墙的沙石府邸——历史无情，这一切至今已完全夷为平地。游客登临，抚今追昔，往往不胜怅惘。气象令人神驰，极目景象无际，却仍难以排解这种情绪。此地还曾是一位国王和一位王后，许多院。庵的住持和女住持，许多圣者和主教、骑士和侍从的安葬之地。当年“殉国者”爱德华的遗骸曾为人小心谨慎地移葬于此，以示崇敬，并得垂诸久远。欧洲各地的朝拜者于是纷至沓来，沙氏顿因此而声名大振，远播英国本土之外。然而史家告诉我们，“大消解” 给伟大中世纪这份杰作敲响了丧钟。规模宏伟的大教堂既经摧毁，荡然无遗，整个地方也随之土崩瓦解，沦为废墟。“殉国者”的遗骸只落得跟奉祀它的陵寝一同化为乌有，如今竟无片石残垒遗留，以昭示其故址所在。 这市镇天然美景如画，迥绝独出，至今风貌不异曩时。说来也怪，据说在以往人们不解欣赏风景美的时代，它的特色倒颇为许多作家瞩目，而沿至今日，英国这块最罕见、最富奇趣的地方依然受到冷落，实际上无人光顾。 它位于一个险峻雄奇的悬崖之巅，举世无双。它的北、南。西三面从冲积层丰厚的布莱摩谷拔地而起，形成自治市区。从“城堡草地”远眺，维塞克斯三郡风光尽收眼底。思想上没准备的游客骋目所及，迥出意表，正如他不期然而饱吸令人神旺的空气，那样为之惊叹不已。这地方无法通火车，上下最好是依靠足力，其次算生轻便马车，但也只能走东北面那条同白垩质台地相联接的羊肠小道，此外别无坦途。 从古至今，这就是为世人遗忘的帕拉都转变成的沙氏顿。它的地势造成它终年缺水，居民只好到山下井里打水，装满大桶小桶，再由驴马驮运或由人背，从蜿蜒的山路爬上绝顶。再由小贩沿街叫卖，一桶水半个便士。此情此景，人们自是身历不忘。 除了缺水造成的困难，还有两件咄咄怪事。一是主要的教堂墓地如同屋顶一样往上斜，坡度很陡；再就是早年市镇经历过一个离奇的尼俗两界腐化不堪的时期，由此有了这样的顺口溜：沙氏顿，地方好，给男人，三宗宝，啥个地方也比不了。这三宗宝指的是：按教堂墓地的地形上天国比从教堂的尖阁去还近；啤酒的供应比水还足；淫荡的女人比忠实的妻子和贞洁的姑娘还多。据说中世纪之后，当地居民穷到了养不起牧师的程度，只好把教堂推倒，从此永远取消了对上帝的集体礼拜；又因为他们做出这样的事是出于不得已，于是每逢礼拜天下午就坐在小酒店的靠背椅上，一边举杯痛饮，一边长吁短叹。足见那些年沙氏顿人不乏幽默感。 沙氏顿另有一个特色——这却是近代的——要归功于它的地利。赶大篷车走江湖的、搭棚子推销货品的、开打靶场的，以及到处赶庙会集市做生意的行商游贩，一律到这地方歇脚，把它当成各行各业的宿营地。人们时常看见奇怪的野鸟翔集在高耸入云的崖角上，暂时停在那儿，默默思考着究竟是飞往更远的地方，还是按习惯的路线折回故地。而在这悬崖之镇上，同时停着许许多多标着异乡人姓名的大篷车，黄黄绿绿，呆头呆脑，大气不出，仿佛眼前景物变得太剧烈，吓得它们连一步也没法朝前挪了。它们通常在这地方过冬，来春再从旧路回去跑生意。 某个下午四点钟光景，裘德从距沙氏顿最近的火车站，平生第一次走上这天风浩浩、神秘莫测的地方；经过一番非常吃力的攀登，总算到达了绝顶，先经过这凌空矗立的市镇的头一排房子，接着就拖着步子走向小学校舍。时间太早，还没放学，小学生的声音嗡嗡的，有如一大群蚊子，他顺着大教堂路往回走了几步，端详着命运为他在这世界上最爱的人安排的居家所在。校舍是石头砌的，面积很大。门前有两棵高大的山毛榉，树干光洁，呈灰褐色。这类树大抵长在白垩质高地上。他看得见直棂窗里面窗台上方小学生的脑壳，黑头发、棕头发、淡黄头发都有。为了消磨时间，他就往下走到平地，这原是大教堂花园旧址。他此刻不由自主地兴奋得心直跳。 他不想在学生放学前进学校，所以一直呆在那儿；后来听见了说话的琅琅童声在空中荡漾，只见女孩们穿着红蓝两色上衣，外罩白围巾，蹦蹦跳跳地走过三个世纪前尼庵堂主、住持、副住持、女执事和三十个女尼看破世情、修真养性的地方。待他往回走时，才明白等的时间太多，在最后一个学生离校之后，苏也紧跟着到镇上去了。整个下午费乐生都不在校，到沙津开教师会。 裘德进了没人的教室，坐下来。正在扫地的姑娘告诉他费乐生太太几分钟后就回来。离他不远地方有架钢琴——其实就是费乐生当年在马利格林买的旧钢琴，虽然到了下午这时已经昏暗，看不大清楚键，裘德还是乍着胆子试弹了弹，忍不住转奏起上礼拜那么感动他的那首赞美诗来。 一个人影在他身后晃动，他原以为是那个拿笤帚的姑娘，也就没注意，后来那个人走近了，把她的手轻轻放在他按低音键的手上。这压上来的手小小的，似曾相识，于是他转过身来。 “往下弹吧。”苏说。“我喜欢它。我在麦尔切斯特那阵子，学过这个曲子。进修学校的人时常弹它。” “我可不能在你面前献丑啊！还是你给我弹吧。” “哦，呢——这我倒不在乎。” 苏坐下来，她对这个曲子的表现，固然算不上出色，但同裘德弹奏的效果一比，却显得气度庄严。她也跟他一样，显而易见因旧曲重弹而感动——在她自己反而觉得意外。她刚弹完，裘德就把手向她的手伸过去，才伸到一半地方，就跟她过来接的手碰到一块儿。裘德把她的手握紧，像她婚前那样。 “这可怪啦，”她说，声音完全变了，“我居然喜欢起那个情调啦；因为——” “因为什么？” “因为我不是那类人——绝对不是啊。” “是说不轻易感动吗？” “我不完全是那个意思。” “哦，不过你就是那类人，因为你的心灵的感受同我一样啊！” “不过头脑的活动并不一样。” 苏又往下弹，突然转过身来。由于意想不到的冲动，他们再次握起手来。 她把他的手很快放开了，低声地笑出来，不过显出抑制。“多可笑！”她说。“我真搞不清咱们干吗这样。” “我想这是因为咱们是一个模子出来的，我以前就说过。” “咱们的思想可不是一个模子。或许情感方面有那么点。” “不过情感支配思想啊。哪个想得到，给这首赞美诗谱曲的，居然是我碰到的顶俗鄙的人，这难道不亵渎神明吗！” “怎么——你认识他？” “我去找过他。” “哎，你这个呆鹅——这样的事，只有我才干得出来！你干吗这么干呢？” “因为咱们俩不一样嘛！”他冷冷地说。 “好啦，咱们该喝点茶啦。”苏说。“咱们不必到我家去，就在这儿喝好不好？把水壶跟茶具拿过来也不费事。我们没住在学校，住在路对面那个又老又旧的房子里，名字叫葛庐。它真是老掉了牙，又那么阴凄凄的，弄得心情坏透了。那样的房子要是参观参观还不错，住人可不行——从前住过多少辈的人，我觉得他们加起来的分量把我给压到地底下去啦。在学校这类新地方住，只要你自个儿的生命撑得住就行。坐下吧，我叫阿代把茶具拿过来。” 他坐在火炉的亮光中等着，她出去之前就把炉门拉开了。女仆拿着茶具随着她回来，于是他们都坐在同样的炉光中。放在炉架上的铜壶底下的酒精灯发出的蓝色火苗，使炉光的亮度增加了。 “你送给我的结婚礼物，这是其中之一。”她说，指着铜壶。 他当做礼物的铜壶现在唱出来的调子使他感到有点讽刺意味；他想换个话题，就说，“你知道不知道《新约》各篇之外，还有什么杂出的好版本值得读读？我想你在学校时候，不看这类书吧？” “哦，才不会看呢——不然就把方近左右的人全惊动啦。有倒是有一本。我以前那位朋友在世的时候，我对它挺感兴趣，这会儿对它的内容已经不甚了了。就是考伯那部《经外福音大全》。” “这倒像我要的东西。”他尽管这么说，可是“从前那位朋友”这个说法让他觉得刺心。他知道她说的是她从前那位大学生同志。他不禁揣摩她究竟跟费乐生说没说过这件事。 “妮柯得摩福音》挺有意思。”她接下去说，想把他的嫉妒心岔开，因为她对他这种心理看得很清楚，而且一向看得很清楚。在他们谈着与他们本身无关的闲话的同时，他们的感情却正在进行另一番无声的谈话，两心交融，完美谐和。“这是本足以乱真的著作。全书也分列章节，注意节奏韵律，所以这本书跟福音派教徒念的别的福音书没什么两样。你就像在梦里念着，说是念一样东西吧，可又不完全一样。裘德，难道你对那类问题还有兴趣吗？你不是正精读《为我一生而辩》？” “不错，我还在念神学书，比以前更用功。” 她看着他，显出好奇的意思。 “你干吗这么瞧着我？”裘德说。 “哦——你干吗要知道？” “我敢说你在这方面一定能告诉我至今我大概一无所知的道理。你从那位故世的亲密朋友那儿大概什么都学到了！” “咱们别没完没了谈这个啦！”她想用委婉的口气功住他。‘你下礼拜还上那个教堂吗？还到你学那首好听的赞美诗的地方去吗？” “还要去，大概是这样。” “那太好啦。我上那儿去看你好不好？按这么个方向走没错儿吧，随便我哪个下午坐半个钟头火车去都成吧？” “不成。你别来。” “怎么啦——咱们以后不交朋友啦？不像咱们以前那样啦？” “不像以前那样啦。” “我倒还不知道呢。我老想着你对我的心总那么好啊！” “我这会儿不那样啦。” “那我到底有什么错处呀？我敢说我心里老念叨着咱们俩——”她说话中间的颤音，把她的话打断了。 “苏，我有时候当你是卖弄风情的女人。”他突如其来地说。 一刹那停顿，跟着她忽地蹦起来。他借着酒精灯光看见她脸涨得通红，不禁吓了一跳。 “我不能再跟你说下去啦，裘德！”她说，饱含着从前就有的悲怆的女低音。“弹了那样病态的耶稣受难日的曲子，叫人觉着做了不妥当的事，天又黑透了，咱们怎么还这样呆在一块儿呢！……咱们不好再这么坐着谈下去啦！哎——你得走啦，因为你错看了我啦！你话说得那么绝情，可是我这人跟你说的是南辕北辙啊——哦，裘德呀，说那样的话真是太绝情啦！可是我也不便把实情一五一十说给你听——要是我告诉你我一切怎么听凭冲动支配，我多么深切感到如果天生丽质不能颠倒众生，那就不必来到世上，一定叫你震惊。有些女人并不因为有人爱她，她的爱情就此满足了；这样一来，常常是她爱上了人，她的爱情也还是得不到满足。结果是，她们可能发现自己对那承主教大人之命而为一家之主的人没法继续爱下去。不过，裘德，你是这么直心眼儿，你没法一下子就懂我的意思！好啦，你该走啦。我丈夫没在家，我觉着这样说不过去！” “你真觉着说不过去？” “我自己有数，我这么说无非是从俗！说老实话，我可不认为什么过得去过不去的。这算得了什么，不管怎么着，一说都叫人难过。” 他们两个先前握着手的时间既然太长了点，所以他走的时候，她只碰了碰他的手指头。他刚出门，她就一副不满意的神情，往板凳上一跳，把一扇窗户的铁格子推开了，而裘德正从外面小路走过窗下。“裘德，你什么时候离开这儿赶火车？” 他往上一瞧，吃了一惊。“大概还有三刻钟吧，公共马车才去迎火车。” “那你这段时间怎么消磨呢？” “哦——我看随便转转就行啦。大概到老教堂坐坐吧。” “我就这么把你打发走了，未免太狠心喽！你钻教堂该钻腻啦，天哪，别再摸黑进教堂吧。就呆在这儿吧。” “哪儿呀？” “你这会儿呆的地方呀。这么着，我跟你说话，可以比你在学校里头自在啦。你耽误半天来看我，你待我心多好多细啊！亲爱的裘德，你就是老做梦的约瑟啊。是一生悲剧的堂•吉河德啊。你有时候就是圣•司提反，别人拿石头砸他的时候，他还能看得见天国的门打开哪。哦，我的可怜的朋友和同志，你的苦还在后头呢！” 高高的窗台既然把他们隔开了，他也就无从接近她，看来她不再像在近处相处那么拘谨，而是坦然无忌，似想把衷曲一吐为快。“我一直想着，”她接着说，话里充满感情，“文明把咱们硬塞进它设定的社会模子里，可咱们的实际形象跟模子毫不相干，这道理就像咱们常见的满天星斗，它们的样子不等于星座的真正的形状。人家管我叫里查•费乐生太太，我跟叫那个名字的对方在一块儿过平静的夫妇生活。可是我根本不是什么里查•费乐生太太，而是一个不然一身，让人摆弄、调教的女人。既是情欲为正理所不容，嫌忌又有口难明……现在你别再等啦，要不然你就误了公共马车啦。你再来看我吧。你一定再来看我啊，到时候你要到家里来。” “好，好！”裘德说，“什么时候呢？” “从明天算，就过一个礼拜好啦。再见——再见！”她把手伸出来，带着怜爱之情抚摸他的前额——只摸了一下。裘德说过再会，就走进沉沉黑夜。 他沿比波街走着，听见了公共马车的轮声，等他赶到集市广场的公爵别业，公共马车果然已经出发了。要想靠步行及时赶到火车站是办不到的，他只好随遇而安，等下一趟公共马车——那是往麦尔切斯特的最后一班。 他随便转悠了一会儿，弄了点东西吃。当时还剩下半个钟头闲着没事，没想到身不由己竟然径直穿过历史悠久的三一教堂的墓地和它的菩提树夹道的林荫路，又朝学校方向去了。学校漆黑一片。她说住在葛庐老宅，按她形容的古旧风貌，他很快找到了那所房子。 一道闪烁的烛光从前窗射出来，百叶窗还没关上。屋内情景看得清清楚楚——地面要比房子外面的道路低两个台阶，这是因为房子造好后又过了几百年，路已经填高许多。显而易见，苏刚进屋子，戴着帽子，还没卸装。她站在房子前部小会客室或起坐室里，墙壁四周，从地上到天花板，镶满了橡木壁板，预制好的粗壮的横梁承接着天花板，只比她的头略高些。壁炉台板也是同样结实厚重的款式，刻着詹姆士一世时代的方柱和经卷。毫不含糊，几个世纪沉重地悬在年轻妻子头上，而她就在那儿消磨光阴。 她打开一个花梨木针线盒，看着一张照片。全神贯注了一会儿，就把它贴在胸前，随后又放回原处。 这时她才想到窗户还没挡好，就手持蜡烛，移步窗前做这件事。天太黑了，她看不见外边的裘德，但是他却把她的脸看得一清二楚，她那双长长睫毛覆着的黑眼睛分明珠泪盈眶，一点也没看错。 她关上了百叶窗。裘德转身离开，独自寂寂走上归途。“她看的照片是谁的？”他说。他有一回把自己的照片给了她；不过她也有别人的呀。不过那准是他的照片，错不了吧？ 他深知必得按她的嘱咐去看她。他所研读的真诚不苟的学问大家，那些圣贤人物，也就是苏曾以轻松的调侃形容为高于人的次神，要是缺乏对自身力量的自信的话，准会回避这样的接触。但是他办不到。他自然可以在见不到苏的那段时间禁食、祈祷，克抑欲念，无奈他身上的人性终究比身外的神力更强大啊。 Part 4 Chapter 2 HOWEVER, if God disposed not, woman did. The next morning but one brought him this note from her: Don't come next week. On your own account don't! We were too free, under the influence of that morbid hymn and the twilight. Think no more than you can help of SUSANNA FLORENCE MARY. The disappointment was keen. He knew her mood, the look of her face, when she subscribed herself at length thus. But whatever her mood he could not say she was wrong in her view. He replied: I acquiesce. You are right. It is a lesson in renunciation which I suppose I ought to learn at this season. JUDE He despatched the note on Easter Eve, and there seemed a finality in their decisions. But other forces and laws than theirs were in operation. On Easter Monday morning he received a message from the Widow Edlin, whom he had directed to telegraph if anything serious happened: Your aunt is sinking. Come at once. He threw down his tools and went. Three and a half hours later he was crossing the downs about Marygreen, and presently plunged into the concave field across which the short cut was made to the village. As he ascended on the other side a labouring man, who had been watching his approach from a gate across the path, moved uneasily, and prepared to speak. "I can see in his face that she is dead," said Jude. "Poor Aunt Drusilla!" It was as he had supposed, and Mrs. Edlin had sent out the man to break the news to him. "She wouldn't have knowed 'ee. She lay like a doll wi' glass eyes; so it didn't matter that you wasn't here," said he. Jude went on to the house, and in the afternoon, when everything was done, and the layers-out had finished their beer, and gone, he sat down alone in the silent place. It was absolutely necessary to communicate with Sue, though two or three days earlier they had agreed to mutual severance. He wrote in the briefest terms: Aunt Drusilla is dead, having been taken almost suddenly. The funeral is on Friday afternoon. He remained in and about Marygreen through the intervening days, went out on Friday morning to see that the grave was finished, and wondered if Sue would come. She had not written, and that seemed to signify rather that she would come than that she would not. Having timed her by her only possible train, he locked the door about mid-day, and crossed the hollow field to the verge of the upland by the Brown House, where he stood and looked over the vast prospect northwards, and over the nearer landscape in which Alfredston stood. Two miles behind it a jet of white steam was travelling from the left to the right of the picture. There was a long time to wait, even now, till he would know if she had arrived. He did wait, however, and at last a small hired vehicle pulled up at the bottom of the hill, and a person alighted, the conveyance going back, while the passenger began ascending the hill. He knew her; and she looked so slender to-day that it seemed as if she might be crushed in the intensity of a too passionate embrace-- such as it was not for him to give. Two-thirds of the way up her head suddenly took a solicitous poise, and he knew that she had at that moment recognized him. Her face soon began a pensive smile, which lasted till, having descended a little way, he met her. "I thought," she began with nervous quickness, "that it would be so sad to let you attend the funeral alone! And so--at the last moment-- I came." "Dear faithful Sue!" murmured Jude. With the elusiveness of her curious double nature, however, Sue did not stand still for any further greeting, though it wanted some time to the burial. A pathos so unusually compounded as that which attached to this hour was unlikely to repeat itself for years, if ever, and Jude would have paused, and meditated, and conversed. But Sue either saw it not at all, or, seeing it more than he, would not allow herself to feel it. The sad and simple ceremony was soon over, their progress to the church being almost at a trot, the bustling undertaker having a more important funeral an hour later, three miles off. Drusilla was put into the new ground, quite away from her ancestors. Sue and Jude had gone side by side to the grave, and now sat down to tea in the familiar house; their lives united at least in this last attention to the dead. "She was opposed to marriage, from first to last, you say?" murmured Sue. "Yes. Particularly for members of our family." Her eyes met his, and remained on him awhile. "We are rather a sad family, don't you think, Jude?" "She said we made bad husbands and wives. Certainly we make unhappy ones. At all events, I do, for one!" Sue was silent. "Is it wrong, Jude," she said with a tentative tremor, "for a husband or wife to tell a third person that they are unhappy in their marriage? If a marriage ceremony is a religious thing, it is possibly wrong; but if it is only a sordid contract, based on material convenience in householding, rating, and taxing, and the inheritance of land and money by children, making it necessary that the male parent should be known--which it seems to be-- why surely a person may say, even proclaim upon the housetops, that it hurts and grieves him or her?" "I have said so, anyhow, to you." Presently she went on: "Are there many couples, do you think, where one dislikes the other for no definite fault?" "Yes, I suppose. If either cares for another person, for instance." "But even apart from that? Wouldn't the woman, for example, be very bad-natured if she didn't like to live with her husband; merely"--her voice undulated, and he guessed things--"merely because she had a personal feeling against it-- a physical objection--a fastidiousness, or whatever it may be called--although she might respect and be grateful to him? I am merely putting a case. Ought she to try to overcome her pruderies?" Jude threw a troubled look at her. He said, looking away: "It would be just one of those cases in which my experiences go contrary to my dogmas. Speaking as an order-loving man-- which I hope I am, though I fear I am not--I should say, yes. Speaking from experience and unbiased nature, I should say, no.... Sue, I believe you are not happy!" "Of course I am!" she contradicted. "How can a woman be unhappy who has only been married eight weeks to a man she chose freely?" "'Chose freely!'" "Why do you repeat it? ... But I have to go back by the six o'clock train. You will be staying on here, I suppose?" "For a few days to wind up Aunt's affairs. This house is gone now. Shall I go to the train with you?" A little laugh of objection came from Sue. "I think not. You may come part of the way." "But stop--you can't go to-night! That train won't take you to Shaston. You must stay and go back to-morrow. Mrs. Edlin has plenty of room, if you don't like to stay here?" "Very well," she said dubiously. "I didn't tell him I would come for certain." Jude went to the widow's house adjoining, to let her know; and returning in a few minutes sat down again. "It is horrible how we are circumstanced, Sue--horrible!" he said abruptly, with his eyes bent to the floor. "No! Why?" "I can't tell you all my part of the gloom. Your part is that you ought not to have married him. I saw it before you had done it, but I thought I mustn't interfere. I was wrong. I ought to have!" "But what makes you assume all this, dear?" "Because--I can see you through your feathers, my poor little bird!" Her hand lay on the table, and Jude put his upon it. Sue drew hers away. "That's absurd, Sue," cried he, "after what we've been talking about! I am more strict and formal than you, if it comes to that; and that you should object to such an innocent action shows that you are ridiculously inconsistent!" "Perhaps it was too prudish," she said repentantly. "Only I have fancied it was a sort of trick of ours-- too frequent perhaps. There, you may hold it as much as you like. Is that good of me?" "Yes; very." "But I must tell him." "Who?" "Richard." "Oh--of course, if you think it necessary. But as it means nothing it may be bothering him needlessly." "Well--are you sure you mean it only as my cousin?" "Absolutely sure. I have no feelings of love left in me." "That's news. How has it come to be?" "I've seen Arabella." She winced at the hit; then said curiously, "When did you see her?" "When I was at Christminster." "So she's come back; and you never told me! I suppose you will live with her now?" "Of course--just as you live with your husband." She looked at the window pots with the geraniums and cactuses, withered for want of attention, and through them at the outer distance, till her eyes began to grow moist. "What is it?" said Jude, in a softened tone. "Why should you be so glad to go back to her if--if what you used to say to me is still true--I mean if it were true then! Of course it is not now! How could your heart go back to Arabella so soon?" "A special Providence, I suppose, helped it on its way." "Ah--it isn't true!" she said with gentle resentment. "You are teasing me-- that's all--because you think I am not happy!" "I don't know. I don't wish to know." "If I were unhappy it would be my fault, my wickedness; not that I should have a right to dislike him! He is considerate to me in everything; and he is very interesting, from the amount of general knowledge he has acquired by reading everything that comes in his way.... Do you think, Jude, that a man ought to marry a woman his own age, or one younger than himself-- eighteen years--as I am than he?" "It depends upon what they feel for each other." He gave her no opportunity of self-satisfaction, and she had to go on unaided, which she did in a vanquished tone, verging on tears: "I--I think I must be equally honest with you as you have been with me. Perhaps you have seen what it is I want to say?--that though I like Mr. Phillotson as a friend, I don't like him--it is a torture to me to--live with him as a husband!--There, now I have let it out-- I couldn't help it, although I have been--pretending I am happy.-- Now you'll have a contempt for me for ever, I suppose!" She bent down her face upon her hands as they lay upon the cloth, and silently sobbed in little jerks that made the fragile three-legged table quiver. "I have only been married a month or two!" she went on, still remaining bent upon the table, and sobbing into her hands. "And it is said that what a woman shrinks from--in the early days of her marriage--she shakes down to with comfortable indifference in half a dozen years. But that is much like saying that the amputation of a limb is no affliction, since a person gets comfortably accustomed to the use of a wooden leg or arm in the course of time!" Jude could hardly speak, but he said, "I thought there was something wrong, Sue! Oh, I thought there was!" "But it is not as you think!--there is nothing wrong except my own wickedness, I suppose you'd call it--a repugnance on my part, for a reason I cannot disclose, and what would not be admitted as one by the world in general! ... What tortures me so much is the necessity of being responsive to this man whenever he wishes, good as he is morally!-- the dreadful contract to feel in a particular way in a matter whose essence is its voluntariness! ... I wish he would beat me, or be faithless to me, or do some open thing that I could talk about as a justification for feeling as I do! But he does nothing, except that he has grown a little cold since he has found out how I feel. That's why he didn't come to the funeral.... Oh, I am very miserable--I don't know what to do! ... Don't come near me, Jude, because you mustn't. Don't--don't!" But he had jumped up and put his face against hers--or rather against her ear, her face being inaccessible. "I told you not to, Jude!" "I know you did--I only wish to--console you! It all arose through my being married before we met, didn't it? You would have been my wife, Sue, wouldn't you, if it hadn't been for that?" Instead of replying she rose quickly, and saying she was going to walk to her aunt's grave in the churchyard to recover herself, went out of the house. Jude did not follow her. Twenty minutes later he saw her cross the village green towards Mrs. Edlin's, and soon she sent a little girl to fetch her bag, and tell him she was too tired to see him again that night. In the lonely room of his aunt's house, Jude sat watching the cottage of the Widow Edlin as it disappeared behind the night shade. He knew that Sue was sitting within its walls equally lonely and disheartened; and again questioned his devotional motto that all was for the best. He retired to rest early, but his sleep was fitful from the sense that Sue was so near at hand. At some time near two o'clock, when he was beginning to sleep more soundly, he was aroused by a shrill squeak that had been familiar enough to him when he lived regularly at Marygreen. It was the cry of a rabbit caught in a gin. As was the little creature's habit, it did not soon repeat its cry; and probably would not do so more than once or twice; but would remain bearing its torture till the morrow when the trapper would come and knock it on the head. He who in his childhood had saved the lives of the earthworms now began to picture the agonies of the rabbit from its lacerated leg. If it were a "bad catch" by the hind-leg, the animal would tug during the ensuing six hours till the iron teeth of the trap had stripped the leg-bone of its flesh, when, should a weak-springed instrument enable it to escape, it would die in the fields from the mortification of the limb. If it were a "good catch," namely, by the fore-leg, the bone would be broken and the limb nearly torn in two in attempts at an impossible escape. Almost half an hour passed, and the rabbit repeated its cry. Jude could rest no longer till he had put it out of its pain, so dressing himself quickly he descended, and by the light of the moon went across the green in the direction of the sound. He reached the hedge bordering the widow's garden, when he stood still. The faint click of the trap as dragged about by the writhing animal guided him now, and reaching the spot he struck the rabbit on the back of the neck with the side of his palm, and it stretched itself out dead. He was turning away when he saw a woman looking out of the open casement at a window on the ground floor of the adjacent cottage. "Jude!" said a voice timidly--Sue's voice. "It is you-- is it not?" "Yes, dear!" "I haven't been able to sleep at all, and then I heard the rabbit, and couldn't help thinking of what it suffered, till I felt I must come down and kill it! But I am so glad you got there first.... They ought not to be allowed to set these steel traps, ought they!" Jude had reached the window, which was quite a low one, so that she was visible down to her waist. She let go the casement-stay and put her hand upon his, her moonlit face regarding him wistfully. "Did it keep you awake?" he said. "No--I was awake." "How was that?" "Oh, you know--now! I know you, with your religious doctrines, think that a married woman in trouble of a kind like mine commits a mortal sin in making a man the confidant of it, as I did you. I wish I hadn't, now!" "Don't wish it, dear," he said. "That may have BEEN my view; but my doctrines and I begin to part company." "I knew it--I knew it! And that's why I vowed I wouldn't disturb your belief. But--I am SO GLAD to see you!--and, oh, I didn't mean to see you again, now the last tie between us, Aunt Drusilla, is dead!" Jude seized her hand and kissed it. "There is a stronger one left!" he said. "I'll never care about my doctrines or my religion any more! Let them go! Let me help you, even if I do love you, and even if you ..." "Don't say it!--I know what you mean; but I can't admit so much as that. There! Guess what you like, but don't press me to answer questions!" "I wish you were happy, whatever I may be!" "I CAN'T be! So few could enter into my feeling--they would say 'twas my fanciful fastidiousness, or something of that sort, and condemn me.... It is none of the natural tragedies of love that's love's usual tragedy in civilized life, but a tragedy artificially manufactured for people who in a natural state would find relief in parting! ... It would have been wrong, perhaps, for me to tell my distress to you, if I had been able to tell it to anybody else. But I have nobody. And I MUST tell somebody! Jude, before I married him I had never thought out fully what marriage meant, even though I knew. It was idiotic of me--there is no excuse. I was old enough, and I thought I was very experienced. So I rushed on, when I had got into that training school scrape, with all the cock-sureness of the fool that I was! ... I am certain one ought to be allowed to undo what one had done so ignorantly! I daresay it happens to lots of women, only they submit, and I kick.... When people of a later age look back upon the barbarous customs and superstitions of the times that we have the unhappiness to live in, what WILL they say!" "You are very bitter, darling Sue! How I wish--I wish----" "You must go in now!" In a moment of impulse she bent over the sill, and laid her face upon his hair, weeping, and then imprinting a scarcely perceptible little kiss upon the top of his head, withdrawing quickly, so that he could not put his arms round her, as otherwise he unquestionably would have done. She shut the casement, and he returned to his cottage. 话虽如此，要说上帝做不了主，女人可是能行。第三天上午，他收到她如下短简： 下礼拜匆来。为你好，匆来！受病态的赞美诗和落日黄昏的影响，我 们太随便了。事既如此，务必不要再多想。 苏珊娜•弗洛仑•马利 失望是椎心刺骨的。他深知她最近采取这样的决定出自什么样心境，脸上是什么样表情。但是无论她是什么心境，总不能说她的想法不对。他回信说： 没意见。你很对。我以为身处此境我当力求憬然自悟为是。 裘德 复活节前夕，他把这封短信寄走。就他们的决定而言，关系可谓一了百了；无奈除此之外，还有其他力量和法则在起作用。他原先嘱咐过艾林寡妇，万一姑婆病危，她务必打电报给他。复活节后的礼拜一，他接到消息： 姑婆病危，即来。 他工具一丢，立刻动身。三个钟头后，他穿过马利格林附近丘陵地，立即投入低洼的麦田，抄近路直奔村里。他往上走时，对面老早就有个工人张望，是从篱笆门那儿穿小路过来，样子挺着急，想着怎么开口。“我一看他脸就知道她死啦。”裘德说。“可怜的多喜姑婆啊！” 果然不出所料，是艾林太太派他先来报信的。 “她可再也认不出来你啦。她躺在那儿像个玻璃眼珠的洋娃娃；你就没给她送终也无所谓啦。” 裘德接着往前走，到了姑婆家。下午诸事料理停当，管装殓的喝完酒就走了，只剩下他一个人在阒无声息的房子里坐着。尽管两三天前他们彼此同意永断葛藤，但是把这事通知苏还是绝对必要。他尽量把信写得短而又短： 多喜姑婆已去，似甚突然。礼拜五下午安葬。 在准备下葬那些天，他一直没离开过马利格林左右，礼拜五早晨出去看墓穴挖好没有。他纳闷苏来不来。她没信，这倒像表示她可能来，而不是不来。他算好她能坐的唯一一班火车的时间，中午时分把门锁好，穿过洼地，走到栋房子旁边高地的边缘，站在那儿瞭望北面远处的广阔地带，还有较近处的阿尔夫瑞顿那边的景色。只见镇后的两英里处冒起一股白烟，从画面左边往右边飘。 就是到这会儿，他要想知道她究竟来没来，也还得等很久。不过他还是等，终于看到有辆出租小马车停在山脚下，有个人从车上下来，那辆车就掉头走了，那位乘客也开始往山上走。他知道是她，她今天显得那么纤弱，仿佛过分热烈地把她抱住，就可能把她挤碎——不过他轮不到抱她这个福分。她朝上走了三分之二的路，忽然头一抬，似乎急于找到什么。他知道就在那一瞬间，她认出他来了。她很快露出悒郁的笑容，一直保持到往下走了一点路，他迎上来的时候。 “我想过啦。”她开始说话，快得有点神经质。“要是让你一个人送葬，未免太叫你伤心啦！所以——拖到不能再拖时候——我还是来了。” “亲爱的忠实的苏啊！”他咕哝着。 但是，苏那奇怪的时冷时热的双重性格一向令人捉摸不透。她并没就此停下来，向他殷勤地问长问短，虽然离下葬还有点时间。像这样极少有的悲痛时刻，恐怕就是再来，也要多年之后，所以裘德很想等一等，想一想，谈一谈。苏则不然，要么她完全不加理会，要么比他看得透，她决心自己以不想这事为妙。 葬礼凄凉、简单，一会儿就完了。他们赶快到教堂去，一路简直像跑。承办丧事的人也急着走，因为过一个钟头，三英里外还有家更重要的葬礼。多喜结埋在一个新地方，离她祖先挺远。苏和裘德已经一块儿上过坟，这会儿坐在他们熟悉的房子里，一块儿喝茶；他们俩的生活因为给死者料理后事，总算暂时串到一起。 “你说她这辈子自始至终反对结婚，是不是这样？”她咕哝着。 “是这样。特别指着咱们家的人说的。” 她的眼光同他的对上了，有一会儿盯着他没移开。 “咱们家怪丧气的，裘德，你是不是这么看的？” “她说咱们家的人都是些坏丈夫、坏妻子。的的确确，咱们都搞成倒霉样儿，不管怎么说，我就得算一个！” 苏没吭声。“裘德，要是丈夫或者妻子告诉第三者，说他们的婚姻生活挺苦恼，这算不算错？”她这一问意在试探，声音发颤。“要是结婚仪式具有宗教性质，那大概错啦；不过要是订那个肮脏的契约，根本用心无非是为了搞家务，收税，收租子，为子孙继承田产留地步，非叫人知道有个爹不可，看来就是这么回事，那么别管那人是男的还是女的，干吗不能理直气壮地说出来，甚至在房顶大喊大叫，说结婚就是害了他，或是害了她，害得痛苦了一辈子？” “这类话，我算跟你说过。” 她紧接着说：“那你看，有没有夫妻之间一方不喜欢对方，不是因为对方有明显过错，这样的情形，你认为多不多？” “我想很多吧。比如说，其中一方看上了别人。” “除了你说的这个例子，还有没有别的情形？比如说，女人要是不愿意跟丈夫一块儿过，算不算禀性坏呢？仅仅是”——她声音一高一低的，他猜出她话里有话—— “仅仅因为对那个嫌恶——身体方面的嫌恶——生来有洁癖——随便叫什么好啦，虽说她对他还是又敬重又感激？我这不过是举个例子。她这样古板，缩手缩脚，该不该全改掉？” 裘德瞧了她一眼，露出为难的样子。他说，脸没朝着她，“要论我的经验跟我的信条之间的抵触，这得算这类事情的一个例子。要按一个循规蹈矩的男人讲——我倒希望是那样的人，可惜我不是，我得说，以改掉为是；要是从经验和不偏不倚的天性讲，那我得说，用不着……苏啊，我看你是不快活啊！” “我当然快活！”她立刻顶回去。“一个女人跟她自由选择的丈夫结婚才八个礼拜，怎么会不快活？” “‘自由选择’！” “你重复一下是什么意思？……不过我得坐六点钟火车回去啦。我看你还要呆在这儿吧？” “还得呆几天，把姑婆的事了结了再说。房子现在让出去了。我陪你到车站好不好？” 苏笑笑，表示不愿意。“我看不必啦。你陪我走段路就可以啦。” “等等——你今儿晚上走不成啦。现在没火车把你送到沙氏顿。你得留下来，明天回去。要是你不愿意呆在这房子里头，艾林太太家里还是挺宽绰的，这不好吗？” “挺好的。”她说，有点三心两意的。“我没跟他说一定回去。” 裘德到隔壁寡妇家去了一下，把这件事跟她说了，几分钟后回来，又坐下来。 “苏呀，咱们俩怎么落到现在这样可怕的处境啊——真是可怕啊！”他突如其来地说。 “不对！你这是怎么想起来的？” “我这方面的苦闷，我不好跟你说。你那方面的苦闷是当初不该跟他结婚。你结婚之前，我就看出来啦，不过我当时想我不该管。我错啦。我该管哪！” “可是，亲爱的，你凭什么这么想呢？” “因为，我的亲爱的小鸟儿，我透过你的羽毛瞧见你的心啦！” 她的手放在桌子上，裘德把手放在她手上。苏把手抽出来。 他大声说，“苏呀，咱们说来说去也够多啦，你这样未免太荒唐啦！要是讲的话，我比你还严格，还正统呢！你居然连这样没坏意思的举动也拒绝，足见你前后矛盾得太可笑啦！” “也许是因为太拘礼啦。”她带着悔意说。“我不过想咱们这样是瞎胡闹——也许闹的次数太多啦。好吧，你就握着吧，你爱多久都随你。我这还不是挺好吗？” “是呀，太好啦。” “可我得告诉他。” “告诉谁？” “里查。” “哦——你当然可以告诉他，要是你觉着非这样不可。不过这里头什么意思也没有。你告诉他，白白让他心里烦。” “是吗——你敢保你这样是以表亲的身份吗？” “绝对敢保。我这会儿心里没一丝爱情！” “这倒是新闻。怎么会这样呢？” “我见过阿拉贝拉啦。” 这一击叫她往后一缩；接着她好奇地问：“你什么时候瞧见她的？” “在基督堂的时候。” “这么说，她回来了，你压根儿没跟我说！我看你这会儿要跟她一块儿过啦？” “那当然——还不是像你跟你丈夫一块儿过一样。” 她瞧着窗户前面几盆缺人照料而枯萎的天竹葵和仙人掌，又透过它们朝窗外远点地方望，后来眼睛就慢慢湿了。“怎么啦？”裘德说，口气缓和下来。 “要是——要是你从前跟我说的到这会儿还是实话——我是说那会儿说的是实话，当然这会儿说的不是实话，那你怎么会高高兴兴又往她那儿跑呢？你怎么会这么快又对阿拉贝拉回心转意呢？” “我想大概是有位特别的神明帮着把关系理顺啦。” “哎——这不是实话！”她多少有点愤慨地说。“你这是存心揉搓我——就这么回事——因为你以为我不快活！” “我不知道你快活不快活。我也不想知道。” “要是我不快活，那错在我，因为我本来就坏，并不是我就有权利不喜欢他！他时时处处对我都周到体贴，人很有风趣。凡是他能弄到的书，他都看，所以知识渊博……裘德，你认为男人跟他一样年纪的女人结婚好，还是应该跟比他小——小十八岁的——像我这样的结婚好？” “那得看他们彼此之间感觉如何。” 他没给她一点自我满足的机会，她还得单熗匹马往下说，这一来，她越说越有气无力，眼看着要哭了： “我——我想你既然对我老老实实，我对你也得一样老老实实才行。你大概看出来我要说什么啦——虽然我喜欢跟费乐生先生交朋友，可是我并不喜欢他——是我丈夫，跟他一块儿生活——那对我来说可真是活受罪。——唉，我现在全抖露出来啦——我受不了啦，虽然我一直装着挺快活。我想你这会儿一定瞧不起我啦！”她的手本来放在桌子上，这时就把脸俯在手上，一抖一抖地吞声饮泣，弄得那个不结实的三足几直晃悠。 “我结婚才一两个月哟！”她接着说，脸还是俯在几上，涕泗滂沱，都流在手上。“据说女人——在她婚姻生活初期——躲躲闪闪的，过了六年，她就适应了，安安稳稳地不在乎啦。可是那不是等于说把你的胳膊，要么腿锯下来，日久天长，你用惯了木腿、木胳膊，自自在在，没了痛苦，跟那个道理一样吗？” 裘德简直开不得口，后来他还是说了，“我从前想过总有什么不对劲的地方，苏啊！哎，我从前就这么想过啦！” “不过这跟你想的不是一回事！除了我这个人生来坏，没什么对劲不对劲的。我想你不妨这么说——这是我这方面的嫌恶，其中原因我也不好直说，这世界上哪个人也不承认我这样有道理！我所以受这么大罪，是因为这个人要的时候，我非应付不可，而他在道德方面好得没说的！——你通过某种特殊方式，才真正感到那个契约多可怕，那件事根本上得自觉自愿才行哪！……我倒愿意他揍我，骂我，背着我找人，大摇大摆寻花问柳，倒也罢了，我就有辞可借了，说这全是我那种感觉造成的结果。可是他偏不这样，他发现我的真正感觉之后，不过有点冷淡就是啦。他就为这个才没来送殡……哦，我太惨啦——我不知道怎么办才好！别过来，裘德，不许你那样。不行——不行！” 但是他已经跳起来，把脸贴到她脸上——只好说是贴在耳朵上，因为她脸俯着，他够不着。 “我跟你说了不行了，裘德！” “我知道你不肯——我不过想——安慰安慰你！这全是因为咱们认识之前我结了婚，才弄成这样，你说对不对？要不是那样，你就是我的妻子啦，对不对呀？” 她没回答，而是很快站起来，说她要到教堂墓地姑婆坟上看看，好定定心，说完就出了房子。裘德没跟她走。过了十分钟，他瞧见她穿过村子草地，朝艾林太太家走去。不大工夫，她派个小姑娘过来取她的提包，还带话说她太累，晚上不再来看他。 裘德枯坐在姑婆家那间枯寂的屋子里，看着艾林寡妇的小房子在夜色中隐没。他知道苏也枯坐在屋子里，同样感到枯寂，感到颓丧；同时他对自己一向虔信的箴言——老天不负苦心人，再次发生了动摇。 他很早就睡了，因为老想着苏近在咫尺，睡得不实，过一会儿就醒。大概快到两点钟时候，他开始睡得很香，突然一阵短促的尖叫声把他吵醒了，从前他常住马利格林，听惯了这样的尖叫。这是野兔子让夹子逮住后发出来的。按这小畜牲的习性，最多大概只叫上一两回，很快就不叫了；不过在第二天放夹子的人来敲它脑壳之前，它还得继续受折磨。 他小时候连蚯蚓的命都怜惜，这会儿开始想象兔子腿给夹往后痛得要命的光景。要是“错夹”了后腿，那畜牲还得挣扎六个钟头，夹子的铁齿就把它的腿撕得皮开肉绽，这时候，万一夹子弹簧松了，它也好逃脱，不过因为腿长了坏疽，结果还是死在田野里。要是“正夹”，也就是夹住前腿，骨头就断了，它想逃也逃不成，因为那条腿断成了两截。 过了差不多半个钟头，兔子又尖叫了一回。裘德若不去为它解除痛苦，他自己也没法再睡，于是他很快穿上衣服，下了楼，在月光下走过草地，直奔叫声而去。他一走到寡妇家的花园的界篱就站住了。那痛得直折腾的畜牲拖着夹子卡卡响，把他引了过去，他一到就拿巴掌对准兔子脖子后面一砍，它挺了挺就呜呼哀哉了。 他往回走，突然看见跟花园连着的房子底层一扇窗格子推上去了，一个女人在窗边往外瞧。“裘德！”说话显得胆怯——是苏的声音。“是你吗——不错吧？” “是我，亲爱的？” “我根本睡不着，后来听见兔子叫，心里老惦着它受了多大苦呀，后来就觉着非下楼把它弄死不可。可是你倒先办啦，我真高兴啊！……不能让他们放这类夹子，不许他们放！” 裘德已经走到窗下，窗子很矮，所以她身上直到腰部都看得清楚。她让窗格悬着，把手放在他手上。月光照在她脸上，她含情脉脉地面对着他，没有移开。 “是它把你弄醒的？”他说。 “不是——我一直醒着。” “怎么这样呢？” “哦，你知道——这会儿你知道！我了解按你的宗教教义，你认为结了婚的女人遇到我这样的烦恼，就像我这样，随便拿个男人当知心人，说心里话，是犯了不可饶恕的罪过。我这会儿但愿没这样！” “别这么想吧，亲爱的。”他说。‘你说的也可以说是我一向的看法吧，不过我的教义跟我开始两高分喽。” “我以前就知道——以前就知道啦！所以我发誓不干涉你的信仰，不过——这会儿见到你，真高兴啊！——哦，我说这话可没有再要见你的意思，何况咱们之间的纽带多喜姑婆死啦！” 裘德抓住她的手，吻了它。“还有更结实的纽带呢！”他说。“反正我以后再也不管我的教义或者我的宗教喽！让它们一边去吧！我来帮助你吧，虽然我是真爱你，虽然你……” “别说这话！——我懂你的意思，我可不能那么承认下来！好啦！你心里怎么想都行，可别强逼着我回答问题！” “不管今后如何，我但愿你幸福！” “我幸福不起来啦！——哪儿有人理解我的感受啊！——人家都说我全是无中生有，在做怪，要不就是瞎胡闹，把我贬得一文不值。文明生活里的一般的爱情悲剧，绝不是在自然状态下的悲剧，而是人为地制造出来的悲剧。若是处在自然状态，他们一分手，就得了解脱啦！……要是我能找到个人吐苦水，那我跟你吐，就算我错了，可我没人能对他吐呀，我又非吐不可！裘德啊，我跟他结婚之前，就算我懂吧，也压根儿没细想过结婚什么滋味，我年纪也老大不小啦，还自以为挺有阅历呢。我真是个二百五——这可没什么好推托的。所以在进修学校一出漏子，就匆匆忙忙办了，还跟个十足的糊涂虫一样，自以为是呢。我以为人要是因为太无知办错了事，那得允许他一笔勾销！我敢说，碰上这样的事儿的女人多着哪，不过她们认命就是了，我可要反抗……后来人倒回头来看咱们这不胜苦恼的时代的种种野蛮风俗。迷信，该怎么说呀？” “你这样真是太苦啦，亲爱的苏啊！我多想——我多想——” “你这会儿该进屋子啦！” 她因为一霎间冲动，身子俯到窗台上，把脸偎在他头发上，哭起来了，接着难以察觉地对他头顶略吻了吻，就把身子缩回去，这样他就来不及拥抱她，否则他准这么做。她放下窗格，他回到自己的小房子。 Part 4 Chapter 3 SUE'S distressful confession recurred to Jude's mind all the night as being a sorrow indeed. The morning after, when it was time for her to go, the neighbours saw her companion and herself disappearing on foot down the hill path which led into the lonely road to Alfredston. An hour passed before he returned along the same route, and in his face there was a look of exaltation not unmixed with recklessness. An incident had occurred. They had stood parting in the silent highway, and their tense and passionate moods had led to bewildered inquiries of each other on how far their intimacy ought to go; till they had almost quarrelled, and she said tearfully that it was hardly proper of him as a parson in embryo to think of such a thing as kissing her even in farewell as he now wished to do. Then she had conceded that the fact of the kiss would be nothing: all would depend upon the spirit of it. If given in the spirit of a cousin and a friend she saw no objection: if in the spirit of a lover she could not permit it. "Will you swear that it will not be in that spirit?" she had said. No: he would not. And then they had turned from each other in estrangement, and gone their several ways, till at a distance of twenty or thirty yards both had looked round simultaneously. That look behind was fatal to the reserve hitherto more or less maintained. They had quickly run back, and met, and embracing most unpremeditatedly, kissed close and long. When they parted for good it was with flushed cheeks on her side, and a beating heart on his. The kiss was a turning-point in Jude's career. Back again in the cottage, and left to reflection, he saw one thing: that though his kiss of that aerial being had seemed the purest moment of his faultful life, as long as he nourished this unlicensed tenderness it was glaringly inconsistent for him to pursue the idea of becoming the soldier and servant of a religion in which sexual love was regarded as at its best a frailty, and at its worst damnation. What Sue had said in warmth was really the cold truth. When to defend his affection tooth and nail, to persist with headlong force in impassioned attentions to her, was all he thought of, he was condemned IPSO FACTO as a professor of the accepted school of morals. He was as unfit, obviously, by nature, as he had been by social position, to fill the part of a propounder of accredited dogma. Strange that his first aspiration--towards academical proficiency-- had been checked by a woman, and that his second aspiration-- towards apostleship--had also been checked by a woman. "Is it," he said, "that the women are to blame; or is it the artificial system of things, under which the normal sex-impulses are turned into devilish domestic gins and springs to noose and hold back those who want to progress?" It had been his standing desire to become a prophet, however humble, to his struggling fellow-creatures, without any thought of personal gain. Yet with a wife living away from him with another husband, and himself in love erratically, the loved one's revolt against her state being possibly on his account, he had sunk to be barely respectable according to regulation views. It was not for him to consider further: he had only to confront the obvious, which was that he had made himself quite an impostor as a law-abiding religious teacher. At dusk that evening he went into the garden and dug a shallow hole, to which he brought out all the theological and ethical works that he possessed, and had stored here. He knew that, in this country of true believers, most of them were not saleable at a much higher price than waste-paper value, and preferred to get rid of them in his own way, even if he should sacrifice a little money to the sentiment of thus destroying them. Lighting some loose pamphlets to begin with, he cut the volumes into pieces as well as he could, and with a three-pronged fork shook them over the flames. They kindled, and lighted up the back of the house, the pigsty, and his own face, till they were more or less consumed. Though he was almost a stranger here now, passing cottagers talked to him over the garden hedge. "Burning up your awld aunt's rubbidge, I suppose? Ay; a lot gets heaped up in nooks and corners when you've lived eighty years in one house." It was nearly one o'clock in the morning before the leaves, covers, and binding of Jeremy Taylor, Butler, Doddridge, Paley, Pusey, Newman and the rest had gone to ashes, but the night was quiet, and as he turned and turned the paper shreds with the fork, the sense of being no longer a hypocrite to himself afforded his mind a relief which gave him calm. He might go on believing as before, but he professed nothing, and no longer owned and exhibited engines of faith which, as their proprietor, he might naturally be supposed to exercise on himself first of all. In his passion for Sue he could not stand as an ordinary sinner, and not as a whited sepulchre. Meanwhile Sue, after parting from him earlier in the day, had gone along to the station, with tears in her eyes for having run back and let him kiss her. Jude ought not to have pretended that he was not a lover, and made her give way to an impulse to act unconventionally, if not wrongly. She was inclined to call it the latter; for Sue's logic was extraordinarily compounded, and seemed to maintain that before a thing was done it might be right to do, but that being done it became wrong; or, in other words, that things which were right in theory were wrong in practice. "I have been too weak, I think!" she jerked out as she pranced on, shaking down tear-drops now and then. "It was burning, like a lover's--oh, it was! And I won't write to him any more, or at least for a long time, to impress him with my dignity! And I hope it will hurt him very much--expecting a letter to-morrow morning, and the next, and the next, and no letter coming. He'll suffer then with suspense--won't he, that's all!--and I am very glad of it!"--Tears of pity for Jude's approaching sufferings at her hands mingled with those which had surged up in pity for herself. Then the slim little wife or a husband whose person was disagreeable to her, the ethereal, fine-nerved, sensitive girl, quite unfitted by temperament and instinct to fulfil the conditions of the matrimonial relation with Phillotson, possibly with scarce any man, walked fitfully along, and panted, and brought weariness into her eyes by gazing and worrying hopelessly. Phillotson met her at the arrival station, and, seeing that she was troubled, thought it must be owing to the depressing effect of her aunt's death and funeral. He began telling her of his day's doings, and how his friend Gillingham, a neighbouring schoolmaster whom he had not seen for years, had called upon him. While ascending to the town, seated on the top of the omnibus beside him, she said suddenly and with an air of self-chastisement, regarding the white road and its bordering bushes of hazel: "Richard--I let Mr. Fawley hold my hand a long while. I don't know whether you think it wrong?" He, waking apparently from thoughts of far different mould, said vaguely, "Oh, did you? What did you do that for?" "I don't know. He wanted to, and I let him." "I hope it pleased him. I should think it was hardly a novelty." They lapsed into silence. Had this been a case in the court of an omniscient judge, he might have entered on his notes the curious fact that Sue had placed the minor for the major indiscretion, and had not said a word about the kiss. After tea that evening Phillotson sat balancing the school registers. She remained in an unusually silent, tense, and restless condition, and at last, saying she was tired, went to bed early. When Phillotson arrived upstairs, weary with the drudgery of the attendance-numbers, it was a quarter to twelve o'clock. Entering their chamber, which by day commanded a view of some thirty or forty miles over the Vale of Blackmoor, and even into Outer Wessex, he went to the window, and, pressing his face against the pane, gazed with hard-breathing fixity into the mysterious darkness which now covered the far-reaching scene. He was musing, "I think," he said at last, without turning his head, "that I must get the committee to change the school-stationer. All the copybooks are sent wrong this time." There was no reply. Thinking Sue was dozing he went on: "And there must be a rearrangement of that ventilator in the class-room. The wind blows down upon my head unmercifully and gives me the ear-ache." As the silence seemed more absolute than ordinarily he turned round. The heavy, gloomy oak wainscot, which extended over the walls upstairs and down in the dilapidated "Old-Grove Place," and the massive chimney-piece reaching to the ceiling, stood in odd contrast to the new and shining brass bedstead, and the new suite of birch furniture that he had bought for her, the two styles seeming to nod to each other across three centuries upon the shaking floor. "Soo!" he said (this being the way in which he pronounced her name). She was not in the bed, though she had apparently been there-- the clothes on her side being flung back. Thinking she might have forgotten some kitchen detail and gone downstairs for a moment to see to it, he pulled off his coat and idled quietly enough for a few minutes, when, finding she did not come, he went out upon the landing, candle in hand, and said again "Soo!" "Yes!" came back to him in her voice, from the distant kitchen quarter. "What are you doing down there at midnight--tiring yourself out for nothing!" "I am not sleepy; I am reading; and there is a larger fire here." He went to bed. Some time in the night he awoke. She was not there, even now. Lighting a candle he hastily stepped out upon the landing, and again called her name. She answered "Yes!" as before, but the tones were small and confined, and whence they came he could not at first understand. Under the staircase was a large clothes-closet, without a window; they seemed to come from it. The door was shut, but there was no lock or other fastening. Phillotson, alarmed, went towards it, wondering if she had suddenly become deranged. "What are you doing in there?" he asked. "Not to disturb you I came here, as it was so late." "But there's no bed, is there? And no ventilation! Why, you'll be suffocated if you stay all night!" "Oh no, I think not. Don't trouble about me." "But--" Phillotson seized the knob and pulled at the door. She had fastened it inside with a piece of string, which broke at his pull. There being no bedstead she had flung down some rugs and made a little nest for herself in the very cramped quarters the closet afforded. When he looked in upon her she sprang out of her lair, great-eyed and trembling. "You ought not to have pulled open the door!" she cried excitedly. "It is not becoming in you! Oh, will you go away; please will you!" She looked so pitiful and pleading in her white nightgown against the shadowy lumber-hole that he was quite worried. She continued to beseech him not to disturb her. He said: "I've been kind to you, and given you every liberty; and it is monstrous that you should feel in this way!" "Yes," said she, weeping. "I know that! It is wrong and wicked of me, I suppose! I am very sorry. But it is not I altogether that am to blame!" "Who is then? Am l?" "No--I don't know! The universe, I suppose--things in general, because they are so horrid and cruel!" "Well, it is no use talking like that. Making a man's house so unseemly at this time o' night! Eliza will hear if we don't mind." (He meant the servant.) "Just think if either of the parsons in this town was to see us now! I hate such eccentricities, Sue. There's no order or regularity in your sentiments! ... But I won't intrude on you further; only I would advise you not to shut the door too tight, or I shall find you stifled to-morrow." On rising the next morning he immediately looked into the closet, but Sue had already gone downstairs. There was a little nest where she had lain, and spiders' webs hung overhead. "What must a woman's aversion be when it is stronger than her fear of spiders!" he said bitterly. He found her sitting at the breakfast-table, and the meal began almost in silence, the burghers walking past upon the pavement-- or rather roadway, pavements being scarce here--which was two or three feet above the level of the parlour floor. They nodded down to the happy couple their morning greetings, as they went on. "Richard," she said all at once; "would you mind my living away from you?" "Away from me? Why, that's what you were doing when I married you. What then was the meaning of marrying at all?" "You wouldn't like me any the better for telling you." "I don't object to know." "Because I thought I could do nothing else. You had got my promise a long time before that, remember. Then, as time went on, I regretted I had promised you, and was trying to see an honourable way to break it off. But as I couldn't I became rather reckless and careless about the conventions. Then you know what scandals were spread, and how I was turned out of the training school you had taken such time and trouble to prepare me for and get me into; and this frightened me and it seemed then that the one thing I could do would be to let the engagement stand. Of course I, of all people, ought not to have cared what was said, for it was just what I fancied I never did care for. But I was a coward-- as so many women are--and my theoretic unconventionality broke down. If that had not entered into the case it would have been better to have hurt your feelings once for all then, than to marry you and hurt them all my life after.... And you were so generous in never giving credit for a moment to the rumour." "I am bound in honesty to tell you that I weighed its probability and inquired of your cousin about it." "Ah!" she said with pained surprise. "I didn't doubt you." "But you inquired!" "I took his word." Her eyes had filled. "HE wouldn't have inquired!" she said. "But you haven't answered me. Will you let me go away? I know how irregular it is of me to ask it----" "It is irregular." "But I do ask it! Domestic laws should be made according to temperaments, which should be classified. If people are at all peculiar in character they have to suffer from the very rules that produce comfort in others! ... Will you let me?" "But we married" "What is the use of thinking of laws and ordinances," she burst out, "if they make you miserable when you know you are committing no sin?" "But you are committing a sin in not liking me." "I DO like you! But I didn't reflect it would be--that it would be so much more than that.... For a man and woman to live on intimate terms when one feels as I do is adultery, in any circumstances, however legal. There--I've said it! ... Will you let me, Richard?" "You distress me, Susanna, by such importunity!" "Why can't we agree to free each other? We made the compact, and surely we can cancel it--not legally of course; but we can morally, especially as no new interests, in the shape of children, have arisen to be looked after. Then we might be friends, and meet without pain to either. Oh Richard, be my friend and have pity! We shall both be dead in a few years, and then what will it matter to anybody that you relieved me from constraint for a little while? I daresay you think me eccentric, or super-sensitive, or something absurd. Well--why should I suffer for what I was born to be, if it doesn't hurt other people?" "But it does--it hurts me! And you vowed to love me." "Yes--that's it! I am in the wrong. I always am! It is as culpable to bind yourself to love always as to believe a creed always, and as silly as to vow always to like a particular food or drink!" "And do you mean, by living away from me, living by yourself?" "Well, if you insisted, yes. But I meant living with Jude." "As his wife?" "As I choose." Phillotson writhed. Sue continued: "She, or he, 'who lets the world, or his own portion of it, choose his plan of life for him, has no need of any other faculty than the apelike one of imitation.' J. S. Mill's words, those are. I have been reading it up. Why can't you act upon them? I wish to, always." "What do I care about J. S. Mill!" moaned he. "I only want to lead a quiet life! Do you mind my saying that I have guessed what never once occurred to me before our marriage-- that you were in love, and are in love, with Jude Fawley!" "You may go on guessing that I am, since you have begun. But do you suppose that if I had been I should have asked you to let me go and live with him?" The ringing of the school bell saved Phillotson from the necessity of replying at present to what apparently did not strike him as being such a convincing ARGUMENTUM AD VERECUNDIAM as she, in her loss of courage at the last moment, meant it to appear. She was beginning to be so puzzling and unstateable that he was ready to throw in with her other little peculiarities the extremest request which a wife could make. They proceeded to the schools that morning as usual, Sue entering the class-room, where he could see the back of her head through the glass partition whenever he turned his eyes that way. As he went on giving and hearing lessons his forehead and eyebrows twitched from concentrated agitation of thought, till at length he tore a scrap from a sheet of scribbling paper and wrote: Your request prevents my attending to work at all. I don't know what I am doing! Was it seriously made? He folded the piece of paper very small, and gave it to a little boy to take to Sue. The child toddled off into the class-room. Phillotson saw his wife turn and take the note, and the bend of her pretty head as she read it, her lips slightly crisped, to prevent undue expression under fire of so many young eyes. He could not see her hands, but she changed her position, and soon the child returned, bringing nothing in reply. In a few minutes, however, one of Sue's class appeared, with a little note similar to his own. These words only were pencilled therein: I am sincerely sorry to say that it was seriously made. Phillotson looked more disturbed than before, and the meeting-place of his brows twitched again. In ten minutes he called up the child he had just sent to her, and dispatched another missive: God knows I don't want to thwart you in any reasonable way. My whole thought is to make you comfortable and happy. But I cannot agree to such a preposterous notion as your going to live with your lover. You would lose everybody's respect and regard; and so should I! After an interval a similar part was enacted in the class-room, and an answer came: I know you mean my good. But I don't want to be respectable! To produce "Human development in its richest diversity" (to quote your Humboldt) is to my mind far above respectability. No doubt my tastes are low--in your view--hopelessly low! If you won t let me go to him, will you grant me this one request-- allow me to live in your house in a separate way? To this he returned no answer. She wrote again: I know what you think. But cannot you have pity on me? I beg you to; I implore you to be merciful! I would not ask if I were not almost compelled by what I can't bear! No poor woman has ever wished more than I that Eve had not fallen, so that (as the primitive Christians believed) some harmless mode of vegetation might have peopled Paradise. But I won't trifle! Be kind to me--even though I have not been kind to you! I will go away, go abroad, anywhere, and never trouble you. Nearly an hour passed, and then he returned an answer: I do not wish to pain you. How well you KNOW I don't! Give me a little time. I am disposed to agree to your last request. One line from her: Thank you from my heart, Richard. I do not deserve your kindness. All day Phillotson bent a dazed regard upon her through the glazed partition; and he felt as lonely as when he had not known her. But he was as good as his word, and consented to her living apart in the house. At first, when they met at meals, she had seemed more composed under the new arrangement; but the irksomeness of their position worked on her temperament, and the fibres of her nature seemed strained like harp-strings. She talked vaguely and indiscriminately to prevent his talking pertinently. 苏的沉痛的自白成了他的一块心病，令他彻夜辗转不寐。 第二天清晨，苏按时动身，众邻居看到她和她的同伴顺着通到安静的大路的山间小道下了山，随后就看不见了。一个钟头之后，他按原路回来，面有喜色，还带着得意忘形的样子。肯定刚才出了什么大事。 他们先是在没有人来车往的大路上道别，他们的情绪紧张而又热切，相互别别扭扭地质问他们彼此的关系到底该接近到什么程度才算做得对，后来两下里几乎吵起来。她含着泪说，他眼下正计划当牧师，居然想要吻她，就算告别吧，也实在太不该。然后她退让了一下，说以接吻本身而论，无可厚非，全得看出自什么心理。要是以表亲和朋友的精神而吻，她没什么不愿意的；要是出自情人心理，她可不答应。“你能不能起个誓，你吻我不是情人心理！” 不行，他不能起誓。这样他们两个都气了，躲开对方，各走各的路；才走了二三十码，两个人同时转过身来看。这一看就把一直勉强维持的堤防冲破了。他们掉头飞奔，到了一块儿，想也没想就拥抱起来，长时间紧紧地吻着。分别的时候，她脸上飞红，他心里乱跳。 这一吻成了裘德一辈子生活的关捩。他回到小房子以后，一个人自思自量，终于看到：他对那位迎非尘寰中人那一吻虽然可以看成他阴错阳差的生活中最纯洁的一刻，但是只要他容许这种不合法律和教规的恋情发荣滋长，那就同他想当圣教的卫士和仆从的愿心明显地背道而驰，因为按教规，性爱，往最好里说，得算意志薄弱，往最坏里说，那就该下地狱了。苏在情绪激动时说的话确实是赤裸裸的真理啊。他要是不遗余力地去维护自己的恋情，不顾一切地要把对她倾心相许坚持下去，那么单就这样的事实来说，他身为宣讲世人公认的道德规范的人，就应该受到谴责。明摆着，他生就的本性，跟他的社会属性一样，根本不配去阐释颠扑不破的圣教的信条。 事情奇就奇在：他头一回立志苦学，以求博通百家，结果让一个女人拆了台；第二回立志成为使徒，以期弘扬圣教，结果又给女人拆了台。“这究竟该怪女人，”他说，“还是该怪人为的制度，它硬把正常性冲动变成万恶的家庭陷阱和绞链，谁想越雷池一步，就把他拴紧，勒住，别想动弹？” 他从前一心一意要为在挣扎中求生存的同类当一名宣扬上帝意旨的使徒，不论地位多么卑微，他也决不计较个人得失。然而一方面他原来的妻子舍他而去，同另一个丈夫过活，另一方面他又跟一个有夫之妇发生不正当的恋爱关系，而她又可能为他的缘故厌弃她现在的身份，所以无论接明文规定还是按约定俗成的观点看，他都觉得自己已经沉沦到不耻于人的地步。 他用不着考虑下一步怎么办。他先得面对眼前明显不过的事实：他这号称遵礼守法的教会宣讲师无非是个假名行骗之徒。 那天到了黄昏时分，他在菜园里挖了个浅坑，又把自己所有的神学和伦理学书抱来，堆到坑边上。他知道在这个由真正的信徒组成的国家里，大部分这类书不比废纸还值钱。他宁可按自己的办法把它们处理掉，哪怕损失点钱，心里还是觉着痛快。他先把活页小册子点着，再把大部头书撕成一叠叠的，然后用三股叉把它们在火里来回翻，书烧得发出火光，把房子后院、猪圈和他的脸都照亮，直亮到差不多烧干净为止。 他现在在这地方算是个外乡人。但是还是有过路的乡亲们隔着篱笆跟他说话。 “我看你这是烧你老姑婆的破烂吧；唉，要是在一所房子里头住上八十年，边边角角不堆满了破破烂烂才怪呢。” 还不到下夜一点钟，他就把杰洛米•泰勒、巴特勒、道特里治、帕莱、普赛、纽门和其他人的著作里里外外带封皮都烧成了灰。夜里静悄悄，他一边用三股叉把碎纸片翻来翻去，一边心里想他已经不再是假仁假义的伪君子了，这种解脱感使他的内心复归平静。他当然可以跟从前一样保持信仰，不过他再也不会去宣讲布道，再也不会自命虔诚，冒充权威，滔滔不绝地去教训别人。苏原来还当他这个以信仰权威自居的人会首先做到身体力行呢。既然他热恋着苏，他只能算是个普通罪人，不是个戴着假面具的欺世盗名者。 同时，苏那天早上跟他分手后，就直往车站去，一路上眼泪汪汪，因为她想着自己不该往回跑，让他吻，裘德不该装得不是个情人，以至于逼得她受一时冲动的支配，做了习俗不容许的事，哪怕这算不上错事也罢。她自己倒很想把这叫错事，因为苏的逻辑本是错乱颠倒，老像是觉着什么事没干的时候大概不错，一干了，就错了；换句话说，凡事理论上都是对的，一实践就错了。 “我看我实在太软弱啦！”她一边大步往前走，一边嘴里迸出这一句，时不时地甩甩眼泪。“他吻得那么热烈，跟情人吻一样啊！——唉，情人就那么吻呀！我以后再不给他写信啦，至少得过老长老长一段时间才写呢，要叫他了解了解我多尊贵！我希望就这样狠狠整他一顿——叫他明儿早上就盼信，后天还盼，大后天还盼，盼得没个完，就是没信来。他老悬着心，心里一定苦得很——他只好这样啦，就这样啦，我才高兴哪！”于是她又为可怜的裘德要受她的不断摆布而流下眼泪，她原来可怜自己就泪如泉涌，这一来两种眼泪汇而为一了。 这位娇小玲珑的妻子紧一阵慢一阵地望前走，气喘心跳，绝望地死盯着前面，苦恼不堪，弄得两眼失神。她是个超凡脱俗、心细如发、感觉锐敏的女儿家，脾气和本能都不适宜去履行同费乐生的婚姻关系，觉得他不如人意，可能也难得男人足以班配得了她。 费乐生到火车停靠的站接她，看她烦恼样儿，想准是因为她始婆去世和下葬弄得心情恶劣。他给她讲起每天干了什么，又说一位多年不见的名叫季令安的朋友，邻镇小学的教师，来看过他。她坐在公共马车顶层他身边，马车爬坡进镇的时候，她不断地看着发白的道路和路两侧的榛树丛，忽然带着问心有愧的神情说： “里查——我让福来先生握了我的手，握了好半天。我也不知道你是不是觉着错了？” 他显然正在想完全不相干的事，听她一说才转过神来，含含糊糊说，“哦，是那样吗？你们干吗那样？” “我不知道。他要握，我就让他握啦。” “希望那叫他高兴吧。我看这不算什么新鲜事。” 他们没接着往下谈。如果一位明察秋毫的法官在法庭上审理这桩案子，大概会援笔在案件记录簿上记下这个不合情理的事实：苏是以细行不谨来代换大节有亏，因为她对裘德同她接吻这一点一字不提。 吃过晚饭，费乐生坐着查阅学生出席状况，苏还是平常少有的缄默、紧张、心神不定的样子。后来她说她乏了，要早点睡。费乐生上楼的时候，已经是十二点三刻了，他让枯燥无味的学生出、缺席数字搞得很累。进了卧室，他走到窗前，脸靠近玻璃。白天从那儿可以俯瞰布莱摩谷三十到四十英里以外的地方，连维塞克斯都可人望。他屏息伫立，凝望那覆盖从近到远的景色的神秘的黑夜。他不断地想事。“我认为，”他最后说，没回过头去，“我得叫校董会换家文具店。这回送来的作业本全错了。” 没有回答。他以为苏在打盹，就接着说： “教室里的通风器得重装一下，它对着我的脑袋吹，毫不留情，把我的耳朵都吹疼了。” 因为屋里像是比她平常在家要静得多，他就转过身来。在年久失修的葛庐老宅里，楼上下都装着厚重、阴郁的橡木壁板，庞大的壁炉架直抵天花板，它们同他为她购置的铜床，成套新桦木家具，形成了古怪的对比，隔着三个世纪的两种风格好像在颤悠悠的地板上彼此点头。 “素！”他说（他平常这么喊她）。 她没在床上，不过她显然在床上呆过——她那边的被子什么的都掀开了。他以为她大概忘了厨房里什么小事，又下楼去查看一下。他自己就脱了外衣，安安静静歇了几分钟，后来他看她还没上来，就手持蜡烛，走到楼梯口，又喊了声“素！”。 “哎！”她的声音从厨房远远地传过来。 “你半夜里到下边干什么——犯不着没事找累受啊！” “我不困。我看书呢，这儿火旺些。” 他睡下来。夜里不知什么时候醒了，一看到那时候她还不在，就点上蜡烛，急忙走出卧室，到了楼梯口，又喊她名字。 她跟前面一样回了一声“哎！”，不过声音又小又闷，他刚能听见，还弄不明白声音是从哪儿过来的呢。原来楼下的楼梯肚子是个放衣服杂物的储藏室，上面没开窗户，声音像是从那儿发出的。门关着，也没扣死。费乐生吓了一跳，就走过去，心里纳闷她是不是精神上犯了点病。 “你在那里头干什么？”他问。 “这么晚啦，我就到这儿来啦，省得打搅你。” “可那儿不是没床吗？再说也不透气呀！你要是整夜呆在里头，要憋死呀！” “哦，我看憋不死。你别为我烦心吧。” “可是，”费乐生抓住门把手，要把门拉开。她本来在里边用根细绳把门拴住，这下子让他拉断了。里边没床，她在地上铺了几块地毯，在储藏室非常狭小的空间里给自己营造了一个小窝。 他往里一看她，她一下子蹦起来，眼睛睁得老大，身上直哆嗦。 “你不应该把门拉开！”她激动地大声说。“你怎么好这样！哦，你走，请你走吧！” 她穿着白睡衣，向他哀求，经阴暗的木头间一村，那样子真是楚楚可怜，他不禁心中非常懊恼。她继续央告他别打搅她。 “我一直对你很好，你爱怎么样就怎么样，你居然想起来这么个干法，真是大胡闹啦！” “是啊，”她哭着说，“这我知道！我看这是我错了，是我坏！非常对不起。不过这也不好都怪我！” “那怪谁？怪我？” “不怪你——我也不知道！我想该怪天怪地吧——什么都得怪，因为它们太可怕。太残酷啦！” “唉，说这个有什么用啊！深更半夜，把家里搅得这么乱糟糟，不成体统！咱们要是不注意，艾利沙就听见啦！”——他说的是女仆——“想想吧，万一这时候哪位牧师来看咱们，该怎么说啊！苏，你这么怪里怪气叫我讨厌。你这是乱来，太出格喽！……不过我也不想硬要你怎么样，还是劝你别把门关得太紧，要不然明天早上我就看见你闷过去啦。” 第二天早上，他一起来就立刻去看储藏室，但是苏已经在楼下了。那里边还留着她呆过的小窝，上面挂着蜘蛛网。“女人要是讨厌别人，可真够呛，连蜘蛛都不怕啦！”他没好气地说。 他看见她坐在早餐桌旁。他们开始吃早饭，简直无话可说。人行道上，镇上居民来来往往（或者应该说车行道，它比小客厅地面要高出两三英尺，因为那地方当时还没铺什么人行道），他们一边走一边向下面那对幸福的夫妇打招呼，问他们早安。 “里查，”她突然开口，“我要是不跟你一块儿过，你干不干？” “不在一块儿过？怎么，我没娶你之前，你是那个样儿，要是不一块儿过，结婚还有什么意思？” “我要是跟你说了，你肯定对我不高兴。” “我倒想领教领教。” “因为我当时别无选择。结婚之前老早我就答应了你的求婚，这你没忘吧。以后日子一长，我就后悔不该答应你，一直想找个体面的办法把这事了结。不过由于我做不到，我就变得什么习俗都不放眼里，更不往心里去。后来你知道丑闻传开了，我就让进修学校开除了。当初你那么费心费力，又费了时间才把我弄进去。那件事叫我怕死了，当时看来我唯一能做的事，就是把婚约保留下去。当然，我，尤其是我，根本不必管人家说三道四，可我是个胆小鬼——有那么多女人是胆小鬼——我什么不在乎陈规陋习云云那套空话全九霄云外去啦。要是当初没裹进那件事里头，我就一刀两断也倒好，虽说伤了你感情，反倒比后来跟你结了婚，我一辈子伤你感情，要好得多……你这人真是度量大，对那些谣言一点也没往心里去。” “我这会儿得老老实实跟你说，当时我也考虑过那件事的可能情形，还追问过你的表亲。” “哎呀。”她说，惊讶中有痛苦。 “我对你没怀疑！” “可是你追问过啦！” “他说的，我信。” 她眼泪涌上来了。“他可不会追问呀！”她说，“不过你没回答我。你让不让我走？我知道我这么问岂有此理——” “就是岂有此理。” “可我一定要问！关于家庭的法律该按禀性制定，禀性应该分类。人们性格上各具特点，有些人因为那些条条杠杠称心如意，另外一些人就遭了殃。……你让不让我走？” “但是咱们是结了婚的——” 她发作起来：“要是你明知道你根本没什么罪过，可是那些法律和诏令把你弄得那么惨，什么法律和诏令，你还管它三七二十一吗？” “不过你不喜欢我，你就是有罪过！” “我可是喜欢你啊！不过我那时候没仔细想过，男人跟女人一块儿过，喜欢之外还有那么多事啊。可是万一有了我那样的感受，那就别管什么环境，也别管合法不合法，也成了通奸啦。哪——我说过啦！……你让不让我走，里查？” “苏珊娜，你这么胡搅蛮缠，叫我太伤心啦！” “咱们怎么就不能彼此放开手呢？咱们能订婚约，也一定可以取消它嘛——解铃还得要系铃人——当然这样未必跟法律合得上，可是合乎道德，尤其是还没像生儿育女那样子的新玩意儿要顾着。以后咱们还可以做朋友，见了面，谁也不觉着痛苦。再过几年，咱们就死了，那时候谁还管你当初把我从禁锢中放出过一会儿。我敢说你认为我瞎胡闹，神经出了毛病，想入非非什么的。啊——要是我生下来没害人，干吗我生下来就该受这份罪？” “但是你生下来就害了我——害了我！再说你宣过誓你爱我！” “不错，是这么回事！我这会儿就错在这儿。我老是错个没完！宣了誓，就把你捆住，非爱下去不可，这就跟宣了誓老得信一种信经一样，就跟稀里糊涂宣了誓老吃那样饭、老喝那样酒一样。” “你这意思难道是说，离开我，一个人独立生活？” “嗯，要是你一定要我这样，我从命。不过我的意思跟裘德一块儿过。” “成他的老婆。” “那得看我怎么定。” 费乐生痛苦得身子直抽。 苏接着说：“不论男的，还是女的，‘如果让世界或者他自己所属的那份世界，替他选定什么样生活计划，那么他不过像个类人猿依样画葫芦而已，谈不上还需要其他本事。’这是密尔说的。我一直把这些话奉为圭桌。你怎么就不能按这些话行事？我就是按他的话行事，永远按他的话行事。” “我管它什么密尔不密尔！”他呻吟着，“我就想安安稳稳地过日子！要是你让我说的话，咱们结婚之前，我再也料不到，到这会儿才猜出来，你原来就跟裘德•福来恋爱，这会儿还是在跟他恋爱哪！” “你爱怎么猜就怎么猜，往下猜好啦，反正你已经猜开头啦。可是你想过没有，要是我当初就跟他恋爱，我何必到这会儿求你让我走，跟他过？” 最后一刻，她失掉了勇气，只好背城惜一，抛出这个“令人信服的具有权威性”的论据，而他显然觉着这不在话下，但又非回答不可。幸好学校的钟响了，免了费乐生当场一答之苦。她开始表现得那样没有理性，那样恬不知耻，他倒真情愿把她以妻子身分提出的非分要求只看成她那些小小怪癖又添了一桩。 那天早晨，他们照常到学校。苏进教室后，他只要眼睛往那边一转，就可以透过玻璃隔扇瞧见她的后脑勺。讲课和听学生答问时，他因为心里乱成一团，脑门跟眉毛一抽一抽的。后来他还是从一张胡乱涂抹过的废纸上撕下一块，写道： 你的要求把我的课全搅乱了。我不知道自己在干什么！你是真心把那 当回事吗？ 他把这块纸摺得小小的，交给一个小男孩送过去。孩子蹒跚地走出去，进了苏那边的教室。费乐生瞧见她妻子转过身来，接了条子，低下美丽的头看。她的嘴唇抿着，免得在孩子们那么多双眼睛紧紧逼视下露出不适当的表情。他看不见她的手，不过她变了个姿势。那孩子很快回来了，什么也没带回来，但是几分钟后，苏班上一个学生来了，带来跟他用的一样的小纸条，上面只用铅笔写了些字： 我诚恳表示对不起，不过要说我的确是真心如此。 费乐生显得心里比刚才还乱，眉心又一抽一抽的。十分钟后，他又叫原先那个孩子送去一纸短信： 上帝明鉴，我不想以任何合理方式对你作梗。我全部心思在于使你安适、快乐。但你欲与情人同居之想实属悖谬，我不便苟同。你势将为人所不齿，所唾弃，而我也难以幸免。 隔了会儿，那边教室的对方也重复了先前的动作，然后来了回音： 我知道你是为我好，但我无意求得他人尊敬。对我的内心世界来说，求得“人性多样性发展，异彩纷呈”（你所服膺的洪堡的话），远非去博得他人的称许可比。在你看来，我的趣味无疑是低下的，低下到了无可救药的程度！如你不许我到他那边去，可否同意我如下请求——允我在你府上分居单过？ 他对此未予回答。 她又写来条子： 我知道你的想法，但你就不能可怜可怜我？我求你可怜可怜，我求你慈悲慈悲。我若不是让我受不了的情况逼得这样，我断不会向你要求。我这可怜的女人最最希望夏娃没有被逐出乐园，那样人类大概像原始基督徒所相信的，以完全无害的方式蕃衍后代，长住乐园。不过废话不必说了。请你善待我吧——即使我没有善待过你。我一定走，到国外，到任何地方，决不牵累你。 约一个钟头后，他才写了四条： 我不愿使你痛苦。你深知我不会那样！容我一点时间，考虑你最后的要求。 她写了一行： 里查，我由衷感谢你。你的好意，我愧不敢当。 费乐生整天都通过玻璃隔扇昏昏沉沉地望着她；他感到自己现在跟认识她以前一样孤独。 但是他说话算话，同意她在家里分居。起先他们在吃饭时见面，新的安排似使她较为安心了，但是他们处境的尴尬对她的脾气发生了影响，她天性中每根神经都像竖琴弦一样绷得紧紧的。她说起话来东拉西扯，不着边际，不让他谈问题。 |
| Part 4 Chapter 4 PHILLOTSON was sitting up late, as was often his custom, trying to get together the materials for his long-neglected hobby of Roman antiquities. For the first time since reviving the subject he felt a return of his old interest in it. He forgot time and place, and when he remembered himself and ascended to rest it was nearly two o'clock. His preoccupation was such that, though he now slept on the other side of the house, he mechanically went to the room that he and his wife had occupied when he first became a tenant of Old-Grove Place, which since his differences with Sue had been hers exclusively. He entered, and unconsciously began to undress. There was a cry from the bed, and a quick movement. Before the schoolmaster had realized where he was he perceived Sue starting up half-awake, staring wildly, and springing out upon the floor on the side away from him, which was towards the window. This was somewhat hidden by the canopy of the bedstead, and in a moment he heard her flinging up the sash. Before he had thought that she meant to do more than get air she had mounted upon the sill and leapt out. She disappeared in the darkness, and he heard her fall below. Phillotson, horrified, ran downstairs, striking himself sharply against the newel in his haste. Opening the heavy door he ascended the two or three steps to the level of the ground, and there on the gravel before him lay a white heap. Phillotson seized it in his arms, and bringing Sue into the hall seated her on a chair, where he gazed at her by the flapping light of the candle which he had set down in the draught on the bottom stair. She had certainly not broken her neck. She looked at him with eyes that seemed not to take him in; and though not particularly large in general they appeared so now. She pressed her side and rubbed her arm, as if conscious of pain; then stood up, averting her face, in evident distress at his gaze. "Thank God--you are not killed! Though it's not for want of trying-- not much hurt I hope?" Her fall, in fact, had not been a serious one, probably owing to the lowness of the old rooms and to the high level of the ground without. Beyond a scraped elbow and a blow in the side she had apparently incurred little harm. "I was asleep, I think!" she began, her pale face still turned away from him. "And something frightened me--a terrible dream--I thought I saw you--" The actual circumstances seemed to come back to her, and she was silent. Her cloak was hanging at the back of the door, and the wretched Phillotson flung it round her. "Shall I help you upstairs?" he asked drearily; for the significance of all this sickened him of himself and of everything. "No thank you, Richard. I am very little hurt. I can walk." "You ought to lock your door," he mechanically said, as if lecturing in school. "Then no one could intrude even by accident." "I have tried--it won't lock. All the doors are out of order." The aspect of things was not improved by her admission. She ascended the staircase slowly, the waving light of the candle shining on her. Phillotson did not approach her, or attempt to ascend himself till he heard her enter her room. Then he fastened up the front door, and returning, sat down on the lower stairs, holding the newel with one hand, and bowing his face into the other. Thus he remained for a long long time-- a pitiable object enough to one who had seen him; till, raising his head and sighing a sigh which seemed to say that the business of his life must be carried on, whether he had a wife or no, he took the candle and went upstairs to his lonely room on the other side of the landing. No further incident touching the matter between them occurred till the following evening, when, immediately school was over, Phillotson walked out of Shaston, saying he required no tea, and not informing Sue where he was going. He descended from the town level by a steep road in a north-westerly direction, and continued to move downwards till the soil changed from its white dryness to a tough brown clay. He was now on the low alluvial beds Where Duncliffe is the traveller's mark, And cloty Stour's a-rolling dark. More than once he looked back in the increasing obscurity of evening. Against the sky was Shaston, dimly visible On the grey-topp'd height Of Paladore, as pale day wore Away... (1) The new-lit lights from its windows burnt with a steady shine as if watching him, one of which windows was his own. Above it he could just discern the pinnacled tower of Trinity Church. The air down here, tempered by the thick damp bed of tenacious clay, was not as it had been above, but soft and relaxing, so that when he had walked a mile or two he was obliged to wipe his face with his handkerchief. Leaving Duncliffe Hill on the left he proceeded without hesitation through the shade, as a man goes on, night or day, in a district over which he has played as a boy. He had walked altogether about four and a half miles Where Stour receives her strength, From six cleere fountains fed, (2) when he crossed a tributary of the Stour, and reached Leddenton-- a little town of three or four thousand inhabitants-- where he went on to the boys' school, and knocked at the door of the master's residence. (1) William Barnes. (2) Drayton. A boy pupil-teacher opened it, and to Phillotson's inquiry if Mr. Gillingham was at home replied that he was, going at once off to his own house, and leaving Phillotson to find his way in as he could. He discovered his friend putting away some books from which he had been giving evening lessons. The light of the paraffin lamp fell on Phillotson's face-- pale and wretched by contrast with his friend's, who had a cool, practical look. They had been schoolmates in boyhood, and fellow-students at Wintoncester Training College, many years before this time. "Glad to see you, Dick! But you don't look well? Nothing the matter?" Phillotson advanced without replying, and Gillingham closed the cupboard and pulled up beside his visitor. "Why you haven't been here--let me see--since you were married? I called, you know, but you were out; and upon my word it is such a climb after dark that I have been waiting till the days are longer before lumpering up again. I am glad you didn't wait, however." Though well-trained and even proficient masters, they occasionally used a dialect-word of their boyhood to each other in private. "I've come, George, to explain to you my reasons for taking a step that I am about to take, so that you, at least, will understand my motives if other people question them anywhen-- as they may, indeed certainly will.... But anything is better than the present condition of things God forbid that you should ever have such an experience as mine!" "Sit down. You don't mean--anything wrong between you and Mrs. Phillotson?" "I do.... My wretched state is that I've a wife I love who not only does not love me, but--but Well, I won't say. I know her feeling! I should prefer hatred from her!" "Ssh!" "And the sad part of it is that she is not so much to blame as I. She was a pupil-teacher under me, as you know, and I took advantage of her inexperience, and toled her out for walks, and got her to agree to a long engagement before she well knew her own mind. Afterwards she saw somebody else, but she blindly fulfilled her engagement." "Loving the other?" "Yes; with a curious tender solicitude seemingly; though her exact feeling for him is a riddle to me--and to him too, I think-- possibly to herself. She is one of the oddest creatures I ever met. However, I have been struck with these two facts; the extraordinary sympathy, or similarity, between the pair. He is her cousin, which perhaps accounts for some of it. They seem to be one person split in two! And with her unconquerable aversion to myself as a husband, even though she may like me as a friend, 'tis too much to bear longer. She has conscientiously struggled against it, but to no purpose. I cannot bear it--I cannot! I can't answer her arguments--she has read ten times as much as I. Her intellect sparkles like diamonds, while mine smoulders like brown paper.... She's one too many for me!" "She'll get over it, good-now?" "Never! It is--but I won't go into it--there are reasons why she never will. At last she calmly and firmly asked if she might leave me and go to him. The climax came last night, when, owing to my entering her room by accident, she jumped out of window--so strong was her dread of me! She pretended it was a dream, but that was to soothe me. Now when a woman jumps out of window without caring whether she breaks her neck or no, she's not to be mistaken; and this being the case I have come to a conclusion: that it is wrong to so torture a fellow-creature any longer; and I won't be the inhuman wretch to do it, cost what it may!" "What--you'll let her go? And with her lover?" "Whom with is her matter. I shall let her go; with him certainly, if she wishes. I know I may be wrong--I know I can't logically, or religiously, defend my concession to such a wish of hers, or harmonize it with the doctrines I was brought up in. Only I know one thing: something within me tells me I am doing wrong in refusing her. I, like other men, profess to hold that if a husband gets such a so-called preposterous request from his wife, the only course that can possibly be regarded as right and proper and honourable in him is to refuse it, and put her virtuously under lock and key, and murder her lover perhaps. But is that essentially right, and proper, and honourable, or is it contemptibly mean and selfish? I don't profess to decide. I simply am going to act by instinct, and let principles take care of themselves. If a person who has blindly walked into a quagmire cries for help, I am inclined to give it, if possible." "But--you see, there's the question of neighbours and society-- what will happen if everybody----" "Oh, I am not going to be a philosopher any longer! I only see what's under my eyes." "Well--I don't agree with your instinct, Dick!" said Gillingham gravely. "I am quite amazed, to tell the truth, that such a sedate, plodding fellow as you should have entertained such a craze for a moment. You said when I called that she was puzzling and peculiar: I think you are!" "Have you ever stood before a woman whom you know to be intrinsically a good woman, while she has pleaded for release--been the man she has knelt to and implored indulgence of?" "I am thankful to say I haven't." "Then I don't think you are in a position to give an opinion. I have been that man, and it makes all the difference in the world, if one has any manliness or chivalry in him. I had not the remotest idea--living apart from women as I have done for so many years--that merely taking a woman to church and putting a ring upon her finger could by any possibility involve one in such a daily, continuous tragedy as that now shared by her and me!" "Well, I could admit some excuse for letting her leave you, provided she kept to herself. But to go attended by a cavalier-- that makes a difference." "Not a bit. Suppose, as I believe, she would rather endure her present misery than be made to promise to keep apart from him? All that is a question for herself. It is not the same thing at all as the treachery of living on with a husband and playing him false.... However, she has not distinctly implied living with him as wife, though I think she means to.... And to the best of my understanding it is not an ignoble, merely animal, feeling between the two: that is the worst of it; because it makes me think their affection will be enduring. I did not mean to confess to you that in the first jealous weeks of my marriage, before I had come to my right mind, I hid myself in the school one evening when they were together there, and I heard what they said. I am ashamed of it now, though I suppose I was only exercising a legal right. I found from their manner that an extraordinary affinity, or sympathy, entered into their attachment, which somehow took away all flavour of grossness. Their supreme desire is to be together--to share each other's emotions, and fancies, and dreams." "Platonic!" "Well no. Shelleyan would be nearer to it. They remind me of-- what are their names--Laon and Cythna. Also of Paul and Virginia a little. The more I reflect, the more ENTIRELY I am on their side!" "But if people did as you want to do, there'd be a general domestic disintegration. The family would no longer be the social unit." "Yes--I am all abroad, I suppose!" said Phillotson sadly. "I was never a very bright reasoner, you remember.... And yet, I don't see why the woman and the children should not be the unit without the man." "By the Lord Harry!--Matriarchy! ... Does SHE say all this too?" "Oh no. She little thinks I have out-Sued Sue in this-- all in the last twelve hours!" "It will upset all received opinion hereabout. Good God-- what will Shaston say!" "I don't say that it won't. I don't know--I don't know! ... As I say, I am only a feeler, not a reasoner." "Now," said Gillingham, "let us take it quietly, and have something to drink over it." He went under the stairs, and produced a bottle of cider-wine, of which they drank a rummer each. "I think you are rafted, and not yourself," he continued. "Do go back and make up your mind to put up with a few whims. But keep her. I hear on all sides that she's a charming young thing." "Ah yes! That's the bitterness of it! Well, I won't stay. I have a long walk before me." Gillingham accompanied his friend a mile on his way, and at parting expressed his hope that this consultation, singular as its subject was, would be the renewal of their old comradeship. "Stick to her!" were his last words, flung into the darkness after Phillotson; from which his friend answered "Aye, aye!" But when Phillotson was alone under the clouds of night, and no sound was audible but that of the purling tributaries of the Stour, he said, "So Gillingham, my friend, you had no stronger arguments against it than those!" "I think she ought to be smacked, and brought to her senses-- that's what I think!" murmured Gillingham, as he walked back alone. The next morning came, and at breakfast Phillotson told Sue: "You may go--with whom you will. I absolutely and unconditionally agree." Having once come to this conclusion it seemed to Phillotson more and more indubitably the true one. His mild serenity at the sense that he was doing his duty by a woman who was at his mercy almost overpowered his grief at relinquishing her. Some days passed, and the evening of their last meal together had come-- a cloudy evening with wind--which indeed was very seldom absent in this elevated place. How permanently it was imprinted upon his vision; that look of her as she glided into the parlour to tea; a slim flexible figure; a face, strained from its roundness, and marked by the pallors of restless days and nights, suggesting tragic possibilities quite at variance with her times of buoyancy; a trying of this morsel and that, and an inability to eat either. Her nervous manner, begotten of a fear lest he should be injured by her course, might have been interpreted by a stranger as displeasure that Phillotson intruded his presence on her for the few brief minutes that remained. "You had better have a slice of ham or an egg, or something with your tea? You can't travel on a mouthful of bread and butter." She took the slice he helped her to; and they discussed as they sat trivial questions of housekeeping, such as where he would find the key of this or that cupboard, what little bills were paid, and what not. "I am a bachelor by nature, as you know, Sue," he said, in a heroic attempt to put her at her ease. "So that being without a wife will not really be irksome to me, as it might be to other men who have had one a little while. I have, too, this grand hobby in my head of writing 'The Roman Antiquities of Wessex,' which will occupy all my spare hours." "If you will send me some of the manuscript to copy at any time, as you used to, I will do it with so much pleasure!" she said with amenable gentleness. "I should much like to be some help to you still--as a--friend." Phillotson mused, and said: "No, I think we ought to be really separate, if we are to be at all. And for this reason, that I don't wish to ask you any questions, and particularly wish you not to give me information as to your movements, or even your address.... Now, what money do you want? You must have some, you know." "Oh, of course, Richard, I couldn't think of having any of your money to go away from you with! I don't want any either. I have enough of my own to last me for a long while, and Jude will let me have----" "I would rather not know anything about him, if you don't mind. You are free, absolutely; and your course is your own." "Very well. But I'll just say that I have packed only a change or two of my own personal clothing, and one or two little things besides that are my very own. I wish you would look into my trunk before it is closed. Besides that I have only a small parcel that will go into Jude's portmanteau." "Of course I shall do no such thing as examine your luggage! I wish you would take three-quarters of the household furniture. I don't want to be bothered with it. I have a sort of affection for a little of it that belonged to my poor mother and father. But the rest you are welcome to whenever you like to send for it." "That I shall never do." "You go by the six-thirty train, don't you? It is now a quarter to six." "You ... You don't seem very sorry I am going, Richard!" "Oh no--perhaps not." "I like you much for how you have behaved. It is a curious thing that directly I have begun to regard you as not my husband, but as my old teacher, I like you. I won't be so affected as to say I love you, because you know I don't, except as a friend. But you do seem that to me!" Sue was for a few moments a little tearful at these reflections, and then the station omnibus came round to take her up. Phillotson saw her things put on the top, handed her in, and was obliged to make an appearance of kissing her as he wished her good-bye, which she quite understood and imitated. From the cheerful manner in which they parted the omnibus-man had no other idea than that she was going for a short visit. When Phillotson got back into the house he went upstairs and opened the window in the direction the omnibus had taken. Soon the noise of its wheels died away. He came down then, his face compressed like that of one bearing pain; he put on his hat and went out, following by the same route for nearly a mile. Suddenly turning round he came home. He had no sooner entered than the voice of his friend Gillingham greeted him from the front room. "I could make nobody hear; so finding your door open I walked in, and made myself comfortable. I said I would call, you remember." "Yes. I am much obliged to you, Gillingham, particularly for coming to-night." "How is Mrs.----" "She is quite well. She is gone--just gone. That's her tea-cup, that she drank out of only an hour ago. And that's the plate she--" Phillotson's throat got choked up, and he could not go on. He turned and pushed the tea-things aside. "Have you had any tea, by the by?" he asked presently in a renewed voice. "No--yes--never mind," said Gillingham, preoccupied. "Gone, you say she is?" "Yes.... I would have died for her; but I wouldn't be cruel to her in the name of the law. She is, as I understand, gone to join her lover. What they are going to do I cannot say. Whatever it may be she has my full consent to." There was a stability, a ballast, in Phillotson's pronouncement which restrained his friend's comment. "Shall I--leave you?" he asked. "No, no. It is a mercy to me that you have come. I have some articles to arrange and clear away. Would you help me?" Gillingham assented; and having gone to the upper rooms the schoolmaster opened drawers, and began taking out all Sue's things that she had left behind, and laying them in a large box. "She wouldn't take all I wanted her to," he continued. "But when I made up my mind to her going to live in her own way I did make up my mind." "Some men would have stopped at an agreement to separate." "I've gone into all that, and don't wish to argue it. I was, and am, the most old-fashioned man in the world on the question of marriage-- in fact I had never thought critically about its ethics at all. But certain facts stared me in the face, and I couldn't go against them." They went on with the packing silently. When it was done Phillotson closed the box and turned the key. "There," he said. "To adorn her in somebody's eyes; never again in mine!" 费乐生很想把他一向爱好而又搁置颇久的古罗马文物资料加以整理，而他往往工作到夜深。自他恢复那个课题的研究，他第一次深深感到自己的兴趣不减曩时，以致把时间和地方全都忘了，快到凌晨两点，他才想起该上楼歇息。 从他租住葛庐老宅那时起，他一直和妻子同宿一室，及至跟苏龃龉，屋子就归她一人住了，他自己改住房子另一头的一间。他做完了研究，第一件事是回屋子睡觉，懵里懵懂地进了他们原来合住的房间，自自然然地开始脱衣服。 床上突地发出一声喊，接着猛然一动。小学老师还没来得及弄明白到了什么地方，只见苏迷迷糊糊地坐起来，惊恐地死瞪着眼，紧接着从床靠窗户那一侧蹦到地上，想躲开他。床篷子差不多把窗户都遮住了，一霎间他听到她推上窗子的声音。他刚以为她大概是想换换空气，谁知她已经跨上窗沿跳了出去，消失在黑暗中。他听到她落地声。 费乐生吓昏了，马上往楼下跑，忙中头猛撞到楼梯柱子上。他把笨重的大门打开，上了够得着地面的两三层台阶，看到石子铺的路上有堆白东西。费乐生连忙把它抱起来，弄进前厅，把苏放到椅上。他原先在楼梯最下一级的风口那儿放了只蜡烛，这会儿他就在摇曳不定的烛光中死死盯着她。 苏的脖子没摔断。她看着他，目光茫然，似乎没看见他；她眼睛虽然平时不见得特别大，但那会儿却显得这样。她按了按一边的肋骨，又揉揉脖子，像是觉着那些地方疼，随后站起身来，掉开脸，显然是因为他目不转睛地看她，使她感到痛苦。 “谢天谢地——你算是没摔死！不过你不是不想死。——我希望你伤不重，是吧？” 她其实摔得不厉害，这大概是因为外面地面比老房子地面高的缘故。除了肘部擦伤和头一边垫了一下，显然没吃什么大亏。 “我想我那会儿正睡着呢！”她开了口，苍白的脸还是闪开他。“也不知道怎么吓醒了——是个恶梦吧——我觉着瞧见了你——”她仿佛想起来当时的实际情景，没往下说。 她的大衣挂在门后面，心里非常不是滋味的费乐生把它拿过来，给她披上。“我帮你上楼好不好？”他郁郁不快地问。出了这样的事意味着什么，他肚子里有数，不由得对自己、对一切都感到恶心。 “不必啦，谢谢你，里查。我没怎么伤着，自个儿能走。” “你应该把门锁上。”他老腔老调地说，像平时在学校上课一样。“那就没人无意中闯进去啦。” “我试过——锁不上。所有的门全走形啦。” 她尽管承认他说得对，这会儿也于事无补。她慢慢上了楼，摇曳的烛光照着她。费乐生没跟着她，也没想上楼。等她进了屋子，把门扣紧，他就往靠下边的楼梯上一坐，一只手抓着柱子，一只手扶着脸。他就这样呆了很长很长时间——谁要是看见他，难免把他看成地地道道的软弱无能之辈。他最后把头抬起来，叹了口气，仿佛是说，别管他有没有妻子，他这辈子的事业一定要进行下去。他拿起蜡烛上楼，走向楼梯口他自己孤身一人呆的屋子。 到了那一天晚上，这件事并没在他们中间再引起风波。放学以后，费乐生说他不想吃茶点，也没告诉苏去什么地方，就离开了沙氏顿。他先从西北向的斜陡的坡路下了镇子，又继续往下走，一直走到白色干硬的土壤变成坚实的褐色粘土，这就是到了地势低平的冲积层： 那儿有敦克里夫山做行旅界志， 飘满黄水莲的斯陶河沉郁地流过。 他几次回望人晚渐浓的暮色。沙氏顿背倚长空，半隐半现 在帕拉都的昏茫的绝顶上， 正值惨淡的白昼幽幽逝去…… 镇上刚刚点灯，稳定的灯光从窗户射出来，仿佛正注视他，而其中一扇窗户就是他自己的啊。他正好在那扇窗户上方认出了三一教堂的尖形的塔楼。山下的空气，由于受到厚实而潮湿的粘土层的调节，和山上不同，柔和而且令人感到舒畅，虽然他只走了一两英里，这时也要拿手绢擦擦脸。 他撇开左首敦克里夫山，在茫茫夜色中毫不迟疑地一路向前，就像一个大人不论白天还是夜晚走过他小时候玩的地方一样。到此他一共走了四英里半。 靠那儿六股山泉的哺育 斯陶河获得了她的生命力。 他已跨过斯陶河的一条支流，到了列登顿——一个只有三四千人的小镇，又从那儿走到一所男生小学，敲了敲老师家的门。 一个小先生开了门，费乐生问季令安先生在不在家，他说在，立刻回到屋子里，让费乐生一个人去想法找他。费乐生看到他的朋友正把刚在夜校上课用的几本书放到一边。油灯光照到费乐生脸上——同他的朋友脸上沉着冷静、讲究实际的神态一比，显得他苍白而憔悴。小时候，他们是同学，好多年前还是温顿斯特进修学院的同窗。 “你来了，太好啦，狄克！不过你脸色怎么不大好呀！没什么大不了的事吧？” 费乐生往前走了几步，没回答，季令安把书橱关上，坐到他旁边。 “我看，你打结了婚，就没来过吧？你知道吧，我去找过你，你出去了；天黑了，上山才够呛呢，所以我打算天长时候再慢慢上去，不过你倒没等到那时候就来了，我真高兴。” 他们俩虽然都是受过良好培训，工作起来得心应手的老师，彼此私下交谈，有时还不免带上小时候的土话。 “乔治，我现在打算采取个步骤，我这回来就是向你解释一下这样做的道理。往后要是啥人啥时候怀疑我这样做的动机——可能这样，也的确会这样，那么，至少你是理解我的……不过我这会儿的处境算最糟啦。老天爷决不会答应你以后有这样的经历！” “坐下吧，你不是说——你跟费乐生太太有什么不对劲儿吧？” “我就是说这个……我这会儿处境所以糟糕。就是因为有个妻子，我爱她，可是她不单不爱我，还——还，唉，不说啦。我了解她的感情！我觉着她这样还不如恨我呢！” “嘘！” “事情所以叫人苦恼正因为她跟我一样没什么错处。她本来是我手下的小先生，这你是知道的，我利用她没经验，拖着她走，想法逗她答应跟我订长期的婚约，她当时怎么想的，连她自个儿也说不上来。后来她又碰上另一个人，不过她还是稀里糊涂地履行了婚约。” “爱上别人啦？” “对！要从表面上看嘛，那个爱劲儿很特别，很多情，很热火，不过她对他的感情到底怎么回事，在我还是个闷萌芦——我看对那个人也是个问葫芦吧——说不定连她自个儿也一样。照我碰到的最古怪的人里头，她得算一个。不过有两件事还是叫我印象特深，一个是这一对有一种非同一般的同情，或者说同感共鸣。他是她表亲，这大概有关系。他们仿佛一个人分了两半。再有就是对我这个做丈夫的嫌弃，她想压，压不下去，显然她还是喜欢我做个朋友；长此以往，实在叫人受不了。她本着良知，进行了斗争，压制自己的反感，可没啥用。我没法忍下去啦——我没法受啦！我也没法把她提出来的论据驳倒——她读的书有我的十倍呢。她的智力像钻石一样闪闪发光，我的智力像牛皮纸着了火，干冒烟……她比我强得太多啦！” “她过一阵子会好吧。” “绝对不会！这是——不过我不想细谈啦——其所以绝对不会有好些原因。最后她态度既平和又坚决地问我，她究竟能不能离开我，到他那边去。昨天夜里，事情到了高潮，我自己糊里糊涂进了她屋子，她打开窗户一下子跳出去了——她怕我怕到了这么厉害的程度！她假装说是做梦才那样，其实只是叫我宽心。现在一个女人连死活都不管，硬从窗户往外跳，那她心里怎么回事不是一清二楚，再也弄不错嘛！是这么回事，我得出了结论，再把这个同类这样折磨下去是错误的；我不是个没人心的坏种，可不能再这样下去了，不论牺牲多大都不要紧！” “怎么——你想叫她一走了之？上她情人那儿去？” “她跟谁，是她的事。我打算让她走。要按她的意思，肯定是跟他。我这样办，我也知道大概是错了——我知道无论按我的逻辑，还是按教理，对她这种愿望让步是没法辩解的，也没法跟把我从小培养到大的主义调和一致。唯有一件事，我很清楚：我内心的声音对我说，我要是对她加以拒绝，那就犯了错误。当然我现在也可以像别的男人那样公开表示：做丈夫的听见妻子提出这种所谓肾清道理的要求，唯一可以视为正当、合理而又体面的办法就是把她的要求打回去，干脆关她的禁闭，也许连她的情人也宰了。不过从本质上说，这能算正当、合理、体面呢，还是叫人恶心的卑鄙下流、自私自利？孰是孰非，我不来判断。不过我是靠本能行事，原则云云就不必管了。假定有个人一不留神掉到泥塘里头，大声喊救命，只要我办得到，我一定救他。” “可是——怎么说呢，还有左邻右舍跟社会的问题——那要出什么事呀，要是人人——” “哎，我可不想再充道学家啦！我瞧只瞧眼皮子底下的事。” “唉——我可不赞成你那个本能，狄克！”季令安郑重其事地说，“讲实在的，你这人素来沉着老练，遇事不慌不躁，怎么一阵子居然张皇失措呢。太叫我意外啦。我那会儿在你那儿，你说她这人难以捉摸，与众不同，我看你倒真是这样啊！” “有个女人，你知道她品性纯良，她向你苦苦哀求把她放走，你以前有没有在这样的女人前面站着过？你是不是那个男人，她跪在你面前，求你开恩？” “我可没那样的运气，当过那样的男人。” “那我就认为你没根据提高见。我就是那个男人。谁要是有点大丈夫气概，或者行侠仗义的心肠，事情也就大变样啦。我那么多年没沾过女人，——压根儿没想到，只要把个女人带到教堂，给她手指头戴上戒指，就完全可以把个人拴在没日没夜、没完没了的悲剧里，就如同她跟我这会儿一块儿受的那样。” “唉，你让她离开你，要是她一个人过，用这些托词，我倒许认可，可是她跟一个浪荡子凑到一块儿——那可就另一码事啦。” “根本不是那么回事。照我看，她宁可忍受眼前痛苦，也决不会在强迫之下同他分开，这又怎么说？这都是看她自己的心愿。至于说要手段，继续跟丈夫过，欺骗他，把他蒙在鼓里，这可完全不是那么回事……不过她至今也没明确表示跟他一块儿过，就是他妻子，虽然我认为她有这个意思……再说，我也算看得一清二楚啦，他们俩的感情不是那类卑鄙下流、纯属动物性质的感情；糟也糟在这个地方，因为我觉得这样一来，他们的爱情一定会天长地久，永不会变啦。这会儿还可以跟你讲明白，我刚结婚叫人羡慕的头几个礼拜，我的心还没平静如常，有个晚上他们俩一块儿呆在学校里，我就躲在一边，听他们说话。我这会儿觉着惭愧，不过当时我觉得我不过行使法律赋予的权利就是啦。我发现他们的亲呢中间深深隐藏着一种非同一般的契合，或者说同情吧，它把一切粗鄙气息都扫得一干二净。他们至高无上的愿望就是厮守在一起——把彼此的情感、幻觉和梦想交融共享。” “柏拉图式恋爱嘛！” “唉，不是。说雪莱式的倒更近乎事实。他们那样子叫我想起了——什么名字呀——莱昂和希娜吧。也有点保尔和维吉尼亚的味道。我越往深里想，就越朝他们一边倒啦。” “要是别人全照你这么干，那不是家庭普遍大散伙吗？家庭就算不上社会单位啦。” “是啊——我想我是太离谱啦！”费乐生伤心地说，“我向来在推理方面不高明，你总没忘吧。然而我不明白，何以没有男人、女人跟孩子就成不了社会单位。” “不得了喽！——母系社会喽！……她是不是也说过这一套呀？” “哦，没有。她还想不到，这方面我比苏还苏呢——就在这二十四个钟头里，我思想转了弯啦！” “这可要在这一方搞得人心大乱、舆论大哗呀。老天爷——沙氏顿该怎么说呢！” “它怎么说三道四，我说不上来，我也不知道——我啥也不知道！……我不是说了嘛，我无非是直感，一推论就不行。” “现在，”季令安说，“咱们把这个放放，先喝点。”他从楼下拿来瓶苹果酒，他们一个人喝了一大杯。他继续说，“我看你是昏了头啦，跟你平常一点不像。你回去先拿定主意，她怎么犯毛病，都得忍住，就是千万别让她走。我听见人人都夸她是俏实的小妞儿呢。” “是啊，一点不错啊，就因为这样才叫人特别难受！好啦，我该走啦，回去还有好长一段路呢。” 季令安陪他朋友走了一英里。尽管谈的东西太离奇，他还是希望就此恢复昔年他们推心置腹的友谊。“盯住她别放！”这是他最后一句话，飘荡在费乐生身后的夜空。他的朋友回了句“好，好！”就算了。 但是在那满天乌云、四野无声，唯有斯陶河支流水声潺潺清晰可辨的夜里，费乐生踽踽独行的时候，他说，‘季令安，我的朋友，我看你也只好这样说说，再也拿不出什么更有力的论据来驳我啦。” “我看得把她足足敲打敲打，叫她明白过来才行呢——我认为这才是好办法！”季令安独自一边往回走，一边嘟嘟囔囔的。 第二天早晨到来了，吃早饭时，费乐生对苏说： “你可以走啦——随便跟哪个人一块儿都行。我绝对同意，无条件同意。” 费乐生一旦得出这个结论，他就越来越觉得这个结论是无可置疑地正确。他正对一个靠他发慈悲的女人克尽责任，这叫他渐见超脱，有宁静之感，把他原来因纵她而去而引起的悲苦冲淡了。 又过了些天，到了他们最后一次一块儿用餐的晚上，风高云暗，耸立崖顶的乡镇的天气很少不这样。她珊娜走进小客厅用茶点时的神情；她的柔若无骨的苗条腰身；她因日夜不停地焦灼而由圆见长的脸庞；异常苍白的脸色，和由此所表现的与她的风华正茂、无忧无虑的年纪绝不相容的种种悲剧可能性；她东吃一口，西吃一口，却实际上一点吃不下去的无奈——这一切的一切在他是何等刻骨铭心，难以磨灭啊。她的态度躇踌不安，本来是担心他会因她的行动而受到损害，然而在不知内情的局外人看来，恐怕要把这种表现错解成她不高兴他在剩下的几分钟还打扰她。 “你还是喝点茶，就着片火腿，要么鸡蛋，别的东西也好吧？就那么一口黄油面包，这趟路哪能顶事啊。” 她接过他递过来的那片火腿。他们坐着拉扯些家常琐事，什么他在哪儿可以找到柜子的钥匙啦，哪些账还清了、哪些没还啦，等等。 “我这人天生是个打光棍的命，你知道，苏。”他说，故意做得爽气，免得她不自在。“所以没有妻子，确实不会混不下去，不会像别人一阵子有过妻子那样。再说，我的爱好又广又深，一直想把‘维塞克斯郡的古罗马文物’写出来，光这个就把我的业余时间全占满啦。” “要是照从前那样，你什么时候送点稿子给我抄，我一定乐意办！”她温顺而谦和地说。“我还——是个——朋友，很愿意给你帮忙。” 费乐生认真地想了想，然后说，“不必啦，我觉着咱们既然要分开，顶好分到底。就是这个道理，我才什么问题都不问你，尤其是不想你再告诉我你的动静，连你的住址也不必告诉我……现在，你要钱吗？你总得有点钱，你知道。” “哦，里查，我可不想拿你的钱离开你！别的东西，我也不要。我的钱够我用一阵子，裘德会让我——” “你要是不介意，他的事，我可是一点都不想听。你自由啦，绝对自由！你要走什么路，那是你自己的事嘤。” “太好啦。不过我还得跟你说一下，我装了一两件自己的换洗衣服，还有一两件东西也是我自己的。我想请你查查里边的东西，再关箱子。另外有个小包，以后要放到裘德的旅行包里头。” “我当然不会查你的行李，不会干那样的事！我希望你把四分之三的家具也拿走。我不想为这些东西操心。我父母留下来的东西，我还是有点感情，舍不得，不过剩下的东西，随便你什么时候来取都行。” “我才不会那样呢。” “你是六点半火车走吧，对不对？现在差一刻就六点啦。” “你……你似乎对我走无动于衷啊，里查！” “哦，是啊——大概是。” “你一举一动这样，我真是非常喜欢你。我不把你当我的丈夫，而是当做从前的老师，我就喜欢你，这可真怪。我决不想装腔作势，说我爱你，因为你也明白我并不爱你，只拿你当朋友就是啦。不过我觉得你不折不扣是个朋友啊。” 她一说到这些心事，眼圈就有点湿，正好车站马车赶过来接她走。费乐生看着她的东西放到车顶上，扶她上了车，跟她说再见的时候，忍不住露出要吻她的意思。赶马车的看到他们高高兴兴分别的态度，心里一定当她不过短期外出做客哩。 费乐生一进到家里，就上楼打开了对着马车驶去方向的那扇窗子。马车轮声很快消失了。他又下了楼，脸皮皱缩，仿佛强忍着痛苦。他戴好帽子，出了家门，沿马车行驶的路线走了一英里光景，突然又掉头回家。 他刚进门就听见朋友季令安从前屋里跟他招呼的声音。 “我敲了半天门，没人理，一看你门开着，我干脆进来了，自己招待自己就是啦。我说过来看你，你想必记得。” “记得记得，特别是你今天晚上来，我真是感激不尽哪，季令安！” “你夫人怎么样啦——” “她挺好，走啦——刚走的。那是她的茶杯，一个钟头之前她喝完了的。那是她用过的盘子——”费乐生喉头哽住，说不下去了，他转过身把茶具推到一边。 “你用过茶点没有？”他声音立刻恢复正常，问道。 “没用——已经用过啦——别费心好吧。”季令安赶忙说。‘促啦，你是说她走啦？” “对，她走啦……我也许会为她送了命，可是决不会借法律之名虐害她。依我看，她是上她情人那儿。他们今后如何，我说不上来。反正她是经我完全同意才走的。” 费乐生的声音表现出果决、沉着，叫他的朋友不好再提意见。‘那我——就走好不好？”季令安问。 “别走，别走，你来了真是大恩大德啊。我还有点东西要清理清理，你就帮帮忙，行吧？” 季令安表示可以。到楼上屋子以后，小学老师拉开抽屉，动手把苏的东西，放到一个大箱子里。“叫她带东西走，她一样不肯拿。”他接下去。“不过我决定让她随自己的意思生活那会儿，的确是下定决心了。” “有些男人顶多同意分居就是了。” “我什么都仔细斟酌过，不想再争论啦。拿婚姻这件事说吧，我从前是顶顶老派的，现在还这样——其实我压根儿没思考过其中的道德含义，不过有些事实逼上门来了，就是想否认它们也不行啊。” 他们继续装箱子，没说话。完事以后，费乐生把箱盖关上，锁好。“这些东西，”他说，“以后让别人看她打扮好啦，我算看不到啦！” Part 4 Chapter 5 FOUR-AND-TWENTY hours before this time Sue had written the following note to Jude: It is as I told you; and I am leaving to-morrow evening. Richard and I thought it could be done with less obtrusiveness after dark. I feel rather frightened, and therefore ask you to be sure you are on the Melchester platform to meet me. I arrive at a little to seven. I know you will, of course, dear Jude; but I feel so timid that I can't help begging you to be punctual. He has been so VERY kind to me through it all! Now to our meeting! S. As she was carried by the omnibus farther and farther down from the mountain town--the single passenger that evening-- she regarded the receding road with a sad face. But no hesitation was apparent therein. The up-train by which she was departing stopped by signal only. To Sue it seemed strange that such a powerful organization as a railway train should be brought to a stand-still on purpose for her-- a fugitive from her lawful home. The twenty minutes' journey drew towards its close, and Sue began gathering her things together to alight. At the moment that the train came to a stand-still by the Melchester platform a hand was laid on the door and she beheld Jude. He entered the compartment promptly. He had a black bag in his hand, and was dressed in the dark suit he wore on Sundays and in the evening after work. Altogether he looked a very handsome young fellow, his ardent affection for her burning in his eyes. "Oh Jude!" She clasped his hand with both hers, and her tense state caused her to simmer over in a little succession of dry sobs. "I--I am so glad! I get out here?" "No. I get in, dear one! I've packed. Besides this bag I've only a big box which is labelled." "But don't I get out? Aren't we going to stay here?" "We couldn't possibly, don't you see. We are known here--I, at any rate, am well known. I've booked for Aldbrickham; and here's your ticket for the same place, as you have only one to here." "I thought we should have stayed here," she repeated. "It wouldn't have done at all." "Ah! Perhaps not." "There wasn't time for me to write and say the place I had decided on. Aldbrickham is a much bigger town--sixty or seventy thousand inhabitants-- and nobody knows anything about us there." "And you have given up your cathedral work here?" "Yes. It was rather sudden--your message coming unexpectedly. Strictly, I might have been made to finish out the week. But I pleaded urgency and I was let off. I would have deserted any day at your command, dear Sue. I have deserted more than that for you!" "I fear I am doing you a lot of harm. Ruining your prospects of the Church; ruining your progress in your trade; everything!" "The Church is no more to me. Let it lie! I am not to be one of The soldier-saints who, row on row, Burn upward each to his point of bliss, if any such there be! My point of bliss is not upward, but here." "Oh I seem so bad--upsetting men's courses like this!" said she, taking up in her voice the emotion that had begun in his. But she recovered her equanimity by the time they had travelled a dozen miles. "He has been so good in letting me go," she resumed. "And here's a note I found on my dressing-table, addressed to you." "Yes. He's not an unworthy fellow," said Jude, glancing at the note. "And I am ashamed of myself for hating him because he married you." "According to the rule of women's whims I suppose I ought to suddenly love him, because he has let me go so generously and unexpectedly," she answered smiling. "But I am so cold, or devoid of gratitude, or so something, that even this generosity hasn't made me love him, or repent, or want to stay with him as his wife; although I do feel I like his large-mindedness, and respect him more than ever." "It may not work so well for us as if he had been less kind, and you had run away against his will," murmured Jude. "That I NEVER would have done." Jude's eyes rested musingly on her face. Then he suddenly kissed her; and was going to kiss her again. "No--only once now--please, Jude!" "That's rather cruel," he answered; but acquiesced. "Such a strange thing has happened to me," Jude continued after a silence. "Arabella has actually written to ask me to get a divorce from her-- in kindness to her, she says. She wants to honestly and legally marry that man she has already married virtually; and begs me to enable her to do it." "What have you done?" "I have agreed. I thought at first I couldn't do it without getting her into trouble about that second marriage, and I don't want to injure her in any way. Perhaps she's no worse than I am, after all! But nobody knows about it over here, and I find it will not be a difficult proceeding at all. If she wants to start afresh I have only too obvious reasons for not hindering her." "Then you'll be free?" "Yes, I shall be free." "Where are we booked for?" she asked, with the discontinuity that marked her to-night. "Aldbrickham, as I said." "But it will be very late when we get there?" "Yes. I thought of that, and I wired for a room for us at the Temperance Hotel there." "One?" "Yes--one." She looked at him. "Oh Jude!" Sue bent her forehead against the corner of the compartment. "I thought you might do it; and that I was deceiving you. But I didn't mean that!" In the pause which followed, Jude's eyes fixed themselves with a stultified expression on the opposite seat. "Well!" he said.... "Well!" He remained in silence; and seeing how discomfited he was she put her face against his cheek, murmuring, "Don't be vexed, dear!" "Oh--there's no harm done," he said. "But--I understood it like that.... Is this a sudden change of mind?" "You have no right to ask me such a question; and I shan't answer!" she said, smiling. "My dear one, your happiness is more to me than anything-- although we seem to verge on quarrelling so often!-- and your will is law to me. I am something more than a mere-- selfish fellow, I hope. Have it as you wish!" On reflection his brow showed perplexity. "But perhaps it is that you don't love me--not that you have become conventional! Much as, under your teaching, I hate convention, I hope it IS that, not the other terrible alternative!" Even at this obvious moment for candour Sue could not be quite candid as to the state of that mystery, her heart. "Put it down to my timidity," she said with hurried evasiveness; "to a woman's natural timidity when the crisis comes. I may feel as well as you that I have a perfect right to live with you as you thought--from this moment. I may hold the opinion that, in a proper state of society, the father of a woman's child will be as much a private matter of hers as the cut of her underlinen, on whom nobody will have any right to question her. But partly, perhaps, because it is by his generosity that I am now free, I would rather not be other than a little rigid. If there had been a rope-ladder, and he had run after us with pistols, it would have seemed different, and I may have acted otherwise. But don't press me and criticize me, Jude! Assume that I haven't the courage of my opinions. I know I am a poor miserable creature. My nature is not so passionate as yours!" He repeated simply! "I thought--what I naturally thought. But if we are not lovers, we are not. Phillotson thought so, I am sure. See, here is what he has written to me." He opened the letter she had brought, and read: "I make only one condition--that you are tender and kind to her. I know you love her. But even love may be cruel at times. You are made for each other: it is obvious, palpable, to any unbiased older person. You were all along 'the shadowy third' in my short life with her. I repeat, take care of Sue." "He's a good fellow, isn't he!" she said with latent tears. On reconsideration she added, "He was very resigned to letting me go-- too resigned almost! I never was so near being in love with him as when he made such thoughtful arrangements for my being comfortable on my journey, and offering to provide money. Yet I was not. If I loved him ever so little as a wife, I'd go back to him even now." "But you don't, do you?" "It is true--oh so terribly true!--I don't." "Nor me neither, I half-fear!" he said pettishly. "Nor anybody perhaps! Sue, sometimes, when I am vexed with you, I think you are incapable of real love." "That's not good and loyal of you!" she said, and drawing away from him as far as she could, looked severely out into the darkness. She added in hurt tones, without turning round: "My liking for you is not as some women's perhaps. But it is a delight in being with you, of a supremely delicate kind, and I don't want to go further and risk it by--an attempt to intensify it! I quite realized that, as woman with man, it was a risk to come. But, as me with you, I resolved to trust you to set my wishes above your gratification. Don't discuss it further, dear Jude!" "Of course, if it would make you reproach yourself ... but you do like me very much, Sue? Say you do! Say that you do a quarter, a tenth, as much as I do you, and I'll be content!" "I've let you kiss me, and that tells enough." "Just once or so!" "Well--don't be a greedy boy." He leant back, and did not look at her for a long time. That episode in her past history of which she had told him-- of the poor Christminster graduate whom she had handled thus, returned to Jude's mind; and he saw himself as a possible second in such a torturing destiny. "This is a queer elopement!" he murmured. "Perhaps you are making a cat's paw of me with Phillotson all this time. Upon my word it almost seems so--to see you sitting up there so prim!" "Now you mustn't be angry--I won't let you!" she coaxed, turning and moving nearer to him. "You did kiss me just now, you know; and I didn't dislike you to, I own it, Jude. Only I don't want to let you do it again, just yet--considering how we are circumstanced, don't you see!" He could never resist her when she pleaded (as she well knew). And they sat side by side with joined hands, till she aroused herself at some thought. "I can't possibly go to that Temperance Inn, after your telegraphing that message!" "Why not?" "You can see well enough!" "Very well; there'll be some other one open, no doubt. I have sometimes thought, since your marrying Phillotson because of a stupid scandal, that under the affectation of independent views you are as enslaved to the social code as any woman I know!" "Not mentally. But I haven't the courage of my views, as I said before. I didn't marry him altogether because of the scandal. But sometimes a woman's LOVE OF BEING LOVED gets the better of her conscience, and though she is agonized at the thought of treating a man cruelly, she encourages him to love her while she doesn't love him at all. Then, when she sees him suffering, her remorse sets in, and she does what she can to repair the wrong." "You simply mean that you flirted outrageously with him, poor old chap, and then repented, and to make reparation, married him, though you tortured yourself to death by doing it." "Well--if you will put it brutally!--it was a little like that-- that and the scandal together--and your concealing from me what you ought to have told me before!" He could see that she was distressed and tearful at his criticisms, and soothed her, saying: "There, dear; don't mind! Crucify me, if you will! You know you are all the world to me, whatever you do!" "I am very bad and unprincipled--I know you think that!" she said, trying to blink away her tears. "I think and know you are my dear Sue, from whom neither length nor breadth, nor things present nor things to come, can divide me!" Though so sophisticated in many things she was such a child in others that this satisfied her, and they reached the end of their journey on the best of terms. It was about ten o'clock when they arrived at Aldbrickham, the county town of North Wessex. As she would not go to the Temperance Hotel because of the form of his telegram, Jude inquired for another; and a youth who volunteered to find one wheeled their luggage to the George farther on, which proved to be the inn at which Jude had stayed with Arabella on that one occasion of their meeting after their division for years. Owing, however, to their now entering it by another door, and to his preoccupation, he did not at first recognize the place. When they had engaged their respective rooms they went down to a late supper. During Jude's temporary absence the waiting-maid spoke to Sue. "I think, ma'am, I remember your relation, or friend, or whatever he is, coming here once before--late, just like this, with his wife--a lady, at any rate, that wasn't you by no manner of means--jest as med be with you now." "Oh do you?" said Sue, with a certain sickness of heart. "Though I think you must be mistaken! How long ago was it?" "About a month or two. A handsome, full-figured woman. They had this room." When Jude came back and sat down to supper Sue seemed moping and miserable. "Jude," she said to him plaintively, at their parting that night upon the landing, "it is not so nice and pleasant as it used to be with us! I don't like it here--I can't bear the place! And I don't like you so well as I did!" "How fidgeted you seem, dear! Why do you change like this?" "Because it was cruel to bring me here!" "Why?" "You were lately here with Arabella. There, now I have said it!" "Dear me, why--" said Jude looking round him. "Yes--it is the same! I really didn't know it, Sue. Well--it is not cruel, since we have come as we have--two relations staying together." "How long ago was it you were here? Tell me, tell me!" "The day before I met you in Christminster, when we went back to Marygreen together. I told you I had met her." "Yes, you said you had met her, but you didn't tell me all. Your story was that you had met as estranged people, who were not husband and wife at all in Heaven's sight-- not that you had made it up with her." "We didn't make it up," he said sadly. "I can't explain, Sue." "You've been false to me; you, my last hope! And I shall never forget it, never!" "But by your own wish, dear Sue, we are only to be friends, not lovers! It is so very inconsistent of you to----" "Friends can be jealous!" "I don't see that. You concede nothing to me and I have to concede everything to you. After all, you were on good terms with your husband at that time." "No, I wasn't, Jude. Oh how can you think so! And you have taken me in, even if you didn't intend to." She was so mortified that he was obliged to take her into her room and close the door lest the people should hear. "Was it this room? Yes it was--I see by your look it was! I won't have it for mine! Oh it was treacherous of you to have her again! I jumped out of the window!" "But Sue, she was, after all, my legal wife, if not--" Slipping down on her knees Sue buried her face in the bed and wept. "I never knew such an unreasonable--such a dog-in-the-manger feeling," said Jude. "I am not to approach you, nor anybody else!" "Oh don't you UNDERSTAND my feeling! Why don't you! Why are you so gross! I jumped out of the window!" "Jumped out of window?" "I can't explain!" It was true that he did not understand her feelings very well. But he did a little; and began to love her none the less. "I--I thought you cared for nobody--desired nobody in the world but me at that time--and ever since!" continued Sue. "It is true. I did not, and don't now!" said Jude, as distressed as she. "But you must have thought much of her! Or--" "No--I need not--you don't understand me either--women never do! Why should you get into such a tantrum about nothing?" Looking up from the quilt she pouted provokingly: "If it hadn't been for that, perhaps I would have gone on to the Temperance Hotel, after all, as you proposed; for I was beginning to think I did belong to you!" "Oh, it is of no consequence!" said Jude distantly. "I thought, of course, that she had never been really your wife since she left you of her own accord years and years ago! My sense of it was, that a parting such as yours from her, and mine from him, ended the marriage." "I can't say more without speaking against her, and I don't want to do that," said he. "Yet I must tell you one thing, which would settle the matter in any case. She has married another man--really married him! I knew nothing about it till after the visit we made here." "Married another? ... It is a crime--as the world treats it, but does not believe." "There--now you are yourself again. Yes, it is a crime--as you don't hold, but would fearfully concede. But I shall never inform against her! And it is evidently a prick of conscience in her that has led her to urge me to get a divorce, that she may remarry this man legally. So you perceive I shall not be likely to see her again." "And you didn't really know anything of this when you saw her?" said Sue more gently, as she rose. "I did not. Considering all things, I don't think you ought to be angry, darling!" "I am not. But I shan't go to the Temperance Hotel!" He laughed. "Never mind!" he said. "So that I am near you, I am comparatively happy. It is more than this earthly wretch called Me deserves--you spirit, you disembodied creature, you dear, sweet, tantalizing phantom--hardly flesh at all; so that when I put my arms round you I almost expect them to pass through you as through air! Forgive me for being gross, as you call it! Remember that our calling cousins when really strangers was a snare. The enmity of our parents gave a piquancy to you in my eyes that was intenser even than the novelty of ordinary new acquaintance." "Say those pretty lines, then, from Shelley's 'Epipsychidion' as if they meant me!" she solicited, slanting up closer to him as they stood. "Don't you know them?" "I know hardly any poetry," he replied mournfully. "Don't you? These are some of them: There was a Being whom my spirit oft Met on its visioned wanderings far aloft. A seraph of Heaven, too gentle to be human, Veiling beneath that radiant form of woman.... Oh it is too flattering, so I won't go on! But say it's me! Say it's me!" "It is you, dear; exactly like you!" "Now I forgive you! And you shall kiss me just once there--not very long." She put the tip of her finger gingerly to her cheek; and he did as commanded. "You do care for me very much, don't you, in spite of my not--you know?" "Yes, sweet!" he said with a sigh; and bade her good-night. 比上面说的那个时间还早二十四个钟头，苏就给裘德写了如下短信： 一切如我所告。我预定明晚离此。费乐生与我都认为天黑后走不那么惹眼。我心里非常慌，将于七点差一刻到达，请你一定到麦尔切斯特车站接我。亲爱的裘德，我知你必来不误，但我甚为胆怯，望你务必准时。此事自始至终他待我极为厚道！ 亟盼见面！ 苏 公共马车载着她——那晚唯一旅客——驶下山镇，越来越远。她不断望着后退的道路，神情凄苦，但是她显然已下定决心，义无反顾。 她坐的上行车要看到信号才停。她觉得一列力量如此强大的火车竟然为她这个逃出合法家庭的人停下来，可谓奇矣。 这段旅程经过二十分钟就结束了，苏开始把自己的东西归到一起，准备下车。火车在麦尔切斯特站刚一靠站，就有人把车门推开，原来正是裘德。他立刻进了车厢，手上拿着黑提包，身穿礼拜天和工余晚上才穿的深色套装，真是个非常英俊的小伙子。他眼里燃烧着对她的热烈的情意。 “哦，裘德呀！”她两只手把他的手握住，情绪紧张，难以抑制断断续续、有声无泪的抽咽。“我——我太高兴啦！就在这儿下车吧？” “不在这儿下。亲爱的，我上车！我已经安排好啦。除了这个包，我还有个大箱子，已经打好行李票啦。” “可是我干吗不下去呀？咱们怎么不呆在这地方？” “咱们可不便呆在这地方，你还没明白过来呢。这儿人认识咱们——反正人家对我都挺熟的。我订了到奥尔布里肯的票，这是你上那儿的票，因为你手里的票就到这儿。” “我原来想咱们呆在这儿呢。”她重说了一遍。 “那可绝对不行！” “唉，也许不行吧。” “我给你写信来不及了，没法告诉你我想好要去的地方。奥尔布里肯大得多，六七千号人，咱们的事，那儿谁也不知道。” “这么说，这儿大教堂的活儿，你丢下不干了？” “就是。因为太突然啦——你信里传到的消息实在想不到。要是严格的话，人家本来可以要我干完这礼拜的活才行，不过一跟他们说我有急事，他们也就放了我。亲爱的苏啊，只要你吩咐，我哪一天都可以甩手不干。我为你甩掉的东西比这个还多哪。” “我现在可害怕把你坑得太厉害呢。把你给教会服务的前程断送啦，把你这行手艺上的发展断送啦，什么都断送啦！” “教会跟我不沾边啦，去它的吧！咱再也不想当个 兵士加圣徒，一排又一排 朝天望，心如火，求至福。 就算有这样的人，也不是我！我的福用不着向天求，就在眼前。” “唉，我太坏啦——我把男人走的路全都给搞得颠倒错乱啦！”她说，声音中的感情跟他心里开始涌动的一样，显得很激越。不过他们坐了十二英里车之后，她的平静恢复了。 “他人多好，还是让我走啦，”她又拾起话碴说，“我走之前，在梳妆台上瞧见张条子，是他给你的。” “是啊，他这人可真不赖。”裘德说，看了看信。“以前你嫁了他，我挺恨他，这会儿再想想，就觉着惭愧啦。” “要按女人总免不了的那股子心血来潮劲儿，我看我真该一下子爱上他才对，因为他那么宽宏大量叫我走，真是料也料不到。”她笑着回答，“不过我这人天生冷，或者说不知道感恩，还是什么吧，就是他那么宽宏大量，也还是没法叫我爱起来，叫我痛改前非，叫我做他妻子，跟他一块儿过日子；不过我真觉着他度量大、心胸广，所以比以前还要敬重他。” “要是他不那么宽厚，你又硬拗着他，干脆跑了，咱们的事可就砸啦。” “我根本不会干那样的事。” 裘德若有所思地朝她脸上看，一时没挪开。他来个冷不防，吻了她，跟着还要吻。“别——一回就够啦——行啦，裘德！” “这未免有点忍心吧。”他回嘴说，不过还是同意了。“我又碰上过一件怪事，”裘德沉默了一会儿，又接着说，“阿拉贝拉来了信，实际意思是要我跟她办离婚——她说，我务必对她大发慈悲，她想一本正经，按照法律嫁给那个男人，其实她早跟了他喽。她求我能让她如愿以偿。” “你怎么办呢？” “我同意了。我原先想，我要是这么一办，肯定非把她第二回结婚搞吹了不可，无论如何，我不想让她吃亏。说到底，她未必就比我坏！好在这一带没人知道这档子事，而且我发现办离婚手续根本没什么困难。既然她想另起炉灶，我可是没有任何显著的理由挡她的道。” “这么一来你不是一身轻了吗？” “对，我是要一身轻啦。” “咱们订的票到什么地方？”她问，这晚上她说话的特点是前言不搭后语。 “奥尔布里肯，我不是说过嘛。” “可是咱们到那儿太晚了吧？” “晚是晚了，这我也想到过，所以我已经给那儿的禁酒旅馆打了电报，给咱们订了个房间。” “一个？” “对——一个。 她瞧着他。“哎，裘德呀！”她把脑门往下靠在车厢隔间的犄角上。“我就想过你大概有这一手，憋着没跟你说。我可是没住一间屋子的意思！” 两个人接下去没说话。裘德一副受了愚弄的神气，两只眼睛直瞪着对面的座位。“哦！”他说……“哦！” 他依旧一言不发。她一看他那么垂头丧气，就拿脸往他脸上一贴，嘴里咕哝着，“亲爱的，别气啦。” “哎——这又算得了什么。”他说。“反正我懂得其中奥妙就是啦。……你这是一下子变了卦吧？” “你没权利问我这样的问题；再说我也决不回答！”她说，嫣然一笑。 “我的亲亲，对我来说，你的幸福是高于一切的——虽然咱们动不动就吵！——你的意志就是圣旨。我总还不算一心替自个儿打算的东西，我希望是这样。你想怎么办，就怎么办吧！”他再一想，就露出不知所措的样子。“不过这大概是因为你并不爱我——倒不是因为你不想冒犯习俗。我可是承蒙你教导，现在讨厌透习俗啦。我希望你就是这回事儿，不是转什么可怕的念头！” 按说，她这一刻显然该同他开诚布公才是，怎奈苏做不到赤诚相见，也就不能交心，不能把她的隐密的实情吐露无遗。 “你就当我胆小怕事好啦。”她急急要岔开正题。“就当妇道人家一遇上难题，总是胆小怕事好啦。此时此刻，我当然可以跟你一样，认为我完全有权利按你的意思跟你住一块儿；我当然可以坚持自己的见解，认为在合情合理的社会状况下，女人生了孩子，他爹怎么样，谁也无权说三道四，对她问长问短。不过，多少是因为他那么宽宏大量，我才自由，我这会儿宁可稍微拘泥点好。要是当初咱们靠绳梯逃跑，他端着手熗在后边追，那恐怕是另回事了，我也许要想采取截然不同的行动。可是，裘德呀，别硬逼着我好吧，也别对我下批评好吧，就当我没勇气实行我的主张好啦。我知道我是个苦命的可怜虫。我天生没你情感那么热烈呀！” 他只简单地重复了一下。“我也想过——我是自然而然该那么想的。但是咱们现在要是不是情人，那咱们就算完啦。费乐生就是这么个看法，这我敢打保票。你瞧，他给我的信是这么说的。”他打开她带来的信，念下去： “我只提一个条件，就是你务必对她温柔、体贴。我知道你爱她，但爱情甚至有时也是残酷的。你们俩是天赐良缘，不论什么人，只要年纪大些，不心存成见，都会一望而知。我跟她相处的短短期间，你一直是‘影影绰绰的第三者’。我再说一遍，你要好好待苏。” “他真是个大好人哪，不是吗？”她含着泪说。思索之后，又说，“他让我走，实在是忍痛割爱啊——简直是忍得太过啦！他为我旅途舒适，考虑得那么周到，还提出给我钱。那会儿跟以前不一样，我真是有点爱上他啦，可我还是爱不起来。要是我跟个妻子似地有那么一点爱他，就是这会儿也要回他那儿去啊。” “可是你根本不爱他，对吧？” “实在是不爱他，哦，实在是一点一滴不爱他！我根本不爱他。” “你也不爱我吧，我心里七上八下呢！”他带着气说。“恐怕你谁都不爱！苏呀，有时候我挺生你的气，我觉着你这个人简直生来没法真真正正地爱。” “你说这话可真不该，真是不忠不信！”她说，挪开身子，尽可能离开他远些，神情严厉地望着外面的夜色。她没转过身，便又用受了很大委屈的口气说，“我这样喜爱你，也许跟一些女人喜爱男人不一样，可是我跟你在一块儿实在是一种欢乐，这种欢乐极度微妙，存乎一心；我可不想再进一步，为了叫欢乐更强烈，就去冒失掉欢乐的危险。我心里完全明白，按女人跟男人的关系，危险总是免不了的。不过拿我跟你的关系说，我已经想定了，我能信赖你，你能把我的愿望置于你自我满足之上。这件事别再往下谈啦，亲爱的裘德！” “要是再谈下去，你又要自怨自艾，当然不行啦……不过，苏，你当真非常爱我吗？说你非常爱我吧，说你爱我有我爱你的四分之一，十分之一，我就满足啦！” “我让你吻啦，这不是说明一切嘛！” “那才一回啊！” “够啦——别跟个馋嘴猫似的。” 他身子往后一靠，好半天没看她。他此刻想起了她跟他说过的以往生活史中那个插曲，她就是这样处置那位可怜的基督堂大学毕业生的。他觉得自己很可能要步那个受尽残酷命运折磨的人的后尘。 “这样的私奔可怪啦！”他咕哝着。“也许你一直拿我当工具对付费乐生吧。唉，看起来就是这么回事——瞧你坐在那儿一副正派样！” “你别瞎生气——我不许你这样！”她哄着他说，转过身，往他那边挪了挪。“你不是刚吻过我吗？我倒不是不愿意你吻我，你该吻我。我就是这会儿不让你吻我，这会儿不行——你就不想想咱们呆在什么地方吗？连这都不懂！” 只要她一恳求，他就没了主意，只好屈从（这一点她很清楚）。于是他们挨在一块儿坐着，手拉着手。后来她陡然想起什么。 “你给禁酒旅馆打了电报之后，我可不好到那儿去啦！” “怎么不好去呢？” “你难道不明白？” “就是啦，那儿总还有别的旅馆没关门。自打你因为别人造谣生事，就嫁了费乐生，我有时候就琢磨，别看你平素装出来有一套独立见解的样子，其实你跟我认识的别的女人没两样，还是对社会规范奴隶般唯命是从。” “精神上并不这样。见解我虽然有，可没有勇气去实行。我嫁给他也不全是因为别人造谣生事。但是有时候一个女人因为太想人家爱她，可就顾不得这样做好不好啦。虽说这样残酷地对待男人，心里头也觉着非常不是滋味，可还是照样鼓励他爱她，而她却根本不爱他。然后，她一瞧见他那个痛苦劲儿，就不免悔从中来，就想方设法来补救这个错误。” “你这不是干脆说，你先跟他，跟那老家伙厚颜无耻地调情，后来觉着这样太过意不去，为了给他弥补损失，于是嫁给他吗？虽然你自己这么一搞，连自个儿也折腾得快没命啦。” “唉——你居然把事情形容得这么下流不堪——有倒是有那么一点，加上那个丑闻，还有你早该告诉我的事，一直瞒着我：这三样都有关系。” 她因为他的批评很难过，眼泪汪汪。他一看就口气缓和下来，劝慰她：“好啦，亲爱的，别往心里去啦！你就是让我上十字架，我也心甘情愿！不管你怎么干，反正你是我的一切，这你心里完全有数！” “我是又坏又不讲原则——我知道你就是这么想的！”她眨眨眼睛，想把眼泪挤掉。 “我打心眼儿里知道你是我的亲爱的苏，别管时间有多长，世界有多大，也别管现在是什么关系，将来有什么遭遇，反正什么都没法把我同你分开。” 她这人固然在好多方面洞明人情世故，但在另一些方面又是孩子般单纯，经裘德这么一表示，她也就满意了。所以在这趟旅程结束的时候，他们俩也就好得如胶似漆。十点钟光景，他们到了北维塞克斯首府奥尔布里肯。既然她因为他打的电报而不愿意到禁酒旅馆，裘德就打听有没有旅馆还没关门。有个小伙子自告奋勇帮他们找，用车子把他们的行李送到远一点的乔治旅馆，再想不到裘德同阿拉贝拉上回久别重逢后那晚上就同宿那家旅馆。 但是他们这一回进的是另一个大门，加上他心事重重，所以他起初也没认出来。他们各订了一个房间，安顿好了，就下楼吃耽误了的晚饭。裘德暂时离开一下，女招待就跟苏攀谈起来。 “太太，我想我记得你这位亲戚，要么朋友什么的，上回来过，跟今儿个一样，也挺老晚的，是跟他太太一块儿来的，就跟你这会儿来一样。那位太太举止反正不像你。” “哦，你还记得？”苏说，打心里犯恶心。“不过你准是记错啦！那是什么时候的事？” “前一两个月吧。是个挺漂亮、挺富态的太太。他们就住那间。” 裘德回来坐下吃饭，苏一副闷闷不乐的可怜样。“裘德，”他们在楼梯平台分手的时候，她含悲忍怨地说，“今天可跟咱们往常不一样，叫人觉着不好玩，不开心！我不高兴住在这儿——这地方叫我受不了。再说我这会儿也不像往常那么喜欢你啦！” “亲爱的，你似乎心神不定嘛！怎么又变了卦啦？” “因为你把我带到这儿来才残酷呢！” “这话怎讲？” “前些日子，你不是跟阿拉贝拉就住在这儿吗？好啦，我说明白啦！” “亲爱的，怎么会——”裘德往四下里看。“对——一样一样！我可真不知道就是这地方，苏啊。唉——这没什么残酷不残酷，咱们来咱们的——两个亲戚住一家旅馆就是啦。” “你们俩在这儿呆多长？快说，快说！” “是我在基督堂碰见你，咱们一块儿到马利格林的头一天。我不是跟你说过我见过她嘛。” “对，你说你见过她，可你没跟我说全。你讲的一套是你们碰见了，挺冷淡，老天爷一看就知道你们俩根本不是夫妻——你没提你们重归于好。” “我才没跟她重归于好呢。”裘德怏怏地说。“苏呀，我真没法解释。” “你这是欺骗我；你，你是我最后的指望哟！我再也忘不了啦，再也忘不了啦！” “可是，亲爱的苏，照你的愿望，我们只能算朋友嘛，你这样岂不是自相矛盾——” “朋友也可以嫉妒！” “我看不是那么回事。你对我是着着不让，我对你可是件件听从。要是说到底，你先前不是跟你丈夫好得很嘛。” “不对，我跟他不是好得很，裘德。哦，你居然是这么看的！再说，就算你不是诚心诳我，你也诳了我啦！”她因为感到奇耻大辱而气恼不堪，裘德只好把她带回她的房间，关上门，兔得叫人听见。“就是这间吧，一定是——我一看你的神气就明白啦！我可不住这间！哦，你又跟她好啦，你可太下作啦！咱还为你打窗子跳下楼哪！” “但是苏啊，她再怎么，以前也是我合法的妻子，就算不是——” 她一下子双膝跪倒，脸朝床上一趴，哭起来了。 “我真没瞧见过这么没道理的感情，占着茅坑不拉屎。”裘德说。“我想沾你，你不干，沾别人，你又不许。” “唉，你一点不了解我的感情哟！你怎么会不了解呢，你怎么会这么俗呢！我可是白跳了楼啦！” “跳了楼？” “我没法跟你说明白！” 他确实不充分了解她的感情，不过他总还有所了解；所以他还是禁不住爱起她来。 “我——我还当你谁也看不上呢——还当你从前除了我，这世界上，你心里谁也没装着呢——我可一直这么想啊！”苏继续说。 “你想的本来不错嘛。我从前心里没想别人！这会儿也不想啊！”裘德说，跟她一样难过。 “可是你心里老是忘不了她，要不然——” “我才用不着那样哪——你这也是不了解我——女人根本不了解我！你干吗要无事生非，乱发脾气？” 她从被子上仰起头来看，带着挑战意味说，“要不是这一层，不管怎么样，我也按你说的上禁酒旅馆去啦；因为我已经开始觉着我真是你的人啦！” “哦，那又算得了什么！”裘德冷冷地说。 “既然她自动甩了你这么多年，我也认为怎么说她也的确算不上你妻子啦！我倒想，像你跟她散了，我跟他散了，婚姻到此也就吹啦。” “我可不能再说损她的话，我也不愿意那么着。”他说。“不过有件事我非跟你说不可，这件事无论如何总算把什么都一笔清了。她又嫁了人——的的确确嫁了那个人。上回跟她上这儿来之前，我连点影子都没有。” “又嫁了人？……那可是犯了罪——人人都这么看，可谁也不信。” “哪——你这会儿又冷静起来啦。不错，是犯了罪——就算你本心不这么想，你就是死了也得认这个账。不过我决不会告她。显而易见，她觉着良心上说不过去，这才催我办离婚，这样她就可以按法律再嫁给那个人。所以你看得出来，我大概再见不着她啦。” “那你瞧见她那会儿，真是一点不知道！”她一边站起来，一边比较温和地说。 “一点不知道。要是把事情从头到尾想一想，我看你才犯不着生气呢，亲亲！” “我没生气！可我也不想上禁酒旅馆！” 他笑起来。“没关系！”他说。“这样我靠你近，我倒开心呢。要论“咱”这个俗不可耐的可怜虫，那还配不上你啊——配不上你这个精灵，你这个空灵的可人儿，你这个亲爱的、甜甜的、可望而不可及的幻影；——你哪儿有肉身哪，我只要一抱你，我就觉着简直抱了个空，好比抱着空气一样。我多俗，跟你说的一样，那你就担待着好啦！别忘了咱们真正是素昧平生，一认表亲就陷到坑里不能自拔啦。咱们的爹妈势不两立，我倒觉着这一来给你平添了异样风味，比搭个普通新相好的新鲜劲儿还刺激呢。” “那就从雪莱的《情切同心》里挑点美丽的句子念念吧，简直说的就是我啊！”她央求着，他们正站着，她就把身子斜着挨近他。 “我哪儿知道什么诗呀！”他怪难为情地说。 “你不知道？就是这几句： 我的精魂高翔远引，即兴漫游， 在如梦如幻中往往与伊人邂逅。 …… 上苍爱的天使娴雅淑婉，迥绝人寰， 却见伊缟羽生光的倩影微掩真面…… 哦，恭维得太过火啦，我念不下去啦！可是你说这就是我呀，说就是我呀！” “就是你呀，亲爱的，一点不错，跟你一样啊！” “这会儿我不怪你啦！你就在这儿吻我一下吧，就一回，别吻得太长好吧。”她用指尖轻轻往她一边颊上点了点，他遵命勿违。“你心里头真非常爱我吗，虽然我不——你知道吧？” “知道，甜甜！”他叹口气说，接着道了晚安，走了。 Part 4 Chapter 6 IN returning to his native town of Shaston as schoolmaster Phillotson had won the interest and awakened the memories of the inhabitants, who, though they did not honour him for his miscellaneous aquirements as he would have been honoured elsewhere, retained for him a sincere regard. When, shortly after his arrival, he brought home a pretty wife--awkwardly pretty for him, if he did not take care, they said--they were glad to have her settle among them. For some time after her flight from that home Sue's absence did not excite comment. Her place as monitor in the school was taken by another young woman within a few days of her vacating it, which substitution also passed without remark, Sue's services having been of a provisional nature only. When, however, a month had passed, and Phillotson casually admitted to an acquaintance that he did not know where his wife was staying, curiosity began to be aroused; till, jumping to conclusions, people ventured to affirm that Sue had played him false and run away from him. The schoolmaster's growing languor and listlessness over his work gave countenance to the idea. Though Phillotson had held his tongue as long as he could, except to his friend Gillingham, his honesty and directness would not allow him to do so when misapprehensions as to Sue's conduct spread abroad. On a Monday morning the chairman of the school committee called, and after attending to the business of the school drew Phillotson aside out of earshot of the children. "You'll excuse my asking, Phillotson, since everybody is talking of it: is this true as to your domestic affairs--that your wife's going away was on no visit, but a secret elopement with a lover? If so, I condole with you." "Don't," said Phillotson. "There was no secret about it." "She has gone to visit friends?" "No." "Then what has happened?" "She has gone away under circumstances that usually call for condolence with the husband. But I gave my consent." The chairman looked as if he had not apprehended the remark. "What I say is quite true," Phillotson continued testily. "She asked leave to go away with her lover, and I let her. Why shouldn't I? A woman of full age, it was a question of her own conscience--not for me. I was not her gaoler. I can't explain any further. I don't wish to be questioned." The children observed that much seriousness marked the faces of the two men, and went home and told their parents that something new had happened about Mrs. Phillotson. Then Phillotson's little maidservant, who was a schoolgirl just out of her standards, said that Mr. Phillotson had helped in his wife's packing, had offered her what money she required, and had written a friendly letter to her young man, telling him to take care of her. The chairman of committee thought the matter over, and talked to the other managers of the school, till a request came to Phillotson to meet them privately. The meeting lasted a long time, and at the end the school-master came home, looking as usual pale and worn. Gillingham was sitting in his house awaiting him. "Well; it is as you said," observed Phillotson, flinging himself down wearily in a chair. "They have requested me to send in my resignation on account of my scandalous conduct in giving my tortured wife her liberty--or, as they call it, condoning her adultery. But I shan't resign!" "I think I would." "I won't. It is no business of theirs. It doesn't affect me in my public capacity at all. They may expel me if they like." "If you make a fuss it will get into the papers, and you'll never get appointed to another school. You see, they have to consider what you did as done by a teacher of youth--and its effects as such upon the morals of the town; and, to ordinary opinion, your position is indefensible. You must let me say that." To this good advice, however, Phillotson would not listen. "I don't care," he said. "I don't go unless I am turned out. And for this reason; that by resigning I acknowledge I have acted wrongly by her; when I am more and more convinced every day that in the sight of Heaven and by all natural, straightforward humanity, I have acted rightly." Gillingham saw that his rather headstrong friend would not be able to maintain such a position as this; but he said nothing further, and in due time--indeed, in a quarter of an hour-- the formal letter of dismissal arrived, the managers having remained behind to write it after Phillotson's withdrawal. The latter replied that he should not accept dismissal; and called a public meeting, which he attended, although he looked so weak and ill that his friend implored him to stay at home. When he stood up to give his reasons for contesting the decision of the managers he advanced them firmly, as he had done to his friend, and contended, moreover, that the matter was a domestic theory which did not concern them. This they over-ruled, insisting that the private eccentricities of a teacher came quite within their sphere of control, as it touched the morals of those he taught. Phillotson replied that he did not see how an act of natural charity could injure morals. All the respectable inhabitants and well-to-do fellow-natives of the town were against Phillotson to a man. But, somewhat to his surprise, some dozen or more champions rose up in his defence as from the ground. It has been stated that Shaston was the anchorage of a curious and interesting group of itinerants, who frequented the numerous fairs and markets held up and down Wessex during the summer and autumn months. Although Phillotson had never spoken to one of these gentlemen they now nobly led the forlorn hope in his defence. The body included two cheap Jacks, a shooting-gallery proprietor and the ladies who loaded the guns, a pair of boxing-masters, a steam-roundabout manager, two travelling broom-makers, who called themselves widows, a gingerbread-stall keeper, a swing-boat owner, and a "test-your-strength" man. This generous phalanx of supporters, and a few others of independent judgment, whose own domestic experiences had been not without vicissitude, came up and warmly shook hands with Phillotson; after which they expressed their thoughts so strongly to the meeting that issue was joined, the result being a general scuffle, wherein a black board was split, three panes of the school windows were broken, an inkbottle was spilled over a town-councillor's shirt front, a churchwarden was dealt such a topper with the map of Palestine that his head went right through Samaria, and many black eyes and bleeding noses were given, one of which, to everybody's horror, was the venerable incumbent's, owing to the zeal of an emancipated chimney-sweep, who took the side of Phillotson's party. When Phillotson saw the blood running down the rector's face he deplored almost in groans the untoward and degrading circumstances, regretted that he had not resigned when called upon, and went home so ill that next morning he could not leave his bed. The farcical yet melancholy event was the beginning of a serious illness for him; and he lay in his lonely bed in the pathetic state of mind of a middle-aged man who perceives at length that his life, intellectual and domestic, is tending to failure and gloom. Gillingham came to see him in the evenings, and on one occasion mentioned Sue's name. "She doesn't care anything about me!" said Phillotson. "Why should she?" "She doesn't know you are ill." "So much the better for both of us." "Where are her lover and she living?" "At Melchester--I suppose; at least he was living there some time ago." When Gillingham reached home he sat and reflected, and at last wrote an anonymous line to Sue, on the bare chance of its reaching her, the letter being enclosed in an envelope addressed to Jude at the diocesan capital. Arriving at that place it was forwarded to Marygreen in North Wessex, and thence to Aldbrickham by the only person who knew his present address-- the widow who had nursed his aunt. Three days later, in the evening, when the sun was going down in splendour over the lowlands of Blackmoor, and making the Shaston windows like tongues of fire to the eyes of the rustics in that vale, the sick man fancied that he heard somebody come to the house, and a few minutes after there was a tap at the bedroom door. Phillotson did not speak; the door was hesitatingly opened, and there entered--Sue. She was in light spring clothing, and her advent seemed ghostly-- like the flitting in of a moth. He turned his eyes upon her, and flushed; but appeared to check his primary impulse to speak. "I have no business here," she said, bending her frightened face to him. "But I heard you were ill--very ill; and--and as I know that you recognize other feelings between man and woman than physical love, I have come." "I am not very ill, my dear friend. Only unwell." "I didn't know that; and I am afraid that only a severe illness would have justified my coming!" "Yes ... yes. And I almost wish you had not come! It is a little too soon-- that's all I mean. Still, let us make the best of it. You haven't heard about the school, I suppose?" "No--what about it?" "Only that I am going away from here to another place. The managers and I don't agree, and we are going to part-- that's all." Sue did not for a moment, either now or later, suspect what troubles had resulted to him from letting her go; it never once seemed to cross her mind, and she had received no news whatever from Shaston. They talked on slight and ephemeral subjects, and when his tea was brought up he told the amazed little servant that a cup was to be set for Sue. That young person was much more interested in their history than they supposed, and as she descended the stairs she lifted her eyes and hands in grotesque amazement. While they sipped Sue went to the window and thoughtfully said, "It is such a beautiful sunset, Richard." "They are mostly beautiful from here, owing to the rays crossing the mist of the vale. But I lose them all, as they don't shine into this gloomy corner where I lie." "Wouldn't you like to see this particular one? It is like heaven opened." "Ah yes! But I can't." "I'll help you to." "No--the bedstead can't be shifted." "But see how I mean." She went to where a swing-glass stood, and taking it in her hands carried it to a spot by the window where it could catch the sunshine, moving the glass till the beams were reflected into Phillotson's face. "There--you can see the great red sun now!" she said. "And I am sure it will cheer you--I do so hope it will!" She spoke with a childlike, repentant kindness, as if she could not do too much for him. Phillotson smiled sadly. "You are an odd creature!" he murmured as the sun glowed in his eyes. "The idea of your coming to see me after what has passed!" "Don't let us go back upon that!" she said quickly. "I have to catch the omnibus for the train, as Jude doesn't know I have come; he was out when I started; so I must return home almost directly. Richard, I am so very glad you are better. You don't hate me, do you? You have been such a kind friend to me!" "I am glad to know you think so," said Phillotson huskily. "No. I don't hate you!" It grew dusk quickly in the gloomy room during their intermittent chat, and when candles were brought and it was time to leave she put her hand in his or rather allowed it to flit through his; for she was significantly light in touch. She had nearly closed the door when he said, "Sue!" He had noticed that, in turning away from him, tears were on her face and a quiver in her lip. It was bad policy to recall her--he knew it while he pursued it. But he could not help it. She came back. "Sue," he murmured, "do you wish to make it up, and stay? I'll forgive you and condone everything!" "Oh you can't, you can't!" she said hastily. "You can't condone it now!" "He is your husband now, in effect, you mean, of course?" "You may assume it. He is obtaining a divorce from his wife Arabella." "His wife! It is altogether news to me that he has a wife." "It was a bad marriage." "Like yours." "Like mine. He is not doing it so much on his own account as on hers. She wrote and told him it would be a kindness to her, since then she could marry and live respectably. And Jude has agreed." "A wife.... A kindness to her. Ah, yes; a kindness to her to release her altogether.... But I don't like the sound of it. I can forgive, Sue." "No, no! You can't have me back now I have been so wicked-- as to do what I have done!" There had arisen in Sue's face that incipient fright which showed itself whenever he changed from friend to husband, and which made her adopt any line of defence against marital feeling in him. "I MUST go now. I'll come again--may I?" "I don't ask you to go, even now. I ask you to stay." "I thank you, Richard; but I must. As you are not so ill as I thought, I CANNOT stay!" "She's his--his from lips to heel!" said Phillotson; but so faintly that in closing the door she did not hear it. The dread of a reactionary change in the schoolmaster's sentiments, coupled, perhaps, with a faint shamefacedness at letting even him know what a slipshod lack of thoroughness, from a man's point of view, characterized her transferred allegiance, prevented her telling him of her, thus far, incomplete relations with Jude; and Phillotson lay writhing like a man in hell as he pictured the prettily dressed, maddening compound of sympathy and averseness who bore his name, returning impatiently to the home of her lover. Gillingham was so interested in Phillotson's affairs, and so seriously concerned about him, that he walked up the hill-side to Shaston two or three times a week, although, there and back, it was a journey of nine miles, which had to be performed between tea and supper, after a hard day's work in school. When he called on the next occasion after Sue's visit his friend was downstairs, and Gillingham noticed that his restless mood had been supplanted by a more fixed and composed one. "She's been here since you called last," said Phillotson. "Not Mrs. Phillotson?" "Yes." "Ah! You have made it up?" "No.... She just came, patted my pillow with her little white hand, played the thoughtful nurse for half an hour, and went away." "Well--I'm hanged! A little hussy!" "What do you say?" "Oh--nothing!" "What do you mean?" "I mean, what a tantalizing, capricious little woman! If she were not your wife" "She is not; she's another man's except in name and law. And I have been thinking--it was suggested to me by a conversation I had with her--that, in kindness to her, I ought to dissolve the legal tie altogether; which, singularly enough, I think I can do, now she has been back, and refused my request to stay after I said I had forgiven her. I believe that fact would afford me opportunity of doing it, though I did not see it at the moment. What's the use of keeping her chained on to me if she doesn't belong to me? I know--I feel absolutely certain--that she would welcome my taking such a step as the greatest charity to her. For though as a fellow-creature she sympathizes with, and pities me, and even weeps for me, as a husband she cannot endure me-- she loathes me--there's no use in mincing words--she loathes me, and my only manly, and dignified, and merciful course is to complete what I have begun.... And for worldly reasons, too, it will be better for her to be independent. I have hopelessly ruined my prospects because of my decision as to what was best for us, though she does not know it; I see only dire poverty ahead from my feet to the grave; for I can be accepted as teacher no more. I shall probably have enough to do to make both ends meet during the remainder of my life, now my occupation's gone; and I shall be better able to bear it alone. I may as well tell you that what has suggested my letting her go is some news she brought me--the news that Fawley is doing the same." "Oh--he had a spouse, too? A queer couple, these lovers!" "Well--I don't want your opinion on that. What I was going to say is that my liberating her can do her no possible harm, and will open up a chance of happiness for her which she has never dreamt of hitherto. For then they'll be able to marry, as they ought to have done at first." Gillingham did not hurry to reply. "I may disagree with your motive," he said gently, for he respected views he could not share. "But I think you are right in your determination--if you can carry it out. I doubt, however, if you can." 费乐生回老家沙氏顿当小学教员这件事，当地居民很感兴趣，由此也唤醒他们对往日的回忆。他们对他博闻广取、旁搜远绍的治学成就固然不像外地那样敬佩，但对他本人却不乏真切的关注之忱。他归来没多少天就携回一位美貌夫人——他们说，如果他不小心，这美貌就很扎手——见她既能在他们中间住下来，确实觉得高兴。 苏弃家出走后开头一段时间，大家虽没大看见她人，却也没怎么议论过。她本来在学校当小先生，离职后几天就由一位年轻妇女接替了。因为她的工作是临时性质，所以也没谁过问。不料一个月后，费乐生无意中对一位熟人透露他对妻子现居何处并不了解，于是引起众人的好奇心；最后竟贸然下了结论，毫无根据地栽她不安于室，背夫潜逃。而小学教师工作起来也日渐马虎懈怠，无精打采，这更足证明此说不虚。 虽然费乐生只对他的朋友季令安说过，对其他人一直守口如瓶，但一当有关苏的谰言四起，以他为人那样诚实梗直，就不能继续缄默了。一个礼拜一的上午，小学董事会主席来找他，谈完公事，就把费乐生拉到一边，以免学生听见他们谈话的内容。 “费乐生，别见怪，我想问问，因为现在人人议论，说你夫人外出不是探亲访友，是跟情人偷偷私奔了——你家里究竟有没有这回事儿？要真是这样，我真替你难过。” “你用不着为我难过，”费乐生说，“这里头没什么不可告人的。” “那她是看望朋友去啦？” “不是。” “那又是出了什么事呢？” “她走的前前后后难免叫做丈夫的难过，不过都经过我同意。” 董事会主席似乎不相信自己的耳朵。 “我说的是大实话。”费乐生继续说，显得焦躁。“她要我答应她去找她的情人，我答应了。我干吗非不让她走呢。她是个成年女人，她干什么凭她自己的良心——用不着我来说。我又不是监视她的看守。不必多说啦。我可不愿意让人家刨根问底的。” 孩子们看得出来两位大人表情都很严肃，回家后告诉爹妈，说费乐生太太出了新鲜事儿。费乐生的小女仆，原来是刚毕业的小学女生，跟人说费乐生怎样帮太太打点行李，还问她用不用钱，又写了封态度友好的信给她的小伙子，要他好好待她。主席把这事仔细盘算以后，跟别的校董谈了谈，然后邀费乐生同他们私下会面。会面时间很长，完了以后，费乐生就回家去了，脸上同平常一样苍白而且憔悴。季令安正坐在他家里等他。 “唉，你所料果真不虚啊。”费乐生说，疲惫不堪，往椅子上一靠。“他们叫我递辞呈，就为我给了活受罪的妻子自由，或者是照他们说法，我听任她跟人通奸，我的行为实属无耻之尤。可是我决不辞职！” “要是我，我就辞了。” “我不辞。这事跟他们没一点关系，根本不影响我从事公务的资格。他们要是想开除我，开除好啦。” “你要是把事闹开了，一登报，你就别想哪个学校再聘你啦。你也知道，他们不得不考虑你这个做老师的，应该是青少年的人伦表率——影响所及关系到全镇的道德风尚至深且巨哪。何况按普通的看法，你这种立场是没法辩解的。你得好好听我说。” 可是对这个忠告，费乐生却充耳不闻。 “我才不在乎呢。”他说。“不开除我，我决不走。再说这算什么道理，我为这个辞职，不是等于说我为她做过的事全错了嘛；可是我是一天比一天坚信，上帝看也罢，所有单纯爽直的人看也罢，我做得就是对。” 季令安料到他这位脾气倔强的朋友断乎难把这样的立场坚持到底；不过他也没再说什么。过了相当一段时间——实际上也才一刻钟——正式的解聘公函送到了，原来校董们等费乐生一走就把它写好了。后者的答复是他决不同意解聘。接着召集了公众大会，尽管他显得虚弱有病，他的朋友也劝他呆在家里，他还是去参加了。他站起来列举自己的理由，振振有词，内容不外乎他跟朋友说的话；不仅如此，他申明此事纯属家事，与他们无关。校董们则嗤之以鼻，硬说教师个人行为乖僻反常全属他们管辖范围，因为这直接影响他教的学生的品德状况。费乐生则声言他不懂一项出自善心的很单纯的行动怎么会有伤学生的品德。 全镇所有衣冠人物和小康市民一致反对费乐生。但是有十几位属于社会下层的好汉挺身而出，为他辩护，他倒颇感意外。 前面说过，沙氏顿本是大群流动商贩打尖的地方，他们好管闲事，很有意思。春秋两季，他们经常到维塞克斯郡各处赶庙会、跑集市。虽然费乐生一向跟这些先生里边哪一位都没有过话，他们这会儿却不惜孤注一掷，为他仗义执言。其中有两个卖赖货的小贩，一个开汽熗棚的老板，两个给汽熗装铅弹的妇女，两名练武卖艺的大力士，两个自称寡妇走街串巷扎笤帚的，一个摆姜汁饼摊子的，一个出租摇船的，还有一个做“你试试力气”生意的。 这个由豪迈大众组成的支持费乐生的阵容，加上几位自己家庭历经变化、持有独立见解的人，一齐走到费乐生身边，同他热烈握手。他们对大会表达意见用了那么强有力的方式，以致双方交起手来，结果是一场全武行混战。一块黑板劈开了，教室三块玻璃打碎了，一瓶墨水泼在了一位镇议员的衬衫前胸上，一位议员竟然叫巴勒斯坦地图扣到了头上，脑袋从撒马利亚顶出来。好多人眼睛青了，鼻子淌血，其中一位是年高德劭的教区长，他是让费乐生派最大胆的那位扫烟囱工人一片热心搞的，看得人人真害怕。费乐生一看血直从教区长脸上淌下来，为这个一塌糊涂、丢人现眼的场面痛心得直哼哼，后悔不该没按人家的要求辞职，回家以后就发了病，到第二天早晨厉害到起不来床了。 这场既令人喷饭又叫人懊丧的闹剧是他染患一场重病的开端；他孤单单躺在床上，感到人到中年特有的伤痛，终于醒悟到他的治学活动和家庭生活都濒于毁灭，前途暗淡。季令安常在晚上来看望他，有一回提到苏的名字。 “她还管我什么呢？”费乐生说。“她干吗要管我呢？” “她不知道你生病了。” “那对我们俩不是更好吗？” “她情人跟她住在哪儿？” “麦尔切斯特吧——我想是；至少前一段他住在那儿。” 季令安回家之后，坐着思来想去，最后给苏写了封匿名信，装进信封，寄给主教辖区首府的裘德，无非碰碰运气，寄希望她收到于万一而已。信到当地以后又转发北维塞克斯的马利格林，那儿只有一个人了解他目前的住址，就是服侍她姑婆的那位寡妇，她把信转到奥尔布里肯。 三天后傍晚，夕阳西下，霞光万道，正在布莱摩低地上方，把沙氏顿的窗户映得火舌一般，平谷里的庄稼令人觉得耀眼，病人昏昏沉沉地觉着似乎有人进了家，几分钟以后果然听到卧室门卡嗒一声。费乐生没吱声。门被人轻手蹑脚地推开，有个人进来了——原来是苏。 她身穿轻倩的春装，恰像蛾子般轻盈，翩跹而入。他转过身看她，不禁脸红了，但是他好像把原来想说话的冲动抑制住了。 “我本来不必上这儿来。”她一边说，一边把她惊慌失色的脸对着他低下来。“不过我听说你病了——挺厉害的；再——再说我也知道你承认男女之间肉体之爱以外，还可以有别的感情，所以我就来了。” “我病得不厉害，我的亲爱的朋友，就是觉着不舒服，没别的。” “我并不知道你这样；我自己想，真要是病得厉害，我来不能算什么不对！” “不错……不错。可是我但愿你没来才好呢！这样未免显得太急了点——我是这个意思。不过，咱们还是好好利用利用这个机会吧。我想你没听说过学校什么情况吧？” “没有——什么事？” “大不了是要我离开这地方，到别处去。校董跟我意见不合，这样就得各干各的啦。——就是这么回事。” 无论当时或以后，苏一时一刻也没料到他因为让她走掉，给自己招惹了多大麻烦；她压根儿没往这边想过，沙氏顿的新闻，她毫无所知。他们聊了聊没多大意思的小事。他的茶点送来的时候，他就叫吃惊的小女仆给苏也送个茶杯来。他们可没想到，小丫头对他们的历史的兴趣才浓厚呢。她一边下楼，一边眼往上一抬，手望上一伸，装出来受了惊的怪样。喝茶中间，苏走到窗边，思绪万端地说，“现在落日才美哪，里查。” “这是因为阳光透过平谷的薄雾，所以从这儿看，落日总是很美。不过我享受不到啦，因为它照不到我躺着的这个光线暗的角落。” “这个落日特别不一样，你想不想看？简直是天国开启啦。” “唉，是这样嘛！我可没法看哪。” “我来帮你看就是啦。” “不行，床太重，没法挪。” 她走到放镜子的地方，拿起它走到窗户边一点上，在那儿它能接受阳光，再把它来回移动，最后光线就折射到费乐生脸上了。 “哪——这会儿你就看得见红彤彤的大太阳啦！”她说。“我相信，你一看，心里就高兴起来啦——我真希望这样啊！”她这样说，就像因为她没能给他做到该做的事，心里有愧，话里透出孩子般过意不去的亲切。 费乐生凄然一笑。“你是个怪人哪！”太阳在他眼睛里发亮，他咕哝着。“经过那一段，你还想来看我！” “咱们别旧事重提！”她说得很快。“我得赶上坐接火车的公共马车，因为我来这儿，裘德不知道，我动身时候他不在家，所以我得差不多一气到家才行。里查，看见你好些了，我非常高兴。你不恨我，是吧？你一直是好心待我的朋友。” “你这么想，我才高兴呢。”费乐生嗓子带哑地说，“对，我不恨你！” 在他们断断续续闲聊过程中，本来光线很暗的屋子很快黑下来了，小女仆把蜡烛端进来。她要走了，就把手放在他手里，不如说她让自己的手挨了挨他的手；因为她只是有意如此地轻轻一触而已。她刚要关上门，他就喊“苏！”他已经注意到她转身离开他那一刻，脸上有泪，嘴唇微颤。 再把她喊回来无疑不是个好主意。就在他极力想做的那一刻，这一点他自己也明白，无如他实在忍不住。她回来了。 “苏，”他咕哝着，“你想不想重归于好啊？想不想留下来不走啊？我会原谅你，既往不咎！” “哦，办不到啦，办不到啦！”她急忙说。“你这会儿想既往不咎，也办不到啦！” “你这意思是他现在实际上是你丈夫吗？一定是这么回事吧？” “你要这么想也可以。他正忙着跟他妻子办离婚哪。” “他的妻子！他也有妻子，这可真是条新闻。” “他们的婚姻才糟糕哪。” “跟你的一样喽。” “跟我的一样。他办离婚一大半是为她，为他自己倒很少。她写信跟他说，离了婚对她是大恩大德，因为她可以再嫁人，过上体面的生活。裘德也就同意了。” “妻子……对她是大恩大德。唉，是啊，大恩大德，给她彻底松了绑啦。……可是这么个说法，我不喜欢听，苏，我也能原谅你呀。” “不行，不行！你没法再把我弄回来。我已经这么坏啦——覆水难收，挽不回来啦！” 每逢他想把自己由朋友改成她的丈夫，她脸上就一下子露出惊恐万状，这会儿就这样，所以她自然而然要用任何办法挡回他想重续连理的念头。“我非走不可啦。我还会来——行吧？” “我不是要你来，现在也是这样。我要的是你别走。” “谢谢，里查；可是我非走不可。既然你病得不像我想的那么厉害，我可不好留着不走！” “她是他的啦——从头到脚，连皮带骨都归他啦！”费乐生说，不过他声音那么微弱，她关门时候没听见。她因为害怕小学教师见到她，感情上又来个反弹；或许同时因为从男人角度看，她这次移情别恋算不得一杆子到底，倒是不伦不类，似是而非，所以她有点羞于启齿，不好跟他说她跟裘德的关系至少到目前还说不上万事俱备呢。费乐生一边躺着，一边心里描画那个穿戴得漂漂亮亮的女人，她竟能把同情和嫌恶配成一味，教你服了之后神魂颠倒到发狂程度；她还顶着他的姓，却又心急火燎地要跑回情人家里。这时他真像掉进了地狱，辗转反侧，尝尽绝望之苦。 季令安对费乐生的遭遇时刻在心，而且非常认真地关切他本人的状况，所以一个礼拜总有两三回爬山到沙氏顿看望他，一来一去足足有九英里，而且必得在他学校工作辛苦一天之后，茶点与晚饭之间才行。苏来过之后，他头一回来，他的朋友正呆在楼下。季令安注意到他的朋友的神色不像往常那样心清骚乱，而是换了镇定自若的样子。 “你上回来了以后，她来过啦。”费乐生说。 “不是费乐生太太吧？” “是她。” “啊，你们又和好啦？” “没有。……她就是用她小白手抚平了枕头，当了半个钟头挺经心的护士就走了。” “唉——该死！真有点下贱！” “你说什么？” “哦——没说什么？” “你是什么意思？” “我的意思是，这小娘儿们怎么这么撩人，没个准稿子！如果她不是你妻子——” “她不是啦；除了姓跟法律不算，她是人家的妻子啦。我在这儿想个没完——是跟她谈了才启发我的。既然要对她仁慈，我就该完全解除法律关系。既然她回来了，我也跟她说过我原谅她，她还是照样拒绝留下来，你看怪吧。我反而觉着这倒好办啦。我认为事实本身就造成我办这件事的机会，虽说我当时没想到这一点。要是她归了别人，我死乞白赖地把她拴在身上，又有什么屁用？我知道——也绝对相信——她准欢迎我采取这个步骤，看做是我对她莫大慈悲。因为她拿我当圆颅方趾的同类，同情我，怜悯我，不惜为我掉眼泪，可是一想到我是她丈夫，她就受不了，所以我该把已经做开了头的事做到底。这就是我该采取的有大丈夫气概，有人格尊严，又是慈悲为怀的办法。……这也是为了对付世俗那套道理，她更容易做到独行其是。我已经为我的决定断送了咱们大伙儿眼里极其美好的前程，再也没什么希望啦，不过她是一无所知；我预见到摆在我前面的是走进坟墓之前要陷进去的可怕的贫困；因为没人再想聘我当教师。尽管丢了饭碗，我下半辈子大概还有办法糊口吧，以后我一个人完全有能力支应这一切。我不妨跟你直说，究竟是怎么回事才启发我让她走掉，这是因为她给我带来了消息——福来正干我要干的事。” “哦——他也有老婆？这一对真怪啦，这一对情人哪！” “呃——我不想你再就此给我提意见。我先前就想说，我让她自由了，不可能害了她，反而给她提供了机会，使她得到至今做梦也得不到的幸福。那时候他们就能结婚，因为他们本应老早之前就这么办。” 季令安没急于回答。“你的动机，我当然不赞成。”他说，口气温和，因为他尊重他不便苟同的见解。“但是如果你能这样实行的话，我认为你下这样的决心并不错。不过我怀疑你能否办得到。” |
| Part 5 AT ALDBRICKHAM AND ELSEWHERE "Thy aerial part, and all the fiery parts which are mingled in thee, though by nature they have an upward tendency, still in obedience to the disposition of the universe they are over-powered here in the compound mass the body."--M. ANTONINUS (Long). “你身具气成分及诸火成分，混生而呈上逸之势，奈因寓于浑成之本体，受制于宇宙之大法，不得不循从，所以力绌而不果。”——M．安托尼奴斯（朗） Part 5 Chapter 1 How Gillingham's doubts were disposed of will most quickly appear by passing over the series of dreary months and incidents that followed the events of the last chapter, and coming on to a Sunday in the February of the year following. Sue and Jude were living in Aldbrickham, in precisely the same relations that they had established between themselves when she left Shaston to join him the year before. The proceedings in the law-courts had reached their consciousness, but as a distant sound and an occasional missive which they hardly understood. They had met, as usual, to breakfast together in the little house with Jude's name on it, that he had taken at fifteen pounds a year, with three-pounds-ten extra for rates and taxes, and furnished with his aunt's ancient and lumbering goods, which had cost him about their full value to bring all the way from Marygreen. Sue kept house, and managed everything. As he entered the room this morning Sue held up a letter she had just received. "Well; and what is it about?" he said after kissing her. "That the decree NISI in the case of Phillotson VERSUS Phillotson and Fawley, pronounced six months ago, has just been made absolute." "Ah," said Jude, as he sat down. The same concluding incident in Jude's suit against Arabella had occurred about a month or two earlier. Both cases had been too insignificant to be reported in the papers, further than by name in a long list of other undefended cases. "Now then, Sue, at any rate, you can do what you like!" He looked at his sweetheart curiously. "Are we--you and I--just as free now as if we had never married at all?" "Just as free--except, I believe, that a clergyman may object personally to remarry you, and hand the job on to somebody else." "But I wonder--do you think it is really so with us? I know it is generally. But I have an uncomfortable feeling that my freedom has been obtained under false pretences!" "How?" "Well--if the truth about us had been known, the decree wouldn't have been pronounced. It is only, is it, because we have made no defence, and have led them into a false supposition? Therefore is my freedom lawful, however proper it may be?" "Well--why did you let it be under false pretences? You have only yourself to blame," he said mischievously. "Jude--don't! You ought not to be touchy about that still. You must take me as I am." "Very well, darling: so I will. Perhaps you were right. As to your question, we were not obliged to prove anything. That was their business. Anyhow we are living together." "Yes. Though not in their sense." "One thing is certain, that however the decree may be brought about, a marriage is dissolved when it is dissolved. There is this advantage in being poor obscure people like us-- that these things are done for us in a rough and ready fashion. It was the same with me and Arabella. I was afraid her criminal second marriage would have been discovered, and she punished; but nobody took any interest in her--nobody inquired, nobody suspected it. If we'd been patented nobilities we should have had infinite trouble, and days and weeks would have been spent in investigations." By degrees Sue acquired her lover's cheerfulness at the sense of freedom, and proposed that they should take a walk in the fields, even if they had to put up with a cold dinner on account of it. Jude agreed, and Sue went up-stairs and prepared to start, putting on a joyful coloured gown in observance of her liberty; seeing which Jude put on a lighter tie. "Now we'll strut arm and arm," he said, "like any other engaged couple. We've a legal right to." They rambled out of the town, and along a path over the low-lying lands that bordered it, though these were frosty now, and the extensive seed-fields were bare of colour and produce. The pair, however, were so absorbed in their own situation that their surroundings were little in their consciousness. "Well, my dearest, the result of all this is that we can marry after a decent interval." "Yes; I suppose we can," said Sue, without enthusiasm. "And aren't we going to?" "I don't like to say no, dear Jude; but I feel just the same about it now as I have done all along. I have just the same dread lest an iron contract should extinguish your tenderness for me, and mine for you, as it did between our unfortunate parents." "Still, what can we do? I do love you, as you know, Sue." "I know it abundantly. But I think I would much rather go on living always as lovers, as we are living now, and only meeting by day. It is so much sweeter--for the woman at least, and when she is sure of the man. And henceforward we needn't be so particular as we have been about appearances." "Our experiences of matrimony with others have not been encouraging, I own," said he with some gloom; "either owing to our own dissatisfied, unpractical natures, or by our misfortune. But we two----" "Should be two dissatisfied ones linked together, which would be twice as bad as before.... I think I should begin to be afraid of you, Jude, the moment you had contracted to cherish me under a Government stamp, and I was licensed to be loved on the premises by you--Ugh, how horrible and sordid! Although, as you are, free, I trust you more than any other man in the world." "No, no--don't say I should change!" he expostulated; yet there was misgiving in his own voice also. "Apart from ourselves, and our unhappy peculiarities, it is foreign to a man's nature to go on loving a person when he is told that he must and shall be that person's lover. There would be a much likelier chance of his doing it if he were told not to love. If the marriage ceremony consisted in an oath and signed contract between the parties to cease loving from that day forward, in consideration of personal possession being given, and to avoid each other's society as much as possible in public, there would be more loving couples than there are now. Fancy the secret meetings between the perjuring husband and wife, the denials of having seen each other, the clambering in at bedroom windows, and the hiding in closets! There'd be little cooling then." "Yes; but admitting this, or something like it, to be true, you are not the only one in the world to see it, dear little Sue. People go on marrying because they can't resist natural forces, although many of them may know perfectly well that they are possibly buying a month's pleasure with a life's discomfort. No doubt my father and mother, and your father and mother, saw it, if they at all resembled us in habits of observation. But then they went and married just the same, because they had ordinary passions. But you, Sue, are such a phantasmal, bodiless creature, one who--if you'll allow me to say it-- has so little animal passion in you, that you can act upon reason in the matter, when we poor unfortunate wretches of grosser substance can't." "Well," she sighed, "you've owned that it would probably end in misery for us. And I am not so exceptional a woman as you think. Fewer women like marriage than you suppose, only they enter into it for the dignity it is assumed to confer, and the social advantages it gains them sometimes--a dignity and an advantage that I am quite willing to do without." Jude fell back upon his old complaint--that, intimate as they were, he had never once had from her an honest, candid declaration that she loved or could love him. "I really fear sometimes that you cannot," he said, with a dubiousness approaching anger. "And you are so reticent. I know that women are taught by other women that they must never admit the full truth to a man. But the highest form of affection is based on full sincerity on both sides. Not being men, these women don't know that in looking back on those he has had tender relations with, a man's heart returns closest to her who was the soul of truth in her conduct. The better class of man, even if caught by airy affectations of dodging and parrying, is not retained by them. A Nemesis attends the woman who plays the game of elusiveness too often, in the utter contempt for her that, sooner or later, her old admirers feel; under which they allow her to go unlamented to her grave." Sue, who was regarding the distance, had acquired a guilty look; and she suddenly replied in a tragic voice: "I don't think I like you to-day so well as I did, Jude!" "Don't you? Why?" "Oh, well--you are not nice--too sermony. Though I suppose I am so bad and worthless that I deserve the utmost rigour of lecturing!" "No, you are not bad. You are a dear. But as slippery as an eel when I want to get a confession from you." "Oh yes I am bad, and obstinate, and all sorts! It is no use your pretending I am not! People who are good don't want scolding as I do.... But now that I have nobody but you, and nobody to defend me, it is very hard that I mustn't have my own way in deciding how I'll live with you, and whether I'll be married or no!" "Sue, my own comrade and sweetheart, I don't want to force you either to marry or to do the other thing--of course I don't! It is too wicked of you to be so pettish! Now we won't say any more about it, and go on just the same as we have done; and during the rest of our walk we'll talk of the meadows only, and the floods, and the prospect of the farmers this coming year." After this the subject of marriage was not mentioned by them for several days, though living as they were with only a landing between them it was constantly in their minds. Sue was assisting Jude very materially now: he had latterly occupied himself on his own account in working and lettering headstones, which he kept in a little yard at the back of his little house, where in the intervals of domestic duties she marked out the letters full size for him, and blacked them in after he had cut them. It was a lower class of handicraft than were his former performances as a cathedral mason, and his only patrons were the poor people who lived in his own neighbourhood, and knew what a cheap man this "Jude Fawley: Monumental Mason" (as he called himself on his front door) was to employ for the simple memorials they required for their dead. But he seemed more independent than before, and it was the only arrangement under which Sue, who particularly wished to be no burden on him, could render any assistance. 在上一章所叙种种变化后，接下来的几个月沉闷单调，没有波澜起伏，但是季令安对费乐生的决定所持的怀疑，到次年二月一个礼拜天，就在须臾间廓清了。 苏和裘德这时住在奥尔布里肯，他们之间的关系跟她从沙氏顿来同他相聚时建立的相比，一切照旧。法庭的诉讼程序犹如远方传来的声音，时有所闻而已，至于间或送达的法律文书，他们看了也不大明白。 他们住在一座标着裘德名牌的小房子里，平常都是早饭时候见面。裘德一年得出十五镑房租，外加三镑十先令房捐，家里摆着他姑婆的古老笨重的家具，单为把它们从马利格林运过来的花费就抵得上它们的全部价值。苏管家，料理一切。 那个早上，他一进屋子就瞧见苏手上拿着一封信，是她才收到的。 “呃，这里头是什么玩意儿？”他吻了苏之后说。 “是费乐生诉费乐生和福来一案的最后判决书，六个月以前公告过，现在已经到期，判决刚刚生效。” “啊。”裘德说着就坐下来。 裘德诉阿拉贝拉离婚案大约一两个月之前也有了同样结果。两案实在无足重轻，所以报章不屑报道，只在一长串无异议案件表上公布一下姓名就算了。 “苏，你现在总算可以想干什么就干什么啦！”他看着心爱的人，带着好奇的神气。 “咱们——你跟我这么一来是不是跟压根儿没结过婚一样自由呢？” “一样自由——我看，就差一样，牧师也许拒绝由他本人给你主持婚礼，让给别人替他办吧。” “不过我还是没明白——你真是觉着咱们就那么自由吗？我大致知道是自由了。可是我心里直嘀咕，因为我这自由是靠欺诈弄到手的。” “怎么这么说呢？” “呃——人家要是知道咱们的实情，决不会把判决公告出来。就因为咱们一点没为自己辩护，让他们做了错误的推断，认为理当如此，对不对？不管程序多正当，难道我这自由就合乎法律的规定吗？” “哎——你先头干吗用欺诈取得自由呢？这只好怪你自己喽。”他说，故意怄她。 “裘德——别这么说！你大可不必为这个瞎生气。我是怎么样就怎么样，你别把我看错了。” “好啦，好啦，亲亲，我听命就是啦。你大概对吧。至于你那个问题，咱们本来无需去表示什么，该怎么办是他们的事儿。反正咱们在一块儿过啦。” “话是这么说，不过他们的判决的含义不是这个意思。” “有一点总是确定无疑的。别管判决怎么来的，反正该判离婚就判了离婚。拿咱们这样出不了头的穷人说，碰上这样的事也有好处——反正按现成规章给咱们草草一办就行了。我跟阿拉贝拉的事也一样。我原来还担心她第二次犯了法的婚姻一旦叫人发现了，要受惩罚呢；可是谁对她也没兴趣，没人去查问，也没人起疑心。咱们要是有封号的贵族，那麻烦可就无尽无休了，一调查就是多少天，多少个礼拜。” 苏自己也跟她情人一样因获得自由而慢慢感到心情舒畅，于是提出到野外散步，尽管晚上免不了吃冷饭。裘德也赞成。她上楼打扮了一下，穿上一件艳丽的长袍来纪念她的自由。裘德一看她这样，也打了条色调明快的领带。 “现在咱们可以挽着胳臂大摇大摆地走啦，”他说，“就跟别的订了婚的两口子一样。咱们现在有合法权利这样做啦。” 他们慢慢腾腾地出了市区，顺着一条小路走。路两边的洼地全结了霜，广阔的麦田已经下了种，庄稼还没露头，还是原来干巴巴的泥土颜色。不过这一对情人全心沉浸在他们自己这会儿所处的情境里，周围的景物在他们的意识里占不到地位。 “啊，我的最亲爱的，既然有了这么个结果，再到个适当时间，咱们就可以结婚啦。” “是啊，我看咱们可以结婚啦。”苏说，没表现出热情。 “那咱们要不要就办呢？” “我可不想说别这样，亲爱的裘德；不过我这会儿的感觉，还跟我以前经历的一样。我还跟以前一样怕，怕的是一份铁一般的契约就把你对我的柔情、我对你的柔情，全给葬送了，落得跟咱们不幸的爹妈的下场一样。” “那要是这样，咱们又能怎么办呢？你知道，苏，我是真真爱你呀。” “我知道得心里快盛不下啦。可是我觉着宁可咱们老接着情人那样过下去，一天见一回就行啦。那样要甜蜜得多呢——至少女人是这个感觉，只要她觉着这个男人靠得住就行。往后咱们也就用不着老是为出头露面费心思啦。” “要说按咱们跟别人的结婚经验，的确叫人心灰意冷，这我也有数。”他说，略显颓丧。“要不是因为咱们生来不知足，不实际，就是因为咱们命不好。不过咱们两个——” “要是两个都不知足，又凑到一块儿，那不是比以前还雪上加霜吗？我想着，一朝你靠着政府大印，按契约把我据为己有，我呢，按“只限店内”特许条件承你错爱，我一定害怕起来了，裘德——噢，这多可怕、多肮脏啊！固然你现在随心所欲，谁也管不着，我对你可比对谁都信赖哪。” “对，对——你可不能说我会变心！”他急着阻止她往下说，不过他声音也带着几分疑虑。 “撇开咱们自己、咱们倒霉的乖僻不说吧，如果谁要是对一个男人说他应该受某某，要当她的情人，按男人的天性，那就背道而驰了，他再也不会把那个人爱下去了。如果人家叫他别爱，那么他爱那个人的缘分可能还大得多呢。要是结婚仪式，包括起誓签约，说从当天起，他们双方相爱到此为止，又由于双方都成了对方的人，要尽量留在各自小天地而避免在公开场合相伴露面，那一来相亲相爱的夫妻准比现在多了。你就好好想想吧，那发了假誓的丈夫和妻子该怎么偷偷约会呀，不许他们见面，那就逾窗入室，藏身柜子，共度良宵！这样他们的爱情就不会冷下去了。” “你说得不错。不过就算你看到情况会这样，或者大致这样，说实话，你也不是唯一有这种看法的人，亲爱的小苏啊。人们接连不断地结婚是因为他们抗不住自然的力量，尽管其中很多人心里完全有数，为了得到一个月的快乐，可能要拿一辈子受罪做代价。我爹我妈，你爹你妈，要是也有跟咱们一样的观察事物的习惯，毫无疑问，也看得明白。无奈他们还是照结婚不误，因为他们都有普通的情欲。可是你呢，苏啊，你空灵有如幻影，飘渺若无肉身，是这般生灵，你若容我说，我就说你简直就没有出自动物本能的情欲，所以你所作所为一概听命于理性，而我们这些粗劣坯子造出来的可怜而又不幸的浊物可办不到啊。” “唉，”她叹口气，“你也承认咱们要是结婚，结局大概也挺惨。我倒不是你想象的那么一个一万里头也挑个出来的女人。不过真想结婚的女人比你设想的少得多，她们所以走这一步，不过自以为有了个身份，有时候也能得到在社会上的好处——而我是我行我素，不管什么身份与好处。” 裘德的思想禁不住回到他耿耿于怀的事情上——他们固然关系亲热，可他连一回也没听她诚实而恳挚地表白过，说她爱他，或她能爱他。“我的确有时候挺害怕你不爱我。”他说，那疑心近乎生气。“你就是这么一字不提。我知道，女人都从别的女人那儿学，千万别对男人把实话说尽。但是最高形式的情深意切的爱的基础正是双方毫无保留的真诚。那类女人，因为她们不是男人，不知道他回顾以往跟女人柔情缱绻之时，他感到最贴心的总是言行表现出真心的那个女人。素性好的男人固然一时让假假真真的柔情一擒一纵，可是他们并不会老让她们摆布。一个好玩欲擒故纵、藏头露尾手腕的女人，早晚受到报应，自食其果，让原来对她倾心相与的男人鄙视；他们也因此看着她走向绝路，而不会为之动容，流涕。” 苏正目注远处，脸上显出内愧，突然她以伤感的口气回应说：“我觉着今儿个不像先头那么喜欢你啦，裘德！” “你不喜欢？这是为什么？” “哦，我讨厌——你老是说教。不过我想我这么坏，这么下作，活该你劈头盖脸教训一通！” “不是这么回事儿，你不坏。你是个叫人疼的。不过我一想听你说真心话，你就跟鳗鱼一样滑。” “啊，我就是又坏又不讲理，坏到家啦。你捧我，说我不坏，那没用！品性好的人不像我这样招人骂！……不过我现在既然没别人，只有你，也没别人替我说话，你要是不许我按自己的方式决定怎么跟你一块儿过，决定跟还是不跟你结婚，那我就觉着苦不堪言啦！” “苏啊，你是我的同志，是我的心上人哪，我才不想勉强你结婚或者干这个于那个——我绝对不会那样！你这么乱发脾气，实在太要不得！现在咱们别谈这个啦，还是照以前一样，该怎么样，就怎么样。咱们还有一段时间散散步，就谈谈牧场呀，流水呀，往后这一年的年景呀，好啦。” 以后几天他们没再提结婚这个题目，不过他们住在一块儿，中间只隔个楼梯平台，心里免不了老揣着这件事。苏现在给裘德帮的忙倒挺实在的，他如今一心扑在干活上，在墓碑上凿字。房后边有个小院子，他把石头都放在里边。苏做完家务事，一有空，就帮他把字母按大小描好，等他镌好，再上墨。他这个手艺比从前当大教堂的石匠要下一等，他的主顾都是住在方近左右的穷人，他们都认识这个“石匠裘德•福来：专凿纪念碑”（他自己前门上有这个招牌），干活要价低。他们需要为亡人立个简单的纪念物，就找他。但是他如今看来比以前更不必俯仰由人了。苏特别不愿意成他的累赘，她能帮他忙的也只能在这方面插得上手。 Part 5 Chapter 2 IT was an evening at the end of the month, and Jude had just returned home from hearing a lecture on ancient history in the public hall not far off. When he entered, Sue, who had been keeping indoors during his absence, laid out supper for him. Contrary to custom she did not speak. Jude had taken up some illustrated paper, which he perused till, raising his eyes, he saw that her face was troubled. "Are you depressed, Sue?" he said. She paused a moment. "I have a message for you," she answered. "Somebody has called?" "Yes. A woman." Sue's voice quavered as she spoke, and she suddenly sat down from her preparations, laid her hands in her lap, and looked into the fire. "I don't know whether I did right or not!" she continued. "I said you were not at home, and when she said she would wait, I said I thought you might not be able to see her." "Why did you say that, dear? I suppose she wanted a headstone. Was she in mourning?" "No. She wasn't in mourning, and she didn't want a headstone; and I thought you couldn't see her." Sue looked critically and imploringly at him. "But who was she? Didn't she say?" "No. She wouldn't give her name. But I know who she was--I think I do! It was Arabella!" "Heaven save us! What should Arabella come for? What made you think it was she?" "Oh, I can hardly tell. But I know it was! I feel perfectly certain it was--by the light in her eyes as she looked at me. She was a fleshy, coarse woman." "Well--I should not have called Arabella coarse exactly, except in speech, though she may be getting so by this time under the duties of the public house. She was rather handsome when I knew her." "Handsome! But yes!--so she is!" "I think I heard a quiver in your little mouth. Well, waiving that, as she is nothing to me, and virtuously married to another man, why should she come troubling us?" "Are you sure she's married? Have you definite news of it?" "No--not definite news. But that was why she asked me to release her. She and the man both wanted to lead a proper life, as I understood." "Oh Jude--it was, it WAS Arabella!" cried Sue, covering her eyes with her hand. "And I am so miserable! It seems such an ill omen, whatever she may have come for. You could not possibly see her, could you?" "I don't really think I could. It would be so very painful to talk to her now--for her as much as for me. However, she's gone. Did she say she would come again?" "No. But she went away very reluctantly." Sue, whom the least thing upset, could not eat any supper, and when Jude had finished his he prepared to go to bed. He had no sooner raked out the fire, fastened the doors, and got to the top of the stairs than there came a knock. Sue instantly emerged from her room, which she had but just entered. "There she is again!" Sue whispered in appalled accents. "How do you know?" "She knocked like that last time." They listened, and the knocking came again. No servant was kept in the house, and if the summons were to be responded to one of them would have to do it in person. "I'll open a window," said Jude. "Whoever it is cannot be expected to be let in at this time." He accordingly went into his bedroom and lifted the sash. The lonely street of early retiring workpeople was empty from end to end save of one figure--that of a woman walking up and down by the lamp a few yards off. "Who's there?" he asked. "Is that Mr. Fawley?" came up from the woman, in a voice which was unmistakably Arabella's. Jude replied that it was. "Is it she?" asked Sue from the door, with lips apart. "Yes, dear," said Jude. "What do you want, Arabella?" he inquired. "I beg your pardon, Jude, for disturbing you," said Arabella humbly. "But I called earlier--I wanted particularly to see you to-night, if I could. I am in trouble, and have nobody to help me!" "In trouble, are you?" "Yes." There was a silence. An inconvenient sympathy seemed to be rising in Jude's breast at the appeal. "But aren't you married?" he said. Arabella hesitated. "No, Jude, I am not," she returned. "He wouldn't, after all. And I am in great difficulty. I hope to get another situation as barmaid soon. But it takes time, and I really am in great distress because of a sudden responsibility that's been sprung upon me from Australia; or I wouldn't trouble you--believe me I wouldn't. I want to tell you about it." Sue remained at gaze, in painful tension, hearing every word, but speaking none. "You are not really in want of money, Arabella?" he asked, in a distinctly softened tone. "I have enough to pay for the night's lodging I have obtained, but barely enough to take me back again." "Where are you living?" "In London still." She was about to give the address, but she said, "I am afraid somebody may hear, so I don't like to call out particulars of myself so loud. If you could come down and walk a little way with me towards the Prince Inn, where I am staying to-night, I would explain all. You may as well, for old time's sake!" "Poor thing! I must do her the kindness of hearing what's the matter, I suppose," said Jude in much perplexity. "As she's going back to-morrow it can't make much difference." "But you can go and see her to-morrow, Jude! Don't go now, Jude!" came in plaintive accents from the doorway. "Oh, it is only to entrap you, I know it is, as she did before! Don't go, dear! She is such a low-passioned woman-- I can see it in her shape, and hear it in her voice! "But I shall go," said Jude. "Don't attempt to detain me, Sue. God knows I love her little enough now, but I don't want to be cruel to her." He turned to the stairs. "But she's not your wife!" cried Sue distractedly. "And I----" "And you are not either, dear, yet," said Jude. "Oh, but are you going to her? Don't! Stay at home! Please, please stay at home, Jude, and not go to her, now she's not your wife any more than I!" "Well, she is, rather more than you, come to that," he said, taking his hat determinedly. "I've wanted you to be, and I've waited with the patience of Job, and I don't see that I've got anything by my self-denial. I shall certainly give her something, and hear what it is she is so anxious to tell me; no man could do less!" There was that in his manner which she knew it would be futile to oppose. She said no more, but, turning to her room as meekly as a martyr, heard him go down-stairs, unbolt the door, and close it behind him. With a woman's disregard of her dignity when in the presence of nobody but herself, she also trotted down, sobbing articulately as she went. She listened. She knew exactly how far it was to the inn that Arabella had named as her lodging. It would occupy about seven minutes to get there at an ordinary walking pace; seven to come back again. If he did not return in fourteen minutes he would have lingered. She looked at the clock. It was twenty-five minutes to eleven. He MIGHT enter the inn with Arabella, as they would reach it before closing time; she might get him to drink with her; and Heaven only knew what disasters would befall him then. In a still suspense she waited on. It seemed as if the whole time had nearly elapsed when the door was opened again, and Jude appeared. Sue gave a little ecstatic cry. "Oh, I knew I could trust you!-- how good you are!"--she began. "I can't find her anywhere in this street, and I went out in my slippers only. She has walked on, thinking I've been so hard-hearted as to refuse her requests entirely, poor woman. I've come back for my boots, as it is beginning to rain." "Oh, but why should you take such trouble for a woman who has served you so badly!" said Sue in a jealous burst of disappointment. "But, Sue, she's a woman, and I once cared for her; and one can't be a brute in such circumstances." "She isn't your wife any longer!" exclaimed Sue, passionately excited. "You MUSTN'T go out to find her! It isn't right! You CAN'T join her, now she's a stranger to you. How can you forget such a thing, my dear, dear one!" "She seems much the same as ever--an erring, careless, unreflecting fellow-creature," he said, continuing to pull on his boots. "What those legal fellows have been playing at in London makes no difference in my real relations to her. If she was my wife while she was away in Australia with another husband she's my wife now." "But she wasn't! That's just what I hold! There's the absurdity!-- Well--you'll come straight back, after a few minutes, won't you, dear? She is too low, too coarse for you to talk to long, Jude, and was always!" "Perhaps I am coarse too, worse luck! I have the germs of every human infirmity in me, I verily believe--that was why I saw it was so preposterous of me to think of being a curate. I have cured myself of drunkenness I think; but I never know in what new form a suppressed vice will break out in me! I do love you, Sue, though I have danced attendance on you so long for such poor returns! All that's best and noblest in me loves you, and your freedom from everything that's gross has elevated me, and enabled me to do what I should never have dreamt myself capable of, or any man, a year or two ago. It is all very well to preach about self-control, and the wickedness of coercing a woman. But I should just like a few virtuous people who have condemned me in the past, about Arabella and other things, to have been in my tantalizing position with you through these late weeks!--they'd believe, I think, that I have exercised some little restraint in always giving in to your wishes--living here in one house, and not a soul between us." "Yes, you have been good to me, Jude; I know you have, my dear protector." "Well--Arabella has appealed to me for help. I must go out and speak to her, Sue, at least!" "I can't say any more!--Oh, if you must, you must!" she said, bursting out into sobs that seemed to tear her heart. "I have nobody but you, Jude, and you are deserting me! I didn't know you were like this--I can't bear it, I can't! If she were yours it would be different!" "Or if you were." "Very well then--if I must I must. Since you will have it so, I agree! I will be. Only I didn't mean to! And I didn't want to marry again, either! ... But, yes--I agree, I agree! I do love you. I ought to have known that you would conquer in the long run, living like this!" She ran across and flung her arms round his neck. "I am not a cold-natured, sexless creature, am I, for keeping you at such a distance? I am sure you don't think so! Wait and see! I do belong to you, don't I? I give in!" "And I'll arrange for our marriage to-morrow, or as soon as ever you wish." "Yes, Jude." "Then I'll let her go," said he, embracing Sue softly. "I do feel that it would be unfair to you to see her, and perhaps unfair to her. She is not like you, my darling, and never was: it is only bare justice to say that. Don't cry any more. There; and there; and there!" He kissed her on one side, and on the other, and in the middle, and rebolted the front door. The next morning it was wet. "Now, dear," said Jude gaily at breakfast; "as this is Saturday I mean to call about the banns at once, so as to get the first publishing done to-morrow, or we shall lose a week. Banns will do? We shall save a pound or two." Sue absently agreed to banns. But her mind for the moment was running on something else. A glow had passed away from her, and depression sat upon her features. "I feel I was wickedly selfish last night!" she murmured. "It was sheer unkindness in me--or worse--to treat Arabella as I did. I didn't care about her being in trouble, and what she wished to tell you! Perhaps it was really something she was justified in telling you. That's some more of my badness, I suppose! Love has its own dark morality when rivalry enters in-- at least, mine has, if other people's hasn't.... I wonder how she got on? I hope she reached the inn all right, poor woman." "Oh yes: she got on all right," said Jude placidly. "I hope she wasn't shut out, and that she hadn't to walk the streets in the rain. Do you mind my putting on my waterproof and going to see if she got in? I've been thinking of her all the morning." "Well--is it necessary? You haven't the least idea how Arabella is able to shift for herself. Still, darling, if you want to go and inquire you can." There was no limit to the strange and unnecessary penances which Sue would meekly undertake when in a contrite mood; and this going to see all sorts of extraordinary persons whose relation to her was precisely of a kind that would have made other people shun them was her instinct ever, so that the request did not surprise him. "And when you come back," he added, "I'll be ready to go about the banns. You'll come with me?" Sue agreed, and went off under cloak and umbrella letting Jude kiss her freely, and returning his kisses in a way she had never done before. Times had decidedly changed. "The little bird is caught at last!" she said, a sadness showing in her smile. "No--only nested," he assured her. She walked along the muddy street till she reached the public house mentioned by Arabella, which was not so very far off. She was informed that Arabella had not yet left, and in doubt how to announce herself so that her predecessor in Jude's affections would recognize her, she sent up word that a friend from Spring Street had called, naming the place of Jude's residence. She was asked to step upstairs, and on being shown into a room found that it was Arabella's bedroom, and that the latter had not yet risen. She halted on the turn of her toe till Arabella cried from the bed, "Come in and shut the door," which Sue accordingly did. Arabella lay facing the window, and did not at once turn her head: and Sue was wicked enough, despite her penitence, to wish for a moment that Jude could behold her forerunner now, with the daylight full upon her. She may have seemed handsome enough in profile under the lamps, but a frowsiness was apparent this morning; and the sight of her own fresh charms in the looking-glass made Sue's manner bright, till she reflected what a meanly sexual emotion this was in her, and hated herself for it. "I've just looked in to see if you got back comfortably last night, that's all," she said gently. "I was afraid afterwards that you might have met with any mishap?" "Oh--how stupid this is! I thought my visitor was--your friend-- your husband--Mrs. Fawley, as I suppose you call yourself?" said Arabella, flinging her head back upon the pillows with a disappointed toss, and ceasing to retain the dimple she had just taken the trouble to produce. "Indeed I don't," said Sue. "Oh, I thought you might have, even if he's not really yours. Decency is decency, any hour of the twenty-four." "I don't know what you mean," said Sue stiffly. "He is mine, if you come to that!" "He wasn't yesterday." Sue coloured roseate, and said "How do you know?" "From your manner when you talked to me at the door. Well, my dear, you've been quick about it, and I expect my visit last night helped it on-- ha-ha! But I don't want to get him away from you." Sue looked out at the rain, and at the dirty toilet-cover, and at the detached tail of Arabella's hair hanging on the looking-glass, just as it had done in Jude's time; and wished she had not come. In the pause there was a knock at the door, and the chambermaid brought in a telegram for "Mrs. Cartlett." Arabella opened it as she lay, and her ruffled look disappeared. "I am much obliged to you for your anxiety about me," she said blandly when the maid had gone; "but it is not necessary you should feel it. My man finds he can't do without me after all, and agrees to stand by the promise to marry again over here that he has made me all along. See here! This is in answer to one from me." She held out the telegram for Sue to read, but Sue did not take it. "He asks me to come back. His little corner public in Lambeth would go to pieces without me, he says. But he isn't going to knock me about when he has had a drop, any more after we are spliced by English law than before! ... As for you, I should coax Jude to take me before the parson straight off, and have done with it, if I were in your place. I say it as a friend, my dear." "He's waiting to, any day," returned Sue, with frigid pride. "Then let him, in Heaven's name. Life with a man is more businesslike after it, and money matters work better. And then, you see, if you have rows, and he turns you out of doors, you can get the law to protect you, which you can't otherwise, unless he half-runs you through with a knife, or cracks your noddle with a poker. And if he bolts away from you--I say it friendly, as woman to woman, for there's never any knowing what a man med do-- you'll have the sticks o' furniture, and won't be looked upon as a thief. I shall marry my man over again, now he's willing, as there was a little flaw in the first ceremony. In my telegram last night which this is an answer to, I told him I had almost made it up with Jude; and that frightened him, I expect! Perhaps I should quite have done it if it hadn't been for you," she said laughing; "and then how different our histories might have been from to-day! Never such a tender fool as Jude is if a woman seems in trouble, and coaxes him a bit! Just as he used to be about birds and things. However, as it happens, it is just as well as if I had made it up, and I forgive you. And, as I say, I'd advise you to get the business legally done as soon as possible. You'll find it an awful bother later on if you don't." "I have told you he is asking me to marry him--to make our natural marriage a legal one," said Sue, with yet more dignity. "It was quite by my wish that he didn't the moment I was free." "Ah, yes--you are a oneyer too, like myself," said Arabella, eyeing her visitor with humorous criticism. "Bolted from your first, didn't you, like me?" "Good morning!--I must go," said Sue hastily. "And I, too, must up and off!" replied the other, springing out of bed so suddenly that the soft parts of her person shook. Sue jumped aside in trepidation. "Lord, I am only a woman-- not a six-foot sojer! ... Just a moment, dear," she continued, putting her hand on Sue's arm. "I really did want to consult Jude on a little matter of business, as I told him. I came about that more than anything else. Would he run up to speak to me at the station as I am going? You think not. Well, I'll write to him about it. I didn't want to write it, but never mind-- I will." 月末一个晚上，裘德到附近公共会堂听完古代史讲演后回到家里。苏在他外出时，并没出去，他一到家，她就给他摆上晚饭。异乎平常习惯，她没跟他说说笑笑。裘德拿起一份画报看着，后来他一抬眼睛，发现她满面愁容。 “你不高兴啦，苏？”他说。 她稍停了一下。‘有件事得告诉你。”她答道。 “有人来过？” “有人来过，是个女人。”苏说话时声音打颤。突然她把饭一撂，坐下来了，两手放在膝头上，眼睛盯着炉火。“我也不知道做得对，还是不对！”她接着说，“我说你没在家，她说要等你，我告诉她，我认为你大概不会见她。” “你干吗这么说呀，亲爱的？我想她是想做个墓碑吧。她穿没穿孝？” “不是那么回事。她没穿孝，也不是要做墓碑，可是我当时想你不好见她就是啦！”她看着他，既是批评，又是央求的意思。 “究意是谁呢？她没说吗？” “没说。她不愿意说名字。可我知道是谁——我想我知道！是阿拉贝拉！” “天哪！阿拉贝拉跑来干什么？你怎么认为是她？” “哦，我也说不上来。不过我知道一定是她！我觉着百分之百是她——一瞧她看人那股子眼神就明白啦。她是个又臃肿。又粗俗的女人。” “呃——我看说阿拉贝拉粗俗还不大恰当呢，她说话倒是有点俗。不过她在酒馆里做生意，习惯成自然，人也就粗俗了。我认识她时候，她还算漂亮。” “漂亮！对，对！她才漂亮哪！” “我觉着你声音抖抖的。唉，别提这个啦，反正她跟我没关系啦，再说她规规矩矩嫁了人，何必跑来找咱们的麻烦呢！” “你真信她又嫁了人？你得了确实消息？” “没有——没什么确实消息。不过她就是为嫁人才求我高抬贵手。我原来想她要跟那个男的正儿八经过日子。” “哦，裘德——那可是阿拉贝拉，一点不假哟！”苏大声说，拿手蒙上眼睛。“我可太苦啦！别管她为什么来，这可不是个好兆头啊。你总不会见她吧，对不对？” “我实在不想见她。这会儿跟她说话，不论是对我，还是对她，都是痛苦的。反正她已经走了。她说没说还来？” “说是没说，不过她走的时候挺不愿意的。” 苏这人为一点芝麻绿豆的事就心烦意乱，一日晚饭都吃不下去；裘德吃了，就打算睡觉。他刚把火拨开，门紧了街门，上了楼梯，只听见有人敲门。苏才进自己屋子，又马上出来了。 “她又来啦！”她轻轻说，声音带着惊恐。 “你怎么知道是她？” “她刚才就这么敲门来着。” 他们静听着。门又敲了一回。他们家没仆人，凡是有人来找，他们两个里头总得有一个亲自去接待才行。“我先开窗户瞧瞧。”裘德说。“先别管是谁，这时候总不便进来。” 说着他进了卧室，把窗格推上去。在这条偏僻的街上，做工的人老早就歇了，从这头到那头空荡荡的，只有个人影，一个女人身形，在几码远的路灯旁边盘旋。 “谁在那儿？”他问。 “福来先生吗？”女人走过来了，是阿拉贝拉的声音，一点不错。 裘德回答是。 “是她吧？”苏在门边问，张着嘴。 “是她，亲爱的。”裘德说。“你要干什么，阿拉贝拉？”他不客气地问她。 “裘德，我来打搅你，实在对不起。”阿拉贝拉低声下气说。“我先来过了——我今天晚上特别得见你一下，要是行的话。我现在挺伤脑筋，没人帮我！” “伤脑筋，你伤脑筋？” “是啊。” 接着沉默了一下。裘德一听她诉苦，不由得心里涌起了可说是不合时宜的同情。“可是你不是结了婚吗？”他说。 阿拉贝拉犹豫了一下。“没有，裘德，我没结婚。”她回答。“怎么说呢，他后来不干啦。这一来我困难极了。我希望过一阵子找个女招待当当，可这得等啊。我再没料到澳洲那边把个挑子撂在我身上，我实在太苦恼啦；要不然我就不来麻烦你了——请你相信我并不想麻烦你。我想跟你说说这件事。” 苏在痛苦的紧张中两只眼睛愣愣的，她每个字都听见了，可是什么也没说。 “那你不是缺钱用吧，阿拉贝拉！”他问，口气明显缓和下来。 “我手里钱够我今儿晚上付住宿费，回去的钱就紧了。” “那你家在什么地方？” “还是伦敦，”她本要把住址告诉他，可是她说，“我现在怕别人听见，所以不想大声讲自个儿的详细情形。你要是肯下来，跟我往王子饭店那边走一小段路。我就给你说清楚，我就在那边住。看在老交情分儿上，这总可以吧？” “可怜的东西！我看我得发点善心，听她说说怎么回事。”裘德说，实在拿不定主意。“反正她明天就回去，听听也无所谓。” “不过你明天还是可以见她嘛，裘德！现在别去，裘德！”过道里发出央求的声音。“哦，这明明是叫你上钩，我看得出来，她从前就这么干过！别去，千万别去，亲爱的！她是个下三滥，我一看她块头，一听她嗓音，就知道是什么东西啦。” “不过我还是要去。”裘德说。“别拦我吧，苏，上帝也知道，我现在根本不爱她，可是我也不愿意对她狠。”他转身下楼。 “可她不是你妻子呀！”苏气急败坏地叫出来。“我——” “你也不是我妻子，亲爱的，到这会儿也不是！”裘德说。 “哦，你一定要去？不行！呆在家里头！就求你呆在家里头吧，裘德！反正这会儿她不是，我也不是，你就别去好吧！” “唉，要是这么说，她跟你比，还有几分算我的妻子呢。”他说，果断地把帽子一拿。“我一直求你做我的妻子，我一直像约伯一样耐心等得个没完没了，不管我怎么克制自己，到头来还是一场空。我一定得听听她为什么事这么着急，要跟我说；我得多多少少对得起她，但凡是个男子汉都这样！” 她从他态度上看出来再反对也没用，也就没再说什么，不过在她像殉教者那样沉住气回屋子的时候，还是注意听着他下搂，拉开门闩，然后又关上门。她也跟别的女人跟前没人一样，不管什么身份面子不身份面子，紧跟着奔下楼，边走还边哭出声。她注意听。她不知道阿拉贝拉提到名字的那个旅店究竟高这儿多远，根据平常走路快慢毛估一下，大概一去要走七分钟，回来再走七分钟。要是他十四分钟之后还没回来，那他就是在那儿耽误住了。她瞧瞧钟，差二十五分到十一点。他跟阿拉贝拉到旅店时候，大门还没关；他可能跟她一块儿进去；她可能拉他一块儿喝酒，天晓得他要遭什么殃啊。 她屏息静气、提心吊胆地等着。她算的那段时间似乎刚要完，门就开了，裘德走进来。 她乐得一下子叫出来了。“哦，我就知道你守信用——你真好！”——她开始说。 “街上哪儿也找不到她，我出去时候穿着拖鞋。她已经走远了，心里一定想我心多狠，根本不理她要求，可怜的女人！我回来是换靴子，已经下雨啦。” “哦，那女人待你那么坏，你干吗还替她操心！”苏说，因为醋意不禁流露出失望。 “不过，她是个女人哪，苏，先前我也对她不错；她到了这地步，人总不能铁石心肠吧。” “她现在不是你妻子啦！”她大喊大叫，情绪异常激动。“不许你出去找她！你这样不对！你不能凑到她一块儿。现在她跟你是路人。你怎么连这点简单道理都忘啦，亲爱的，亲爱的！” “她这会儿样子跟从前还没什么两样——总还是个同类，无非老是出错儿，随随便便，不动脑筋。”他说，继续穿靴子。“伦敦那些吃法律饭的家伙，不管玩了什么把戏，反正对我跟她的真正关系没影响。如果说她在澳洲跟那个男的一块儿的时候，她还是我的妻子，那她这会儿不还是我的妻子嘛。” “可是她已经不是啦！这是我绝对的看法，你可真荒谬啊——好吧，你去几分钟，别耽误，就回来，行不行，亲爱的？裘德，她这人太下作，太粗俗，你用不着跟她多说，她变不了！” “大概我也一样粗俗，那就更糟啦！凡是人天生来的意志薄弱，优柔寡断，我是样样齐全，这我也是一点不怀疑，所以我一想到我要是个牧师的话，那真是驴唇不对马嘴啊。我算是把酗酒戒掉了，可是我完全不知道我身上一时压下去的坏毛病会用个什么形式再犯起来。苏啊，我是真爱你的呀，虽说我对你缠绵了这么久，至今还是一无所获。我这人心里最优美最高尚的成分都集中在对你的爱情上，你摆脱了一切粗俗，一两年前就把我也提高了，使我能做到在我自己或别人做梦也没想到能做到的事。口口声声说什么自我克制，说什么强逼女人怎么卑鄙，这当然好得很，好极啦。可是那几位正人君子，他们过去为阿拉贝拉跟别的事鄙视我，我倒真想看看他们也跟我这样试这么多个礼拜，白守着你，望梅止渴，画饼充饥，是个什么滋味！——我想，咱们住在一个房子里，中间没别的活人，我自始至终对你的愿望步步退让，唯命是从，他们总该承认这多少得有点克己功夫吧。” “是啊，你一直对我很好，裘德；我怎么会不知道呢，我的亲爱的保护人。” “好啦，阿拉贝拉恳求我帮忙，至少我得去跟她谈谈哪，苏！” “我不好再说什么啦！——要是你非去不可，你就去吧！”她说，突然抽抽噎噎哭起来，仿佛芳心欲碎。“我只有你好指望啦，裘德呀，你要把我甩啦！我以前不知道你是这么回事——我受不了啦。受不了啦！她要真是你的人，那就两样了。” “你要是我的人，不也就两样吗？” “那太好啦——要是我非做你妻子不可，我就做吧。既然你一定要这样，我答应啦，我说到做到！可是我本来没这个意思，再说我也不想再结婚哪！……好，好，我答应啦，我答应啦！我是真心爱你。我本来就知道你早晚会得手，按现在说的这样过。” 她跑过去，两只胳臂把他脖子搂住。“我把你推得老远的，是不是因为我是个天生冷、没性感的女人？我敢说你没这么想！你等着瞧吧！我这就算你的人啦，对不对？我投降啦！” “明天我就准备咱们的婚事吧，反正按你的意见，什么时候都可以。” “好吧，裘德。” “那我就不管她啦。”他一边说，一边温柔地搂着她。“我心里也真想，我去看她，对你自然说不过去，对她大概也说不过去。我的亲亲，她跟你不一样，永远也不一样——说这话实在是因为不想委屈你。别哭啦。这边，这边，再这边！”他吻了她一边脸，又吻了另一边脸，还吻了脸中间，然后把前门又闩上了。 第二天早晨下雨。 “现在，亲爱的，”裘德吃早饭时乐滋滋地说，“今天正好礼拜六，我想立刻去办结婚启事，这样明天第一份印好就可以发了，要不然就得耽误一个礼拜。用启事行吗？咱们可以省一两镑呢。” 她心不在焉地同意出启事。其实她这会儿心里正转悠着别的事。她脸上没了光彩，沮丧的样子。 “我觉着昨晚上我那么自私自利，太可鄙啦。”她咕哝着。“我那样待阿拉贝拉说明我这人刻薄寡恩，也许还更坏呢。她处境那么困难，我一点不往心里去！她多么希望跟你讲讲啊！也许她真有正经事非跟你说不可呢。这一来更显得我这人坏啦！谁要是爱情一碰上情敌，就变得心狠手辣——别人不这样，至少我这样……我不知道她后来怎么办？我但愿她到客栈没出一点事，可怜的女人。” “哦，是这样，她不会出事。”裘德心无所动地说。 “我希望她没给关在客栈外头，也没下着雨在街上瞎转。我想穿上雨衣去看看她在不在客栈里头，你看行吧？这早上我心里老缠着她的事。” “呃——有这必要吗？你根本不知道阿拉贝拉素来有看风转舵的本事呢。不过，亲亲，要是你想去了解了解，也无妨。” 苏只要一后悔，就会真心实意做出来希奇古怪而又多此一举的忏悔行动，什么也不顾。因而她不惜看望各种各样的怪人，这是她一贯的本能，至于她跟这类人打交道，要在别人是避之唯恐不及呢。所以她提出这个要求，他并不诧异。 “你一回来，”他又说，“我打算就去办结婚启事。你跟我一块儿去好吗？” 她答应了，让裘德吻了吻，还用她以前没用过的方式回吻了他，于是套好雨披，拿上雨伞，就出门了。时代彻底改变了。“小鸟还是让人逮住啦！”她说，笑中含有一丝悲哀。 “不是逮住——是进了窝啦。”他叫她放心。 她顺着泥泞的街道走到阿拉贝拉说的那家客栈，其实离得并不怎么远。店里人告诉她阿拉贝拉还没走，她拿不定主意到底该用什么名义向裘德当年挚爱的前夫人通报，好让她知道她是谁，后来就说是住在清泉街的一位朋友来看望她，这是裘德住家的街名。店里人请她上楼，让她进了个房间，原来是阿拉贝拉的卧室，她还没起床。她停住脚步，往后一转，想出去，只听得阿拉贝拉在床上大声说，“进来吧，把门关上。”苏就照她说的办了。 阿拉贝拉一榻横陈，对着窗户，并没立刻回过头来。苏先前固然后悔过自己不对，可还是蛮刻毒的，一刹那恨不得裘德能亲眼看看她的捷足先登者在大天白日充分暴露。她侧着的身姿若是在灯光下或许还蛮动人吧，可是这早上她却是皱皱巴巴，邋里邋遢，不堪人目。而苏在镜子里反观自己是多么明丽鲜妍，显得楚楚动人。但是她一转念，觉着自己是在性上动了情，未免下流，就恨起自己来了。 “我是特意来看看你昨晚上回来顺当不顺当，没别的意思。”她和蔼地说。“你走以后，我不放心，怕你碰上什么麻烦。” “哦——我真够糊涂！我还当来的是——你的朋友——你的先生——福来太太，我想你该这么称呼吧？”阿拉贝拉说，大失所望，又把脑袋撂到枕头上，她刚费心挤出来的酒涡，也没心思保持下去了。 “还不好这么称呼。”苏说。 “就算他还没实实在在算你的人，我看也可以这么称呼嘛。不论什么时候，大面上讲得过去才行哪。” “我不懂你的话。”苏怪不自在地说。“要是你想明白，那我就告诉你，他是我的人！” “他昨儿可不是。” 苏脸刷地红了，就说，“你怎么知道？” “我一瞧你站在门口跟我说话那个劲儿，就知道喽。好啦，亲爱的，你倒是快事快办，我倒想昨晚上我这一去帮了你一大把呢——哈哈！我可是没想把他从你手里夺走啊。” 苏瞧了瞧外面的雨，又瞧了瞧梳妆台上盖的脏布和阿拉贝拉挂在镜子上的散开的假发——样子跟当年她跟裘德时候没两样。苏这会儿但愿没来这趟才好呢。在这停了停没说话的当口，有人敲了敲门，女服务员给‘卡特莱太太”送电报来了。 阿拉贝拉躺着打开了电报，她脸上又急又张惶的样子一下子消失了。 “你这么替我着急，我真得谢谢你。”女服务员走了，她和和气气地说。“不过你也犯不着那么想。我那口子总算明白过来了，知道他要是没我，什么也办不了，答应他一定说了算数，既然他把我逼到这地方，就跟我在这地方再结回婚。你瞧瞧！这就是他给我的答复。”她把电报递给苏看，但是苏没接。“他要我回去。他说，要是没我，他那兰贝斯街角上的小小酒馆就得散了架。英国法律一把我们俩拴在一块儿，跟以前就两样啦，他休想黄汤子往肚子里一灌，就拿我解闷喽！……拿你的事儿说吧，要是我替你想，我就连哄带骗，叫裘德马不停蹄把我带到牧师那儿，一下子全了结了。我够个朋友，才说这话，亲爱的。” “他正等着办呢，随便哪一天。”苏回了一句，既生硬又高傲。 “那就求老天爷，叫他快办吧。结了婚，再跟男人过，就得丁是丁，卯是卯；有了钱，什么都好办。那时候，你可要记住，要是你们打架，他把你往外赶，你可以用法律保护自个儿，你还只能这么办；除非他拿刀子把你捅了，要么一火钳把你脑袋瓜儿砸烂了。要是他把你甩了，一走了之——我说这话是为你好，咱们女的跟女的什么都好说，因为谁也不知道男的干出来什么——那你就把家具全揽到手，别人也不好说你是贼。我要跟我那口子再来次结婚，这会儿他是心甘情愿，因为头一回婚礼出了点小岔子。我昨晚上发了电报，告诉他我已经跟裘德差不多讲和啦，他这个电报就是为这个来的；我猜，这下子他吓坏了！要不是你挡在前头，我一下子还真能得手呢，”她笑嘻嘻地说：“那一来，从今儿起，咱们俩历史就大不一样喽！女人要是有困难，去找裘德，好歹一哀求，再没像他那样软心肠的傻瓜啦！他以前对鸟什么的也这样。话说回来，事情到了这地步，我同他再好了也没意思啦，我也不计较你啦。我还要跟你讲讲，我劝你早早把事情按法律办了。你要不这样，往后要夜长梦多，麻烦多着呢。” “我跟你说了，他现在要我跟他结婚——把我们自然形成的婚姻变成依据法律的婚姻。”苏说，态度更庄重了。“这完全因为我刚有自由，我不希望结婚，他才没急着办。” “哟——你跟我一样，也是由自个儿做主呀！”阿拉贝拉说，带着一副又取笑又批评的神气瞟着她。“也跟我一样，从你头一个那儿跑出来的，对不对？” “再见，我得走啦。”苏赶忙说。 “我也该起来开路啦！”另一个说，陡地从床上蹦下来，连身上那柔软的部分也颤起来了。苏没防这一手，吓得往旁边一跳。“天哪！我就是个女人哪——又不是个六英尺的丘八大爷！……等等，亲爱的。”她继续说，把手放在苏胳臂上。“我的的确确有正事要跟裘德商量，我跟他说过了。我这回来就是为这件事。他能不能赶到车站来跟我谈谈？怎么，你不想？也好，我就写信告诉他。我本不想写信——不过这也没什么关系，就写吧。” Part 5 Chapter 3 WHEN Sue reached home Jude was awaiting her at the door to take the initial step towards their marriage. She clasped his arm, and they went along silently together, as true comrades oft-times do. He saw that she was preoccupied, and forbore to question her. "Oh Jude--I've been talking to her," she said at last. "I wish I hadn't! And yet it is best to be reminded of things." "I hope she was civil." "Yes. I--I can't help liking her--just a little bit! She's not an ungenerous nature; and I am so glad her difficulties have all suddenly ended." She explained how Arabella had been summoned back, and would be enabled to retrieve her position. "I was referring to our old question. What Arabella has been saying to me has made me feel more than ever how hopelessly vulgar an institution legal marriage is-- a sort of trap to catch a man--I can't bear to think of it. I wish I hadn't promised to let you put up the banns this morning!" "Oh, don't mind me. Any time will do for me. I thought you might like to get it over quickly, now." "Indeed, I don't feel any more anxious now than I did before. Perhaps with any other man I might be a little anxious; but among the very few virtues possessed by your family and mine, dear, I think I may set staunchness. So I am not a bit frightened about losing you, now I really am yours and you really are mine. In fact, I am easier in my mind than I was, for my conscience is clear about Richard, who now has a right to his freedom. I felt we were deceiving him before." "Sue, you seem when you are like this to be one of the women of some grand old civilization, whom I used to read about in my bygone, wasted, classical days, rather than a denizen of a mere Christian country. I almost expect you to say at these times that you have just been talking to some friend whom you met in the Via Sacra, about the latest news of Octavia or Livia; or have been listening to Aspasia's eloquence, or have been watching Praxiteles chiselling away at his latest Venus, while Phryne made complaint that she was tired of posing." They had now reached the house of the parish clerk. Sue stood back, while her lover went up to the door. His hand was raised to knock when she said: "Jude!" He looked round. "Wait a minute, would you mind?" He came back to her. "Just let us think," she said timidly. "I had such a horrid dream one night! ... And Arabella----" "What did Arabella say to you?" he asked "Oh, she said that when people were tied up you could get the law of a man better if he beat you--and how when couples quarrelled.... Jude, do you think that when you must have me with you by law, we shall be so happy as we are now? The men and women of our family are very generous when everything depends upon their goodwill, but they always kick against compulsion. Don't you dread the attitude that insensibly arises out of legal obligation? Don't you think it is destructive to a passion whose essence is its gratuitousness?" "Upon my word, love, you are beginning to frighten me, too, with all this foreboding! Well, let's go back and think it over." Her face brightened. "Yes--so we will!" said she. And they turned from the clerk's door, Sue taking his arm and murmuring as they walked on homeward: Can you keep the bee from ranging, Or the ring-dove s neck from changing? No! Nor fetter'd love ... They thought it over, or postponed thinking. Certainly they postponed action, and seemed to live on in a dreamy paradise. At the end of a fortnight or three weeks matters remained unadvanced, and no banns were announced to the ears of any Aldbrickham congregation. Whilst they were postponing and postponing thus a letter and a newspaper arrived before breakfast one morning from Arabella. Seeing the handwriting Jude went up to Sue's room and told her, and as soon as she was dressed she hastened down. Sue opened the newspaper; Jude the letter. After glancing at the paper she held across the first page to him with her finger on a paragraph; but he was so absorbed in his letter that he did not turn awhile. "Look!" said she. He looked and read. The paper was one that circulated in South London only, and the marked advertisement was simply the announcement of a marriage at St. John's Church, Waterloo Road, under the names, "CARTLETT--DONN"; the united pair being Arabella and the inn-keeper. "Well, it is satisfactory," said Sue complacently. "Though, after this, it seems rather low to do likewise, and I am glad. However, she is provided for now in a way, I suppose, whatever her faults, poor thing. It is nicer that we are able to think that, than to be uneasy about her. I ought, too, to write to Richard and ask him how he is getting on, perhaps?" But Jude's attention was still absorbed. Having merely glanced at the announcement he said in a disturbed voice: "Listen to this letter. What shall I say or do?" THE THREE HORNS, LAMBETH. DEAR JUDE (I won't be so distant as to call you Mr. Fawley),-- I send to-day a newspaper, from which useful document you will learn that I was married over again to Cartlett last Tuesday. So that business is settled right and tight at last. But what I write about more particular is that private affair I wanted to speak to you on when I came down to Aldbrickham. I couldn't very well tell it to your lady friend, and should much have liked to let you know it by word of mouth, as I could have explained better than by letter. The fact is, Jude, that, though I have never informed you before, there was a boy born of our marriage, eight months after I left you, when I was at Sydney, living with my father and mother. All that is easily provable. As I had separated from you before I thought such a thing was going to happen, and I was over there, and our quarrel had been sharp, I did not think it convenient to write about the birth. I was then looking out for a good situation, so my parents took the child, and he has been with them ever since. That was why I did not mention it when I met you in Christminster, nor at the law proceedings. He is now of an intelligent age, of course, and my mother and father have lately written to say that, as they have rather a hard struggle over there, and I am settled comfortably here, they don't see why they should be encumbered with the child any longer, his parents being alive. I would have him with me here in a moment, but he is not old enough to be of any use in the bar nor will be for years and years, and naturally Cartlett might think him in the way. They have, however, packed him off to me in charge of some friends who happened to be coming home, and I must ask you to take him when he arrives, for I don't know what to do with him. He is lawfully yours, that I solemnly swear. If anybody says he isn't, call them brimstone liars, for my sake. Whatever I may have done before or afterwards, I was honest to you from the time we were married till I went away, and I remain, yours, &c., ARABELLA CARTLETT. Sue's look was one of dismay. "What will you do, dear?" she asked faintly. Jude did not reply, and Sue watched him anxiously, with heavy breaths. "It hits me hard!" said he in an under-voice. "It MAY be true! I can't make it out. Certainly, if his birth was exactly when she says, he's mine. I cannot think why she didn't tell me when I met her at Christminster, and came on here that evening with her! ... Ah-- I do remember now that she said something about having a thing on her mind that she would like me to know, if ever we lived together again." "The poor child seems to be wanted by nobody!" Sue replied, and her eyes filled. Jude had by this time come to himself. "What a view of life he must have, mine or not mine!" he said. "I must say that, if I were better off, I should not stop for a moment to think whose he might be. I would take him and bring him up. The beggarly question of parentage--what is it, after all? What does it matter, when you come to think of it, whether a child is yours by blood or not? All the little ones of our time are collectively the children of us adults of the time, and entitled to our general care. That excessive regard of parents for their own children, and their dislike of other people's, is, like class-feeling, patriotism, save-your-own-soul-ism, and other virtues, a mean exclusiveness at bottom." Sue jumped up and kissed Jude with passionate devotion. "Yes--so it is, dearest! And we'll have him here! And if he isn't yours it makes it all the better. I do hope he isn't--though perhaps I ought not to feel quite that! If he isn't, I should like so much for us to have him as an adopted child!" "Well, you must assume about him what is most pleasing to you, my curious little comrade!" he said. "I feel that, anyhow, I don't like to leave the unfortunate little fellow to neglect. Just think of his life in a Lambeth pothouse, and all its evil influences, with a parent who doesn't want him, and has, indeed, hardly seen him, and a stepfather who doesn't know him. 'Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said, There is a man child conceived!' That's what the boy--my boy, perhaps, will find himself saying before long!" "Oh no!" "As I was the petitioner, I am really entitled to his custody, I suppose." "Whether or no, we must have him. I see that. I'll do the best I can to be a mother to him, and we can afford to keep him somehow. I'll work harder. I wonder when he'll arrive?" "In the course of a few weeks, I suppose." "I wish--When shall we have courage to marry, Jude?" "Whenever you have it, I think I shall. It remains with you entirely, dear. Only say the word, and it's done." "Before the boy comes?" "Certainly." "It would make a more natural home for him, perhaps," she murmured. Jude thereupon wrote in purely formal terms to request that the boy should be sent on to them as soon as he arrived, making no remark whatever on the surprising nature of Arabella's information, nor vouchsafing a single word of opinion on the boy's paternity, nor on whether, had he known all this, his conduct towards her would have been quite the same. In the down-train that was timed to reach Aldbrickham station about ten o'clock the next evening, a small, pale child's face could be seen in the gloom of a third-class carriage. He had large, frightened eyes, and wore a white woollen cravat, over which a key was suspended round his neck by a piece of common string: the key attracting attention by its occasional shine in the lamplight. In the band of his hat his half-ticket was stuck. His eyes remained mostly fixed on the back of the seat opposite, and never turned to the window even when a station was reached and called. On the other seat were two or three passengers, one of them a working woman who held a basket on her lap, in which was a tabby kitten. The woman opened the cover now and then, whereupon the kitten would put out its head, and indulge in playful antics. At these the fellow-passengers laughed, except the solitary boy bearing the key and ticket, who, regarding the kitten with his saucer eyes, seemed mutely to say: "All laughing comes from misapprehension. Rightly looked at there is no laughable thing under the sun." Occasionally at a stoppage the guard would look into the compartment and say to the boy, "All right, my man. Your box is safe in the van." The boy would say, "Yes," without animation, would try to smile, and fail. He was Age masquerading as Juvenility, and doing it so badly that his real self showed through crevices. A ground-swell from ancient years of night seemed now and then to lift the child in this his morning-life, when his face took a back view over some great Atlantic of Time, and appeared not to care about what it saw. When the other travellers closed their eyes, which they did one by one-- even the kitten curling itself up in the basket, weary of its too circumscribed play--the boy remained just as before. He then seemed to be doubly awake, like an enslaved and dwarfed divinity, sitting passive and regarding his companions as if he saw their whole rounded lives rather than their immediate figures. This was Arabella's boy. With her usual carelessness she had postponed writing to Jude about him till the eve of his landing, when she could absolutely postpone no longer, though she had known for weeks of his approaching arrival, and had, as she truly said, visited Aldbrickham mainly to reveal the boy's existence and his near home-coming to Jude. This very day on which she had received her former husband's answer at some time in the afternoon, the child reached the London Docks, and the family in whose charge he had come, having put him into a cab for Lambeth and directed the cabman to his mother's house, bade him good-bye, and went their way. On his arrival at the Three Horns, Arabella had looked him over with an expression that was as good as saying, "You are very much what I expected you to be," had given him a good meal, a little money, and, late as it was getting, dispatched him to Jude by the next train, wishing her husband Cartlett, who was out, not to see him. The train reached Aldbrickham, and the boy was deposited on the lonely platform beside his box. The collector took his ticket and, with a meditative sense of the unfitness of things, asked him where he was going by himself at that time of night. "Going to Spring Street," said the little one impassively. "Why, that's a long way from here; a'most out in the country; and the folks will be gone to bed." "I've got to go there." "You must have a fly for your box." "No. I must walk." "Oh well: you'd better leave your box here and send for it. There's a 'bus goes half-way, but you'll have to walk the rest." "I am not afraid." "Why didn't your friends come to meet 'ee?" "I suppose they didn't know I was coming." "Who is your friends?" "Mother didn't wish me to say." "All I can do, then, is to take charge of this. Now walk as fast as you can." Saying nothing further the boy came out into the street, looking round to see that nobody followed or observed him. When he had walked some little distance he asked for the street of his destination. He was told to go straight on quite into the outskirts of the place. The child fell into a steady mechanical creep which had in it an impersonal quality--the movement of the wave, or of the breeze, or of the cloud. He followed his directions literally, without an inquiring gaze at anything. It could have been seen that the boy's ideas of life were different from those of the local boys. Children begin with detail, and learn up to the general; they begin with the contiguous, and gradually comprehend the universal. The boy seemed to have begun with the generals of life, and never to have concerned himself with the particulars. To him the houses, the willows, the obscure fields beyond, were apparently regarded not as brick residences, pollards, meadows; but as human dwellings in the abstract, vegetation, and the wide dark world. He found the way to the little lane, and knocked at the door of Jude's house. Jude had just retired to bed, and Sue was about to enter her chamber adjoining when she heard the knock and came down. "Is this where Father lives?" asked the child. "Who?" "Mr. Fawley, that's his name." Sue ran up to Jude's room and told him, and he hurried down as soon as he could, though to her impatience he seemed long. "What--is it he--so soon?" she asked as Jude came. She scrutinized the child's features, and suddenly went away into the little sitting-room adjoining. Jude lifted the boy to a level with himself, keenly regarded him with gloomy tenderness, and telling him he would have been met if they had known of his coming so soon, set him provisionally in a chair whilst he went to look for Sue, whose supersensitiveness was disturbed, as he knew. He found her in the dark, bending over an arm-chair. He enclosed her with his arm, and putting his face by hers, whispered, "What's the matter?" "What Arabella says is true--true! I see you in him!" "Well: that's one thing in my life as it should be, at any rate." "But the other half of him is--SHE! And that's what I can't bear! But I ought to--I'll try to get used to it; yes, I ought!" "Jealous little Sue! I withdraw all remarks about your sexlessness. Never mind! Time may right things.... And Sue, darling; I have an idea! We'll educate and train him with a view to the university. What I couldn't accomplish in my own person perhaps I can carry out through him? They are making it easier for poor students now, you know." "Oh you dreamer!" said she, and holding his hand returned to the child with him. The boy looked at her as she had looked at him. "Is it you who's my REAL mother at last?" he inquired. "Why? Do I look like your father's wife?" "Well, yes; 'cept he seems fond of you, and you of him. Can I call you Mother?" Then a yearning look came over the child and he began to cry. Sue thereupon could not refrain from instantly doing likewise, being a harp which the least wind of emotion from another's heart could make to vibrate as readily as a radical stir in her own. "You may call me Mother, if you wish to, my poor dear!" she said, bending her cheek against his to hide her tears. "What's this round your neck?" asked Jude with affected calmness. "The key of my box that's at the station." They bustled about and got him some supper, and made him up a temporary bed, where he soon fell asleep. Both went and looked at him as he lay. "He called you Mother two or three times before he dropped off," murmured Jude. "Wasn't it odd that he should have wanted to!" "Well--it was significant," said Sue. "There's more for us to think about in that one little hungry heart than in all the stars of the sky.... I suppose, dear, we must pluck up courage, and get that ceremony over? It is no use struggling against the current, and I feel myself getting intertwined with my kind. Oh Jude, you'll love me dearly, won't you, afterwards! I do want to be kind to this child, and to be a mother to him; and our adding the legal form to our marriage might make it easier for me." 她到家时候，裘德正在门口等她去办结婚的头道手续。她抓紧了他的胳臂，一路走着，默默无语，凡属真正同心相契都是这样。他看出来她有心事，忍住了没问她。 “哦，裘德——我跟她谈过了。”她终于开口了。“我真后悔跟她谈啊！话说回来，这倒也不错，因为她提醒了我不少事。” “我希望她对你客客气气的。” “她倒是客客气气。——我可没法不喜欢她，还真有点喜欢哪！她还不能算尖酸刻薄；想不到她的困难一下子全解决了，我倒替她高兴。”她接着说阿拉贝拉的男人已经电召她回家，这样她就恢复原来的地位了。“我刚才要提的，是咱们俩的老问题。阿拉贝拉跟我说的那一套更叫我对合法婚姻这个制度觉得恶心到无以复加了 ——这是个专为把男人弄上手的圈套，我一想到它真要吐出来。我真后悔答应你今儿早上去公布结婚启事。” “哎，你别管我好啦。我什么时候都行。我还当你这会儿要急着把它办完哪。” “说实在的，我这会儿一点也不比从前急。这事要是跟别的男人，我大概有点急吧；按咱们两家人来说，固然说不上好品德，亲爱的，可是其中有一点，我看我拿得稳，那就是忠贞不二，所以我心里一点也不怕把你给丢了，现在我实实在在是你的人了，你也实实在在是我的人了。实际上，我这会儿比以前心里更踏实了，因为我对里查无愧于心啦，他这会儿也有行动自由的权利了。我从前老觉着咱们欺骗他。” “苏啊，每逢你说这样的话，你哪是个纯粹基督教国家的信徒，倒真是位由什么古老灿烂的文明陶冶出来的女性，这样的女人，我从前钻研经典、一事无成的那段时间，时常在书里见到。一到这样的时候，我就简直等着你说出来，你刚刚跟一位在圣路碰见的朋友，一直议论着屋大维亚或利维亚的消息；要么就是一直听阿斯帕夏的雄辩，或是观赏普拉克希泰勒斯在凿刻最新的维纳斯像，而芙利尼却抱怨她当模特，摆姿势都腻啦。” 说着说着他们已经到了教区办事员的住宅。她的情人朝门口走去，她退后一步站住。他刚抬手要敲门，苏说：“裘德！” 他转过身来看。 “等一下，行吗？” 他回到她身边。 “咱们再考虑考虑吧。”她畏怯地说。“有个晚上我做了那么个噩梦！……再说阿拉贝拉——” “阿拉贝拉跟你说了什么呀？” “哦，她说人要是结了婚，给绑到一块儿，男人揍你的话，你就好用法律治他——两个人吵起架来，该怎么办就怎么办……裘德，你想过没有，你要是一定靠法律得到我，那咱们以后还会不会跟这会儿一样快乐呢？咱们家的男男女女，要是干什么都凭他们高兴，对人也还度量大，可谁要是硬逼他们干，他们是决不买账。一有法律规定的义务就变得蛮不讲理的那种态度，难道你就不惧怕吗？爱的激情的真谛在于奉献，难道你没想到那种态度会把它扼杀吗？” “哎呀，亲爱的，你说得前途这么危险，叫我也心惊肉跳啦！好吧，咱们就回去再考虑考虑。” 她脸上一下子开朗了。“是呀——咱们真得考虑考虑！”她说。他们离开办事员家门口，往家走的路上，苏一手挽着他胳臂，一边嘴里哼哼着： 你能叫蜜蜂不花丛盘旋， 或者叫斑鸠颈上不色彩斑烂？ 你没法办！你也没法叫不自由的爱情…… 他们考虑了，不如说暂时撂开了。他们确实把结婚行动推迟下去，似乎继续在梦中乐园中生活着。又过了两三个礼拜，事情仍然毫无进展。奥尔布里肯教堂的会众没一回听见过宣布他们的结婚启事。 正当他们一再推延，有一天早饭前，阿拉贝拉的一封信和一份报纸寄到了。裘德一看笔迹，就上楼到苏的房间告诉她，她穿好衣服就跑下来了。她打开报纸，裘德拆开信。她看了一眼报，就递给他，还指着上面一段；但是裘德正聚精会神看信，没立刻转过头来看。 “瞧哇！”她说。 他把那段看了。这份报纸只在伦敦南区流通，上面有条广告打了记号，是滑铁卢路圣约翰教堂一则简短结婚通告，当事人名字是‘卡特莱一邓恩”；阿拉贝拉同酒馆老板结为夫妻。 “好啦，总算天从人愿啦。”苏开心样儿说。“不过他们办了以后，咱们再接着办，未免透着下一等啦，可我还是高兴——不管怎么着，别说她有什么过错，我看她这会儿总算有个靠山了。咱们现在能替她这么想，总比替她担心好多了。也许我该写封信问问里查他现在生活怎么样，是吧？” 但是裘德的注意力还是集中在信上。他把公告看了一眼之后就心烦意乱地说：“你听听这封信怎么说吧。这可叫我怎么说、怎么办呢？” 亲爱的裘德（称你为福来先生显得生分，我不想这样），我今天给你寄去一份报，你看了那个有效力的文件，就知道我上礼拜二又跟卡特莱结了婚。事情最后算办得干净利落，叫人称心。不过我这信特别要详细写一件个人私事，这我本来上回到奥尔布里肯时候就想告诉你的。当时我也不好跟你的女朋友说。再说我总想亲口跟你说，要比写信强得多。裘德，有件事我以前一直没跟你提过，咱们结婚以后我生过一个孩子，是在我离开你八个月之后，跟我父母住在悉尼时候生的，这很容易证明。我还没想到会有这样的事，就跟你散了，到了异乡，再说咱们又吵得厉害，我当时想写信给你说生孩子的事不合适。我正忙着找个好差使，孩子就由我父母带了，他一直跟他们在一块儿。我在基督堂碰见你，没提这事，就是这个道理，打离婚官司也没提。他现在到了懂事的年纪了，我父母最近来信说，他们在那地方的日子挺艰难，我已经在这地方安居乐业了，他们认为既然他父母都在，他们就不想再让这孩子拖累了。我本该留他在这儿跟我呆一阵子，不过他太小，在酒吧没用，再过多少年也还是用不上，卡特莱自然嫌他碍事。可是他们有几个朋友正好回乡，就托他们把他顺路带到我这儿来，所以我只好求你在他到了之后收留他，因为我实在拿他没法办。按法律他是你的孩子，这我可以正正经经起誓。要是有人说他不是你的，你替我骂他下地狱割舌头。不管我从前、以后怎么样，从结婚到我走这一段，反正我没做什么见不起人的事，我至今还是你的 阿拉贝拉•卡特莱 于兰贝斯三觞斋 苏听了大惊失色。‘你怎么办哪，亲爱的？”她有气无力地问。 裘德没回答，苏焦急地盯着他，喘粗气。 “这一手可真够厉害！”他说，声音很低。“这件事大概不假！我现在也没法弄明白。要是他生下来的日子真跟她说的一样，那就毫无疑问是我的孩子了。我弄不通她干吗在基督堂碰到我时候没说，那晚上到这儿来也不说！……啊——我想起来啦，当时她说了，要是我跟她还有机会凑在一块儿，她就想把心里存的事跟我说说。” “这孩子大概谁也不要啦！”苏说，泪汪汪的。 裘德这时恢复了镇静。“是我的也好，不是我的也好，这孩子以后对人世该怎么想哪！”他说。 “我一定要说，只要我日子过得还宽裕，我才不问他究竟是谁的孩子呢。我要带他，把他抚养成人。至于说追问他老子娘是谁，那才卑鄙呢，管它干什么？要是你认真想想，一个孩子究竟是不是你的血统，又有多大意思？咱们这个时代所有的孩子，整个来说都是这个时代咱们所有大人的孩子，都要咱们来共同照看。父母溺爱自个儿的孩子，还厌弃别的孩子，这就跟阶级感情、爱国心和灵魂自救说，还有别的德性，骨子里都是排斥异己，惟我独尊的下贱思想。” 苏一下子跳起来，怀着满腔的敬佩之忧，热烈地吻他，“对，对——一点不错，最亲爱的！咱们要把他接来，要是他不是你的孩子就更好。我真希望他不是呢——当然我这么想不大应该！他要是真不是，我非常愿意咱们收留他，认他做干儿子。” “好啦，你想怎么办就怎么办，反正你高兴就行，我的与众不同的小同志！”他说。“我就是想着，无论如何，也不愿意让这个不幸的孩子丢下没人管。你想想看吧，他在那个兰贝斯酒馆跟着一个不想要他的妈，实际上他以前就没见过的妈，还有个根本不认他的后爹，他在那儿过的是什么日子，该受什么恶劣的影响？‘愿我生的那日和说我怀了男胎的那夜都火没！’这就是这孩子——我这孩子，用不着多久就要说的话啊！” “哦，不，不，他不会这样说！” “我既然当初是离婚原告，我想我完全有权要求对他监护。” “不管有没有监护权，咱们一定得把他收下来。我看就这么办。我一定尽力而为，配当他妈，咱们总还养得起他。我要多干活儿。我在想他倒是什么时候来呀？” “我看就几个礼拜的事吧。” “希望如此——裘德，咱们什么时候有勇气结婚哪？” “你什么时候有勇气，我看我就有。这全看你，亲爱的。只要你一开口，一切就万事大吉。” “在孩子到以前办？” “当然喽！” “也许这么一来，孩子觉着真是到了家里啦。”她嘟囔着。 裘德当下写了封信，纯属官样文章，信中要求孩子一抵达英国，务必立即送交他们，对于阿拉贝拉那个惊人消息，不置一词；对孩子的父亲方面的亲缘，不表意见；至于他若老早知有此事，对她的态度有无变化，更是只字不提。 第二天晚上，预定十点钟左右到达奥尔布里肯车站的下行列车的一个昏暗的三等车箱里，坐着个瘦小苍白的小孩子。他的两只大眼睛透着惊恐不安，脖子上围着白羊毛围巾，用根普通细绳子系着一把钥匙，就挂在围巾上头，灯光偶然照得钥匙闪亮，引人注意。他的半票掖在帽箍里头。他两眼盯住对面座位的靠背几乎一动没动，即便火车到了一个站头，乘务员报站名，他也始终不转过来对车窗那边看。另外一个座位上坐着三两个旅客，其中一个是个做工的女人，手把着放在膝头上的篮子，里头装着一只小花猫。她有时打开盖子，小猫就伸出头来，做出逗乐的怪样子。别的旅客看了都哈哈大笑，惟独那个挂着钥匙和掖着车票的孩子不笑，睁着又圆又大的眼睛瞧着小猫，似乎不出声地说，“人发笑出自误解，正确看待，人间没有令人发笑的事。” 列车有时要停靠一下，这时乘务员就到车厢巡视，看见那孩子就说，‘乖啊，好小子。你的箱子放在行李车上，准保险，放心吧。”孩子就呆里八气地说声“是”，想笑笑，可没笑起来。 他天生老相，偏又把他装扮成如花年少，无奈装扮得太不高明，不免时时露出本来面目。仿佛太古混沌、天崩地裂、排山倒海的惊涛骇浪不时把这生命犹是含苞待放的孩子托得高高地亮相，这时他的脸就映现浩淼无垠、包含古今的时光巨浸的印痕，而他对目击身历的，却是神情木然，无动于衷。 别的旅客接二连三闭上了眼睛，连小花猫也因在自己小天地里玩腻了，蜷卧在篮子里，但那孩子却依然是老样子。不过这会儿他好像倍加警醒，犹如一个受了奴役、遭到摧残、连身子也缩小了的神祗，乖乖坐着，一动不动，目不转睛盯着自己的旅伴，似乎看到的不是他们的具体的躯体，而是整个混成一团的精气。 他就是阿拉贝拉的男孩儿。因为她一向粗心大意，所以她把该给裘德的信一直拖到了孩子在英国上陆的前夕，这时她绝对不能耽误，这才写了那封信，实际上她早几个礼拜明知孩子要到了，而且在信里也说了实话，她到奥尔布里肯找裘德主要是向他明说他原来就有这么个孩子存在，并且要回到裘德家里。就在她收到前夫回信那天下午某个时间，孩子到了伦敦码头，受托带他回来的那家人把他送上一辆到兰贝斯的马车，跟车夫讲明赶到他母亲的住宅，然后跟他说了再见，就走了。 他到了三觞斋，阿拉贝拉一瞧他那份表情，就情不自禁地说：“你可真跟我猜的没两样。”她让他美美吃了一顿，给了点钱；天已向晚，她乘着卡特莱没在家，见不到他，赶紧把他送上下一班火车，让他前往裘德那儿。 火车到了奥尔布里肯，孩子一个人呆在空空的月台上，旁边是他的箱子。收票员收了他的票，想想觉得有什么不对劲，就问他这么晚一个人上哪儿去。 “到清泉街。”小家伙很有把握地说。 “唉，那段路可长哪；差不多快到乡下啦；人家都睡觉啦。” “我非去不可。” “你带着箱子，得找辆马车。” “不找，我要走着去。” “那好吧；你顶好把箱子先放在这儿，回头再叫人来取就得了。这条路一半有公共马车，剩下一半你就得走啦。” “我不怕。” “你的朋友怎么没来接你？” “我看他们不知道我来。” “你朋友是谁呀？” “妈不让我说。” “那我只好帮你看看箱子了。你就走吧，越快越好。” 那孩子没再说什么，出了月台，走到街上；他朝周围望望，没看到有人跟着他，也没看到有人注意他。走了一段路之后，他向人打听他要去的那条街怎么走。人家跟他说一直走，到了近郊就找到了。 那孩子走路是又稳当又呆板的蠕动样子，没有常人一步步走的特点——好似水波、轻风、浮云在游动。他照人家说的方向前进，目不斜视，心无旁骛。一望而知那孩子对人生的观感与当地的孩子大异其趣。大凡孩子们起初先看到细节，然后扩充到全体；先接触到具体的东西，然后逐渐了解到具有普遍意义的性质。那孩子却好像一开始就看到生活中事物的一般性，绝不费心去注意任何特殊性。房子也好，柳树也好，远处茫茫田野也好，他显然没把它们看成砖砌的住宅、截了顶梢的柳树和绿油油的牧场，而是抽象化了的人类的居处、一般的植物和广袤的昏黑一大片。 他找到通到小巷的那条路，然后敲了敲裘德家的门。裘德刚睡下，苏本来要进隔壁自己的卧室，一听有人敲门，就下楼了。 “爸爸住这儿吗？”孩子问。 “你爸爸是谁呀？” “福来先生，就是这个姓。” 她跑上去，到裘德屋里，告诉他这件事。他迫不及待地下了楼，但是她却心急如焚，觉得他还是太慢。 “这是怎么回事——怎么这么快？”裘德一下来，她就问。 她把孩子上下左右足足打量了一番，突然走开，进了小起坐室。裘德把孩子举得跟他一般高，既爱怜又郁闷地仔细端详，告诉他，他们要是知道他来得这么快，就去接他了；然后把他暂时放在椅子上。他去找苏，知道孩子到来又触动了她的极为敏感的心弦。他发现她没点灯，身子伏在椅子上。他把她搂起来，自己脸贴着她的脸，低声说，“怎么啦？” “阿拉贝拉说的是实话呀——是实话呀。我在他身上瞧见你的影子啦！” “唉，我的一件人生大事反正早晚都是这样啊。” “可是他还有一半——那是她呀！这个我就是受不了！不过我应该——要想法习惯；对，我应该习惯。” “好吃醋的小苏呀！以前我说过你没性感的话，我全都要收回来！别管它啦。时间会把什么都纠正过来。……苏，亲亲，我这会儿倒有主意啦！咱们就一心教育他，培养他，让他上大学。我从前没法实现的理想，也许能经过他如愿以偿吧？你知道，他们这会儿对穷学生有点网开一面啦。” “哦，你这老做梦的人哪！”她说，拉着他的手，跟他一块儿回到孩子那儿。她看着孩子，孩子也看着她。“你原来就是我亲妈吧，是不是呀？”他想问明白。 “怎么啦？我看着不像你爸爸的太太，是不是呀？” “才像呢；可就是他那么喜欢你，你那么喜欢他，倒不像啦。我能叫你妈妈？” 接着孩子脸就露出了渴望，哭起来了。苏也抑制不住，立刻也哭起来了，她跟竖琴一样，只要别人心里稍有一点轻微的感情波动，就能引起震荡，使她的心自然而然地发生强烈的激动。 “你愿意，就叫我妈吧，可怜的亲爱的孩子！”她说，把脸凑过去贴着孩子的脸，不想让他看见自己的眼泪。 “你脖子上挂的什么？”裘德强作镇静地问。 “是放在车站的箱子的钥匙。” 他们一下子忙起来了，给他做晚饭，又给他安了床，他很快就睡熟了。他躺着，他们走过去看他。 “他没睡着的时候，还叫了两三声妈。”裘德咕哝着。“他居然这么想叫妈，可真怪！” “唉——这可是意义重大啊。咱们该替这颗小小的饥渴的心细细想的事才多呢，比天上的星星还多呢。……我看，亲爱的，咱们该鼓起勇气，把婚礼办了，是不是呀？硬顶着潮流干犯不上啊，我觉着自己跟芸芸众生要共命运啦。哦，裘德，你真心爱我，往后是不是老这样啊？我一定好好待这个孩子，好好当他妈；咱们的婚姻加上个法律形式，我当他妈就更好办啦。” |
| Part 5 Chapter 4 THEIR next and second attempt thereat was more deliberately made, though it was begun on the morning following the singular child's arrival at their home. Him they found to be in the habit of sitting silent, his quaint and weird face set, and his eyes resting on things they did not see in the substantial world. "His face is like the tragic mask of Melpomene," said Sue. "What is your name, dear? Did you tell us?" "Little Father Time is what they always called me. It is a nickname; because I look so aged, they say." "And you talk so, too," said Sue tenderly. "It is strange, Jude, that these preternaturally old boys almost always come from new countries. But what were you christened?" "I never was." "Why was that?" "Because, if I died in damnation, 'twould save the expense of a Christian funeral." "Oh--your name is not Jude, then?" said his father with some disappointment. The boy shook his head. "Never heerd on it." "Of course not," said Sue quickly; "since she was hating you all the time!" "We'll have him christened," said Jude; and privately to Sue: "The day we are married." Yet the advent of the child disturbed him. Their position lent them shyness, and having an impression that a marriage at a superintendent registrar's office was more private than an ecclesiastical one, they decided to avoid a church this time. Both Sue and Jude together went to the office of the district to give notice: they had become such companions that they could hardly do anything of importance except in each other's company. Jude Fawley signed the form of notice, Sue looking over his shoulder and watching his hand as it traced the words. As she read the four-square undertaking, never before seen by her, into which her own and Jude's names were inserted, and by which that very volatile essence, their love for each other, was supposed to be made permanent, her face seemed to grow painfully apprehensive. "Names and Surnames of the Parties"--(they were to be parties now, not lovers, she thought). "Condition"--(a horrid idea)--"Rank or Occupation"--"Age"--"Dwelling at"--"Length of Residence"--"Church or Building in which the Marriage is to be solemnized"-- "District and County in which the Parties respectively dwell." "It spoils the sentiment, doesn't it!" she said on their way home. "It seems making a more sordid business of it even than signing the contract in a vestry. There is a little poetry in a church. But we'll try to get through with it, dearest, now." "We will. 'For what man is he that hath betrothed a wife and hath not taken her? Let him go and return unto his house, lest he die in the battle, and another man take her.' So said the Jewish law-giver." "How you know the Scriptures, Jude! You really ought to have been a parson. I can only quote profane writers!" During the interval before the issuing of the certificate Sue, in her housekeeping errands, sometimes walked past the office, and furtively glancing in saw affixed to the wall the notice of the purposed clinch to their union. She could not bear its aspect. Coming after her previous experience of matrimony, all the romance of their attachment seemed to be starved away by placing her present case in the same category. She was usually leading little Father Time by the hand, and fancied that people thought him hers, and regarded the intended ceremony as the patching up of an old error. Meanwhile Jude decided to link his present with his past in some slight degree by inviting to the wedding the only person remaining on earth who was associated with his early life at Marygreen--the aged widow Mrs. Edlin, who had been his great-aunt's friend and nurse in her last illness. He hardly expected that she would come; but she did, bringing singular presents, in the form of apples, jam, brass snuffers, an ancient pewter dish, a warming-pan, and an enormous bag of goose feathers towards a bed. She was allotted the spare room in Jude's house, whither she retired early, and where they could hear her through the ceiling below, honestly saying the Lord's Prayer in a loud voice, as the Rubric directed. As, however, she could not sleep, and discovered that Sue and Jude were still sitting up--it being in fact only ten o'clock-- she dressed herself again and came down, and they all sat by the fire till a late hour--Father Time included; though, as he never spoke, they were hardly conscious of him. "Well, I bain't set against marrying as your great-aunt was," said the widow. "And I hope 'twill be a jocund wedding for ye in all respects this time. Nobody can hope it more, knowing what I do of your families, which is more, I suppose, than anybody else now living. For they have been unlucky that way, God knows." Sue breathed uneasily. "They was always good-hearted people, too--wouldn't kill a fly if they knowed it," continued the wedding guest. "But things happened to thwart 'em, and if everything wasn't vitty they were upset. No doubt that's how he that the tale is told of came to do what 'a did--if he WERE one of your family." "What was that?" said Jude. "Well--that tale, ye know; he that was gibbeted just on the brow of the hill by the Brown House--not far from the milestone between Marygreen and Alfredston, where the other road branches off. But Lord, 'twas in my grandfather's time; and it medn' have been one of your folk at all." "I know where the gibbet is said to have stood, very well," murmured Jude. "But I never heard of this. What--did this man--my ancestor and Sue's-- kill his wife?" "'Twer not that exactly. She ran away from him, with their child, to her friends; and while she was there the child died. He wanted the body, to bury it where his people lay, but she wouldn't give it up. Her husband then came in the night with a cart, and broke into the house to steal the coffin away; but he was catched, and being obstinate, wouldn't tell what he broke in for. They brought it in burglary, and that's why he was hanged and gibbeted on Brown House Hill. His wife went mad after he was dead. But it medn't be true that he belonged to ye more than to me." A small slow voice rose from the shade of the fireside, as if out of the earth: "If I was you, Mother, I wouldn't marry Father!" It came from little Time, and they started, for they had forgotten him. "Oh, it is only a tale," said Sue cheeringly. After this exhilarating tradition from the widow on the eve of the solemnization they rose, and, wishing their guest good-night, retired. The next morning Sue, whose nervousness intensified with the hours, took Jude privately into the sitting-room before starting. "Jude, I want you to kiss me, as a lover, incorporeally," she said, tremulously nestling up to him, with damp lashes. "It won't be ever like this any more, will it! I wish we hadn't begun the business. But I suppose we must go on. How horrid that story was last night! It spoilt my thoughts of to-day. It makes me feel as if a tragic doom overhung our family, as it did the house of Atreus." "Or the house of Jeroboam," said the quondam theologian. "Yes. And it seems awful temerity in us two to go marrying! I am going to vow to you in the same words I vowed in to my other husband, and you to me in the same as you used to your other wife; regardless of the deterrent lesson we were taught by those experiments!" "If you are uneasy I am made unhappy," said he. "I had hoped you would feel quite joyful. But if you don't, you don't. It is no use pretending. It is a dismal business to you, and that makes it so to me!" "It is unpleasantly like that other morning--that's all," she murmured. "Let us go on now." They started arm in arm for the office aforesaid, no witness accompanying them except the Widow Edlin. The day was chilly and dull, and a clammy fog blew through the town from "Royal-tower'd Thame." On the steps of the office there were the muddy foot-marks of people who had entered, and in the entry were damp umbrellas Within the office several persons were gathered, and our couple perceived that a marriage between a soldier and a young woman was just in progress. Sue, Jude, and the widow stood in the background while this was going on, Sue reading the notices of marriage on the wall. The room was a dreary place to two of their temperament, though to its usual frequenters it doubtless seemed ordinary enough. Law-books in musty calf covered one wall, and elsewhere were post-office directories, and other books of reference. Papers in packets tied with red tape were pigeon-holed around, and some iron safes filled a recess, while the bare wood floor was, like the door-step, stained by previous visitors. The soldier was sullen and reluctant: the bride sad and timid; she was soon, obviously, to become a mother, and she had a black eye. Their little business was soon done, and the twain and their friends straggled out, one of the witnesses saying casually to Jude and Sue in passing, as if he had known them before: "See the couple just come in? Ha, ha! That fellow is just out of gaol this morning. She met him at the gaol gates, and brought him straight here. She's paying for everything." Sue turned her head and saw an ill-favoured man, closely cropped, with a broad-faced, pock-marked woman on his arm, ruddy with liquor and the satisfaction of being on the brink of a gratified desire. They jocosely saluted the outgoing couple, and went forward in front of Jude and Sue, whose diffidence was increasing. The latter drew back and turned to her lover, her mouth shaping itself like that of a child about to give way to grief: "Jude--I don't like it here! I wish we hadn't come! The place gives me the horrors: it seems so unnatural as the climax of our love! I wish it had been at church, if it had to be at all. It is not so vulgar there!" "Dear little girl," said Jude. "How troubled and pale you look!" "It must be performed here now, I suppose?" "No--perhaps not necessarily." He spoke to the clerk, and came back. "No--we need not marry here or anywhere, unless we like, even now," he said. "We can be married in a church, if not with the same certificate with another he'll give us, I think. Anyhow, let us go out till you are calmer, dear, and I too, and talk it over." They went out stealthily and guiltily, as if they had committed a misdemeanour, closing the door without noise, and telling the widow, who had remained in the entry, to go home and await them; that they would call in any casual passers as witnesses, if necessary. When in the street they turned into an unfrequented side alley where they walked up and down as they had done long ago in the market-house at Melchester. "Now, darling, what shall we do? We are making a mess of it, it strikes me. Still, ANYTHING that pleases you will please me." "But Jude, dearest, I am worrying you! You wanted it to be there, didn't you?" "Well, to tell the truth, when I got inside I felt as if I didn't care much about it. The place depressed me almost as much as it did you-- it was ugly. And then I thought of what you had said this morning as to whether we ought." They walked on vaguely, till she paused, and her little voice began anew: "It seems so weak, too, to vacillate like this! And yet how much better than to act rashly a second time.... How terrible that scene was to me! The expression in that flabby woman's face, leading her on to give herself to that gaol-bird, not for a few hours, as she would, but for a lifetime, as she must. And the other poor soul--to escape a nominal shame which was owing to the weakness of her character, degrading herself to the real shame of bondage to a tyrant who scorned her--a man whom to avoid for ever was her only chance of salvation.... This is our parish church, isn't it? This is where it would have to be, if we did it in the usual way? A service or something seems to be going on." Jude went up and looked in at the door. "Why--it is a wedding here too," he said. "Everybody seems to be on our tack to-day." Sue said she supposed it was because Lent was just over, when there was always a crowd of marriages. "Let us listen," she said, "and find how it feels to us when performed in a church." They stepped in, and entered a back seat, and watched the proceedings at the altar. The contracting couple appeared to belong to the well-to-do middle class, and the wedding altogether was of ordinary prettiness and interest. They could see the flowers tremble in the bride's hand, even at that distance, and could hear her mechanical murmur of words whose meaning her brain seemed to gather not at all under the pressure of her self-consciousness. Sue and Jude listened, and severally saw themselves in time past going through the same form of self-committal. "It is not the same to her, poor thing, as it would be to me doing it over again with my present knowledge," Sue whispered. "You see, they are fresh to it, and take the proceedings as a matter of course. But having been awakened to its awful solemnity as we have, or at least as I have, by experience, and to my own too squeamish feelings perhaps sometimes, it really does seem immoral in me to go and undertake the same thing again with open eyes. Coming in here and seeing this has frightened me from a church wedding as much as the other did from a registry one.... We are a weak, tremulous pair, Jude, and what others may feel confident in I feel doubts of-- my being proof against the sordid conditions of a business contract again!" Then they tried to laugh, and went on debating in whispers the object-lesson before them. And Jude said he also thought they were both too thin-skinned-- that they ought never to have been born--much less have come together for the most preposterous of all joint ventures for THEM--matrimony. His betrothed shuddered; and asked him earnestly if he indeed felt that they ought not to go in cold blood and sign that life-undertaking again?" It is awful if you think we have found ourselves not strong enough for it, and knowing this, are proposing to perjure ourselves," she said. "I fancy I do think it--since you ask me," said Jude. "Remember I'll do it if you wish, own darling." While she hesitated he went on to confess that, though he thought they ought to be able to do it, he felt checked by the dread of incompetency just as she did-- from their peculiarities, perhaps, because they were unlike other people. "We are horribly sensitive; that's really what's the matter with us, Sue!" he declared. "I fancy more are like us than we think!" "Well, I don't know. The intention of the contract is good, and right for many, no doubt; but in our case it may defeat its own ends because we are the queer sort of people we are-- folk in whom domestic ties of a forced kind snuff out cordiality and spontaneousness." Sue still held that there was not much queer or exceptional in them: that all were so. "Everybody is getting to feel as we do. We are a little beforehand, that's all. In fifty, a hundred, years the descendants of these two will act and feel worse than we. They will see weltering humanity still more vividly than we do now, as Shapes like our own selves hideously multiplied, and will be afraid to reproduce them." "What a terrible line of poetry! ... though I have felt it myself about my fellow-creatures, at morbid times." Thus they murmured on, till Sue said more brightly: "Well--the general question is not our business, and why should we plague ourselves about it? However different our reasons are we come to the same conclusion; that for us particular two, an irrevocable oath is risky. Then, Jude, let us go home without killing our dream! Yes? How good you are, my friend: you give way to all my whims!" "They accord very much with my own." He gave her a little kiss behind a pillar while the attention of everybody present was taken up in observing the bridal procession entering the vestry; and then they came outside the building. By the door they waited till two or three carriages, which had gone away for a while, returned, and the new husband and wife came into the open daylight. Sue sighed. "The flowers in the bride's hand are sadly like the garland which decked the heifers of sacrifice in old times!" "Still, Sue, it is no worse for the woman than for the man. That's what some women fail to see, and instead of protesting against the conditions they protest against the man, the other victim; just as a woman in a crowd will abuse the man who crushes against her, when he is only the helpless transmitter of the pressure put upon him." "Yes--some are like that, instead of uniting with the man against the common enemy, coercion." The bride and bridegroom had by this time driven off, and the two moved away with the rest of the idlers. "No--don't let's do it," she continued. "At least just now." They reached home, and passing the window arm in arm saw the widow looking out at them. "Well," cried their guest when they entered, "I said to myself when I zeed ye coming so loving up to the door, 'They made up their minds at last, then!'" They briefly hinted that they had not. "What--and ha'n't ye really done it? Chok' it all, that I should have lived to see a good old saying like 'marry in haste and repent at leisure' spoiled like this by you two! 'Tis time I got back again to Marygreen-- sakes if tidden--if this is what the new notions be leading us to! Nobody thought o' being afeard o' matrimony in my time, nor of much else but a cannon-ball or empty cup-board! Why when I and my poor man were married we thought no more o't than of a game o' dibs!" "Don't tell the child when he comes in," whispered Sue nervously. "He'll think it has all gone on right, and it will be better that he should not be surprised and puzzled. Of course it is only put off for reconsideration. If we are happy as we are, what does it matter to anybody?" 他们对下一步，也就是第二次去办结婚手续的设想着实商量了一番，当然是在那个古怪孩子来家之后才开始的。 他们发现孩子习惯坐着不吱声，脸上老是那么一副怪里怪气、莫测高深的表情，两眼老定在他在现实世界中其实看不见的东西上。 “他的脸活像麦尔波门的悲剧面具。”苏说。“你叫什么，亲爱的？你还没告诉我们哪。” “我叫时光小老爹，他们一直这么叫我。这是个外号；他们都说，我长得那么老气。” “你说话也老气啊。”苏温柔地说。“裘德，这些因为早熟而显着老气的孩子差不多都是从新成立的国家那边过来的，你说怪不怪？你受没受过洗礼呀？” “压根儿没受过洗。” “怎么回事呢？” “因为我早晚得死，不受洗就省了按基督徒下葬的钱啦。” “哦，照这么说，你就不叫裘德喽？”他父亲说，带点失望的样子。 孩子摇摇头。“压根儿没听说过什么裘德。” “当然没听说过，”苏忙着说，“因为她无时无刻不恨你呀！” 。“咱们得给他受洗。”裘德说；然后悄悄对苏说：“就在咱们结婚那天好啦。”他说是这样说，可是这孩子的光临实在叫他心里烦。 他们眼下这种状况弄得他们不好意思同人接触。他们以前在督察登记处见过人家办喜事，不像在教堂里办那么张扬；因为有这么个印象，于是他们决定这一回避开教堂。苏和裘德双双去到区登记处申请办理结婚手续——他们现在是如此情意泱洽的伴侣，可谓形影不离，所以无论什么要紧事，要办都得一块儿办。 裘德•福来在结婚登记表上签字，苏站在他身后，望着他的手一笔一划地写。她念了念那份她从未见过的四四方方的表格，上面已经填好了她自己跟裘德的姓名，原来靠了这么一张表格，他们的冷冷热热、起伏不定的爱情就可以变得天长地久呢。她神色一时显得非常不安而且痛苦。“双方姓名——（她心想他们是“双方”，不是热恋的情人）”——“生活状况”——（问得太他妈恶心啦）——“身份或职业”——“年龄”——“住址”——“居住时间”——“举行结婚仪式的教堂或场所” ——“双方各自居住的区县。” “这太倒胃口拉，太倒胃口啦。”苏在回家的路上说。“这简直比在法衣室签婚约还作践人哪。教堂里头总还有点诗歌啊。不过咱们还是尽量想法过这道关吧，亲爱的。” “咱们一定要过。‘谁要定了妻，尚未迎娶，他可以回家去，恐怕他阵亡，别人去娶。’犹太立法人就这么说过了。” “你对《圣经》真是烂熟于胸啊，裘德！你真配当牧师呢。我可只能引用世俗作家的东西！” 在结婚证没发下来那段时间，苏为家务出去办事，有时路过登记处，就偷偷看一眼墙上贴的他们两个行将百年好合的通告。她实在看不下去。她从前有过结婚的经历，如今又把她放进这个框子里，他们的相亲相爱之情，纵然百般风流，也全给一笔冲销了。同时她平常都牵着时光小老爹，设想别人一定把他当成她的孩子，把这回想举行的婚礼当成弥补老错误造成的大漏子的机会。 同时裘德决定多多少少得把他的现在和过去联结起来，所以他邀了眼下唯一在世的、跟他在马利格林的童年生活有关系的人来参加他们的婚礼，这就是年迈的艾林太太，她以前既是他姑婆的朋友，又曾在她最后一次得病期间服侍过她。他并不怎么指望她来，谁知她果真来了，还带来奇奇怪怪的礼物，其中有苹果、果酱、铜蜡烛剪子、旧锡铸盘子、汤婆子和一大包填床垫的鹅毛。他们把她安置在家里的一间空屋子，她进去之后很早就歇了，诚心地按礼拜仪程高诵主祷文。 可是，她睡不着，一发现苏和裘德还没睡（实际上才十点钟），又把衣服穿好了，到楼下来。大家都坐在壁炉旁边，直到夜深，时光老爹也跟他们在一块儿，他不说话，他们简直把他这个人都忘了。 “唉，我可不像你姑婆那么反对结婚。”寡妇说。“我真盼你们俩这档子婚事，称心如意。现在活着的人，像我那么知道你们两家家底的，一个也没啦。所以也没谁再这么希望啦。这全因为你们家的人从前这方面不走运哪。” 苏的呼吸不自然起来。 “他们这些人向来是心慈面软，要是他们知道，就连个苍蝇也不愿意弄死。”参加婚礼的女客继续说着。“可什么事碰巧都跟他们作对，要是事情一不顺心，心里就乱成一团，无疑是因为这样，他才出了事，传下来这么个故事——不过他是不是你们家的人，这也难说。” “是怎么回事？”裘德说。 “唉——这个故事，你该知道嘛；他就是在棕房子旁边山头上上了绞架的，离马利格林到阿尔夫瑞顿路上那块里程碑不远，还有条路从那儿岔出去。不过，老天爷啊，这还是我爷爷那会儿的事儿呢；再说他也不一定就是你们家的人。” “绞架立的地方，我倒知道。”裘德咕哝着。“不过这件事儿，我可压根儿没听说过。那个人——我和苏祖宗辈的——干了什么，是不是把他妻子杀啦？” “也不全是那么回事儿。她跑啦，带着孩子到她朋友那儿去啦；她在朋友家那会儿，孩子死了。他想把尸首要回去，葬在他们家里人一个地方，可是她不干。有天晚上，她男人就赶辆车来了，硬闯进那家房子，把棺材偷走了；可他给逮住了，倔强得很呢，死也不肯说干吗闯民宅。他们就按盗窃罪把他收拾了，他就是为这个在棕房子小山上给吊起来，绞死的。他死了以后，他女人也疯了。不过说他是你们家里人，大概不是真的，就像跟我不沾边一样。” 从炉边发出来一个又小又慢的说话声音，仿佛从地里冒出来的：“妈，我要是你，才不跟爸爸结婚呢！”这是时光老爹说的，他们一下子愣住了，因为他们早把他忘掉了。 “哦，这不过是讲故事嘛。”苏挺有兴致地说。 在他们举行婚礼前夕，寡妇给他们讲起这般令人为之激动的传说之后，他们都站起来，向客人道了晚安，各自回房歇了。 第二天早上，苏的精神紧张程度有增无减，她在动身之前把裘德悄悄拉进起坐室。“裘德，我要你吻我，要像情人那样吻我，要打心里吻我。”她说，哆哆嗦嗦，偎依着他，睫毛沾着泪花。“以后再也不会这样吻我啦！我但愿咱们没开始办这件事才好呢。昨晚上讲的那个故事太吓人啦！我今天结婚的心思都给搞糟啦。听了它，我觉着咱们家就跟埃特里乌斯府一样，脱不开悲剧性的厄运！” “要不就跟耶罗波安府一样。”前神学研究者说。 “是啊！咱们两个去结婚恐怕太操切啦！我得对着你起誓，誓词跟我对从前那个丈夫起的一样，你呢，对我起誓，也跟先前对你那位夫人起的没两样。咱们已经有过一番试验，得到了教人猛省的教训，可咱们还是不管不顾！” “你心里这么七上八下，弄得我也扫兴了。”他说。“我原来还当你一定欢天喜地呢。不过你不喜欢就不喜欢，假装喜欢又有什么意思！你觉着为这件事心里压抑，连带着叫我也觉着压抑啦！” “这跟从前那个上午一样，叫人不痛快——就是这么回事。”她咕哝着。“现在咱们就去吧。” 他们挽着胳臂，开始往前面说过的那个登记处走，除了艾林寡妇，没别的证人陪着。天凄冷。沉暗，从“殿宇巍峨的泰晤士河”上吹过来浓重的湿雾，飘在整个市区上。登记处台阶上留着进去的人的泥脚印，过厅里放着湿漉漉的雨伞。处里头有几个人凑在一块儿，我们这对情人一眼看见一个大兵跟一个年轻女人正在履行结婚程序。苏、裘德和寡妇都站在后首地方，苏看着墙上的结婚通告。这间屋子在它的常客眼里是平平常常的，可是按他们两个脾性，就成了沉闷阴郁的地方了。一面墙从上到下摆的是小牛皮封面已经发霉的法律书籍，另外的地方放着邮政业务指南和其他参考书。用红带子扎好的卷宗放满了分格的文件架，有几个铁制保险柜嵌在墙里边，没上漆的地板也跟台阶一样，叫来过的客人的脚踩脏了。 那个兵沉着脸，一副不情愿的样子，新娘却显得凄楚可怜，又羞又怕，一只眼睛已经给打青，显而易见，她很快就要做母亲。他们短短的手续一会儿办完了，两个人跟他们的朋友散散落落地走了出去。其中有个证人仿佛认识苏和裘德的样子，走过他们旁边时，信口对他们说：“瞧见刚才进来的那对儿吗？哈哈！那家伙今儿早上才从监狱放出来。她上监狱门口接他的，把他直接带到这儿来了。她可要赔上整个家当哟。” 苏转过头来，只见一个丑陋不堪的男人，头发剪得短短的，挽着一个大扁麻子脸的女人；那女人喝得满脸通红，再加上就要所愿得偿，一副得意的样子。他们怪模怪样地向出去的那对行礼，然后朝裘德和苏前面走过来。但是苏已经越来越气绥，直往后退，转到她的情人身边，小嘴就像个孩子难过得要哭出来的样子。 “裘德——我不想在这儿呆下去啦！但愿咱们没上这儿来哟！这地方真叫我心惊肉跳；咱们的爱情到了峰巅，可这地方未免太合不到一块儿啦！要是非办不可，我想就上教堂去办吧。那儿总不会这么俗不可耐！” “亲爱的小姑娘，”裘德说，“你瞧瞧你显着多烦恼，都没血色啦！” “我看，到这地步，非得在这儿表演一番不可吗？” “那倒不一定吧。” 他去找办事员谈了谈就回来了。“不一定在这儿办，——咱们真要结婚的话，哪怕现在，这儿也好，别处也好，都行，全看咱们自个儿的意思。”裘德说。“咱们可以上教堂结婚，要是现在这个证不好用，他可以给咱们另发一个，我看是这样。不管怎么着，你先定定心，我也定定心，然后咱们再商量商量好啦。” 他们像犯了什么罪似的，揣着鬼胎，蹑手蹑脚，溜了出去，关门时候连点声音都没有。随后跟过厅里的寡妇说，她先回家等他们；又说要是一定要有证人，他们临时随便找过路人就行。到了街上，他们故意找了个平常少人走的巷子，就像当年在麦尔切斯特市场那样，在那儿来回兜圈子。 “亲亲，现在咱们怎么办好呀？搞得个乱七八糟啦，我也没个主意啦。不过，随便怎么样，只要你喜欢，我就喜欢。” “可是，裘德，最亲爱的，我真叫你苦恼啦！你原来就想在那儿办了，对不对？” “唉，说实在的，我一进去，就觉着不对劲儿。那地方叫你泄气，我也跟你差不多——多难看哪。后来我就想你早上说的，咱们到底该不该办结婚。” 他们没有目的地往前走，后来她站住了，又用她原来的细小嗓音说起来：“这件事，咱们这么拿不定主意，也未免显得太没魄力！话说回来，这又比稀里糊涂再来个第二回要强得多。……刚才那个场面，我觉着太可怕啦！那个臃肿不堪的女人脸上是怎么个表情啊，她认定了跟那个囚犯，那可不是几个钟头，是要跟他一辈子呢。再说那个可怜的女人——就因为她性格软弱，做了所谓可耻的事，想洗刷掉，就不惜糟蹋自己，嫁给那个不拿她当人的暴君，那才是真正洗不掉的耻辱啊。只有永远躲开那个人，她才有得救的唯一机会啊……这是咱们这个教区的教堂吧，对不对？咱们要是按普通路子办，就在这儿吧？里头好像做礼拜，还是干什么呢。” 裘德走过去，探头往门里瞧。“哈——这儿也举行婚礼哪。”他说。“今天似乎人人都踩着咱们脚印干哪。” 苏说她猜想这是因为四旬斋刚过去，一到这时候总是大群大群人结婚。“咱们去听听吧。”她说。“倒看看教堂里结婚是个什么感觉。” 他们进了教堂，找了后排位子坐下，看着祭坛前正在进行的婚礼。那订了婚约的一对，样子像是富裕的中产阶级中人，婚礼也是习见那样非常漂亮，很吸引人。他们即使在稍远地方，也看得出来新娘捧着的花直抖，听得见她呆呆地嘴里咕噜着什么，其中究竟有什么意义，似乎她一点没动脑筋，根本不知所云。苏跟裘德听着听着，各自看到了当年他们自己履行过的同样作茧自缚的仪式。 “可怜的东西，她的感受当然跟我不一样，我是有过经验，再来第二回。”她悄悄地说。“你看，他们初次品味，还把这一套当成天经地义。可像咱们这样，或者至少像我这样，有过经验，终于明白过来这样做的严重性。也许我有这样的吹毛求疵的习气，有时候更不免这种感觉，我要是明知故犯，再来这么一次，那我的内心真是不道德啦。进来之后，看了这一套，真叫我心里发怵，我觉着教堂里婚礼和登记处里没什么两样。……裘德呀，咱们这一对儿意志薄弱，前怕狼，后怕虎，没个准稿子，别人也许挺自信的事情，我可是大感怀疑——我一定抵制那个叫人恶心的第二份买卖式契约！” 于是他们不自然地笑了笑，继续议论眼前这场现身说法。裘德说他也觉得他们俩都太神经过敏——根本不该落生人世间，更何况还要凑到一块儿采取对他们来说可谓荒谬绝伦的冒险行动——结成婚姻了。他的未婚妻打了个冷战，跟着顶真地问，他是不是自始就觉得他们不该不管死活，签那个卖身契呢？“要是你认为咱们已经心中有数，承受不了这东西，而且明知如此了，还要提出来咱们去口是心非地发假誓，这实在叫人捉摸不透啊。” “既然你问我，我就说吧，我倒是真这么想的。”裘德说。“可是你别忘了，亲爱的，只有你愿意我才办哪。”乘着她犹豫，他就进一步承认，他固然认为这件事他们该当办得到，不过他跟她一样，心有余而气不足，胆战心惊，所以到头来还是虎头蛇尾——大概因为他们生性乖僻，跟别人都不一样吧。“咱们太神经过敏啦；关键就在这个地方，苏啊！”他一口气说完了。 “我可是想，像咱们这样的人，比咱们想的还要多呢！” “呃，这我就不知道了。订婚约的本意没什么不好，对好多人也合适，这是没什么疑问的；不过碰到咱们这种情形，婚约原来的宗旨就适得其反了，因为咱们是怪里怪气那种人，家庭关系一带上强迫性质，什么夫妻和美，相依为命就全告吹了。” 苏仍然坚持自己的意见：他们并没什么古怪或特别地方，别的人跟他们一样。“所有的人慢慢地都会跟咱们的感觉一样。咱们不过稍微走在前面一点。再过五十年、一百年，如今这一对的子孙，行动起来，感觉起来，比咱们还厉害呢。他们将来看待这纷杂扰攘的人间比咱们这会儿要透彻得多啦，好比说 像咱们这样的形体造孽一样不断 繁殖，而且他们将来也没胆子再把他们生出来。” “这句诗太可怕啦！……不过我在灰溜溜的时候对自己的同类也有同感。” 他们继续唧唧咕咕，后来苏说得比较豁达了： “唉——这一般的问题跟咱们有什么关系，何必为它自寻烦恼？咱们俩说的道理尽管不大一样，得出来的结论还不是一回事！咱们这两个特殊人物，要是起了誓又取消不了，那就到了绝境啦。所以，裘德，咱们还是回家，别把咱们的好梦砸了吧！你说好不好，我的朋友；不管我怎么异想天开，你都是听我的！” “我自己也一样异想天开，跟你大致不差。” 这时在场的人正集中注意力看着一伙人拥着新娘进了法衣室，他躲在一根柱子后面轻轻吻了她一下，然后走出教堂。他们在教堂门口等着，一直等到两三辆马车去而复回，新婚夫妻走到了光大化日之下。苏叹了口气。 “新娘手里那捧花的可怜样儿，真像古时候当祭品的小母牛身上装饰的花环！” “苏，话得说回来。女人也不见得比男人倒霉到哪儿。这一点，有些女人没法明白，她们不是反对她们所处的社会环境，而是反对另一方的男人，其实他们也是受害者；这就像在拥挤的人群里头，一个女人因为男人撞了她，就开口伤人，殊不知那个男人也还是让人推搡得无法可想，代人受过啊。” “是喽——这个比方倒有点像。不去跟男人联合起来对付共同的敌人，反对社会的压制，反而跟男人过不去。”这时新娘新郎已经上了马车走了，他们也就跟别的闲人一齐散掉。“不行，咱们不能那么办。”她接着说。“至少现在不行。” 他们到了家，挽着胳臂从窗口走过，瞧见寡妇在窗里望着他们。“哎呀，”他们一进门，客人就大声说，“我一瞧见你们那个热乎劲儿往门这边来，心里说，‘他们总算一块石头落了地啦！’” 他们用了三言两语表示没有。 “怎么——你们真没办？该死该死，我再想不到活到如今，眼瞧着老话说的‘急结婚，慢后悔’在你们手里泡汤啦！我该回马利格林啦——算怎么回事呀。新派的想法就这样折腾咱们吗？我那会儿哪有人怕结婚哪，除了怕炮弹，怕没隔宿粮，还怕什么！我跟我那口子一结了婚，什么也不想，就跟玩过了打拐子一样啊！” “孩子来了，什么也别跟他说。”苏心情紧张地说。“他准是想什么都顺顺当当的。顶好别让他觉着奇怪，想不明白。当然，现在这么着，也不过是往后推一推，再考虑考虑。只要咱们快快乐乐的，跟张三李四又有什么相干。” Part 5 Chapter 5 THE purpose of a chronicler of moods and deeds does not require him to express his personal views upon the grave controversy above given. That the twain were happy--between their times of sadness--was indubitable. And when the unexpected apparition of Jude's child in the house had shown itself to be no such disturbing event as it had looked, but one that brought into their lives a new and tender interest of an ennobling and unselfish kind, it rather helped than injured their happiness. To be sure, with such pleasing anxious beings as they were, the boy's coming also brought with it much thought for the future, particularly as he seemed at present to be singularly deficient in all the usual hopes of childhood. But the pair tried to dismiss, for a while at least, a too strenuously forward view. There is in Upper Wessex an old town of nine or ten thousand souls; the town may be called Stoke-Barehills. It stands with its gaunt, unattractive, ancient church, and its new red brick suburb, amid the open, chalk-soiled cornlands, near the middle of an imaginary triangle which has for its three corners the towns of Aldbrickham and Wintoncester, and the important military station of Quartershot. The great western highway from London passes through it, near a point where the road branches into two, merely to unite again some twenty miles further westward. Out of this bifurcation and reunion there used to arise among wheeled travellers, before railway days, endless questions of choice between the respective ways. But the question is now as dead as the scot-and-lot freeholder, the road waggoner, and the mail coachman who disputed it; and probably not a single inhabitant of Stoke-Barehills is now even aware that the two roads which part in his town ever meet again; for nobody now drives up and down the great western highway dally. The most familiar object in Stoke-Barehills nowadays is its cemetery, standing among some picturesque mediaeval ruins beside the railway; the modern chapels, modern tombs, and modern shrubs having a look of intrusiveness amid the crumbling and ivy-covered decay of the ancient walls. On a certain day, however, in the particular year which has now been reached by this narrative--the month being early June-- the features of the town excite little interest, though many visitors arrive by the trains; some down-trains, in especial, nearly emptying themselves here. It is the week of the Great Wessex Agricultural Show, whose vast encampment spreads over the open outskirts of the town like the tents of an investing army. Rows of marquees, huts, booths, pavilions, arcades, porticoes-- every kind of structure short of a permanent one-- cover the green field for the space of a square half-mile, and the crowds of arrivals walk through the town in a mass, and make straight for the exhibition ground. The way thereto is lined with shows, stalls, and hawkers on foot, who make a market-place of the whole roadway to the show proper, and lead some of the improvident to lighten their pockets appreciably before they reach the gates of the exhibition they came expressly to see. It is the popular day, the shilling day, and of the fast arriving excursion trains two from different directions enter the two contiguous railway stations at almost the same minute. One, like several which have preceded it, comes from London: the other by a cross-line from Aldbrickham; and from the London train alights a couple; a short, rather bloated man, with a globular stomach and small legs, resembling a top on two pegs, accompanied by a woman of rather fine figure and rather red face, dressed in black material, and covered with beads from bonnet to skirt, that made her glisten as if clad in chain-mail. They cast their eyes around. The man was about to hire a fly as some others had done, when the woman said, "Don't be in such a hurry, Cartlett. It isn't so very far to the show-yard. Let us walk down the street into the place. Perhaps I can pick up a cheap bit of furniture or old china. It is years since I was here--never since I lived as a girl at Aldbrickham, and used to come across for a trip sometimes with my young man." "You can't carry home furniture by excursion train," said, in a thick voice, her husband, the landlord of The Three Horns, Lambeth; for they had both come down from the tavern in that "excellent, densely populated, gin-drinking neighbourhood," which they had occupied ever since the advertisement in those words had attracted them thither. The configuration of the landlord showed that he, too, like his customers, was becoming affected by the liquors he retailed. "Then I'll get it sent, if I see any worth having," said his wife. They sauntered on, but had barely entered the town when her attention was attracted by a young couple leading a child, who had come out from the second platform, into which the train from Aldbrickham had steamed. They were walking just in front of the inn-keepers. "Sakes alive!" said Arabella. "What's that?" said Cartlett. "Who do you think that couple is? Don't you recognize the man?" "No." "Not from the photos I have showed you?" "Is it Fawley?" "Yes--of course." "Oh, well. I suppose he was inclined for a little sight-seeing like the rest of us." Cartlett's interest in Jude whatever it might have been when Arabella was new to him, had plainly flagged since her charms and her idiosyncrasies, her supernumerary hair-coils, and her optional dimples, were becoming as a tale that is told. Arabella so regulated her pace and her husband's as to keep just in the rear of the other three, which it was easy to do without notice in such a stream of pedestrians. Her answers to Cartlett's remarks were vague and slight, for the group in front interested her more than all the rest of the spectacle. "They are rather fond of one another and of their child, seemingly," continued the publican. "THEIR child! 'Tisn't their child," said Arabella with a curious, sudden covetousness. "They haven't been married long enough for it to be theirs!" But although the smouldering maternal instinct was strong enough in her to lead her to quash her husband's conjecture, she was not disposed on second thoughts to be more candid than necessary. Mr. Cartlett had no other idea than that his wife's child by her first husband was with his grandparents at the Antipodes. "Oh I suppose not. She looks quite a girl." "They are only lovers, or lately married, and have the child in charge, as anybody can see." All continued to move ahead. The unwitting Sue and Jude, the couple in question, had determined to make this agricultural exhibition within twenty miles of their own town the occasion of a day's excursion which should combine exercise and amusement with instruction, at small expense. Not regardful of themselves alone, they had taken care to bring Father Time, to try every means of making him kindle and laugh like other boys, though he was to some extent a hindrance to the delightfully unreserved intercourse in their pilgrimages which they so much enjoyed. But they soon ceased to consider him an observer, and went along with that tender attention to each other which the shyest can scarcely disguise, and which these, among entire strangers as they imagined, took less trouble to disguise than they might have done at home. Sue, in her new summer clothes, flexible and light as a bird, her little thumb stuck up by the stem of her white cotton sunshade, went along as if she hardly touched ground, and as if a moderately strong puff of wind would float her over the hedge into the next field. Jude, in his light grey holiday-suit, was really proud of her companionship, not more for her external attractiveness than for her sympathetic words and ways. That complete mutual understanding, in which every glance and movement was as effectual as speech for conveying intelligence between them, made them almost the two parts of a single whole. The pair with their charge passed through the turnstiles, Arabella and her husband not far behind them. When inside the enclosure the publican's wife could see that the two ahead began to take trouble with the youngster, pointing out and explaining the many objects of interest, alive and dead; and a passing sadness would touch their faces at their every failure to disturb his indifference. "How she sticks to him!" said Arabella. "Oh no--I fancy they are not married, or they wouldn't be so much to one another as that.... I wonder!" "But I thought you said he did marry her?" "I heard he was going to--that's all, going to make another attempt, after putting it off once or twice.... As far as they themselves are concerned they are the only two in the show. I should be ashamed of making myself so silly if I were he!" "I don't see as how there's anything remarkable in their behaviour. I should never have noticed their being in love, if you hadn't said so." "You never see anything," she rejoined. Nevertheless Cartlett's view of the lovers' or married pair's conduct was undoubtedly that of the general crowd, whose attention seemed to be in no way attracted by what Arabella's sharpened vision discerned. "He's charmed by her as if she were some fairy!" continued Arabella. "See how he looks round at her, and lets his eyes rest on her. I am inclined to think that she don't care for him quite so much as he does for her. She's not a particular warm-hearted creature to my thinking, though she cares for him pretty middling much-- as much as she's able to; and he could make her heart ache a bit if he liked to try--which he's too simple to do. There--now they are going across to the cart-horse sheds. Come along." "I don't want to see the cart-horses. It is no business of ours to follow these two. If we have come to see the show let us see it in our own way, as they do in theirs." "Well--suppose we agree to meet somewhere in an hour's time-- say at that refreshment tent over there, and go about independent? Then you can look at what you choose to, and so can I." Cartlett was not loath to agree to this, and they parted-- he proceeding to the shed where malting processes were being exhibited, and Arabella in the direction taken by Jude and Sue. Before, however, she had regained their wake a laughing face met her own, and she was confronted by Anny, the friend of her girlhood. Anny had burst out in hearty laughter at the mere fact of the chance encounter. "I am still living down there," she said, as soon as she was composed. "I am soon going to be married, but my intended couldn't come up here to-day. But there's lots of us come by excursion, though I've lost the rest of 'em for the present." "Have you met Jude and his young woman, or wife, or whatever she is? I saw 'em by now." "No. Not a glimpse of un for years!" "Well, they are close by here somewhere. Yes--there they are-- by that grey horse!" "Oh, that's his present young woman--wife did you say? Has he married again?" "I don't know." "She's pretty, isn't she!" "Yes--nothing to complain of; or jump at. Not much to depend on, though; a slim, fidgety little thing like that." "He's a nice-looking chap, too! You ought to ha' stuck to un, Arabella." "I don't know but I ought," murmured she. Anny laughed. "That's you, Arabella! Always wanting another man than your own." "Well, and what woman don't I should like to know? As for that body with him-- she don't know what love is--at least what I call love! I can see in her face she don't." "And perhaps, Abby dear, you don't know what she calls love." "I'm sure I don't wish to! ... Ah--they are making for the art department. I should like to see some pictures myself. Suppose we go that way?-- Why, if all Wessex isn't here, I verily believe! There's Dr. Vilbert. Haven't seen him for years, and he's not looking a day older than when I used to know him. How do you do, Physician? I was just saying that you don't look a day older than when you knew me as a girl." "Simply the result of taking my own pills regular, ma'am. Only two and threepence a box--warranted efficacious by the Government stamp. Now let me advise you to purchase the same immunity from the ravages of time by following my example? Only two-and-three." The physician had produced a box from his waistcoat pocket, and Arabella was induced to make the purchase. "At the same time," continued he, when the pills were paid for, "you have the advantage of me, Mrs.--Surely not Mrs. Fawley, once Miss Donn, of the vicinity of Marygreen?" "Yes. But Mrs. Cartlett now." "Ah--you lost him, then? Promising young fellow! A pupil of mine, you know. I taught him the dead languages. And believe me, he soon knew nearly as much as I." "I lost him; but not as you think," said Arabella dryly "The lawyers untied us. There he is, look, alive and lusty; along with that young woman, entering the art exhibition." "Ah--dear me! Fond of her, apparently." "They SAY they are cousins." "Cousinship is a great convenience to their feelings, I should say?" "Yes. So her husband thought, no doubt, when he divorced her.... Shall we look at the pictures, too?" The trio followed across the green and entered. Jude and Sue, with the child, unaware of the interest they were exciting, had gone up to a model at one end of the building, which they regarded with considerable attention for a long while before they went on. Arabella and her friends came to it in due course, and the inscription it bore was: "Model of Cardinal College, Christminster; by J. Fawley and S. F. M. Bridehead." "Admiring their own work," said Arabella. "How like Jude-- always thinking of colleges and Christminster, instead of attending to his business!" They glanced cursorily at the pictures, and proceeded to the band-stand. When they had stood a little while listening to the music of the military performers, Jude, Sue, and the child came up on the other side. Arabella did not care if they should recognize her; but they were too deeply absorbed in their own lives, as translated into emotion by the military band, to perceive her under her beaded veil. She walked round the outside of the listening throng, passing behind the lovers, whose movements had an unexpected fascination for her to-day. Scrutinizing them narrowly from the rear she noticed that Jude's hand sought Sue's as they stood, the two standing close together so as to conceal, as they supposed, this tacit expression of their mutual responsiveness. "Silly fools--like two children!" Arabella whispered to herself morosely, as she rejoined her companions, with whom she preserved a preoccupied silence. Anny meanwhile had jokingly remarked to Vilbert on Arabella's hankering interest in her first husband. "Now," said the physician to Arabella, apart; "do you want anything such as this, Mrs. Cartlett? It is not compounded out of my regular pharmacopoeia, but I am sometimes asked for such a thing." He produced a small phial of clear liquid. "A love-philtre, such as was used by the ancients with great effect. I found it out by study of their writings, and have never known it to fail." "What is it made of?" asked Arabella curiously. "Well--a distillation of the juices of doves' hearts--otherwise pigeons'-- is one of the ingredients. It took nearly a hundred hearts to produce that small bottle full." "How do you get pigeons enough?" "To tell a secret, I get a piece of rock-salt, of which pigeons are inordinately fond, and place it in a dovecot on my roof. In a few hours the birds come to it from all points of the compass-- east, west, north, and south--and thus I secure as many as I require. You use the liquid by contriving that the desired man shall take about ten drops of it in his drink. But remember, all this is told you because I gather from your questions that you mean to be a purchaser. You must keep faith with me?" "Very well--I don't mind a bottle--to give some friend or other to try it on her young man." She produced five shillings, the price asked, and slipped the phial in her capacious bosom. Saying presently that she was due at an appointment with her husband she sauntered away towards the refreshment bar, Jude, his companion, and the child having gone on to the horticultural tent, where Arabella caught a glimpse of them standing before a group of roses in bloom. She waited a few minutes observing them, and then proceeded to join her spouse with no very amiable sentiments. She found him seated on a stool by the bar, talking to one of the gaily dressed maids who had served him with spirits. "I should think you had enough of this business at home!" Arabella remarked gloomily. "Surely you didn't come fifty miles from your own bar to stick in another? Come, take me round the show, as other men do their wives! Dammy, one would think you were a young bachelor, with nobody to look after but yourself!" "But we agreed to meet here; and what could I do but wait?" "Well, now we have met, come along," she returned, ready to quarrel with the sun for shining on her. And they left the tent together, this pot-bellied man and florid woman, in the antipathetic, recriminatory mood of the average husband and wife of Christendom. In the meantime the more exceptional couple and the boy still lingered in the pavilion of flowers--an enchanted palace to their appreciative taste--Sue's usually pale cheeks reflecting the pink of the tinted roses at which she gazed; for the gay sights, the air, the music, and the excitement of a day's outing with Jude had quickened her blood and made her eyes sparkle with vivacity. She adored roses, and what Arabella had witnessed was Sue detaining Jude almost against his will while she learnt the names of this variety and that, and put her face within an inch of their blooms to smell them. "I should like to push my face quite into them--the dears!" she had said. "But I suppose it is against the rules to touch them--isn't it, Jude?" "Yes, you baby," said he: and then playfully gave her a little push, so that her nose went among the petals. "The policeman will be down on us, and I shall say it was my husband's fault!" Then she looked up at him, and smiled in a way that told so much to Arabella. "Happy?" he murmured. She nodded. "Why? Because you have come to the great Wessex Agricultural Show-- or because we have come?" "You are always trying to make me confess to all sorts of absurdities. Because I am improving my mind, of course, by seeing all these steam-ploughs, and threshing-machines, and chaff-cutters, and cows, and pigs, and sheep." Jude was quite content with a baffle from his ever evasive companion. But when he had forgotten that he had put the question, and because he no longer wished for an answer, she went on: "I feel that we have returned to Greek joyousness, and have blinded ourselves to sickness and sorrow, and have forgotten what twenty-five centuries have taught the race since their time, as one of your Christminster luminaries says.... There is one immediate shadow, however--only one." And she looked at the aged child, whom, though they had taken him to everything likely to attract a young intelligence, they had utterly failed to interest. He knew what they were saying and thinking. "I am very, very sorry, Father and Mother," he said. "But please don't mind!--I can't help it. I should like the flowers very very much, if I didn't keep on thinking they'd be all withered in a few days!" 以记述人物的心路和行迹为职志的作者自不宜对前面说的思想不一的严重情况妄加评论。总之，那对爱侣是快乐的——介乎苦恼之间的快乐——的确是不言而喻。裘德的孩子不期而至并不如起初设想那样成为令人揪心的一阵风波，反而在他们的生活中注入了令人心灵趋于高尚，摒弃自私的新的舐犊之爱，这非但无伤于而且增进了他们的幸福感。 说来这也是很自然的，因为他们本来就是与世无争、与人无侮、总期得到别人好感的好好先生。孩子之来，特别是他很怪，缺少童年时代孩子身上常常具有的希望，不免令他们平添几分心事，但是他们竭力避免望子成器的想法，至少在短时间内不作此想。 话说上维塞克斯有个老镇，人口有八九千，姑且称之为斯托裸山镇。老镇本身，其中有那座外形细长难看的古老教堂和一概用红砖砌房子的新郊区，坐落在没界断的含白垩质成分的麦田中间，恰好靠近人们想象中的三角形的中央部位，奥尔布里肯和温吞塞，加上重要的夸得哨的军队哨所，构成了三个角。以伦敦为起点的有气派的西行大路穿过老镇，在镇上一个地方分成两条，再西行约二十英里又合成一条。铁路开通前，这一分一合老闹得坐骡马大车的行旅为该走哪条支路吵个不休。不过现在这个问题已经同免税持产人、乘大车的旅客和好争论的邮车车夫都成了往事。如今的斯托裸山镇上恐怕连一个人也不会想到当年镇上两条路又合成一条这回事了；因为眼下这条有气派的大路上根本无人赶着车来来往往。 斯托裸山镇的人目前熟悉不过的要数公墓，它位于铁路边上一座多少有点画意的中世纪废墟，现代风格的小礼拜堂、现代式样的坟莹和现代的硬于灌木，同爬满常春藤的东倒西歪的残垣断壁一比，显得喧宾夺主，格外刺目。 这本小说写到的那一年，正值六月初某天，老镇的外貌仍然没有丝毫引人入胜之处，却忽然有大批旅客乘火车光临此地，特别是几趟下行车，一到站人差不多下得一空。原来这时正值举办大维塞克斯农业展览周，宽大的展览棚遍布老镇空旷的郊区，一望就像一支军队在那儿安营扎寨，把市镇包围起来。一排排木棚子、小木房子、布篷子、木阁子、游廊、门廊——就差永久性建筑物——鳞次栉比，足足占了草地有半平方英里。到了站的旅客，一群群前拥后挤，穿过市镇，直接涌向展览会场。路两旁排着游艺摊、杂货摊，还有走南闯北的游动商贩，把到展览会场的通道变成了集市，招得那些手头不在乎的游客，还没进展览会的大门，就把口袋里的钱掏得差不多了。 这是个大众的节日，是个花一个先令就可以进场参观个够的节日。在先后到达的游览火车中间，有两列对向开过来，差不多同时进了挨着的车站。一列跟前边的一样，是伦敦开来的，另一列从奥尔布里肯支线过来。伦敦来的车上有一对夫妇：男的矮墩墩，大肚子，小短腿，活像两根小棍子撑着个陀螺；女的跟着他，体态倒也过得去，穿一身黑颜色料子的衣裙，从帽子到身上一色镶着珠子，亮晶晶的，亚似浑身披挂着锁子甲。 他们眼睛朝周围扫了扫。男的也像别人那样要叫辆马车，女的这时说道，“干吗这么急呀，卡特莱。到展览会也不怎么远，咱们打街上走去就行啦。也许我捎带着还能买点便宜家具或是旧磁器呢。好多年我没到这儿啦——我在奥尔布里肯那阵子还是大姑娘哪，以后没在这儿呆了，有时候跟我的小伙子来转转。” “游览车不运家具，你带不走。”她丈夫，也就是兰贝斯三觞斋酒馆老板说，声音重浊。他们是刚从设在“人口稠密、喜好金酒的高等住宅区”的自己的酒馆来的，自从广告上这句话叫他们动了心之后，一直住在那个地方。老板那份体型，一望而知他跟自己的顾客一样受了他零卖的酒类的影响。 “要是有什么值得要的东西，我看妥了，就叫他们运好啦。”他妻子说。 他们往前蹓跶着，还没进镇，她的注意力就让一对带着孩子的年轻夫妇吸引过去。从奥尔布里肯开来的列车停在第二个月台旁边，他们是刚从那儿走出来的，恰好走在酒店老板夫妇前面。 “哎呀呀！”阿拉贝拉说。 “什么事？”卡特莱问。 “你猜那一对儿是谁？那个男的你没认出来？” “没认出来。” “我给你瞧过相片嘛，你还认不出来？” “是不是福来？” “就是他——当然是喽。” “啊哈，我看他们也跟咱们一样，想来开开眼吧。”且不说当初阿拉贝拉对他还有股新鲜劲儿时候卡特莱对裘德怎么个想法，但是自从她的妖容冶态、异样风骚和她的假发高髻、人工酒涡都成了讲滥的故事一般之后，裘德不裘德，对他已经毫无兴趣可言了。 阿拉贝拉把她跟她丈夫的步子调整得不快不慢，刚好跟在那三个人后边。在熙熙攘攘的人群中，这样做很容易，不会惹人注意。她对卡特莱的回答含含糊糊，似说非说，因为当时什么美景奇观也不比前面三个人叫她更感兴趣。 “瞧那样儿，他们怪亲热的，也挺疼他们的孩子。”酒馆老板说。 “他们的孩子！才不是他们的孩子哪！”阿拉贝拉说，脸上突然露出嫉妒的恶相。“他们结婚才多久，哪儿来的孩子？” 她长期闷在心里的母爱本能虽然十分强烈，叫她恨不能一下子把她男人的瞎猜驳倒，可是她一转念，觉得犯不上对他老实到超过必要的限度。卡特莱只知道她跟前夫生的孩子一直跟着外公外婆过，住在地球上同英国对极的地方。 “哦，我倒没想到。她还像个大姑娘呢。” “他们只算得上情人，要不就是新近结的婚，那孩子就是他们带的——一看就知道。” 所有的人继续往前移动，苏和裘德这时无所用心，何尝意识到成了别人盯梢的对象。他们原本决定借高他们所在市镇不足二十英里的农业展览会开幕之机，好好玩上一天，花钱不多却兼有练身体，长见识，寻开心之趣。他们也不是纯为自己想，同时考虑到把时光老爹也带着，好随时随地逗他，让他跟别的孩子一样看得有滋有味，笑个没完。虽然他们在兴高采烈的旅程中无拘无束，纵情欢笑，孩子还是不免碍手碍脚，不过没多会儿他们就不把他当个注意他们的观察者了。一路上他们含情脉脉，婉奕相依，就算是平常最害臊的情侣，也没法遮掩了。再说他们自以为周围的人，素不相识，因而就如在家一样不存什么顾虑，用不着装腔作势。苏穿着新夏装，轻盈飘逸宛如小鸟，拇指小小的，紧紧扣住她的白布阳伞把子，移步时仿佛足未履地，似乎风稍大点就能把她吹起，飘过树篱，落到前面麦田里。裘德则穿着浅灰色假日服装，有她相伴相随，确实得意非凡，这固然因为她风度优雅宜人，更兼她的谈吐，她的为人行事，无不与他如出一心。他们彼此理解到了如此完全、彻底的程度，只要一个眼光，一个动作，其作用就无异于言语，足以使他们心灵融会贯通，可以说他们是合成一个整体的两部分。 这对情人带着孩子走过了旋转栅门，阿拉贝拉和她丈夫在他们后面不远。在展览场地，酒馆老板的妻子看见前面那对情人开始不厌其详地指着许多有意思的死的和活的东西，给孩子讲这是什么那是什么。他们费劲不少，无如改变不了他的淡漠的态度，因而他们脸上也不免露出苦恼之色。 “瞧她把他粘得多紧！”阿拉贝拉说。“哦——不对，不对，我看他们还没结婚，要是结了婚，就不会这么粘粘糊糊的……我搞不明白？” “可我还记得你说过他跟她结了婚啦？” “我那是听说他想结婚——想就是啦，大概往后搁了一两回，再打算结婚吧。……要瞧他们这个劲儿，真算旁若无人，展览会就像是他们的天下。我要是他，这么婆婆妈妈的，才觉着丢人，不干呢。” “他们行为里头什么地方特别显眼，我可看不出来。你要不是那么说，我绝对看不出来他们俩还在谈情说爱。” “你向来是有眼无珠。”她接过话碴。其实卡特莱关于情人或夫妇的举止的看法无疑不出在场人群的一般看法的范围，而阿拉贝拉睁大了眼睛想要辨认出来的东西，这些人根本不加理会。 “他叫她迷住了，仿佛她是个天仙呢！”阿拉贝拉继续说。“你瞧他转着圈看她没个完，两只眼睛都定在她身上啦。我倒是觉着，她爱他可比不上他爱她那么厉害。要叫我看，她不是什么感情特别热烈的东西——虽说她爱他还算过得去，尽其所能爱他就是喽；要是他想试试，准能叫她的心痛苦。不过，他人太单纯了，干不出来那样的事。哪——这会儿他们往驾辕马棚子那边去啦，咱们也过去。” “我不想看驾辕马。咱们干吗老盯着人家不放。咱们是来看展览的，咱们按咱们的意思看，他们看他们的。” “好吧——咱们就商量好一个钟头之后在哪儿碰头吧——那边的点心棚子就是啦。你走你的，我走我的，好不好？待会儿你爱看什么，看什么，我也一样。” 卡特莱对她这么说也无所谓，于是他们分成两下里——他往演示麦芽发酵过程的棚子走，阿拉贝拉朝裘德和苏那个方向走。不过她还没来得及追上他们，却迎面来了个笑容满面的人，原来碰上了当姑娘时候的朋友安妮。 安妮因为同她不期而遇，放声大笑。“我这会儿还住在那边儿哪，”她笑够了就说：“我快结婚啦，不过我心里那位今儿可来不了。咱们这帮子人坐游览车来的可多啦，不过这会儿跟他们走散啦。” “裘德跟他的年轻女人，或者是妻子吧，别管她是什么好啦，你碰没碰上？我刚瞧见他们来着。” “没碰上。好多年啦，一回也没见过他。” “呃，他们离这儿不远。哪，哪——他们就在那儿——那匹灰色马旁边！” “哦，那个就是你刚说的他这会儿的年轻女人——妻子吗？他又结婚啦。” “这我不清楚。” “她挺漂亮，真不赖！” “是喽——这倒没得褒贬的；要么也算值得弄上手的。不过也没什么了不起；个子又小又瘦，还一股子轻狂劲儿。” “他也是挺帅的小伙子啊！你就该死缠住他不放才对，阿拉贝拉！” “我怎么知道该缠住他不放呢。”她嘟嘟囔囔的。 安妮笑起来。“阿拉贝拉，这就是你啊！论男人，你老是吃着碗里头，还望着锅里头的。” “呃，我倒想知道知道哪个女人不是这样？至于说跟他一块儿的那个货——她不懂什么爱情，至少不懂我说的爱情。我一看她脸就知道她不懂。” “亲爱的阿贝，也许她管什么叫爱情，你也未必知道。” “我又何必知道！……啊——他们往艺术馆去啦。我也想瞧瞧画儿什么的。咱们就上那边去，好不好？——哟，一点不假啊，我看全维塞克斯都聚在这儿啦！那不是韦伯大夫吗？好多年没见他了，比我从前认识他那会儿，一点不见老。你好，大夫？我正说着呢，我那会儿还是姑娘，你就认得我，可你这会儿样儿一点不老哪。” “太太，这倒也简单，都是我一直接方子吃我的药丸子的灵验哪。一盒才卖两先令三便士——功效如神，政府印花为证。我劝你跟我学学，花钱买平安，没灾没病，不怕岁月无情能伤人。才两先令三便士。” 大夫从背心口袋里掏出个盒子，阿拉贝拉让他说动，就买了。 “同时，”他接过钱说，“失敬得很，你是哪位？大概是住在马利格林附近的福来太太，原先叫邓恩姑娘吧？” “对啦。不过我这会儿是卡特莱太太。” “啊，这么说你没了他啦？那小伙子前程远大哟！你知道，他还是我的学生哪？我教过他过时的语言。你信我说的，他学得不长，懂得就差不多赶上我啦。” “我是没了他，可不是你想的那回事，”阿拉贝拉不客气说。“律师把我们俩拆开啦。瞧，他就在那边，还活着，结实得很呢；他还带着那个年轻女人，要进艺术馆。” “哎呀呀，瞧得出来，他怪爱她，一看就知道。” “人家说他们是表亲。” “依我说，表亲谈恋爱还不是顺理成章吗？” “就是。所以她丈夫跟她离的时候，准会想到……咱们也看看画，好吧？” 于是他们三个一伙随即穿过草地，进了艺术馆。裘德和苏带着孩子，万想不到居然有人对他们有这么大兴趣，这时已走到房子另一头的模型，神情专注，谛视良久，然后就往前走了。阿拉贝拉和她的朋友磨蹭了一会儿，也走到模型那儿，只见上面的标牌写着“基督堂红衣主教学院模型，作者J．福来与S．F．M．柏瑞和”。 “他们原来是欣赏自个儿的作品哪。”阿拉贝拉说。“裘德老是这回子事——老叨念着学院。基督堂呀，放着好好的活儿不干！” 他们马马虎虎看了几眼画，就到音乐台那边站着听军乐队演奏，裘德、苏和孩子到了音乐台另一边。阿拉贝拉倒一点不在乎他们把她认出来，可是军乐队恰恰奏出了他们内心深处的情感，他们不禁感动得如醉如痴，哪儿会瞧得出蒙着珠光宝气的面纱的她。阿拉贝拉于是绕过听众的圈子，打这对情人身后边走过去，他们的一举一动今天真叫她感到出奇的吸引力。她好不容易地从人缝里窥伺，只见他们站在那儿，裘德把手往苏的手那儿凑过去，他大概心里想，他们两个既然靠得这么紧，这样不用言语来表达恩爱之情，总能遮掩得住，别人看不见吧。 “婆婆妈妈的傻东西——成了两个孩子啦！”阿拉贝拉一边嘴里哼哼唧唧，一边回到同伴中间，不过她宁可把事闷在心里，不对他们说。 同时安妮正把阿拉贝拉对前夫又怎么发作了热劲，当笑话说给韦伯大夫听。 “现在，”大夫把阿拉贝拉拉到一边说，“你想不想要这东西，卡特莱太太？这可不是按我平常熬药的方子配成的，可是有时候人家跟我要这玩意儿呢。”他顺手掏出个小玻璃瓶，里边盛着透亮的液体。“这是春药，古时候人用过，劲头可大啦。我研究了他们的著作，发现了它的门道，至今还没听说它不灵呢。” “拿什么做的？”阿拉贝拉好奇地问。 “呃——配的料里头有一味是鸽心——就是鸽子那类的心脏——提炼出来的精髓。要制满满这么一小瓶子，得万把个心哩。” “你怎么弄到这么多鸽子？” “就把秘密露给你吧，我弄了块石盐，这东西鸽子就是喜欢，一有它，什么都顾不得了，我把它放到我屋顶上的鸽子窝里，用不了几个钟头，鸽子就打东南西北、四面八方飞过来了，我想要多少就弄得到多少。你用这个水，先得把主意打好了，你那个意中人喝酒的话，你就往里头滴十滴。我听你问这个问那个，就知道有买的意思。你总该信得过我吧？” “好啦——我来它一瓶，反正无所谓——送给朋友，要么别人，让她拿去在她情人身上试试。”她按要价掏出五先令，又顺手把小瓶子往她宽大的胸衣口袋里一塞。接着她说跟她丈夫约好的时间到了，就慢慢悠悠往点心棚走。裘德、他的伴侣和孩子正往园艺棚走，阿拉贝拉瞄了他们一眼，只见他们站在一簇盛开的玫瑰花前。 她停下来，注意看了他们几分钟，然后去找她男人，心里没好气。她看见他坐在吧台边凳子上，跟给他斟酒的花里胡哨的女招待说说笑笑。 “我还当你在家里搞这一套搞够了！”阿拉贝拉问声闷气说。“难道说，你打自个儿酒吧跑五十英里，专为赖在别的酒吧里头？走吧，也学学别的男人带着老婆转，带着我在展览会里到处转悠吧！得啦，人家还当你是个年轻光棍儿呢，就管自个儿，用不着管别人！” “可咱们不是说好了在这儿碰头吗？我要是不等又怎么办？” “好啦，咱们这会儿凑上了，就开路吧。”她回答说，因为太阳烤着她，她恨不能跟太阳吵一通。他们一块儿离开点心棚，男的腆着肚子，女的脸红红的，他们也跟用基督教教义薰陶的一般夫妇一样，心里别别扭扭，彼此看不上眼，老互相埋怨。 在同一时间，那一对非同一般的情人和孩子在展览会的花卉棚流连不已，按他们的欣赏趣味，这确是一座令人目眩神迷的宫殿。苏平时脸上是苍白的，而她所凝神观赏的淡抹轻染的玫瑰花的浅红色却反映到她脸上。那一片欢乐的景象、清爽的空气、动人的音乐和整天同裘德在一起游玩而感到的兴奋，使她的血流加速，使她的双眸炯炯，分外有神。她礼赞玫瑰，阿拉贝拉目睹她在辨识各色品种的玫瑰花名时，简直是强拉着裘德依着她的意思，她自己把脸凑在离花朵一英寸的地方，闻着花香。 “我真想把脸埋到花里头——多可爱呀！”她说道。“不过我想碰她们不合规矩吧——对不对，裘德！” “是啊，宝贝儿。”他说，接着闹着玩地把她轻轻一推，她的鼻子就伸进花瓣里了。 “警察要来管咱们呢，那我就说是我丈夫胡来！” 然后她抬头望着他，微笑着，阿拉贝拉觉着她这一笑真是意味深长。 “快乐吗？”他咕哝着。 她点点头。 “为什么快乐？是因为你到全维塞克斯农业展览会来参观，还是因为咱们俩一块儿到了这儿？” “你老是想方设法提出来叫人为难的问题，非叫我老实交代不行。我快乐起来，是因为我看了所有这些汽犁。打谷机、切草机、牛呀、猪呀、羊呀，大开眼界，当然是这么事呀。” 裘德对这位素常依违两可。闪烁其词的同伴的顶撞，倒是相当满意。因为他不再指望得到回答，也就把问题撂到一边了，不过她接着说：“我深深感到咱们这会儿已经回到古希腊人纵情欢乐的时代，眼里看不到病痛和愁苦，把他们那时候起，历经二十五个世纪的种种教训都置诸脑后了，这就跟基督堂大学问家中一位说的一样……不过眼下还有个阴影哪——就这么一个。”跟着她就瞧长得老相的孩子，虽然他们把他带到各种各样可能启发他的少年智力的东西前面，他们却完全失败，引不起他半点兴味。 孩子却明白他们的话里的意味和考虑的东西。“爸爸、妈妈，我实在、实在对不起你们。”他说。“可你们别往心里去——我也是没办法。要不是我一直想着花儿过几天就蔫了，我准乐得不得了呢。” |
| Part 5 Chapter 6 THE unnoticed lives that the pair had hitherto led began, from the day of the suspended wedding onwards, to be observed and discussed by other persons than Arabella. The society of Spring Street and the neighbourhood generally did not understand, and probably could not have been made to understand, Sue and Jude's private minds, emotions, positions, and fears. The curious facts of a child coming to them unexpectedly, who called Jude "Father," and Sue "Mother," and a hitch in a marriage ceremony intended for quietness to be performed at a registrar's office, together with rumours of the undefended cases in the law-courts, bore only one translation to plain minds. Little Time--for though he was formally turned into "Jude," the apt nickname stuck to him--would come home from school in the evening, and repeat inquiries and remarks that had been made to him by the other boys; and cause Sue, and Jude when he heard them, a great deal of pain and sadness. The result was that shortly after the attempt at the registrar's the pair went off--to London it was believed--for several days, hiring somebody to look to the boy. When they came back they let it be understood indirectly, and with total indifference and weariness of mien, that they were legally married at last. Sue, who had previously been called Mrs. Bridehead now openly adopted the name of Mrs. Fawley. Her dull, cowed, and listless manner for days seemed to substantiate all this. But the mistake (as it was called) of their going away so secretly to do the business, kept up much of the mystery of their lives; and they found that they made not such advances with their neighbours as they had expected to do thereby. A living mystery was not much less interesting than a dead scandal. The baker's lad and the grocer's boy, who at first had used to lift their hats gallantly to Sue when they came to execute their errands, in these days no longer took the trouble to render her that homage, and the neighbouring artizans' wives looked straight along the pavement when they encountered her. Nobody molested them, it is true; but an oppressive atmosphere began to encircle their souls, particularly after their excursion to the show, as if that visit had brought some evil influence to bear on them. And their temperaments were precisely of a kind to suffer from this atmosphere, and to be indisposed to lighten it by vigorous and open statements. Their apparent attempt at reparation had come too late to be effective. The headstone and epitaph orders fell off: and two or three months later, when autumn came, Jude perceived that he would have to return to journey-work again, a course all the more unfortunate just now, in that he had not as yet cleared off the debt he had unavoidably incurred in the payment of the law-costs of the previous year. One evening he sat down to share the common meal with Sue and the child as usual. "I am thinking," he said to her, "that I'll hold on here no longer. The life suits us, certainly; but if we could get away to a place where we are unknown, we should be lighter hearted, and have a better chance. And so I am afraid we must break it up here, however awkward for you, poor dear!" Sue was always much affected at a picture of herself as an object of pity, and she saddened. "Well--I am not sorry," said she presently. "I am much depressed by the way they look at me here. And you have been keeping on this house and furniture entirely for me and the boy! You don't want it yourself, and the expense is unnecessary. But whatever we do, wherever we go, you won't take him away from me, Jude dear? I could not let him go now! The cloud upon his young mind makes him so pathetic to me; I do hope to lift it some day! And he loves me so. You won't take him away from me?" "Certainly I won't, dear little girl! We'll get nice lodgings, wherever we go. I shall be moving about probably--getting a job here and a job there." "I shall do something too, of course, till--till Well, now I can't be useful in the lettering it behoves me to turn my hand to something else." "Don't hurry about getting employment," he said regretfully. "I don't want you to do that. I wish you wouldn't, Sue. The boy and yourself are enough for you to attend to." There was a knock at the door, and Jude answered it. Sue could hear the conversation: "Is Mr. Fawley at home? ... Biles and Willis the building contractors sent me to know if you'll undertake the relettering of the ten commandments in a little church they've been restoring lately in the country near here." Jude reflected, and said he could undertake it. "It is not a very artistic job," continued the messenger. "The clergyman is a very old-fashioned chap, and he has refused to let anything more be done to the church than cleaning and repairing." "Excellent old man!" said Sue to herself, who was sentimentally opposed to the horrors of over-restoration. "The Ten Commandments are fixed to the east end," the messenger went on, "and they want doing up with the rest of the wall there, since he won't have them carted off as old materials belonging to the contractor in the usual way of the trade." A bargain as to terms was struck, and Jude came indoors. "There, you see," he said cheerfully. "One more job yet, at any rate, and you can help in it--at least you can try. We shall have all the church to ourselves, as the rest of the work is finished." Next day Jude went out to the church, which was only two miles off. He found that what the contractor's clerk had said was true. The tables of the Jewish law towered sternly over the utensils of Christian grace, as the chief ornament of the chancel end, in the fine dry style of the last century. And as their framework was constructed of ornamental plaster they could not be taken down for repair. A portion, crumbled by damp, required renewal; and when this had been done, and the whole cleansed, he began to renew the lettering. On the second morning Sue came to see what assistance she could render, and also because they liked to be together. The silence and emptiness of the building gave her confidence, and, standing on a safe low platform erected by Jude, which she was nevertheless timid at mounting, she began painting in the letters of the first Table while he set about mending a portion of the second. She was quite pleased at her powers; she had acquired them in the days she painted illumined texts for the church-fitting shop at Christminster. Nobody seemed likely to disturb them; and the pleasant twitter of birds, and rustle of October leafage, came in through an open window, and mingled with their talk. They were not, however, to be left thus snug and peaceful for long. About half-past twelve there came footsteps on the gravel without. The old vicar and his churchwarden entered, and, coming up to see what was being done, seemed surprised to discover that a young woman was assisting. They passed on into an aisle, at which time the door again opened, and another figure entered--a small one, that of little Time, who was crying. Sue had told him where he might find her between school-hours, if he wished. She came down from her perch, and said, "What's the matter, my dear?" "I couldn't stay to eat my dinner in school, because they said----" He described how some boys had taunted him about his nominal mother, and Sue, grieved, expressed her indignation to Jude aloft. The child went into the churchyard, and Sue returned to her work. Meanwhile the door had opened again, and there shuffled in with a businesslike air the white-aproned woman who cleaned the church. Sue recognized her as one who had friends in Spring Street, whom she visited. The church-cleaner looked at Sue, gaped, and lifted her hands; she had evidently recognized Jude's companion as the latter had recognized her. Next came two ladies, and after talking to the charwoman they also moved forward, and as Sue stood reaching upward, watched her hand tracing the letters, and critically regarded her person in relief against the white wall, till she grew so nervous that she trembled visibly. They went back to where the others were standing, talking in undertones: and one said--Sue could not hear which--"She's his wife, I suppose?" "Some say Yes: some say No," was the reply from the charwoman. "Not? Then she ought to be, or somebody's--that's very clear!" "They've only been married a very few weeks, whether or no." "A strange pair to be painting the Two Tables! I wonder Biles and Willis could think of such a thing as hiring those!" The churchwarden supposed that Biles and Willis knew of nothing wrong, and then the other, who had been talking to the old woman, explained what she meant by calling them strange people. The probable drift of the subdued conversation which followed was made plain by the churchwarden breaking into an anecdote, in a voice that everybody in the church could hear, though obviously suggested by the present situation: "Well, now, it is a curious thing, but my grandfather told me a strange tale of a most immoral case that happened at the painting of the Commandments in a church out by Gaymead-- which is quite within a walk of this one. In them days Commandments were mostly done in gilt letters on a black ground, and that's how they were out where I say, before the owld church was rebuilded. It must have been somewhere about a hundred years ago that them Commandments wanted doing up just as ours do here, and they had to get men from Aldbrickham to do 'em. Now they wished to get the job finished by a particular Sunday, so the men had to work late Saturday night, against their will, for overtime was not paid then as 'tis now. There was no true religion in the country at that date, neither among pa'sons, clerks, nor people, and to keep the men up to their work the vicar had to let 'em have plenty of drink during the afternoon. As evening drawed on they sent for some more themselves; rum, by all account. It got later and later, and they got more and more fuddled, till at last they went a-putting their rum-bottle and rummers upon the communion table, and drawed up a trestle or two, and sate round comfortable and poured out again right hearty bumpers. No sooner had they tossed off their glasses than, so the story goes they fell down senseless, one and all. How long they bode so they didn't know, but when they came to themselves there was a terrible thunder-storm a-raging, and they seemed to see in the gloom a dark figure with very thin legs and a curious voot, a-standing on the ladder, and finishing their work. When it got daylight they could see that the work was really finished, and couldn't at all mind finishing it themselves. They went home, and the next thing they heard was that a great scandal had been caused in the church that Sunday morning, for when the people came and service began, all saw that the Ten Commandments wez painted with the "nots" left out. Decent people wouldn't attend service there for a long time, and the Bishop had to be sent for to reconsecrate the church. That's the tradition as I used to hear it as a child. You must take it for what it is wo'th, but this case to-day has reminded me o't, as I say." The visitors gave one more glance, as if to see whether Jude and Sue had left the "nots" out likewise, and then severally left the church, even the old woman at last. Sue and Jude, who had not stopped working, sent back the child to school, and remained without speaking; till, looking at her narrowly, he found she had been crying silently. "Never mind, comrade!" he said. "I know what it is!" "I can't BEAR that they, and everybody, should think people wicked because they may have chosen to live their own way! It is really these opinions that make the best intentioned people reckless, and actually become immoral!" "Never be cast down! It was only a funny story." "Ah, but we suggested it! I am afraid I have done you mischief, Jude, instead of helping you by coming!" To have suggested such a story was certainly not very exhilarating, in a serious view of their position. However, in a few minutes Sue seemed to see that their position this morning had a ludicrous side, and wiping her eyes she laughed. "It is droll, after all," she said, "that we two, of all people, with our queer history, should happen to be here painting the Ten Commandments! You a reprobate, and I--in my condition.... O dear!" ... And with her hand over her eyes she laughed again silently and intermittently, till she was quite weak. "That's better," said Jude gaily. "Now we are right again, aren't we, little girl!" "Oh but it is serious, all the same!" she sighed as she took up the brush and righted herself. "But do you see they don't think we are married? They WON'T believe it! It is extraordinary!" "I don't care whether they think so or not," said Jude. "I shan't take any more trouble to make them." They sat down to lunch--which they had brought with them not to hinder time-- and having eaten it were about to set to work anew when a man entered the church, and Jude recognized in him the contractor Willis. He beckoned to Jude, and spoke to him apart. "Here--I've just had a complaint about this," he said, with rather breathless awkwardness. "I don't wish to go into the matter-- as of course I didn't know what was going on--but I am afraid I must ask you and her to leave off, and let somebody else finish this! It is best, to avoid all unpleasantness. I'll pay you for the week, all the same." Jude was too independent to make any fuss; and the contractor paid him, and left. Jude picked up his tools, and Sue cleansed her brush. Then their eyes met. "How could we be so simple as to suppose we might do this!" said she, dropping to her tragic note. "Of course we ought not-- I ought not--to have come!" "I had no idea that anybody was going to intrude into such a lonely place and see us!" Jude returned. "Well, it can't be helped, dear; and of course I wouldn't wish to injure Willis's trade-connection by staying." They sat down passively for a few minutes, proceeded out of the church, and overtaking the boy pursued their thoughtful way to Aldbrickham. Fawley had still a pretty zeal in the cause of education, and, as was natural with his experiences, he was active in furthering "equality of opportunity" by any humble means open to him. He had joined an Artizans' Mutual Improvement Society established in the town about the time of his arrival there; its members being young men of all creeds and denominations, including Churchmen, Congregationalists, Baptists, Unitarians, Positivists, and others-- agnostics had scarcely been heard of at this time--their one common wish to enlarge their minds forming a sufficiently close bond of union. The subscription was small, and the room homely; and Jude's activity, uncustomary acquirements, and above all, singular intuition on what to read and how to set about it-- begotten of his years of struggle against malignant stars--had led to his being placed on the committee. A few evenings after his dismissal from the church repairs, and before he had obtained any more work to do, he went to attend a meeting of the aforesaid committee. It was late when he arrived: all the others had come, and as he entered they looked dubiously at him, and hardly uttered a word of greeting. He guessed that something bearing on himself had been either discussed or mooted. Some ordinary business was transacted, and it was disclosed that the number of subscriptions had shown a sudden falling off for that quarter. One member--a really well-meaning and upright man-- began speaking in enigmas about certain possible causes: that it behoved them to look well into their constitution; for if the committee were not respected, and had not at least, in their differences, a common standard of CONDUCT, they would bring the institution to the ground. Nothing further was said in Jude's presence, but he knew what this meant; and turning to the table wrote a note resigning his office there and then. Thus the supersensitive couple were more and more impelled to go away. And then bills were sent in, and the question arose, what could Jude do with his great-aunt's heavy old furniture, if he left the town to travel he knew not whither? This, and the necessity of ready money, compelled him to decide on an auction, much as he would have preferred to keep the venerable goods. The day of the sale came on; and Sue for the last time cooked her own, the child's, and Jude's breakfast in the little house he had furnished. It chanced to be a wet day; moreover Sue was unwell, and not wishing to desert her poor Jude in such gloomy circumstances, for he was compelled to stay awhile, she acted on the suggestion of the auctioneer's man, and ensconced herself in an upper room, which could be emptied of its effects, and so kept closed to the bidders. Here Jude discovered her; and with the child, and their few trunks, baskets, and bundles, and two chairs and a table that were not in the sale, the two sat in meditative talk. Footsteps began stamping up and down the bare stairs, the comers inspecting the goods, some of which were of so quaint and ancient a make as to acquire an adventitious value as art. Their door was tried once or twice, and to guard themselves against intrusion Jude wrote "Private" on a scrap of paper, and stuck it upon the panel. They soon found that, instead of the furniture, their own personal histories and past conduct began to be discussed to an unexpected and intolerable extent by the intending bidders. It was not till now that they really discovered what a fools' paradise of supposed unrecognition they had been living in of late. Sue silently took her companion's hand, and with eyes on each other they heard these passing remarks-- the quaint and mysterious personality of Father Time being a subject which formed a large ingredient in the hints and innuendoes. At length the auction began in the room below, whence they could hear each familiar article knocked down, the highly prized ones cheaply, the unconsidered at an unexpected price. "People don't understand us," he sighed heavily. "I am glad we have decided to go." "The question is, where to?" "It ought to be to London. There one can live as one chooses." "No--not London, dear! I know it well. We should be unhappy there." "Why?" "Can't you think?" "Because Arabella is there?" "That's the chief reason." "But in the country I shall always be uneasy lest there should be some more of our late experience. And I don't care to lessen it by explaining, for one thing, all about the boy's history. To cut him off from his past I have determined to keep silence. I am sickened of ecclesiastical work now; and I shouldn't like to accept it, if offered me!" "You ought to have learnt classic. Gothic is barbaric art, after all. Pugin was wrong, and Wren was right. Remember the interior of Christminster Cathedral--almost the first place in which we looked in each other's faces. Under the picturesqueness of those Norman details one can see the grotesque childishness of uncouth people trying to imitate the vanished Roman forms, remembered by dim tradition only." "Yes--you have half-converted me to that view by what you have said before. But one can work, and despise what one does. I must do something, if not church gothic." "I wish we could both follow an occupation in which personal circumstances don't count," she said, smiling up wistfully. "I am as disqualified for teaching as you are for ecclesiastical art. You must fall back upon railway stations, bridges, theatres, music-halls, hotels--everything that has no connection with conduct." "I am not skilled in those.... I ought to take to bread-baking. I grew up in the baking business with aunt, you know. But even a baker must be conventional, to get customers." "Unless he keeps a cake and gingerbread stall at markets and fairs, where people are gloriously indifferent to everything except the quality of the goods." Their thoughts were diverted by the voice of the auctioneer: "Now this antique oak settle--a unique example of old English furniture, worthy the attention of all collectors!" "That was my great-grandfather's," said Jude. "I wish we could have kept the poor old thing!" One by one the articles went, and the afternoon passed away. Jude and the other two were getting tired and hungry, but after the conversation they had heard they were shy of going out while the purchasers were in their line of retreat. However, the later lots drew on, and it became necessary to emerge into the rain soon, to take on Sue's things to their temporary lodging. "Now the next lot: two pairs of pigeons, all alive and plump-- a nice pie for somebody for next Sunday's dinner!" The impending sale of these birds had been the most trying suspense of the whole afternoon. They were Sue's pets, and when it was found that they could not possibly be kept, more sadness was caused than by parting from all the furniture. Sue tried to think away her tears as she heard the trifling sum that her dears were deemed to be worth advanced by small stages to the price at which they were finally knocked down. The purchaser was a neighbouring poulterer, and they were unquestionably doomed to die before the next market day. Noting her dissembled distress Jude kissed her, and said it was time to go and see if the lodgings were ready. He would go on with the boy, and fetch her soon. When she was left alone she waited patiently, but Jude did not come back. At last she started, the coast being clear, and on passing the poulterer's shop, not far off, she saw her pigeons in a hamper by the door. An emotion at sight of them, assisted by the growing dusk of evening, caused her to act on impulse, and first looking around her quickly, she pulled out the peg which fastened down the cover, and went on. The cover was lifted from within, and the pigeons flew away with a clatter that brought the chagrined poulterer cursing and swearing to the door. Sue reached the lodging trembling, and found Jude and the boy making it comfortable for her. "Do the buyers pay before they bring away the things?" she asked breathlessly. "Yes, I think. Why?" "Because, then, I've done such a wicked thing!" And she explained, in bitter contrition. "I shall have to pay the poulterer for them, if he doesn't catch them," said Jude. "But never mind. Don't fret about it, dear." "It was so foolish of me! Oh why should Nature's law be mutual butchery!" "Is it so, Mother?" asked the boy intently. "Yes!" said Sue vehemently. "Well, they must take their chance, now, poor things," said Jude. "As soon as the sale-account is wound up, and our bills paid, we go." "Where do we go to?" asked Time, in suspense. "We must sail under sealed orders, that nobody may trace us.... We mustn't go to Alfredston, or to Melchester, or to Shaston, or to Christminster. Apart from those we may go anywhere." "Why mustn't we go there, Father?" "Because of a cloud that has gathered over us; though 'we have wronged no man, corrupted no man, defrauded no man!' Though perhaps we have 'done that which was right in our own eyes.'" 这对情人的生活本来没人注意，但从他们的婚礼中止后，不单阿拉贝拉，而且其他人也开始对他们观察和议论。清泉街的公众和左邻右舍一般不理解，恐怕也无法让他们理解苏和裘德难与外人道的心理、感情、境遇和恐惧。他们的事也着实令人莫名其妙：家里突然来了个孩子，还管裘德叫“爸爸”，管苏叫“妈妈”；他们为图清静省事才上登记处办结婚，可又当场变卦，临时取消。此外在离婚官司中没出庭声辩，也引起流言蜚语。这一切叫头脑简单的人只能有一种解释。 时光小老爹（他已正式改名‘嚷德”，但这个恰如其分的外号始终纠缠着他）晚上放学到家之后，就把别的男孩子盯着他问个不了和他们说的难听话，学给他们听。苏非常痛苦和伤心。裘德听着，心情也一样。 结果是，这对情人在取消登记处婚礼后没多久，外出了几天（人家认为去了伦敦），雇了个人照应孩子。回来以后他们用一种间接方式使别人了解他们已依法成婚，态度显得无所谓，也不起劲。从前人家称苏为柏瑞和太太，现在苏就公开用福来太太这名字了。有好些天，她样子闷闷不乐、局促不安、无精打采，看来也足以证实确有这回事。 不过他们这样行踪诡秘地去办理婚事，在别人眼里实在是个不智之举，因为这一来反而增添了他们的生活的神秘性。他们自己也发现这一着并没收效，不像设想的那样改进他们同邻居的关系。近在眼前的神秘勾起人的兴趣决不亚于已成过去的丑闻。 面包房的小把戏和杂货店的小伙计从前送货上门，一见苏，顿时殷勤地举帽行礼，如今也免掉了。住在左右的手艺人的老婆每逢碰上她，就两眼直勾勾朝前看，从人行道走过去，只当没瞧见她。 谁也没故意找他们岔子，这也是实情。但是他们的精神世界开始陷入令人窒息的气氛的包围，在他们远路参观展览会之后尤其如此，似乎那次参观使他们有了某种邪恶影响。他们的禀性本来容易在这样气氛中感受伤害，但又不肯直言不讳地表态，以求缓解这种气氛。他们显然也曾打算多方弥缝，无奈为时已晚，难以奏效。 凿墓碑、镌墓志的生意日渐其少，两三个月过去，秋天到了，裘德心里很清楚他非再去打零活不可，因为他上年为支付诉讼费不得已而欠下的债务尚未还清，而这时候走这条路无非雪上加霜。 有天晚上，他跟平常一样跟苏和孩子一块儿吃饭。“我在考虑，”他对她说，“在这儿是撑不下去了。当然这儿的生活很适合咱们。不过咱们要是离开这儿，换个没人认识的地方，心里头总要舒坦点，机会也多点吧。我看咱们这儿的家非拆了不可，这一来你可就受罪了，可怜的，亲爱的！” 苏每逢人家把她形容成叫人怜悯的对象，就倍感刺激，所以她听了很伤心。 “呃——我没什么难受的。”她立刻说。“这儿的人看我的那个样儿，大叫我气闷啦。再说维持这个家，还有家具，本来为孩子跟我才添这笔开销，你自己根本用不着，都是多余的。可是不管咱们干什么，上哪儿去，你总不会把我跟孩子分开吧，亲爱的裘德？我这会儿可不能放他走呀。孩子稚嫩的心灵上一片乌云，我老替他难受；我真盼着哪天把乌云吹散啊！他又这么恋恋着我。你不会让孩子跟我分开吧？” “我当然不会，亲爱的小姑娘。不管咱们到哪儿，咱们都要搞个像样的地方住。我大概得到处奔波了——今天这儿干干，明天那儿干干。” “我也得做点事，当然要到——到……呃，现在描字的事，我还插不上手，别的事占着手，不忙又不行。” “你先别急着找事。”他带着歉意说。“我不想让你于那个活儿。我希望你别干，苏。你把孩子跟自个儿照料好就够你忙啦。” 这时听见有人敲门，裘德出来应付。苏听得到他们的谈话。 “福来先生在家吗？……拜•威营造厂最近正修一个小教堂，就在离这儿不远的乡下，他们打发我来问问，你还能接那儿重描《十诫》的活儿。” 裘德考虑了一下，说他可以接。 “这活儿也用不着多高的手艺。”捎信的人说。“牧师是个顶拘礼的老派，他只要把教堂洗洗刷刷，修修补补，别的全不许干。” “这老头真是个大好人。”苏自言自语，她对整修教堂过事雕琢的种种可怕结果一向抱有反感。 “十诫文就装在东厢上，”来人接着说，“他们想把它放在墙上跟别的东西一块儿施工，按这行老规矩，拆下来的旧东西都归营造商收去，可牧师怎么也不干，不准他们下掉运走，也就只好这么办了。” 他们把干活条件敲定后，裘德又回到屋里。“哪，你瞧。”他乐滋滋地说。“天无绝人之路，还是有活儿可干，你也能帮一手了——起码可以试试。等别的修缮活儿一了，教堂就全归咱们一家包啦。” 第二天裘德前往不过两英里外的教堂，他看了看，营造厂职员所言果然不虚。犹太法律凛凛然俯临有基督教典雅格调的圣器，是圣坛末端的主要装饰，属于上世纪那种工艺精良而缺乏生气的风格。又因它们的整体边框是用装饰性石膏做成，所以不好取下来修理，其中一部分已因受潮而发泡开裂，需要完全更换；等这个活儿于完了，全部边框也清洗干净，他这才开始把字重描。第二天上午苏来看看她能帮什么忙，不过她来了也是因为他们老喜欢呆在一块儿。 教堂里不闻人声，不见人影，她心里很踏实。裘德原来搭好一个比较矮点的脚手架，挺安全的，不过她一往架子上爬，还是有点胆怯。她开始给第一块字版上色，裘德就着手修补第二块字版的另一部分；从前她给基督堂教会圣物店画经文插图时就学会了这类技巧。这时候看来不大可能有人来打扰他们。众鸟欢悦的啁啾和十月叶丛的窸窣从打开的窗户飘进来，同他们的谈话交织在一起。 殊不知他们感受到的宁静畅适却好景不长。大概十二点半光景，外面石子路上有了脚步声，年事已高的教区长和教堂管事进来了，他们要看看现在干什么，没想到瞧见个年轻女人在帮活，好像吃了一惊。他们又往前走，进了座位中间的走道，门这时又打开了，闪进个一个人——小小的身形，原来是小时光，哭哭啼啼的。苏已经跟他说了，他中午课间要找她，就到什么地方。她从架子上下来，问他，“什么事呀，我的宝贝儿？” “我没法在学校里头吃饭啦，因为他们说——”他就把几个孩子怎么臭他、说他妈是叫着玩儿的，不是真的，一五一十说了一遍。苏听了很难过，就向高处的裘德表示非常气愤。孩子到教堂墓地去了，她又上去干活儿。门这时再次打开，进来了一个系着白围裙的女人，是打扫教堂的，满脸正经的样子。苏认得她，这女人在清泉街有朋友，苏也曾去看望过她们。这打扫教堂的女人一看见苏，就一发愣，手抬抬，没错儿，她认出来裘德这个同伴，就像苏也认出她来。接着来了两位女士，她们跟打扫女工说了几句话，朝前走来，上上下下、仔仔细细打量靠在白墙上撑着身子的苏。后来她让她们看得紧张得不得了，明显地发起抖来。 她们又回身走到前面来的人站的地方，压着嗓门说话，一个说——苏听不出来是哪个——“她是他老婆吧，我想？” “有人说是，有人说不是。”这是女杂工在答腔。 “不是？不是还行吗？要不然就是别人的——这一清二楚嘛！” “是也好，不是也好，他们反正结婚才几个礼拜。” “这么不明不白的一对，居然涂十诫！我就不懂拜•威厂怎么想得起来用这样的人！” 教堂管事表示拜尔和威利斯厂子没听到不对的地方，接着那个跟老太婆说话的女人解释了一下她管他们叫不明不白的人是什么意思。 他们先是压着嗓子嘀嘀咕咕，勉强听得出来，后来教堂管事猛孤了地讲起一桩奇怪的传说，嗓门大得教堂里头的人都听得清清楚楚，显而易见是由眼前这个情景引出来的。“我爷爷当年给我讲过一个奇怪的故事，真是邪恶到顶啦，这会儿听起来还叫人莫名其妙呢。这事就出在该密得近边上教堂给十诫上色的时候。那年头，十诫差不多都是黑底描金，我说的那个地方也这样，当时老教堂还没拆了重造。大概一百年前不定哪天吧，他们想把十诫好好修修，跟咱们这会儿一样，这件事他们得上奥尔布里肯找人于。他们很想在预定好的礼拜天之前能完工，做工的也只好捺住性子在礼拜六于到三更半夜，那会儿跟现在不一样，加班不加钱。那年头哪儿有什么真正信教的人哪，不管是乡下牧师、管事，还是老百姓全一样。过了晌午，教区长要叫他们于下去，就得让他们喝个够。天快黑了，他们自个儿又想法子弄了些酒来；没说的，全是兰姆酒。天越来越晚了，他们也醉得越来越厉害了，到后来索性连酒瓶带杯子一齐放到圣餐台上，搬过来一两条板凳，舒舒服服地围台子一坐，一大缸一大缸地开怀畅饮。把杯子里的酒喝光了，个个都倒下来了，人事不知啦，传说就是这样。究竟他们人事不知有多大工夫，他们自个儿一点儿不知道。不过他们全醒过来的时候，正是疾风暴雨，电闪雷鸣，在昏天黑地里好像看见个黑不唧的人形，腿细得很，脚也怪特别的，站在梯子上，替他们赶活儿。等天亮了，他们一瞧，果然活干完了，可他们根本想不起来是自个儿把活儿干完了的。然后他们就回家了，以后就听说那个晚上教堂里出了个骇人听闻的怪事儿，原来礼拜天早上，大伙儿到了教堂，也开始做礼拜了，忽然间瞧见上好色的十诫上边的“不”字全漏下了。正派人好久好久没去做礼拜，没办法，只好把主教请来，再为教堂向上天祈祷一回。我孩子时候常听说这个传说。实不实，你们自个儿想就是啦，不过就是这会儿的光景，把我给提醒啦。” 来人又对他们俩瞄了一眼，仿佛要看看裘德和苏是不是也照样把“不”字抹掉。他们一个接一个离开了教堂，后来连老女人也走了。裘德和苏原来没有把活儿停下来，现在就把孩子打发回学校，两个人始终没说一句话；等等他仔细一瞧她，才发现她没出声地哭着。 “别管它吧，同志！”他说。“我看才不值得管它呢。” “他们，个个都是，因为人家想按自己的方式生活，就把人家糟蹋得一塌糊涂，我真受不了啊！就这样嚼舌根，难怪逼得心地高尚的人走投无路，结果就堕落下去，这真是一点不假啊。” “你千万别为这个泄气，这只算是个笑话！” “这可是对着咱们说的呀！裘德，我想我来了，帮了个倒忙，倒叫你受屈啦！” 要是按他们的处境来认真一想，他们惹得别人讲那样的故事，当然不是滋味。不过几分钟以后，苏似乎明白过来这个上午的情况确有其滑稽的一面，也就擦了擦眼睛，破涕为笑了。 “芸芸众生，偏偏咱们这两个经历这么奇特，凑巧又上这儿来给十诫上色，也真可谓滑天下之稽啦！你让上帝抛弃了，我呢，按我的情形……哦，亲爱的！”她用手捂起眼睛，又没出声笑着，笑笑停停，直到笑累了才停下来。 “这不就说对了嘛。”裘德开心地说。“咱们这会儿还不是恢复了原状吗，小姑娘！” “哦，不过到底挺严重啊！”她叹口气，同时拿起刷子，站稳了。“难道你还没明白，他们不承认咱们结了婚？他们决不肯相信！这太离谱啦！” “他们怎么想，我才不在乎。”裘德说。“我犯不上叫他们信。” 他们坐下来吃午饭（这是他们带来的，好多挤点干活时间）；吃完了，刚要动手干，突然有个人进堂，裘德一眼就认出来，是营造商威利斯。他招招手叫裘德过来，要跟他说话。 “这么回事——人家对你干这活儿有意见，我刚听说的。”他说，有点上气不接下气。“我可不想搅到这里头——因为我实在不晓得怎么搞的，不过我恐怕得请你跟她别往下干了，叫别人干完吧！这样顶好，省得生阔气。我照样给你一个礼拜工钱。” 裘德这人赋性高傲，决不肯为这点事吵吵闹闹；营造商给了钱，就走了。裘德把工具收抬好，苏洗干净自己的刷子。接着两个人面面相觑。 “咱们头脑太简单啦，居然想可以接下来这个活儿！”她说，声调里又带着伤感。“咱们确实不应该——我确实不应该到这儿来。” “我真是一点没想到，这么个偏僻地方，居然还有人闯进来瞧咱们！”裘德接过话碴说。“事到如今，无法可想喽，亲爱的；我当然决不想赖着不走，把威利斯做成的生意砸了。”他们又勉强坐了几分钟，就走出教堂，为了追上孩子，一路上心事重重直奔奥尔布里肯。 福来始终不能忘情于教育事业，凡他力所能及者，他必定略尽绵薄之力，积极推动“机会均等”的实现。按他个人遭际来说，这也很自然。他大概一到奥尔布里肯，就参加了该市才建立的“工匠共进会”，会员都是青年，什么信仰、宗派的都有，包括国教派、公理教会派。浸礼派、一神派、实证派等等，以及当时还不大听说的不可知派。他们具有开扩心智的共同愿望，因而组成了这个联系十分密切的团体，会费很少，集会地点朴实，气氛亲切。裘德的活动能力、他的非同小可的学识，尤其是他在读什么书和怎样读书方面特有的直觉——是他多年同厄运斗争磨砺而成的——使他得以入选该会的委员会。 承接教堂修复工程的营造商把他解雇以后，又过了几个晚上，他一时还没找到别的活儿，有一次去参加上面说的委员会的会议。他到会为时已迟，其他人都先他而到，大家用疑虑的眼光望着他，也没人对他招呼。他心里琢磨总是讨论过或是争论过什么有关他的事。他们先处理好日常事务，随后言语之间流露出来这个季度交会费的会员人数突然下降了。一位委员（其人确实与人为善、本性正直）开始故弄玄虚地谈了几个可能的原因：他们理应好好审查一下该会章程；因为如果委员会得不到会员尊重，如果委员之间有分歧，又没有一项起码的共同信守的行为准则，长此下去，他们非把团体搞垮了不可。由于裘德在场，他们也没拿话旁敲侧击，但是他们话里有话，他心中有数，二话没说，走到桌子那儿，写了个条子，表示立即辞去委员职务。 至此这对特为敏感的夫妇，被人一步步逼得只好离开这个地方。跟着账单也送上门来了，同时还发生个问题，就是如果裘德要离开这个地方，又不知此后人去何方，他该怎么处理姑婆那些又旧又笨重的家具？这件事，加上他手里得有现款才行，迫使他决定搞一次拍卖，虽然他本心想把那些古老庄严的东西保存下来。 拍卖的日子到了；苏最后一次在裘德装修布置的小房子里给自己，给孩子，给裘德做早饭。没想到这天偏巧下雨；苏也感到不适；她不想把她的可怜的裘德一个人丢在那个乌烟瘴气的场合，因为他是迫不得已只好在那儿呆段时间，于是她自告奋勇，向拍卖行的人提出来，楼上有间屋子，她自己要歇在里头，东西可以出清，关上门就可以挡住参加拍卖的人了。裘德在那儿找到她，跟孩子在一块儿，还有不多几个箱子、篮子和几捆东西，再就是不打算卖的两把椅子、一张桌子，两人就坐在椅上说话，心事重重。 人们开始踩着很重的步子，在光板楼梯上上下下，把拍卖的东西左看右看，其中一些形制古雅，颇具艺术价值。他们这间屋子的门，也让人推了一两回，裘德怕人随便往里闯，就在纸上写了“私寓”字样，贴在门上。 他们很快就发现买主居然肆无忌惮地议论开他们俩的经历和从前的行为，真是叫人再也料不到。他们这才真正明白，一段时间以来，他们是如何自以为别人对他们一无所知，而身处极乐世界之中。苏一言不发，拉着她的同伴的手，四目相视，听着他们东拉西扯——在那些含沙射影、无中生有的扯谈中，时光老爹的奇特而神秘的身世成了他们颇占分量的话题。拍卖总算在楼下屋里开场了，他们听得见自己用惯的家具一件件成交的过程，他们素常心爱的东西卖得很便宜，而平时不起眼的东西卖的价钱之高倒想不到。 “别人不理解咱们啊。”他深深地叹了口气。“咱们总算是决定走了，我还是很高兴的。” “问题是，上哪儿去呢？” “还是上伦敦吧。住在那个地方，你怎么生活都行，随你的便。” “不行——不能上伦敦，亲爱的！这我心里有数。咱们到那儿，一定不舒心。” “为什么？” “难道你不明白？” “因为阿拉贝拉在那儿？” “这是主要原因。” “可是住在乡下，我会一直心神不定，怕再碰上新近这样的事。再说我也不想为了咱们少烦恼点，就把孩子的身世一古脑亮出来。我现在下了决心，从今以后一个字儿不提，让他跟过去一刀两断。替教会干活儿，我也腻透啦，就是有人来找，我也不想再接。” “你原先本该学学古典建筑。哥特式艺术毕竟是粗野的。蒲京是错误的，伦恩是正确的。别忘了基督堂的大教堂内部装饰——那儿可以说是头一回你看见我，我看见你的地方。那些诺曼式细部固然形象如画，可你一经寓目，就看出来全是些不学无术之辈刻意模仿已经湮没了的罗马形式，弄出来的不伦不类的小儿手笔，其实那种形式不过是靠似是而非的传说流传下来而已。” “对啊——我听了你从前跟我说的那些话，叫我早已有一半改过来啦，信从了你的观点。可人不干活怎么行呢，那就顾不得干什么啦。就算不干哥特式教堂的活儿，我总得干点别的活儿呀。” “我倒是想咱们俩都干一行，跟个人的原来的境遇不沾边。”她说，带着渴望的神情，微笑着。“你在宗教艺术方面不合格，我也一样，在教学方面不合格。你不妨退一步，干干整修火车站呀、桥梁呀。戏院呀、音乐厅呀、饭店呀——凡是跟行为没一点关系的都行。” “这些玩意儿，我并不在行。……我倒可以做做面包，挺合适的。我是跟姑婆做面包生意长大的，这你知道。不过就连个面包师傅想招来主顾，也得顺着风俗转，合群才行。” “要不然，就上庙会集市摆个摊子卖蛋糕和姜汁饼好啦，那儿人家只问做得怎么样，此外大咧咧地什么也不往心里去。” 他们的思想叫拍卖经纪人的声音打断了，“现在是一件老古董，橡木高背靠椅——老式英国家具独一无二的典型，够得上所有收藏家刮目相看哪。” “这是我祖爷爷的。”裘德说。“我真想咱们能把这件可怜的老东西留在手里！” 一件又一件，家具都出手了，下午已经过去了。裘德和苏跟孩子又累又饿，但是他们听过别人议论之后，在买家具的人陆续退场之际，不好意思走出屋于。可还剩几件在喊价，他们非露面不可了，哪怕冒着雨，也得把苏的东西送往他们的临时住处。 “现在是下一件：一对鸽子，全是欢蹦乱跳，肥肥壮壮——下礼拜天拿它们做正餐上的馅饼，刮刮叫的美味佳肴。” 逼在眼前的卖鸽子这一幕成了整个下午最折磨人的揪心事儿。鸽子乃是苏的心爱之物，眼看着再也无法把它们留在手里，他们的痛苦要比同所有家具分离时还厉害。苏一边看着她的宝贝从预定的微不足道的起价一步步升到最后的卖价，一边极力想把思想岔开，忍住眼泪。买鸽子的是邻近一个家禽贩于，毫无疑问，它们注定要在下个集市前一命呜呼。 裘德见她强抑痛苦，故作无事，不禁吻了她。跟她说，他该去看看住处是否安排妥当，要先把孩子带过去，再回来接她。 她一个人留下来，耐着性子等，但裘德一时没回来。于是她也起身走了，真是天赐良机，因为正当她路过不远处的家禽店时，瞧见自己鸽子装在店门边一只大筐里。目击故物，她一阵激动，又值天渐昏暗，一冲动，竞不顾一切，采取行动，先赶快往四下一看，跟着把插紧筐盖的小木签拔掉，往前就走。盖子给打里边顶起来了，扑喇喇，鸽子一飞冲天，家禽贩子一看，气得在门口指天划地，咒骂不休。 到了住处，苏浑身哆嗦，看到裘德跟孩子还在替她准备，好让她舒舒服服的。“买主拿走东西之前，是不是先付了钱？”她气喘不过来地问。 “当然，我想是这样吧，问这个干吗？” “因为，这么一说，我干了坑人的事啦！”接着她说了事情经过，痛悔不已。 “要是贩子没把鸽子逮回来，我一定照价赔他。”裘德说。“不过别想啦。亲爱的，别为这个苦恼吧。” “我真是太糊涂啦！哦，自然的法则干吗一定要自相残杀呀！” “是这回事儿吗？”孩子关切地问。 “就是这回事儿！”苏狠狠地说。 “好啦，这会儿它们该利用这个机会啦，可怜的东西。”裘德说。“拍卖家具的账一算清，再把欠账一还，咱们就马上走人。” “咱们＿上哪儿呀？”时光不放心地问。 “咱们一路都得背着人走，那谁也没法踩着咱们的脚印。咱们决不能上阿尔夫瑞顿，也决不能上麦尔切斯特、沙氏顿、基督堂。除了这几个地方，哪儿都行。” “咱们干吗不上那几个地方，爸？” “因为咱们是乌云压顶啊，虽说咱们‘未曾亏负谁，未曾败坏谁，未曾占谁的便宜。’不过咱们也许已经按‘各人任意而行’过啦。” Part 5 Chapter 7 FROM that week Jude Fawley and Sue walked no more in the town of Aldbrickham. Whither they had gone nobody knew, chiefly because nobody cared to know. Any one sufficiently curious to trace the steps of such an obscure pair might have discovered without great trouble that they had taken advantage of his adaptive craftsmanship to enter on a shifting, almost nomadic, life, which was not without its pleasantness for a time. Wherever Jude heard of free-stone work to be done, thither he went, choosing by preference places remote from his old haunts and Sue's. He laboured at a job, long or briefly, till it was finished; and then moved on. Two whole years and a half passed thus. Sometimes he might have been found shaping the mullions of a country mansion, sometimes setting the parapet of a town-hall, sometimes ashlaring an hotel at Sandbourne, sometimes a museum at Casterbridge, sometimes as far down as Exonbury, sometimes at Stoke-Barehills. Later still he was at Kennetbridge, a thriving town not more than a dozen miles south of Marygreen, this being his nearest approach to the village where he was known; for he had a sensitive dread of being questioned as to his life and fortunes by those who had been acquainted with him during his ardent young manhood of study and promise, and his brief and unhappy married life at that time. At some of these places he would be detained for months, at others only a few weeks. His curious and sudden antipathy to ecclesiastical work, both episcopal and noncomformist, which had risen in him when suffering under a smarting sense of misconception, remained with him in cold blood, less from any fear of renewed censure than from an ultra-conscientiousness which would not allow him to seek a living out of those who would disapprove of his ways; also, too, from a sense of inconsistency between his former dogmas and his present practice, hardly a shred of the beliefs with which he had first gone up to Christminster now remaining with him. He was mentally approaching the position which Sue had occupied when he first met her. On a Saturday evening in May, nearly three years after Arabella's recognition of Sue and himself at the agricultural show, some of those who there encountered each other met again. It was the spring fair at Kennetbridge, and, though this ancient trade-meeting had much dwindled from its dimensions of former times, the long straight street of the borough presented a lively scene about midday. At this hour a light trap, among other vehicles, was driven into the town by the north road, and up to the door of a temperance inn. There alighted two women, one the driver, an ordinary country person, the other a finely built figure in the deep mourning of a widow. Her sombre suit, of pronounced cut, caused her to appear a little out of place in the medley and bustle of a provincial fair. "I will just find out where it is, Anny," said the widow-lady to her companion, when the horse and cart had been taken by a man who came forward: "and then I'll come back, and meet you here; and we'll go in and have something to eat and drink. I begin to feel quite a sinking." "With all my heart," said the other. "Though I would sooner have put up at the Chequers or The Jack. You can't get much at these temperance houses." "Now, don't you give way to gluttonous desires, my child," said the woman in weeds reprovingly. "This is the proper place. Very well: we'll meet in half an hour, unless you come with me to find out where the site of the new chapel is?" "I don't care to. You can tell me." The companions then went their several ways, the one in crape walking firmly along with a mien of disconnection from her miscellaneous surroundings. Making inquiries she came to a hoarding, within which were excavations denoting the foundations of a building; and on the boards without one or two large posters announcing that the foundation-stone of the chapel about to be erected would be laid that afternoon at three o'clock by a London preacher of great popularity among his body. Having ascertained thus much the immensely weeded widow retraced her steps, and gave herself leisure to observe the movements of the fair. By and by her attention was arrested by a little stall of cakes and ginger-breads, standing between the more pretentious erections of trestles and canvas. It was covered with an immaculate cloth, and tended by a young woman apparently unused to the business, she being accompanied by a boy with an octogenarian face, who assisted her. "Upon my--senses!" murmured the widow to herself. "His wife Sue-- if she is so!" She drew nearer to the stall. "How do you do, Mrs. Fawley?" she said blandly. Sue changed colour and recognized Arabella through the crape veil. "How are you, Mrs. Cartlett?" she said stiffly. And then perceiving Arabella's garb her voice grew sympathetic in spite of herself. "What?--you have lost----" "My poor husband. Yes. He died suddenly, six weeks ago, leaving me none too well off, though he was a kind husband to me. But whatever profit there is in public-house keeping goes to them that brew the liquors, and not to them that retail 'em.... And you, my little old man! You don't know me, I expect?" "Yes, I do. You be the woman I thought wer my mother for a bit, till I found you wasn't," replied Father Time, who had learned to use the Wessex tongue quite naturally by now. "All right. Never mind. I am a friend." "Juey," said Sue suddenly, "go down to the station platform with this tray-- there's another train coming in, I think." When he was gone Arabella continued: "He'll never be a beauty, will he, poor chap! Does he know I am his mother really?" "No. He thinks there is some mystery about his parentage--that's all. Jude is going to tell him when he is a little older." "But how do you come to be doing this? I am surprised." "It is only a temporary occupation--a fancy of ours while we are in a difficulty." "Then you are living with him still?" "Yes." "Married?" "Of course." "Any children?" "Two." "And another coming soon, I see." Sue writhed under the hard and direct questioning, and her tender little mouth began to quiver. "Lord--I mean goodness gracious--what is there to cry about? Some folks would be proud enough!" "It is not that I am ashamed--not as you think! But it seems such a terribly tragic thing to bring beings into the world-- so presumptuous--that I question my right to do it sometimes!" "Take it easy, my dear.... But you don't tell me why you do such a thing as this? Jude used to be a proud sort of chap-- above any business almost, leave alone keeping a standing." "Perhaps my husband has altered a little since then. I am sure he is not proud now!" And Sue's lips quivered again. "I am doing this because he caught a chill early in the year while putting up some stonework of a music-hall, at Quartershot, which he had to do in the rain, the work having to be executed by a fixed day. He is better than he was; but it has been a long, weary time! We have had an old widow friend with us to help us through it; but she's leaving soon." "Well, I am respectable too, thank God, and of a serious way of thinking since my loss. Why did you choose to sell gingerbreads?" "That's a pure accident. He was brought up to the baking business, and it occurred to him to try his hand at these, which he can make without coming out of doors. We call them Christminster cakes. They are a great success." "I never saw any like 'em. Why, they are windows and towers, and pinnacles! And upon my word they are very nice." She had helped herself, and was unceremoniously munching one of the cakes. "Yes. They are reminiscences of the Christminster Colleges. Traceried windows, and cloisters, you see. It was a whim of his to do them in pastry." "Still harping on Christminster--even in his cakes!" laughed Arabella. "Just like Jude. A ruling passion. What a queer fellow he is, and always will be!" Sue sighed, and she looked her distress at hearing him criticized. "Don't you think he is? Come now; you do, though you are so fond of him!" "Of course Christminster is a sort of fixed vision with him, which I suppose he'll never be cured of believing in. He still thinks it a great centre of high and fearless thought, instead of what it is, a nest of commonplace schoolmasters whose characteristic is timid obsequiousness to tradition." Arabella was quizzing Sue with more regard of how she was speaking than of what she was saying. "How odd to hear a woman selling cakes talk like that!" she said. "Why don't you go back to school-keeping?" She shook her head. "They won't have me." "Because of the divorce, I suppose?" "That and other things. And there is no reason to wish it. We gave up all ambition, and were never so happy in our lives till his illness came." "Where are you living?" "I don't care to say." "Here in Kennetbridge?" Sue's manner showed Arabella that her random guess was right. "Here comes the boy back again," continued Arabella. "My boy and Jude's!" Sue's eyes darted a spark. "You needn't throw that in my face!" she cried. "Very well--though I half-feel as if I should like to have him with me! ... But Lord, I don't want to take him from 'ee--ever I should sin to speak so profane--though I should think you must have enough of your own! He's in very good hands, that I know; and I am not the woman to find fault with what the Lord has ordained. I've reached a more resigned frame of mind." "Indeed! I wish I had been able to do so." "You should try," replied the widow, from the serene heights of a soul conscious not only of spiritual but of social superiority. "I make no boast of my awakening, but I'm not what I was. After Cartlett's death I was passing the chapel in the street next ours, and went into it for shelter from a shower of rain. I felt a need of some sort of support under my loss, and, as 'twas righter than gin, I took to going there regular, and found it a great comfort. But I've left London now, you know, and at present I am living at Alfredston, with my friend Anny, to be near my own old country. I'm not come here to the fair to-day. There's to be the foundation-stone of a new chapel laid this afternoon by a popular London preacher, and I drove over with Anny. Now I must go back to meet her." Then Arabella wished Sue good-bye, and went on. 从那个礼拜起，奥尔布里肯街上再也见不到裘德和苏的踪迹。 谁也不知道他们究竟去了什么地方，这主要因为没人把他们放在心上。假若真有什么人好奇，也不必费多大事，就可以发现：他们凭着裘德一手无所不能适应的手艺，过着行止无常、近乎漂泊的生活，不过其间也可说自有乐趣。 不管哪里，只要有雕刻易切石的活儿，裘德就去应工，不过他还是宁可挑选离自己和苏旧日居处远些的地方。他干活不惜力气，不拘时间长短，一干完，他们就起身转往其他地方。 两年半就这样过去了。人们或许看得到他有时给一所乡村宅邸装配直棂窗；有时是为某个市镇大厅装石头护栏；有时替桑埠一家旅馆凿方石、砌外墙，有时是在卡斯特桥博物馆，有时则远至埃松贝里，有时到了斯托裸山。近顷他在肯尼桥镇，那地方正兴旺起来，在马利格林以南不过十二英里，高认识他的那个村子最近。他少年发愤读书，立志上进，以及当年跟阿拉贝拉那段为时不长，却甚为苦恼的婚姻生活，乡亲都知之甚稔，所以他非常担心他们一见到他，就会对他眼下的日子和运气如何问长问短。 他到的地方时间不一，有时要呆上几个月，有的只几个礼拜。只因从前备受茶毒，深感痛心，所以他对于为教会（国教还是非国教都一样）干活无形中滋生一种异乎寻常的反感，至今切齿。但他并非因为害怕再次遭到党辱，而是出自他爱憎分明，义不苟合，这断不容他从作践他做人原则的那伙人手里讨生活，也由于他已经深深感到以往的信条和当前的实践之间不容调和；何况他当年初到基督堂所持的信仰，到了现在已经差不多放弃无余了。精神方面，他这会儿正朝着当年第一次遇到苏时她所持的立场转变。 五月间一个礼拜六傍晚，距阿拉贝拉在农业展览会把苏认出来已快三年，有些人是当时不期而相会，此次无意竟重逢。 肯尼桥镇正逢春季庙会，虽然这古已有之的交易活动的规模远比昔年缩小许多，但是到了近午时分，那条又长又直的大街还是好一派风光。却见车马辐凑中一辆轻便弹簧马车从北边大路直驶镇内，停在一家禁酒客栈门前。车上下来两位女客，一个是执鞭的，是普通乡下人，另一个体态丰腴，是个穿重孝的寡妇。她那套阴郁的装束在这齐集三教九流、喧嚣杂沓的乡镇庙会上，非常惹眼，未免有点不合时宜。 “我先得弄清楚它在哪儿，安妮。”寡妇对她的同伴说，这时候过来个男人，连车带马都带开了。“找到之后我就回来，咱们就在这儿见面，然后进去喝点吃点，我已经觉着浑身没劲儿啦。” “行啊。”另一个说。“我原来可打算上花格旅馆，要么杰克旅馆。禁酒旅馆里头你搞不到什么好东西吃。” “你别老那么馋吧，小宝贝儿。”穿丧服的女人用呵斥的口气说。“这地方就蛮好。算啦，你不跟我一块儿去找新礼拜堂的地方，那咱们就半个钟头以后见吧。” “我才不想去呢。反正你要告诉我嘛。” 两个同伴也就各走各的路。帽子上笼着黑纱的女人步子走得挺坚定的，尽管周围热闹非凡，她却像目无所见，漠不关心。她打听好了，就走到一个临时围墙旁边，里边挖得坑坑坎坎，一望而知是给一座建筑物打基础，外边墙板上贴着一两张告示，说是这天下午三点，由一位来自伦敦的，在他的团体中间众望所归的布道师为行将施工的礼拜堂主持奠基仪式。 浑身戴孝的寡妇认准了地方，就掉头走开，悠然自得地看着庙会的活动，看来看去，突然叫一个卖蛋糕和姜汁饼的小摊把注意力吸引住了。摊子夹在支撑起来的挺像样的帆布篷中间，上面铺着洁净的白布，摊主是个年轻女人，显然她做这个生意还不怎么顺手，身边有个男孩，脸长得像七八十岁的老人，随时给她凑凑手。 “哎呀呀，”她自个儿咕哝着，“这不是他的老婆苏吗——怎么是她呀！”她直往摊子那儿凑。“你好，福来太太吧？”她挺和气地说。 苏脸色一变，虽说隔着阿拉贝拉的黑面纱，她还是认出她来了。 “你好，卡特莱太太吧？”她说得不自然。她一看阿拉贝拉的装束，不由自主地声音带出来同情的意味。“怎么？——你没了——” “我可怜的爷们没了。他一下子就过去啦，六个礼拜前头的事儿，这个爷们对我倒不错，可死了没给我留下什么。开酒馆，别管你赚多少，都进了酿酒的荷包啦，零卖的什么也捞不到……哦，我的小老头儿嘛！你不认得我吧，我看是？” “我认得。你就是那个女人，我一阵子当妈来着，后来我才知道不是。”时光老爹还嘴说，现在他学会了用维塞克斯口音说话，自自然然的。 “好啦。这没关系。我算是朋友好啦。” “裘德，”苏突然说，“你端着这个盘子到月台去——我看又有火车到啦。” 他走之后，阿拉贝拉继续说：“可怜的小子，他这辈子别想出息个人样儿啦！他真是不知道我就是他妈？” “不知道。他觉着他爹妈总有点神秘地方——别的也没什么。裘德要等他再大点，再跟他说明白。” “可你怎么会做这个生意呢？我可真没想到。” “这不过是临时凑合着干——我们这会儿有点困难，瞎想出来的。” “那你还跟他一块儿过喽？” “不错。” “结过婚啦？” “当然。” “有孩子？” “两个。 “我看还有一个也差不多啦。” 苏经她这么毫无礼貌、刨根问底地追，极不自在，她的柔美的小嘴颤动起来。 “哎呀——糟糕啦，这可有什么难受的！旁人家得意还不够呢！” “我不是为这个不好意思——跟你想的根本不是一回事！我是想，把孩子生到这个世界上是多可怕，又多可悲的事——真是一意孤行啊，我有时候就自问自怎么有权利这么胡来！” “别看得这么重吧，亲爱的……你还没告诉我你干吗做这个生意呢。裘德这人素来就高傲——什么生意都看不上，别说再摆个小摊子。” “也许我丈夫总变了点吧。我敢说他现在就是不高傲！”苏的嘴唇又颤动起来。“我干这个是因为他受了风寒。他那时候在夸得哨的音乐厅做石活儿，期限定死了，非赶着办不行，下着雨也只好干，这就病了。他现在好多了；这段日子可真长真累啊！我们请了位朋友，是位老寡妇，帮着我们渡过了难关，不过她就要走了。” “呃，感谢上帝，打他没了，我也是正正派派在过日子，心无二用。你怎么想起来卖姜汁饼呢？” “这也是事出偶然。他是面包房里长大的，他一时想起来了，就想试试自个儿的手艺，反正用不着出门，在家里做就行了。我们管这个叫基督堂糕，生意才红火哪。” “哦还真没见过这样的蛋糕呢。哎呀，又是窗户，又是塔楼，还有小尖塔哪！不用说，味道一定好。”她自说自话，拿起一块就吃。 “你说得不错。这些蛋糕全是按基督堂的学院样儿做的。你瞧镂空的窗户，还有回廊，他就是做蛋糕，也想得那么怪。” “还是对基督堂念念不忘啊——连做蛋糕也想着呢！”阿拉贝拉笑起来了。“不折不扣是个裘德啊。心里老是那股子热劲儿。真是怪家伙，这辈子也变不了。” 苏叹了口气，听见裘德让人批评了，脸上显出来很难过。 “你不觉着他怪？讲真格的吧，你爱他爱得那么厉害，可是你还是觉着他怪啊。” “基督堂在他心里当然是个根深蒂固的幻象，他那么虔信，我看成了痼疾啦。他现在还是把它当成崇高而无畏的思想的中心，看不出来它的真面目，其实那地方不过一大群碌碌无能的教师躲风避雨的巢穴，他们的独到之处就是对传统卑怯地打躬做揖。” 苏这时候怎么个口气，阿拉贝拉并不往心里去，倒是她讲出来的内容很叫她注意。于是她挖苦起苏来。“听卖糕点的讲出来这么一套，也真是了不得！”她说。“那你干吗不回学校做事啊？” 她摇摇头。“他们不要我。” “因为离了婚，我想？” “因为离婚，也为别的事。根本不必再管这了。我们俩什么志气都一风吹了。他没病的时候，我们的日子那么快乐，真是前所未有啊！” “你们住在哪儿？” “这我不想说。” “住在肯尼桥吧，我看就是。” 阿拉贝拉从苏的态度看出来，她这一瞎蒙真蒙对了。 “孩子回来啦。”阿拉贝拉继续说。“是我跟裘德的孩子。” 苏眼里爆出火星。‘你别当着我面来这一套！”她大声叫道。 “好，好——我真没一点意思想把他弄过来跟着我！……不过，唉，我可没打主意从你这儿弄走他——我怎么说出那样的混话呀！——就算我认为你自个儿的孩子已经够了，也不该说啊！这孩子真是遇见好人啦！这我明白；我可不是那种女人，连老天爷规定下来的事儿，也要找岔子。我这会儿跟以前比，放得开啦！” “真是这回事儿吗？我倒希望也做得到哪。” “那你就学学吧。”寡妇回答说，口气居然露出不但精神境界，连社会地位也高人一等的优越感，只因看破红尘，这会儿才不惜纤尊俯就。“我也用不着自吹如何如何四大皆空，不过这会儿比从前的确大不一样啦。卡特莱死了之后，我路过那条街礼拜堂，瓢泼大雨下起来了，我就躲了进去，心想着他没了，得找个东西把我撑住呀，以后就按规矩上那个礼拜堂，可比喝金酒强多啦，觉着这才是大大的安慰哪。不过我已经离开伦敦啦，你知道，这会儿住在阿尔夫瑞顿，跟朋友安妮住一块儿，这么着挨我老家近点。我今儿个不是上这儿赶庙会。下午有个很出名的布道师给新造的礼拜堂主持奠基礼，我就跟安妮一块儿坐车来了。我这会儿该回去找她啦。” 阿拉贝拉对苏说了声“再见”，就往前走了。 Part 5 Chapter 8 IN the afternoon Sue and the other people bustling about Kennetbridge fair could hear singing inside the placarded hoarding farther down the street. Those who peeped through the opening saw a crowd of persons in broadcloth, with hymn-books in their hands, standing round the excavations for the new chapel-walls. Arabella Cartlett and her weeds stood among them. She had a clear, powerful voice, which could be distinctly heard with the rest, rising and falling to the tune, her inflated bosom being also seen doing likewise. It was two hours later on the same day that Anny and Mrs. Cartlett, having had tea at the Temperance Hotel, started on their return journey across the high and open country which stretches between Kennetbridge and Alfredston. Arabella was in a thoughtful mood; but her thoughts were not of the new chapel, as Anny at first surmised. "No--it is something else," at last said Arabella sullenly. "I came here to-day never thinking of anybody but poor Cartlett, or of anything but spreading the Gospel by means of this new tabernacle they've begun this afternoon. But something has happened to turn my mind another way quite. Anny, I've heard of un again, and I've seen HER!" "Who?" "I've heard of Jude, and I've seen his wife. And ever since, do what I will, and though I sung the hymns wi' all my strength, I have not been able to help thinking about 'n; which I've no right to do as a chapel member." "Can't ye fix your mind upon what was said by the London preacher to-day, and try to get rid of your wandering fancies that way?" "I do. But my wicked heart will ramble off in spite of myself!" "Well--I know what it is to have a wanton mind o' my own, too! If you on'y knew what I do dream sometimes o' nights quite against my wishes, you'd say I had my struggles!" (Anny, too, had grown rather serious of late, her lover having jilted her.) "What shall I do about it?" urged Arabella morbidly. "You could take a lock of your late-lost husband's hair, and have it made into a mourning brooch, and look at it every hour of the day." "I haven't a morsel!--and if I had 'twould be no good.... After all that's said about the comforts of this religion, I wish I had Jude back again!" "You must fight valiant against the feeling, since he's another's. And I've heard that another good thing for it, when it afflicts volupshious widows, is to go to your husband's grave in the dusk of evening, and stand a long while a-bowed down." "Pooh! I know as well as you what I should do; only I don't do it!" They drove in silence along the straight road till they were within the horizon of Marygreen, which lay not far to the left of their route. They came to the junction of the highway and the cross-lane leading to that village, whose church-tower could be seen athwart the hollow. When they got yet farther on, and were passing the lonely house in which Arabella and Jude had lived during the first months of their marriage, and where the pig-killing had taken place, she could control herself no longer. "He's more mine than hers!" she burst out. "What right has she to him, I should like to know! I'd take him from her if I could!" "Fie, Abby! And your husband only six weeks gone! Pray against it!" "Be damned if I do! Feelings are feelings! I won't be a creeping hypocrite any longer--so there!" Arabella had hastily drawn from her pocket a bundle of tracts which she had brought with her to distribute at the fair, and of which she had given away several. As she spoke she flung the whole remainder of the packet into the hedge "I've tried that sort o' physic and have failed wi' it. I must be as I was born!" "Hush! You be excited, dear! Now you come along home quiet, and have a cup of tea, and don't let us talk about un no more. We won't come out this road again, as it leads to where he is, because it inflames 'ee so. You'll be all right again soon." Arabella did calm herself down by degrees; and they crossed the Ridge-way. When they began to descend the long, straight hill, they saw plodding along in front of them an elderly man of spare stature and thoughtful gait. In his hand he carried a basket; and there was a touch of slovenliness in his attire, together with that indefinable something in his whole appearance which suggested one who was his own housekeeper, purveyor, confidant, and friend, through possessing nobody else at all in the world to act in those capacities for him. The remainder of the journey was down-hill, and guessing him to be going to Alfredston they offered him a lift, which he accepted. Arabella looked at him, and looked again, till at length she spoke. "If I don't mistake I am talking to Mr. Phillotson?" The wayfarer faced round and regarded her in turn. "Yes; my name is Phillotson," he said. "But I don't recognize you, ma'am." "I remember you well enough when you used to be schoolmaster out at Marygreen, and I one of your scholars. I used to walk up there from Cresscombe every day, because we had only a mistress down at our place, and you taught better. But you wouldn't remember me as I should you?--Arabella Donn." He shook his head. "No," he said politely, "I don't recall the name. And I should hardly recognize in your present portly self the slim school child no doubt you were then." "Well, I always had plenty of flesh on my bones. However, I am staying down here with some friends at present. You know, I suppose, who I married?" "No." "Jude Fawley--also a scholar of yours--at least a night scholar-- for some little time I think? And known to you afterwards, if I am not mistaken." "Dear me, dear me," said Phillotson, starting out of his stiffness. "You Fawley's wife? To be sure--he had a wife! And he-- I understood--" "Divorced her--as you did yours--perhaps for better reasons." "Indeed?" "Well--he med have been right in doing it--right for both; for I soon married again, and all went pretty straight till my husband died lately. But you--you were decidedly wrong!" "No," said Phillotson, with sudden testiness. "I would rather not talk of this, but--I am convinced I did only what was right, and just, and moral. I have suffered for my act and opinions, but I hold to them; though her loss was a loss to me in more ways than one!" "You lost your school and good income through her, did you not?" "I don't care to talk of it. I have recently come back here--to Marygreen. I mean." "You are keeping the school there again, just as formerly?" The pressure of a sadness that would out unsealed him. "I am there," he replied. "Just as formerly, no. Merely on sufferance. It was a last resource--a small thing to return to after my move upwards, and my long indulged hopes a returning to zero, with all its humiliations. But it is a refuge. I like the seclusion of the place, and the vicar having known me before my so-called eccentric conduct towards my wife had ruined my reputation as a schoolmaster, he accepted my services when all other schools were closed against me. However, although I take fifty pounds a year here after taking above two hundred elsewhere, I prefer it to running the risk of having my old domestic experiences raked up against me, as I should do if I tried to make a move." "Right you are. A contented mind is a continual feast. She has done no better." "She is not doing well, you mean?" "I met her by accident at Kennetbridge this very day, and she is anything but thriving. Her husband is ill, and she anxious. You made a fool of a mistake about her, I tell 'ee again, and the harm you did yourself by dirting your own nest serves you right, excusing the liberty." "How?" "She was innocent." "But nonsense! They did not even defend the case!" "That was because they didn't care to. She was quite innocent of what obtained you your freedom, at the time you obtained it. I saw her just afterwards, and proved it to myself completely by talking to her." Phillotson grasped the edge of the spring-cart, and appeared to be much stressed and worried by the information. "Still--she wanted to go," he said. "Yes. But you shouldn't have let her. That's the only way with these fanciful women that chaw high--innocent or guilty. She'd have come round in time. We all do! Custom does it! It's all the same in the end! However, I think she's fond of her man still--whatever he med be of her. You were too quick about her. I shouldn't have let her go! I should have kept her chained on-- her spirit for kicking would have been broke soon enough! There's nothing like bondage and a stone-deaf taskmaster for taming us women. Besides, you've got the laws on your side. Moses knew. Don't you call to mind what he says?" "Not for the moment, ma'am, I regret to say." "Call yourself a schoolmaster! I used to think o't when they read it in church, and I was carrying on a bit. 'Then shall the man be guiltless; but the woman shall bear her iniquity.' Damn rough on us women; but we must grin and put up wi' it! Haw haw! Well; she's got her deserts now." "Yes," said Phillotson, with biting sadness. "Cruelty is the law pervading all nature and society; and we can't get out of it if we would!" "Well--don't you forget to try it next time, old man." "I cannot answer you, madam. I have never known much of womankind." They had now reached the low levels bordering Alfredston, and passing through the outskirts approached a mill, to which Phillotson said his errand led him; whereupon they drew up, and he alighted, bidding them good-night in a preoccupied mood. In the meantime Sue, though remarkably successful in her cake-selling experiment at Kennetbridge fair, had lost the temporary brightness which had begun to sit upon her sadness on account of that success. When all her "Christminster" cakes had been disposed of she took upon her arm the empty basket, and the cloth which had covered the standing she had hired, and giving the other things to the boy left the street with him. They followed a lane to a distance of half a mile, till they met an old woman carrying a child in short clothes, and leading a toddler in the other hand. Sue kissed the children, and said, "How is he now?" "Still better!" returned Mrs. Edlin cheerfully. "Before you are upstairs again your husband will be well enough--don't 'ee trouble." They turned, and came to some old, dun-tiled cottages with gardens and fruit-trees. Into one of these they entered by lifting the latch without knocking, and were at once in the general living-room. Here they greeted Jude, who was sitting in an arm-chair, the increased delicacy of his normally delicate features, and the childishly expectant look in his eyes, being alone sufficient to show that he had been passing through a severe illness. "What--you have sold them all?" he said, a gleam of interest lighting up his face. "Yes. Arcades, gables, east windows and all." She told him the pecuniary results, and then hesitated. At last, when they were left alone, she informed him of the unexpected meeting with Arabella, and the latter's widowhood. Jude was discomposed. "What--is she living here?" he said. "No; at Alfredston," said Sue. Jude's countenance remained clouded. "I thought I had better tell you?" she continued, kissing him anxiously. "Yes.... Dear me! Arabella not in the depths of London, but down here! It is only a little over a dozen miles across the country to Alfredston. What is she doing there?" She told him all she knew. "She has taken to chapel-going," Sue added; "and talks accordingly." "Well," said Jude, "perhaps it is for the best that we have almost decided to move on. I feel much better to-day, and shall be well enough to leave in a week or two. Then Mrs. Edlin can go home again--dear faithful old soul-- the only friend we have in the world!" "Where do you think to go to?" Sue asked, a troublousness in her tones. Then Jude confessed what was in his mind. He said it would surprise her, perhaps, after his having resolutely avoided all the old places for so long. But one thing and another had made him think a great deal of Christminster lately, and, if she didn't mind, he would like to go back there. Why should they care if they were known? It was oversensitive of them to mind so much. They could go on selling cakes there, for that matter, if he couldn't work. He had no sense of shame at mere poverty; and perhaps he would be as strong as ever soon, and able to set up stone-cutting for himself there. "Why should you care so much for Christminster?" she said pensively. "Christminster cares nothing for you, poor dear!" "Well, I do, I can't help it. I love the place--although I know how it hates all men like me--the so-called self-taught,--how it scorns our laboured acquisitions, when it should be the first to respect them; how it sneers at our false quantities and mispronunciations, when it should say, I see you want help, my poor friend! ... Nevertheless, it is the centre of the universe to me, because of my early dream: and nothing can alter it. Perhaps it will soon wake up, and be generous. I pray so! ... I should like to go back to live there--perhaps to die there! In two or three weeks I might, I think. It will then be June, and I should like to be there by a particular day." His hope that he was recovering proved so far well grounded that in three weeks they had arrived in the city of many memories; were actually treading its pavements, receiving the reflection of the sunshine from its wasting walls. 下午，苏和肯尼桥庙会上摩肩接踵的人群能听见远在街那头的贴着告示的木围子里的歌声。有些人从围隙窥视，看到一群穿黑呢袍的人，手持赞美诗本子，站在新挖的礼拜堂基地周围。阿拉贝拉•卡特莱一身丧服，也夹在那伙人中间。她歌喉清脆、嘹亮，在齐唱声中可以听得很清楚，她的丰满的胸脯随着曲调的低昂而起伏。 又过了两个钟头之后，安妮和卡特莱太太已在禁酒旅店用过午后茶点，随即起身驱车返家，路上要穿过肯尼桥和阿尔夫瑞顿之间开阔的洼地。阿拉贝拉心事很重，不过她想的不是安妮起先猜想的礼拜堂的事情。 “不是新礼拜堂的事情——是别的事。”阿拉贝拉终于闷闷不乐地说出来。“我今儿上这儿来，一心想着可怜的卡特莱，压根儿也没想过别人，无非借今儿下午他们开始造这么个圣堂的机会，传播传播福音，也没想别的事。可是说来也巧，有件事一下子把我的心思岔到一边儿去啦。安妮，我又听说裘德的消息啦，还见到她！” “谁呀？” “我听说裘德的消息，还见到他妻子。这之后，我再怎么克制，再怎么憋足了劲唱赞美诗，我还是没法不想他。我既是礼拜堂的会众，这就太不该了。” “这么说，你今儿真是没法定心听伦敦布道师讲道喽？你就没想法把邪想头压下去吗？” “我确实这么做啦，可我的心邪啦，它不听我的，一个劲儿往邪里跑！” “呃——我自个儿心里也人过魔，我知道这滋味！你要是知道我夜里做的那些不想做的梦，你准说我是怎么拼命才挣过来的！”（安妮近来变得相当规矩，因为她的情人把她甩了。） “那你说我得怎么办？”阿拉贝拉神思恍惚地盯间她。 “你可以拿你刚过世的男人一绺头发做个念心，一天到晚瞧着就行啦。” “我连他一根头发丝也没有——就算有，也没用。……说是说，信教能给人安慰，可我还是希望把裘德弄回来。” “你可得下决心跟这样的感情斗才行，因为他是人家的人啦。我还听说个好办法，寡妇要是心邪了，都那样。你就到天快黑了，上你男人坟头那儿，低头站着，站老半天。” “我知道该怎么办，用不着你说；我才不干呢！” 她们顺着笔直的大道前进，在进入马利格林的地界之前，谁也没再说话。那个村子位于她们走的路线左首不远，到了大路同通往马利格林的小路交叉的地方，隔着洼地就望得见村教堂的塔楼。马车再往前赶，正好路过阿拉贝拉和裘德婚后头几个月住的偏僻的小房子，当年他们一块儿杀猪的地方。这时她再也没法控制自己了。 “他得算我的，不是她的！”她不禁脱口而出。“她对他有什么权利，我倒要知道知道！只要办得到，我就非从她那儿把他弄回来不可！” “放屁，阿贝！你男人才死了六个礼拜，你就这样！快祈祷吧，认罪吧！” “我才他妈的不管呢！感情就是感情！我可不会装模作样，当个节妇。我就是这么回事儿！” 阿拉贝拉一下子从口袋里扯出来一捆功世文，这本来是她要带到庙会散发的，也散过几份。她一边说，一边把剩下的劝世文全都扔到树篱后边去了。“这个方子，我试过啦，根本没用。我生来怎么样，就怎么样！” “嘘，你心全乱啦，亲爱的！这会儿你定定心，先到家，再喝杯茶，好不好，咱们也别提他吧。既是你一听说他，就急火攻心，以后别走这条路好啦，它是往那边通的。待会儿你就什么事也没啦。” 阿拉贝拉果然慢慢平静下来，她们正跨过山脊路。在她们赶着车从又长又陡的山坡下来的时候，瞧见一个上了年纪的男人，身体瘦弱，步子迂缓，在她们前头吃力地走着。他手上提个篮子，穿着有点邋遢，再看他外表那份形容不出来的味道，不兔让人想他这人大概索居独处，乏人照料，只好集管家、采办、知心和朋友于一身。她们猜他多半是往阿尔夫瑞顿，因为还剩一段路，就提出带他一块儿走，他也就答应了。 阿拉贝拉看了看他，接着仔细看了一遍，终于开口说道，“要是我没认错的话，你就是费乐生先生吧？” 那位走路人转过脸对着她，也仔细看她。“对，对；我是叫费乐生。”他说。“太太，我可不认得你。” “我记得可清楚呢，那会儿你是那边马利格林的老师，我也是你的学生。我那会几天天打水芹峪走着上学，因为我们那儿只有位女老师，没你教得好。不过你不会像我记得你，还记得我这个学生，我叫阿拉贝拉•邓恩。” 他摇摇头。“不记得了。”他客气地说，“这个名字我想不起来了。再说那会儿学生无疑都细条条的，你这会儿挺富态的，我怎么认得哪。” “呃，我从前就胖乎乎的。说点别的吧，我这会儿跟几个朋友住在这一带。我想你总知道我跟谁结了婚吧？” “不知道。” “跟裘德•福来呀，他也算你的学生，至少算个夜校学生吧？我猜他以后的事，你也听说过吧？” “哎呀，哎呀。”费乐生说，他本来很拘谨，这时变了。“你是裘德的妻子？怎么着——他有妻子！他——据我了解——” “他跟我离啦——跟你跟她离了一样，不过他离，更有道理就是了。” “真的？” “哎——他这离，得说是离对了——对我们俩都得这么说，因为我立等着再结婚。直到我丈夫新近死了之前，样样都怪顺利的，可是你哪——那可错到家啦！” “我根本没错。”费乐生说，顿时冒起火来。“我不想谈这个。可是我自信完全做得对，做得公道，做得道德。我的行动、想法叫我吃了苦头，可是我一点不后悔；她走了固然对我是损失，而且损失是多方面的，可是我决不后悔！” “你不是经她这么一搞，连学校带那么高进项全吹了吗？” “我不想谈这些。我新近才回到这地方，我是说马利格林。” “那你又完全跟先头一样，到这儿教书啦！” 他内心伤痛的压力把他长久以来的缄默打破了。 “我到这儿教书，”他回答道，“也不是跟从前在这儿完全一样。这全是人家大度包容，才留下我。这是我唯一仰赖糊口的机会——要比我从前的成就、长久抱着的种种奢望，现在真算是穷途末路——又成了一无所有的孤家寡人，丢人现眼极啦。所幸还有这个托身之所。我喜欢这地方遗世独立，远离尘嚣。在我因为对妻子采取的所谓荒谬之举，搞得我这个当教师的身败名裂之前，此地教区长就认识我了，在别的学校一律把我拒之门外的时候，他收留了我，让我工作。虽然我从前在别处一年拿两百镑，在这儿才拿五十镑，可是我宁愿这样，也不想别人再把我家庭变故抖落出来，指摘我。这个险，我是不想冒啦。” “你这么想才对呢。知足常乐嘛。她的情形也好不到哪儿去。” “你这是说她的日子不好过？” “就是今儿个，我真没想到在肯尼桥碰上她，她可没什么可得意的。她男人病了，她心里挺急。我还要说一遍，你对她那样，太糊涂啦，全错啦。别怪我瞎说，你这是往自个儿脸上抹黑，把自个儿搞臭，所以是自作自受啊。” “你怎么好这么说？” “因为她清清白白，没点过错。” “这话太没意思！打官司时候，他们连一句也没申辩过！” “那是因为他们本来就不想申辩。她清清白白的，没想离，你硬要离，你那时候自由了，殊不知你那么一来反而成全了她。你这事刚过去，我就见过她，跟她谈过，证明我看得不错。” 费乐生一把抓住了弹簧马车的边缘；他一听这番话，就如同受了打击，非常痛苦。 “就算是这样吧，她还是要走啊。” “不错，是那么回事儿。可是你就不该放她走嘛。对付那些个一心想攀高枝的女人，清白也好，出了漏子也好，就用这个办法。到时候，她只好回头了，听话了。咱们女人全是这个味儿！只要叫她惯了就行啦！就是她再闹，到头来还不是一样！话又说回来——依我看，她这会儿还是爱她男人，别管他对她怎么样。你那会儿对她太欠考虑。换了我，那就决不放她走！我要拿铁链子把她拴上，叫她哪儿也去不了——没几天，她想反也反不起来啦！要叫咱们女人听话，就得一靠捆绑二靠什么话也不听的工头。这还不算，你手上还攥着法律。摩西清楚得很哪。难道你就想不起来他老人家怎么说的？” “对不起，太太，这会儿我想不起来。” “你这还算个老师吗！从前他们在教堂念到这儿的时候，我一想，真有点气不打一处来，‘男人就为无罪，妇人必担当自己的罪孽。’对咱们女人真他妈的狠哪；不过咱们还得一笑了之，别当回事儿！嘿，嘿！得了吧；她总算现世现报啦。” “是啊。”费乐生说，心如刀割。“残忍无情是整个自然界和社会的无所不在的法则；不管咱们怎么想，也逃不出它手心啊！” “呃——老先生，难道往后再有机会你就不想试试这个法则？” “我可没法跟你说，太太。我这个人压根儿就不大懂女人是怎么回事。” 他们这时到了同阿尔夫瑞顿接界的平敞地方，在穿过这个镇郊区，快到磨坊的时候，费乐生说他要到磨坊办点事。她们在那儿把车刹住，费乐生下了车，满腔心事的样子，向她们道了别。 同时，苏尽管在肯尼桥庙会试做蛋糕生意很成功，但成功一时给她的苦恼表情渲染的光彩却暗然消失。“基督堂糕”一卖完，她就挎起空篮子和那块租来罩摊子的白布，叫孩子拿着剩下的东西，跟她一块儿离开庙会那条街；顺着一个小巷子走了半英里光景，迎面来了位老太婆，她抱着一个穿短衣的娃儿，还牵着一个没完全学好走路的小孩子。 她吻了孩子，说，“他这会儿怎么样？” “要好多啦！”艾林太太高兴地回答。“等不到你以后在楼上坐月子，你丈夫就没事啦——你就放心吧。” 他们往回走，到了几家有花园、栽果树的褐瓦顶小房子前面，把一家门搭扣一抬，没敲门就进去了，门里就是大起居室。他们向坐在圈椅上的裘德招呼了一下，他平常脸上本来清癯，这时更见消瘦，眼神流露孩子般的期待，一望而知他得过重病。 “怎么——全卖完啦？”他说，脸上顿然很感兴趣的样子。 “都卖啦。走廊、山墙、东窗什么的都卖啦。”她把卖了多少钱告诉他，似乎还有话要说，又不好就说。等到屋里只剩下他们俩，她才把怎么意外遇上阿拉贝拉的经过和阿拉贝拉丧偶的事逐一跟他说了。 裘德显出来心烦。“怎么——她住在这地方？” “没住在这儿，是在阿尔夫瑞顿。” 裘德的脸色还是很阴沉。“我想还是告诉你好。”她继续说，心里着急地吻了他。 “是该告诉我……唉！阿拉贝拉不在伦敦那个见不到底的地方混，倒跑到这儿来啦！从这儿出去，过了乡下，到阿尔夫瑞顿才十二英里多点。她在那儿干什么？” 她把知道的都跟他说了。“她现在拿上礼拜堂当回事，”她补充说：“谈来谈去也是上礼拜堂的事。” “呃，”裘德说。“反正咱们大致定了再搬个地方，也许这样顶好。我今天觉着好多了，再过一两个礼拜，一大好就可以离开这儿。艾林太太那时候也能回家了——亲爱的老人家待人真忠厚啊——这世界咱们就这么一个朋友啊！” “你打算上哪儿呢？”她说话的声调明显带着焦虑。 于是裘德一五一十说了自己的想法。他说，他这么多年下定决心避开旧游之地之后，这个想法也许叫她太感意外，无如他老是免不了怀念基督堂，要是她不反对，他很愿意回到那边。就算有人认得他们，那又何必顾虑？他们就是太敏感，所以这也不放心，那也不放心。要是他还不好干活，那就无妨再做蛋糕卖。他不会因为穷，就觉着见不起人；说不定他很快就恢复到原先那么壮实，还能在那儿独立干凿石活儿。 “你怎么老是这么惦着基督堂？”她心里怪不舒服地说。“基督堂可一点不惦着你啊，可怜的亲爱的！” “我实在惦着它，这我也没办法啊。我爱那地方——虽然我明知它对所有我这样所谓自学的人极端憎恶，对我们经过刻苦攻读而在学问上取得的成就嗤之以鼻，而它本应该首先出来尊重这些人才对；它因为我们发错了音、拼错了词，而嘲弄备至，而它本应该说，可怜的朋友，我看你需要帮助啊！……虽然这样，我早年的梦想还是让我把它当成宇宙的中心，再怎么样也改变不了我这个想法。或许它不久以后会醒悟吧，不久以后会变得宽宏大量吧。我要为它祷告，但愿它走这一步！我实在想回到那儿，在那儿生活——也许在那儿死掉！两三个礼拜以后，我想我大概可以回到那儿，那就到六月了。我愿意在一个不寻常的日子回到那儿。” 他对自己逐渐康复所抱的希望，确实不无根据，因为两三个礼拜后，他们就到了那个有多少往事可供回忆的城市，实实在在地踩着它的人行道，实实在在地享受它日益敝旧的墙壁上反射的阳光。 |
| Part 6 AT CHRISTMINSTER AGAIN "... And she humbled her body greatly, and all the places of her joy she filled with her torn hair."-- ESTHER (Apoc.). "There are two who decline, a woman and I, And enjoy our death in the darkness here." --R. BROWNING. ……她乃极力作践自己的身体，扯下头发，填满往昔欢娱之地。——《以斯帖记•补》 两个人，一个女人和我，身心交瘁，在茫茫黑暗中尝味生命的寂灭。——R．勃朗宁 Part 6 Chapter 1 ON their arrival the station was lively with straw-hatted young men, welcoming young girls who bore a remarkable family likeness to their welcomers, and who were dressed up in the brightest and lightest of raiment. "The place seems gay," said Sue. "Why--it is Remembrance Day!--Jude--how sly of you--you came to-day on purpose!" "Yes," said Jude quietly, as he took charge of the small child, and told Arabella's boy to keep close to them, Sue attending to their own eldest. "I thought we might as well come to-day as on any other." "But I am afraid it will depress you!" she said, looking anxiously at him up and down. "Oh, I mustn't let it interfere with our business; and we have a good deal to do before we shall be settled here. The first thing is lodgings." Having left their luggage and his tools at the station they proceeded on foot up the familiar street, the holiday people all drifting in the same direction. Reaching the Fourways they were about to turn off to where accommodation was likely to be found when, looking at the clock and the hurrying crowd, Jude said: "Let us go and see the procession, and never mind the lodgings just now? We can get them afterwards." "Oughtn't we to get a house over our heads first?" she asked. But his soul seemed full of the anniversary, and together they went down Chief Street, their smallest child in Jude's arms, Sue leading her little girl, and Arabella's boy walking thoughtfully and silently beside them. Crowds of pretty sisters in airy costumes, and meekly ignorant parents who had known no college in their youth, were under convoy in the same direction by brothers and sons bearing the opinion written large on them that no properly qualified human beings had lived on earth till they came to grace it here and now. "My failure is reflected on me by every one of those young fellows," said Jude. "A lesson on presumption is awaiting me to-day!-- Humiliation Day for me! ... If you, my dear darling, hadn't come to my rescue, I should have gone to the dogs with despair!" She saw from his face that he was getting into one of his tempestuous, self-harrowing moods. "It would have been better if we had gone at once about our own affairs, dear," she answered. "I am sure this sight will awaken old sorrows in you, and do no good!" "Well--we are near; we will see it now," said he. They turned in on the left by the church with the Italian porch, whose helical columns were heavily draped with creepers, and pursued the lane till there arose on Jude's sight the circular theatre with that well-known lantern above it, which stood in his mind as the sad symbol of his abandoned hopes, for it was from that outlook that he had finally surveyed the City of Colleges on the afternoon of his great meditation, which convinced him at last of the futility of his attempt to be a son of the university. To-day, in the open space stretching between this building and the nearest college, stood a crowd of expectant people. A passage was kept clear through their midst by two barriers of timber, extending from the door of the college to the door of the large building between it and the theatre. "Here is the place--they are just going to pass!" cried Jude in sudden excitement. And pushing his way to the front he took up a position close to the barrier, still hugging the youngest child in his arms, while Sue and the others kept immediately behind him. The crowd filled in at their back, and fell to talking, joking, and laughing as carriage after carriage drew up at the lower door of the college, and solemn stately figures in blood-red robes began to alight. The sky had grown overcast and livid, and thunder rumbled now and then. Father Time shuddered. "It do seem like the Judgment Day!" he whispered. "They are only learned doctors," said Sue. While they waited big drops of rain fell on their heads and shoulders, and the delay grew tedious. Sue again wished not to stay. "They won't be long now," said Jude, without turning his head. But the procession did not come forth, and somebody in the crowd, to pass the time, looked at the facade of the nearest college, and said he wondered what was meant by the Latin inscription in its midst. Jude, who stood near the inquirer, explained it, and finding that the people all round him were listening with interest, went on to describe the carving of the frieze (which he had studied years before), and to criticize some details of masonry in other college fronts about the city. The idle crowd, including the two policemen at the doors, stared like the Lycaonians at Paul, for Jude was apt to get too enthusiastic over any subject in hand, and they seemed to wonder how the stranger should know more about the buildings of their town than they themselves did; till one of them said: "Why, I know that man; he used to work here years ago-- Jude Fawley, that's his name! Don't you mind he used to be nicknamed Tutor of St. Slums, d'ye mind?--because he aimed at that line o' business? He's married, I suppose, then, and that's his child he's carrying. Taylor would know him, as he knows everybody." The speaker was a man named Jack Stagg, with whom Jude had formerly worked in repairing the college masonries; Tinker Taylor was seen to be standing near. Having his attention called the latter cried across the barriers to Jude: "You've honoured us by coming back again, my friend!" "An' you don't seem to have done any great things for yourself by going away?" Jude assented to this also. "Except found more mouths to fill!" This came in a new voice, and Jude recognized its owner to be Uncle Joe, another mason whom he had known. Jude replied good-humouredly that he could not dispute it; and from remark to remark something like a general conversation arose between him and the crowd of idlers, during which Tinker Taylor asked Jude if he remembered the Apostles' Creed in Latin still, and the night of the challenge in the public house. "But Fortune didn't lie that way?" threw in Joe. "Yer powers wasn't enough to carry 'ee through?" "Don't answer them any more!" entreated Sue. "I don't think I like Christminster!" murmured little Time mournfully, as he stood submerged and invisible in the crowd. But finding himself the centre of curiosity, quizzing, and comment, Jude was not inclined to shrink from open declarations of what he had no great reason to be ashamed of; and in a little while was stimulated to say in a loud voice to the listening throng generally: "It is a difficult question, my friends, for any young man-- that question I had to grapple with, and which thousands are weighing at the present moment in these uprising times-- whether to follow uncritically the track he finds himself in, without considering his aptness for it, or to consider what his aptness or bent may be, and re-shape his course accordingly. I tried to do the latter, and I failed. But I don't admit that my failure proved my view to be a wrong one, or that my success would have made it a right one; though that's how we appraise such attempts nowadays--I mean, not by their essential soundness, but by their accidental outcomes. If I had ended by becoming like one of these gentlemen in red and black that we saw dropping in here by now, everybody would have said: 'See how wise that young man was, to follow the bent of his nature!' But having ended no better than I began they say: 'See what a fool that fellow was in following a freak of his fancy!' "However it was my poverty and not my will that consented to be beaten. It takes two or three generations to do what I tried to do in one; and my impulses--affections--vices perhaps they should be called-- were too strong not to hamper a man without advantages; who should be as cold-blooded as a fish and as selfish as a pig to have a really good chance of being one of his country's worthies. You may ridicule me--I am quite willing that you should-- I am a fit subject, no doubt. But I think if you knew what I have gone through these last few years you would rather pity me. And if they knew"--he nodded towards the college at which the dons were severally arriving--"it is just possible they would do the same." "He do look ill and worn-out, it is true!" said a woman. Sue's face grew more emotional; but though she stood close to Jude she was screened. "I may do some good before I am dead--be a sort of success as a frightful example of what not to do; and so illustrate a moral story," continued Jude, beginning to grow bitter, though he had opened serenely enough. "I was, perhaps, after all, a paltry victim to the spirit of mental and social restlessness that makes so many unhappy in these days!" "Don't tell them that!" whispered Sue with tears, at perceiving Jude's state of mind. "You weren't that. You struggled nobly to acquire knowledge, and only the meanest souls in the world would blame you!" Jude shifted the child into a more easy position on his arm, and concluded: "And what I appear, a sick and poor man, is not the worst of me. I am in a chaos of principles-- groping in the dark--acting by instinct and not after example. Eight or nine years ago when I came here first, I had a neat stock of fixed opinions, but they dropped away one by one; and the further I get the less sure I am. I doubt if I have anything more for my present rule of life than following inclinations which do me and nobody else any harm, and actually give pleasure to those I love best. There, gentlemen, since you wanted to know how I was getting on, I have told you. Much good may it do you! I cannot explain further here. I perceive there is something wrong somewhere in our social formulas: what it is can only be discovered by men or women with greater insight than mine--if, indeed, they ever discover it-- at least in our time. 'For who knoweth what is good for man in this life?--and who can tell a man what shall be after him under the sun?'" "Hear, hear," said the populace. "Well preached!" said Tinker Taylor. And privately to his neighbours: "Why, one of them jobbing pa'sons swarming about here, that takes the services when our head reverends want a holiday, wouldn't ha' discoursed such doctrine for less than a guinea down? Hey? I'll take my oath not one o' 'em would! And then he must have had it wrote down for 'n. And this only a working-man!" As a sort of objective commentary on Jude's remarks there drove up at this moment with a belated doctor, robed and panting, a cab whose horse failed to stop at the exact point required for setting down the hirer, who jumped out and entered the door. The driver, alighting, began to kick the animal in the belly. "If that can be done," said Jude, "at college gates in the most religious and educational city in the world, what shall we say as to how far we've got?" "Order!" said one of the policemen, who had been engaged with a comrade in opening the large doors opposite the college. "Keep yer tongue quiet, my man, while the procession passes." The rain came on more heavily, and all who had umbrellas opened them. Jude was not one of these, and Sue only possessed a small one, half sunshade. She had grown pale, though Jude did not notice it then. "Let us go on, dear," she whispered, endeavouring to shelter him. "We haven't any lodgings yet, remember, and all our things are at the station; and you are by no means well yet. I am afraid this wet will hurt you!" "They are coming now. Just a moment, and I'll go!" said he. A peal of six bells struck out, human faces began to crowd the windows around, and the procession of heads of houses and new doctors emerged, their red and black gowned forms passing across the field of Jude's vision like inaccessible planets across an object glass. As they went their names were called by knowing informants, and when they reached the old round theatre of Wren a cheer rose high. "Let's go that way!" cried Jude, and though it now rained steadily he seemed not to know it, and took them round to the theatre. Here they stood upon the straw that was laid to drown the discordant noise of wheels, where the quaint and frost-eaten stone busts encircling the building looked with pallid grimness on the proceedings, and in particular at the bedraggled Jude, Sue, and their children, as at ludicrous persons who had no business there. "I wish I could get in!" he said to her fervidly. "Listen--I may catch a few words of the Latin speech by staying here; the windows are open." However, beyond the peals of the organ, and the shouts and hurrahs between each piece of oratory, Jude's standing in the wet did not bring much Latin to his intelligence more than, now and then, a sonorous word in UM or IBUS. "Well--I'm an outsider to the end of my days!" he sighed after a while. "Now I'll go, my patient Sue. How good of you to wait in the rain all this time--to gratify my infatuation! I'll never care any more about the infernal cursed place, upon my soul I won't! But what made you tremble so when we were at the barrier? And how pale you are, Sue!" "I saw Richard amongst the people on the other side." "Ah--did you!" "He is evidently come up to Jerusalem to see the festival like the rest of us: and on that account is probably living not so very far away. He had the same hankering for the university that you had, in a milder form. I don't think he saw me, though he must have heard you speaking to the crowd. But he seemed not to notice." "Well--suppose he did. Your mind is free from worries about him now, my Sue?" "Yes, I suppose so. But I am weak. Although I know it is all right with our plans, I felt a curious dread of him; an awe, or terror, of conventions I don't believe in. It comes over me at times like a sort of creeping paralysis, and makes me so sad!" "You are getting tired, Sue. Oh--I forgot, darling! Yes, we'll go on at once." They started in quest of the lodging, and at last found something that seemed to promise well, in Mildew Lane-- a spot which to Jude was irresistible--though to Sue it was not so fascinating--a narrow lane close to the back of a college, but having no communication with it. The little houses were darkened to gloom by the high collegiate buildings, within which life was so far removed from that of the people in the lane as if it had been on opposite sides of the globe; yet only a thickness of wall divided them. Two or three of the houses had notices of rooms to let, and the newcomers knocked at the door of one, which a woman opened. "Ah--listen!" said Jude suddenly, instead of addressing her. "What?" "Why the bells--what church can that be? The tones are familiar." Another peal of bells had begun to sound out at some distance off. "I don't know!" said the landlady tartly. "Did you knock to ask that?" "No; for lodgings," said Jude, coming to himself. The householder scrutinized Sue's figure a moment. "We haven't any to let," said she, shutting the door. Jude looked discomfited, and the boy distressed. "Now, Jude," said Sue, "let me try. You don't know the way." They found a second place hard by; but here the occupier, observing not only Sue, but the boy and the small children, said civilly, "I am sorry to say we don't let where there are children"; and also closed the door. The small child squared its mouth and cried silently, with an instinct that trouble loomed. The boy sighed. "I don't like Christminster!" he said. "Are the great old houses gaols?" "No; colleges," said Jude; "which perhaps you'll study in some day." "I'd rather not!" the boy rejoined. "Now we'll try again," said Sue. "I'll pull my cloak more round me.... Leaving Kennetbridge for this place is like coming from Caiaphas to Pilate! ... How do I look now, dear?" "Nobody would notice it now," said Jude. There was one other house, and they tried a third time. The woman here was more amiable; but she had little room to spare, and could only agree to take in Sue and the children if her husband could go elsewhere. This arrangement they perforce adopted, in the stress from delaying their search till so late. They came to terms with her, though her price was rather high for their pockets. But they could not afford to be critical till Jude had time to get a more permanent abode; and in this house Sue took possession of a back room on the second floor with an inner closet-room for the children. Jude stayed and had a cup of tea; and was pleased to find that the window commanded the back of another of the colleges. Kissing all four he went to get a few necessaries and look for lodgings for himself. When he was gone the landlady came up to talk a little with Sue, and gather something of the circumstances of the family she had taken in. Sue had not the art of prevarication, and, after admitting several facts as to their late difficulties and wanderings, she was startled by the landlady saying suddenly: "Are you really a married woman?" Sue hesitated; and then impulsively told the woman that her husband and herself had each been unhappy in their first marriages, after which, terrified at the thought of a second irrevocable union, and lest the conditions of the contract should kill their love, yet wishing to be together, they had literally not found the courage to repeat it, though they had attempted it two or three times. Therefore, though in her own sense of the words she was a married woman, in the landlady's sense she was not. The housewife looked embarrassed, and went down-stairs. Sue sat by the window in a reverie, watching the rain. Her quiet was broken by the noise of someone entering the house, and then the voices of a man and woman in conversation in the passage below. The land-lady's husband had arrived, and she was explaining to him the incoming of the lodgers during his absence. His voice rose in sudden anger. "Now who wants such a woman here? and perhaps a confinement! ... Besides, didn't I say I wouldn't have children? The hall and stairs fresh painted, to be kicked about by them! You must have known all was not straight with 'em--coming like that. Taking in a family when I said a single man." The wife expostulated, but, as it seemed, the husband insisted on his point; for presently a tap came to Sue's door, and the woman appeared. "I am sorry to tell you, ma'am," she said, "that I can't let you have the room for the week after all. My husband objects; and therefore I must ask you to go. I don't mind your staying over to-night, as it is getting late in the afternoon; but I shall be glad if you can leave early in the morning." Though she knew that she was entitled to the lodging for a week, Sue did not wish to create a disturbance between the wife and husband, and she said she would leave as requested. When the landlady had gone Sue looked out of the window again. Finding that the rain had ceased she proposed to the boy that, after putting the little ones to bed, they should go out and search about for another place, and bespeak it for the morrow, so as not to be so hard-driven then as they had been that day. Therefore, instead of unpacking her boxes, which had just been sent on from the station by Jude, they sallied out into the damp though not unpleasant streets, Sue resolving not to disturb her husband with the news of her notice to quit while he was perhaps worried in obtaining a lodging for himself. In the company of the boy she wandered into this street and into that; but though she tried a dozen different houses she fared far worse alone than she had fared in Jude's company, and could get nobody to promise her a room for the following day. Every householder looked askance at such a woman and child inquiring for accommodation in the gloom. "I ought not to be born, ought I?" said the boy with misgiving. Thoroughly tired at last Sue returned to the place where she was not welcome, but where at least she had temporary shelter. In her absence Jude had left his address; but knowing how weak he still was she adhered to her determination not to disturb him till the next day. 他们到了基督堂车站，只见那儿非常热闹。一大群戴草帽的小伙子来来往往；他们是来迎姑娘们的；她们的长相，同欢迎者活脱是一个模子出来的，足见是一家人。她们个个盛装艳服，绚丽夺目，尽态极妍。 “这地方一派喜庆气氛嘛。”苏说。“对啦——今天是寄思日啊，——裘德，你可真刁呀——你是存心拣这个日子来呀！” “就是。”裘德沉住气说。他一边把最小的孩子抱起来，一边嘱咐阿拉贝拉的孩子要紧挨着他们，苏则照料他们两个生的头一个孩子。 “我想过啦，反正早也是来，晚也是来，不如今天来。” “可是我怕这一天叫你不痛快呢。”她说，一边不安地上上下下地打量他。 “我决不会让这个打搅咱们的正事；咱们还没在这儿定下来，好多事得办哪，头一件想办的就是找地方住啊。” 他们把行李和他的工具寄放在车站上，然后步行前往熟悉的大街；休假的人一窝蜂似地拥到同一个方向。他们一家人先走到四路口，想转到可能找得到住处的地方。裘德看了看钟和匆忙过往的人群，就说，“咱们这会儿别惦记着找房子，先看看游行好不好？” “咱们总得先找到托身地方，不是吗？”她问。 但是裘德的全部心神似乎都贯注在那个周年纪念上了，于是他们一块儿顺大成街走下去。裘德抱着顶小的孩子，苏牵着自己的小女儿，阿拉贝拉的孩子不言不语，心事很重地走在旁边。一大群打扮得花枝招展的俏丽姊妹和她们的年轻时候没上过大学，一窍不通、百依百顺的爹娘，由既当兄长又当儿子的小伙子保驾，也朝着同一个方向走。小伙子个个脸上神气活现，像是写着世上本皆属草昧之人，赖有他们多方调教，这才开化，臻于文明之域，云云。 “这些小伙子个个神气十足，正好反衬着我的失败啊。”裘德说。“我今天来，就是为领略一番自命不凡带来的教训——今天是我的“受辱日”啊！我的亲亲，要不是你把我挽救了，我也许因为绝望而彻底完蛋啦！” 她从他脸上的表情看出来，他又陷入异常剧烈地痛惜自己的心境。“亲爱的，咱们顶好还是马上办自己的事情。”她答道。“我知道这儿的情景又勾起你旧的创痛，这可不好！” “呃——咱们快走到了；就要看见啦。”他说。 他们从左首拐过那座有意大利式门廊、螺旋纹立柱上攀满藤蔓的教堂；随即穿过巷子，一直走到那赫然在望的、因屋顶有灯笼形天窗而遐迩驰名的圆形会堂。在他的内心深处，那个天窗就是他忍痛绝念于前程的表征，因为当年他曾在一个下午在那儿临窗眺望大学城，思绪万千，百感交集，终于醒悟过来，他力求成为大学的儿子的企图，无非是枉费心机。 今天，在那建筑物与教堂之间的空地上，麇集着来看游行的人群。两行大栏杆把他们从中间隔开，留出一条通道，从学院大门一直延伸到学院和会堂之间的大楼门前。 “就是这地方——等会儿他们就过来啦！”裘德忽然兴奋起来，大声说。尽管他怀里抱着孩子，他还是拼命往前挤，苏则带着两个孩子紧跟着，他们好不容易才挤到一个紧靠隔离栏的位置。他们剩下的空档立刻让人填上了。这时马车一辆挨一辆在学院侧门前停住，上面下来身穿血红大袍的大人物，道貌岸然，迈着四方步，看热闹的人也就议论开了，要贫嘴，放声大笑。天空已经阴下来，灰沉沉的，时不时听见隐隐雷声。 时光老爹打了个冷战。“真像最后审判日呀！”他小声嘀咕。 “别瞎说，他们不过是有学问的博士就是啦。”苏说。 他们还是往下等，大雨点子这时劈头盖脸掉下来，队伍仍旧迟迟不来，人群不耐烦起来。苏又表示别再等了。 “一会儿就过来了。”裘德说，头也没回一下。 但是游行队伍的影子还看不见。有人为了消磨时间，就朝着最近便的学院的正面望，说他闹不明白中间部位刻的拉丁文什么意思。裘德正好站在那人旁边，就把意思给他讲了讲；他一看周围人都很感兴趣地听着，又把墙壁饰条的刻工解释了一下（他多年前研究过这类东西），还批评了城里另一所学院的前脸的石活的某些细部。 那群候等着的人，其中还有两个站在学院大门口的警察，都呆呆地看着他，仿佛吕高尼人在看保罗，因为裘德不论碰到什么可谈的题目，总是谈兴大发，滔滔不绝；那些人不免觉得他特别，心想怎么这个异乡人知道的东西居然比住在本地的人知道得还多；后来有个人说：“嗨，我认得这小子，前些年他常在这儿干活，没错儿！你们全忘啦，大伙儿不是给他起过外号，管他叫‘圣棚户区布道师’吗？——因为他就想干这一行嘛。我猜他后来结婚成家了，抱着自个儿的孩子哪。泰勒总认得出来他吧，因为他谁都认识。” 说这话的人名叫杰克•司太格，裘德从前跟他一块儿修过学院的石活；补锅匠泰勒站得很近，他们看得见。他一听别人提他名字，就隔着栅栏大声对裘德说：“你瞧得起咱们爷们，大驾又回来啦，我的朋友！” 裘德点点头。 “你打这儿走了，好像也没多大出息，对吧？” 裘德对这句话也表示肯定。 “就是多了几个嘴要喂喽！”这个说话声音刚才没听见过。裘德听出来是乔爷，也是他早先认识的一位石匠。 裘德兴致勃勃地回答说他可没法跟他辩这一点；大家七嘴八舌，像是他跟这伙没事于的人开谈话会，补锅匠泰勒问他忘没忘那晚上在酒馆里人家激他背使佳信经的事儿。 “不过命运女神没叫你生来于那行子，对吧？”乔爷插嘴说。“我看凭你这块料，于那行子还够不上吧？” “别再跟他们说啦。”苏恳求着。 “我真讨厌基督堂！”小时光垂头丧气地咕噜着，他比周围的人矮一截，站在那儿看不出来。 裘德可不然，他一看自己成了大家好奇、奚落和议论的中心，再也不肯善罢甘休，一定要把他自觉并没愧对世人的地方讲出个道理。稍过了会儿，他就情绪昂奋，高声对着他所有的听众说起来。 “列位，这是个随便哪个年轻人也难以回答的问题——是我当初全力以赴，想把它回答出来的问题，也是眼下成千上万的青年在当前这个奋进的时代不断地反复思考的问题——究竟是完全不顾自己是否适合，不加批判地跟着前人足迹亦步亦趋呢，还是按着自个儿才智所宜，志趣所在，选定进取的方向？我力求走后一条路，失败了。可我不承认我一失败就表示我的见解是错误的；我一成功，我的见解就对啦——虽说如今这年头，咱们全是按成败论英雄。我这是指不看那些愿望的内涵是不是健全合理，单单计较一时的偶然结果。咱们刚才瞧见穿红袍子、黑袍子的爷们驾到此地啦，就假定我总算成了其中哪一位那样吧，人人就会说：‘瞧哇，那小子才聪明哪，他就是按性之所好走过来的！’可是一瞧见我从头到尾一事无成，依然故我，就说，‘瞧哇，那小子想瞎猫碰死耗子，真是个大笨蛋！’ “说真的，我是因为穷，不是意志不坚才输的。我极力想要我这辈子干成的事儿，可得两三辈人才成呢；我的冲劲儿——我的执著精神——也许可以叫我的毛病吧，反而叫一个生来不具备优越条件的人进退失据，适得其反啦。只有鱼一样冷血、猪一样自私的人才有上佳机缘，成了他的国家的栋梁之材。你们笑话我好啦，我也挺愿意你们笑话，无疑我是个该让人笑话的东西。不过你们要是知道我这些年怎么挣扎过来的，你们反倒要可怜可怜我啦。要是他们也知道”——他朝着师尊们陆续到达的学院那边点点头——“说不定他们也一样可怜可怜吧。” “他这人真是病啦，垮啦，真是的！”一个女人嘟囔着。 苏脸上显得感情更为激动，不过她人紧挨着裘德，就给遮掩起来了。 “我死之前，还可以办件好事，也算我有了成绩吧，这就是叫人知道什么事千万别干，拿我当个叫人寒心的例子，也好当个教育人的故事说说。”裘德继续说下去，虽然他开头说的时候，还算心平气和，这会儿却悲愤起来。“眼下思想和社会方面惶惶不安的精神面貌弄得好多人都陷入苦闷啦，我呢，说到底，就是这种状况的一个微不足道的牺牲品啊！” “你别跟他们说这些吧。”苏含着泪小声说，因为她深知裘德此时的心境。“你从前不是那样的人。你从前是怀着高尚的宗旨，为追求学问而奋斗，只有那些卑鄙的家伙才贬低你！” 裘德把抱着的孩子换了个位置，好省点劲，接着就把话说完了：“我这会儿又病又穷，可是这还不是我顶糟的地方。因为我这会儿脑子里的信仰成了一团乱麻——黑里瞎摸，找不着头绪。做事靠本能，无所取则。八九年前我到这儿的时候，我的思想坚定，条理分明，但是后来它们陆陆续续逃之夭夭啦。越到后来，我就越对自己没信心。我怀疑我如今还有什么能算得上人生大义，我只剩了下边两条心愿：于己无害，于人无伤；再有是真正做到让我最爱的人快乐。各位先生，既然你们都想知道我是怎么混过来的，我已经—一奉告啦。但愿对诸位有好处！到此为止，我也不能往下说啦。依我看，咱们社会这套规范准是哪儿出了岔子，这可得靠比我目光深远锐利的男男女女去探明究竟——假定他们真能做到。‘因为谁知道什么于他有益呢？谁能告诉他身居日光之下有什么事呢？’” “好哇，好哇。”众人不约而同地说。 “讲得真不赖呀！”补锅匠泰勒说，又悄悄地跟紧边上的人说，‘明阿哈，那些吃牧师饭的成群凑到这一带来了，里头有一个趁着咱们的当家牧师想休假，就替他带着做礼拜，要是捞不到一个几尼，他大概不肯这样讲道吧？你看呢？我敢起誓，他们那帮子里头谁也讲不来。再说他们大概得先把要说的写下来才行。这小子讲得这么好，可是个工人哪！” 恰好这时候有辆马车赶过来了，里面坐着一位喘吁吁的身穿大袍的博士，无奈辕马不听使唤，没在雇车人要停的地方停住，只见博士从车里跳出来，径直奔进了学院大门。车夫纵身跳下车座，开始往那畜牲肚子上踢，这个光景倒像为裘德一番讲话做了客观注脚。 “要是这世界上最信教、最尊重教育的城市，”裘德说，“要是在学院大门口这儿，连这类事都于得出来，那咱们还有多大出息，还有谁说得清呢？” “别吵！”一个警察说，他刚跟一位同志忙着打开学院对面几个大门。“伙计，游行队伍过来的时候，你闭上嘴好吧。”雨下得更大了，带着伞的人都把伞撑起来。苏只带了把小伞，晴雨两用的。她的脸色显得苍白，不过裘德当时没注意到。 “亲爱的，咱们还是走吧。”她低声说，尽量不让他淋着。“别忘了，咱们还没找到地方住呢，东西还放在车站，再说你身上也没好利落呢，我害怕一淋湿了，你又要病啦！” “队伍过来了。稍等一会儿，我看了就走！”他说。 一时间六钟齐响和鸣，好多人的脸挤到了窗口上，而院长和新博士们也露面了，他们穿着红色和黑色大袍的形体好似可望而不可及的行星通过望远镜的物镜一般，从裘德的视野中倏忽而过。 在他们行进时，认识他们的好事之徒一一点出了他们的名字，等他们走到伦恩造的老圆形会堂，人群就欢呼起来。 “咱们往那边走！”裘德大声说。雨下个不停，但他似乎丝毫没觉察到，带着一家绕到会堂那边。他们站在为减少车轮的不谐调的噪声而铺垫地面的干草上，那儿有许多经过霜雪剥蚀而显得古意盎然的半身雕像，它们环列在会堂周围，冷眼旁观正在进行的仪式——神情恹恹而阴沉，特别在望着浑身淋得透湿的裘德、苏和他们的孩子的时候，好像觉得他们非常滑稽：到这儿来，本来无所事事，何必多此一举。 “但愿我也能参加进去啊！”他热切而认真地说。“听吧，我呆在这儿，可以听得见拉丁文讲演的几个词儿，窗户都开着哪！” 但是，除了风琴奏出的和谐的乐音和每次讲演中间的喊声和欢呼，裘德只间或听到um或ibus的铿锵之声，绝少拉丁文传到他脑际，白白站在雨地里。 “唉——我就是活到死，也只好置身门外啦！”稍后他叹了口气。“现在我要走啦，我的能忍让的苏啊。你始终在雨里等着，你心多好啊——就为的是让我做一场春梦！我以后决不会再念叨这鬼地方啦，绝对不念叨啦！可是刚才咱们在隔栏边上，你怎么那样抖呀？苏，你脸色多苍白哟！” “我瞧见里查来着，就在对面那群人里头。” “啊——真的？” “他显然也跟咱们这伙人一样，到耶路撒冷来瞧瞧节日的盛况。这么着，他住的地方大概离这儿不怎么远。他从前也像你死乞白赖地要上大学，不过表面上没那么火辣辣就是啦。我看他没瞧见我；虽然他总会听见你跟大伙儿说话，不过不像怎么注意。” “呃——不注意就不注意吧。你现在不会为他牵肠挂肚吧，苏？” “不会啦，不会啦。不过我这个人太软弱，我固然知道咱们所有打算都对，可是我怪得很，老觉着怕他。我不在乎什么习俗不习俗，可这样怕他还是跟尊重习俗或者惧怕习俗有关系，就仿佛受了瘫痪病侵袭，慢慢，慢慢，越来越厉害，心里真难过！” “你这会儿挺累啦，苏。哦——我倒忘了，亲亲！好，咱们马上走吧。” 于是他们动身去找住的地方，最后在霉巷找到了，看上去挺称心的，这地点对裘德特别有诱惑力，但是苏觉得巷子窄，又在学院后墙根上，只不通学院就是了。学院的高楼大厦把小房子的光挡住，弄得昏暗得很：学院里的生活同居民的生活竟是天渊之别，犹如彼此各处地球的一端，其实只是一堵厚墙之隔罢了。有两三处房子贴着有屋子出租的帖子，他们新来乍到，就敲了敲一家的门。一个女人应声出来，把门开了。 “啊——听啊！”裘德突然说，他却没跟她搭话。 “什么？” “钟声啊！是哪个教堂的钟声呢？怪熟的。” 在稍远地方又响起了众钟和鸣。 “我不懂！”女房东用挖苦的口气说。‘你敲门就为这个？” “不是，是要租房子。”裘德说，又回过神来。 房东对苏的外形仔细打量了一下。“我没屋子租。”说着把门一下关上。 裘德很狼狈，大孩子怪难受。“啊，裘德，”苏说，“我试试看吧。你干这类事不行。” 他们又在附近找了第二家；但是房东不仅观察了苏，还观察大小孩子，很斯文地说，“对不起，有孩子的人家，我不租。”也把门关了。 顶小的孩子噘着嘴，不出声地哭起来，本能使他感到碰上了麻烦事。大男孩叹口气。“我讨厌死基督堂啦！”他说。“那些又大又旧的房子是监狱吧？” “不是，是学院，”裘德说，“也许有那么一天，你也在里头念书呢。” “我才不想哪。”大孩子回了一句。 “咱们再试试瞧，”苏说，“我把大衣裹得紧点。……离开肯尼桥到这地方就跟该亚发去见彼拉多似的……亲爱的，你看我现在这样儿如何？” “现在就不会有人注意你了。”裘德说。 还有一处房子招租，他们就试第三次。女房东倒也和善，不过她空出的屋子很小，如果苏的丈夫能到别处去，她就答应让苏和孩子住进来。他们找房子已经耽误了，到这么晚还没找到，只好接受这样的安排。他们跟她商量租用条件；虽然房租有点超出他们当前的负担能力，也只好答应下来，好在在裘德找到常住寓所之前，一时总能勉强渡过难关。苏租下的是这房子三楼一间背光的屋子，里边有个套间，能安顿下孩子。裘德呆了会儿，喝了杯茶，发现窗户对着另一所学院的后墙，心中为之一喜。他吻罢四个人，就出去买日用品，给自己找落脚地方。 他走了之后，女房东到楼上来，想跟苏谈谈，以便对房客家庭状况有所了解。苏素常胸无城府，不善作伪，在她承认她家遇到困难和过着居处不定的生活之后，冷不防女房东说出下面一句话，令她为之惊愕： “你的确是结过婚的女人吗？” 苏颇感犹豫，随即在一时冲动之下，未加思索就对那女人说：她跟他丈夫都曾结过婚，不过头一次婚姻都令他们很苦恼，深恐此后若再有第二次婚姻形式的结合，可能重蹈覆辙，终身受害，无从摆脱。尽管他们誓愿毕生厮守在一起，都害怕一纸婚约上的种种条件反而葬送了他们的爱情，所以虽然两三次打算签约，无如委实鼓不起勇气搞那一套。如此这般，她言下自己的确是结了婚的妇女，不过房东不以为然。 那位女主人表情显得尴尬，就下楼了。苏坐在窗前，对着外面的雨出神。有人已经进了房子，一阵响声把她已经安定下来的心情打破了，接着就听见楼下过道里一个男人跟女人说话声音。原来女房东的丈夫回来了，她正对他说明他不在时，她把房客招进来了。 他突然大发雷霆，嗓门一下子大起来：“谁要在家里留这样的女人？也许她就要生孩子！……再说，我不是讲过招没孩子的吗？过厅跟楼梯刚涂过，就得让他们踢来踢去的！你本来该明白嘛，他们这个样儿来，根本不是正派人。我说租给单身汉，你偏招进来一家子。” 妻子做了番解释，但是丈夫大概是固执己见，毫不通融。过会儿，苏门上有人敲了一下，那女人露面了。 “太太，对不起，我想跟你谈一下。”她说。“直说吧，我现在不好再把屋子租给你一个礼拜了。因为我丈夫不赞成，我只好请你们搬出去。你今儿晚上在这儿过夜，我没意见，因为下午到这会儿，也够晚了，不过，我还是想你明儿一大早就走才好！” 苏自然心里有数，她完全有权利住上一个礼拜，可是她不想因此而在那对夫妇间挑起是非，于是表示可以接她的要求一大早走。女房东走后，她又望着窗外。看到雨不下了，她就向大孩子提议，她先把小的哄睡了，然后他们俩出去想法订到明天的住处，免得像今天这样给逼得到处碰壁。 所以她没把裘德刚从车站送来的箱子打开，就跟孩子一块儿出去了，到了几条潮湿的、不过还不叫人难受的街道。苏想到裘德大概正为自己找地方烦心，决定不拿人家通知她搬走的消息去干扰他。孩子给她做伴，她串到东串到西；虽然试了十几家，可是孤军作战，比裘德陪着，运气还糟。没一个人答应第二天给她一间屋子，家家房主人都斜眼睨着这样一个带着孩子，天黑了还找住处的女人。 “我真不该生出来，对不对？”男孩子惶惶不安地说。 苏终于疲惫不堪，只好回到她不受欢迎的地方；反正她在那儿至少可以托庇过夜。裘德在她外出时来过，留下他的地址。因为她知道他现在还很虚弱，所以她坚持原来的决定，不去干扰他，留到明天再说。 Part 6 Chapter 2 SUE sat looking at the bare floor of the room, the house being little more than an old intramural cottage, and then she regarded the scene outside the uncurtained window. At some distance opposite, the outer walls of Sarcophagus College-- silent, black, and windowless--threw their four centuries of gloom, bigotry, and decay into the little room she occupied, shutting out the moonlight by night and the sun by day. The outlines of Rubric College also were discernible beyond the other, and the tower of a third farther off still. She thought of the strange operation of a simple-minded man's ruling passion, that it should have led Jude, who loved her and the children so tenderly, to place them here in this depressing purlieu, because he was still haunted by his dream. Even now he did not distinctly hear the freezing negative that those scholared walls had echoed to his desire. The failure to find another lodging, and the lack of room in this house for his father, had made a deep impression on the boy-- a brooding undemonstrative horror seemed to have seized him. The silence was broken by his saying: "Mother, WHAT shall we do to-morrow!" "I don't know!" said Sue despondently. "I am afraid this will trouble your father." "I wish Father was quite well, and there had been room for him! Then it wouldn't matter so much! Poor Father!" "It wouldn't!" "Can I do anything?" "No! All is trouble, adversity, and suffering!" "Father went away to give us children room, didn't he?" "Partly." "It would be better to be out o' the world than in it, wouldn't it?" "It would almost, dear." "'Tis because of us children, too, isn't it, that you can't get a good lodging?" "Well--people do object to children sometimes." "Then if children make so much trouble, why do people have 'em?" "Oh--because it is a law of nature." "But we don't ask to be born?" "No indeed." "And what makes it worse with me is that you are not my real mother, and you needn't have had me unless you liked. I oughtn't to have come to 'ee--that's the real truth! I troubled 'em in Australia, and I trouble folk here. I wish I hadn't been born!" "You couldn't help it, my dear." "I think that whenever children be born that are not wanted they should be killed directly, before their souls come to 'em, and not allowed to grow big and walk about!" Sue did not reply. She was doubtfully pondering how to treat this too reflective child. She at last concluded that, so far as circumstances permitted, she would be honest and candid with one who entered into her difficulties like an aged friend. "There is going to be another in our family soon," she hesitatingly remarked. "How?" "There is going to be another baby." "What!" The boy jumped up wildly. "Oh God, Mother, you've never a-sent for another; and such trouble with what you've got!" "Yes, I have, I am sorry to say!" murmured Sue, her eyes glistening with suspended tears. The boy burst out weeping. "Oh you don't care, you don't care!" he cried in bitter reproach. "How EVER could you, Mother, be so wicked and cruel as this, when you needn't have done it till we was better off, and Father well! To bring us all into MORE trouble! No room for us, and Father a-forced to go away, and we turned out to-morrow; and yet you be going to have another of us soon! ... 'Tis done o' purpose!--'tis--'tis!" He walked up and down sobbing. "Y-you must forgive me, little Jude!" she pleaded, her bosom heaving now as much as the boy's. "I can't explain--I will when you are older. It does seem-- as if I had done it on purpose, now we are in these difficulties! I can't explain, dear! But it--is not quite on purpose--I can't help it!" "Yes it is--it must be! For nobody would interfere with us, like that, unless you agreed! I won't forgive you, ever, ever! I'll never believe you care for me, or Father, or any of us any more!" He got up, and went away into the closet adjoining her room, in which a bed had been spread on the floor. There she heard him say: "If we children was gone there'd be no trouble at all!" "Don't think that, dear," she cried, rather peremptorily. "But go to sleep!" The following morning she awoke at a little past six, and decided to get up and run across before breakfast to the inn which Jude had informed her to be his quarters, to tell him what had happened before he went out. She arose softly, to avoid disturbing the children, who, as she knew, must be fatigued by their exertions of yesterday. She found Jude at breakfast in the obscure tavern he had chosen as a counterpoise to the expense of her lodging: and she explained to him her homelessness. He had been so anxious about her all night, he said. Somehow, now it was morning, the request to leave the lodgings did not seem such a depressing incident as it had seemed the night before, nor did even her failure to find another place affect her so deeply as at first. Jude agreed with her that it would not be worth while to insist upon her right to stay a week, but to take immediate steps for removal. "You must all come to this inn for a day or two," he said. "It is a rough place, and it will not be so nice for the children, but we shall have more time to look round. There are plenty of lodgings in the suburbs--in my old quarter of Beersheba. Have breakfast with me now you are here, my bird. You are sure you are well? There will be plenty of time to get back and prepare the children's meal before they wake. In fact, I'll go with you." She joined Jude in a hasty meal, and in a quarter of an hour they started together, resolving to clear out from Sue's too respectable lodging immediately. On reaching the place and going upstairs she found that all was quiet in the children's room, and called to the landlady in timorous tones to please bring up the tea-kettle and something for their breakfast. This was perfunctorily done, and producing a couple of eggs which she had brought with her she put them into the boiling kettle, and summoned Jude to watch them for the youngsters, while she went to call them, it being now about half-past eight o'clock. Jude stood bending over the kettle, with his watch in his hand, timing the eggs, so that his back was turned to the little inner chamber where the children lay. A shriek from Sue suddenly caused him to start round. He saw that the door of the room, or rather closet-- which had seemed to go heavily upon its hinges as she pushed it back-- was open, and that Sue had sunk to the floor just within it. Hastening forward to pick her up he turned his eyes to the little bed spread on the boards; no children were there. He looked in bewilderment round the room. At the back of the door were fixed two hooks for hanging garments, and from these the forms of the two youngest children were suspended, by a piece of box-cord round each of their necks, while from a nail a few yards off the body of little Jude was hanging in a similar manner. An overturned chair was near the elder boy, and his glazed eyes were slanted into the room; but those of the girl and the baby boy were closed. Half-paralyzed by the strange and consummate horror of the scene he let Sue lie, cut the cords with his pocket-knife and threw the three children on the bed; but the feel of their bodies in the momentary handling seemed to say that they were dead. He caught up Sue, who was in fainting fits, and put her on the bed in the other room, after which he breathlessly summoned the landlady and ran out for a doctor. When he got back Sue had come to herself, and the two helpless women, bending over the children in wild efforts to restore them, and the triplet of little corpses, formed a sight which overthrew his self-command. The nearest surgeon came in, but, as Jude had inferred, his presence was superfluous. The children were past saving, for though their bodies were still barely cold it was conjectured that they had been hanging more than an hour. The probability held by the parents later on, when they were able to reason on the case, was that the elder boy, on waking, looked into the outer room for Sue, and, finding her absent, was thrown into a fit of aggravated despondency that the events and information of the evening before had induced in his morbid temperament. Moreover a piece of paper was found upon the floor, on which was written, in the boy's hand, with the bit of lead pencil that he carried: DONE BECAUSE WE ARE TOO MENNY. At sight of this Sue's nerves utterly gave way, an awful conviction that her discourse with the boy had been the main cause of the tragedy, throwing her into a convulsive agony which knew no abatement. They carried her away against her wish to a room on the lower floor; and there she lay, her slight figure shaken with her gasps, and her eyes staring at the ceiling, the woman of the house vainly trying to soothe her. They could hear from this chamber the people moving about above, and she implored to be allowed to go back, and was only kept from doing so by the assurance that, if there were any hope, her presence might do harm, and the reminder that it was necessary to take care of herself lest she should endanger a coming life. Her inquiries were incessant, and at last Jude came down and told her there was no hope. As soon as she could speak she informed him what she had said to the boy, and how she thought herself the cause of this. "No," said Jude. "It was in his nature to do it. The doctor says there are such boys springing up amongst us-- boys of a sort unknown in the last generation--the outcome of new views of life. They seem to see all its terrors before they are old enough to have staying power to resist them. He says it is the beginning of the coming universal wish not to live. He's an advanced man, the doctor: but he can give no consolation to----" Jude had kept back his own grief on account of her; but he now broke down; and this stimulated Sue to efforts of sympathy which in some degree distracted her from her poignant self-reproach. When everybody was gone, she was allowed to see the children. The boy's face expressed the whole tale of their situation. On that little shape had converged all the inauspiciousness and shadow which had darkened the first union of Jude, and all the accidents, mistakes, fears, errors of the last. He was their nodal point, their focus, their expression in a single term. For the rashness of those parents he had groaned, for their ill assortment he had quaked, and for the misfortunes of these he had died. When the house was silent, and they could do nothing but await the coroner's inquest, a subdued, large, low voice spread into the air of the room from behind the heavy walls at the back. "What is it?" said Sue, her spasmodic breathing suspended. "The organ of the college chapel. The organist practising I suppose. It's the anthem from the seventy-third Psalm; 'Truly God is loving unto Israel.'" She sobbed again. "Oh, Oh my babies! They had done no harm! Why should they have been taken away, and not I!" There was another stillness--broken at last by two persons in conversation somewhere without. "They are talking about us, no doubt!" moaned Sue. "'We are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men!'" Jude listened--"No--they are not talking of us," he said. "They are two clergymen of different views, arguing about the eastward position. Good God--the eastward position, and all creation groaning!" Then another silence, till she was seized with another uncontrollable fit of grief. "There is something external to us which says, 'You shan't!' First it said, 'You shan't learn!' Then it said, 'You shan't labour!' Now it says, 'You shan't love!'" He tried to soothe her by saying, "That's bitter of you, darling." "But it's true!" Thus they waited, and she went back again to her room. The baby's frock, shoes, and socks, which had been lying on a chair at the time of his death, she would not now have removed, though Jude would fain have got them out of her sight. But whenever he touched them she implored him to let them lie, and burst out almost savagely at the woman of the house when she also attempted to put them away. Jude dreaded her dull apathetic silences almost more than her paroxysms. "Why don't you speak to me, Jude?" she cried out, after one of these. "Don't turn away from me! I can't BEAR the loneliness of being out of your looks!" "There, dear; here I am," he said, putting his face close to hers. "Yes.... Oh, my comrade, our perfect union--our two-in-oneness-- is now stained with blood!" "Shadowed by death--that's all." "Ah; but it was I who incited him really, though I didn't know I was doing it! I talked to the child as one should only talk to people of mature age. I said the world was against us, that it was better to be out of life than in it at this price; and he took it literally. And I told him I was going to have another child. It upset him. Oh how bitterly he upbraided me!" "Why did you do it, Sue?" "I can't tell. It was that I wanted to be truthful. I couldn't bear deceiving him as to the facts of life. And yet I wasn't truthful, for with a false delicacy I told him too obscurely.--Why was I half-wiser than my fellow-women? And not entirely wiser! Why didn't I tell him pleasant untruths, instead of half-realities? It was my want of self-control, so that I could neither conceal things nor reveal them!" "Your plan might have been a good one for the majority of cases; only in our peculiar case it chanced to work badly perhaps. He must have known sooner or later." "And I was just making my baby darling a new frock; and now I shall never see him in it, and never talk to him any more! ... My eyes are so swollen that I can scarcely see; and yet little more than a year ago I called myself happy! We went about loving each other too much--indulging ourselves to utter selfishness with each other! We said-- do you remember?--that we would make a virtue of joy. I said it was Nature's intention, Nature's law and RAISON D'ETRE that we should be joyful in what instincts she afforded us-- instincts which civilization had taken upon itself to thwart. What dreadful things I said! And now Fate has given us this stab in the back for being such fools as to take Nature at her word!" She sank into a quiet contemplation, till she said, "It is best, perhaps, that they should be gone.--Yes--I see it is! Better that they should be plucked fresh than stay to wither away miserably!" "Yes," replied Jude. "Some say that the elders should rejoice when their children die in infancy." "But they don't know! ... Oh my babies, my babies, could you be alive now! You may say the boy wished to be out of life, or he wouldn't have done it. It was not unreasonable for him to die: it was part of his incurably sad nature, poor little fellow! But then the others--my OWN children and yours!" Again Sue looked at the hanging little frock and at the socks and shoes; and her figure quivered like a string. "I am a pitiable creature," she said, "good neither for earth nor heaven any more! I am driven out of my mind by things! What ought to be done?" She stared at Jude, and tightly held his hand. "Nothing can be done," he replied. "Things are as they are, and will be brought to their destined issue." She paused. "Yes! Who said that?" she asked heavily. "It comes in the chorus of the AGAMEMNON. It has been in my mind continually since this happened." "My poor Jude--how you've missed everything!--you more than I, for I did get you! To think you should know that by your unassisted reading, and yet be in poverty and despair!" After such momentary diversions her grief would return in a wave. The jury duly came and viewed the bodies, the inquest was held; and next arrived the melancholy morning of the funeral. Accounts in the newspapers had brought to the spot curious idlers, who stood apparently counting the window-panes and the stones of the walls. Doubt of the real relations of the couple added zest to their curiosity. Sue had declared that she would follow the two little ones to the grave, but at the last moment she gave way, and the coffins were quietly carried out of the house while she was lying down. Jude got into the vehicle, and it drove away, much to the relief of the landlord, who now had only Sue and her luggage remaining on his hands, which he hoped to be also clear of later on in the day, and so to have freed his house from the exasperating notoriety it had acquired during the week through his wife's unlucky admission of these strangers. In the afternoon he privately consulted with the owner of the house, and they agreed that if any objection to it arose from the tragedy which had occurred there they would try to get its number changed. When Jude had seen the two little boxes--one containing little Jude, and the other the two smallest--deposited in the earth he hastened back to Sue, who was still in her room, and he therefore did not disturb her just then. Feeling anxious, however, he went again about four o'clock. The woman thought she was still lying down, but returned to him to say that she was not in her bedroom after all. Her hat and jacket, too, were missing: she had gone out. Jude hurried off to the public house where he was sleeping. She had not been there. Then bethinking himself of possibilities he went along the road to the cemetery, which he entered, and crossed to where the interments had recently taken place. The idlers who had followed to the spot by reason of the tragedy were all gone now. A man with a shovel in his hands was attempting to earth in the common grave of the three children, but his arm was held back by an expostulating woman who stood in the half-filled hole. It was Sue, whose coloured clothing, which she had never thought of changing for the mourning he had bought, suggested to the eye a deeper grief than the conventional garb of bereavement could express. "He's filling them in, and he shan't till I've seen my little ones again!" she cried wildly when she saw Jude. "I want to see them once more. Oh Jude-- please Jude--I want to see them! I didn't know you would let them be taken away while I was asleep! You said perhaps I should see them once more before they were screwed down; and then you didn't, but took them away! Oh Jude, you are cruel to me too!" "She's been wanting me to dig out the grave again, and let her get to the coffins," said the man with the spade. "She ought to be took home, by the look o' her. She is hardly responsible, poor thing, seemingly. Can't dig 'em up again now, ma'am. Do ye go home with your husband, and take it quiet, and thank God that there'll be another soon to swage yer grief." But Sue kept asking piteously: "Can't I see them once more--just once! Can't I? Only just one little minute, Jude? It would not take long! And I should be so glad, Jude! I will be so good, and not disobey you ever any more, Jude, if you will let me? I would go home quietly afterwards, and not want to see them any more! Can't I? Why can't I?" Thus she went on. Jude was thrown into such acute sorrow that he almost felt he would try to get the man to accede. But it could do no good, and might make her still worse; and he saw that it was imperative to get her home at once. So he coaxed her, and whispered tenderly, and put his arm round her to support her; till she helplessly gave in, and was induced to leave the cemetery. He wished to obtain a fly to take her back in, but economy being so imperative she deprecated his doing so, and they walked along slowly, Jude in black crape, she in brown and red clothing. They were to have gone to a new lodging that afternoon, but Jude saw that it was not practicable, and in course of time they entered the now hated house. Sue was at once got to bed, and the doctor sent for. Jude waited all the evening downstairs. At a very late hour the intelligence was brought to him that a child had been prematurely born, and that it, like the others, was a corpse. 那房子只好算城区里的旧棚户房子，她坐在那儿，瞧着什么也没铺的光地板，然后又从没挂窗帘的窗户，仔细看外边的情景。近在对面的是石棺学院的不出声音、没有窗户的黑糊糊外墙。它们夜晚挡住月光，白天挡住阳光，把积了四百年之久的幽晦阴凄、顽梗偏执和老迈昏馈一古脑儿倾倒在她屋里。再往前是丹书学院，再远点是另一所学院的塔楼，它们的外形都清晰可辨。她不禁喟然感叹，主宰一个心地单纯的男人的激情会产生多么不可思议的作用，就像裘德那样把她们娘几个放在心窝里爱的人，由于始终未能忘情于昔日的梦想，竟然不惜把他们安置在这么叫人觉得丧气的地方。哪怕到了现在这光景，他还是没听清楚那些沾满学究气味的墙壁对他的愿望发出的回响是何等冷酷无情的否定。 找房子一再失败，加上现在的房子也没有父亲容身之处，在大孩子心里留下了深刻的印象——仿佛有一种无影无形。不可名状的恐怖紧紧地扼住了他。屋里的沉寂因为他开口说话而打破了：“妈，明几个咱们可怎么办哪？” “我也不知道！”苏懒懒地说。“我担心又要让你爸爸发愁啦。” “我真盼爸爸棒棒的，有个屋子住哟！那一来就没多大关系啦！” “是啊，那就没多大关系啦！” “还有事儿叫我干吗？” “没有！反正咱们万事只有烦心、倒霉、受罪的份儿！” “爸爸走是为我们孩子有地方住，对不对？” “这也有关系。” “呆在这世界上还不如离开好，对不对？” “有这么一点，亲爱的。” “你们找不到好地方住，就因为有我们这些孩子，对不对？” “呃——大人有时候也嫌孩子累赘。” “那，孩子要是惹这么多麻烦，干吗还要生孩子啊？” “哦——那是个自然法则。” “可我们自个儿没要生，是吧？” “对，是这么回事。” “可我比别的孩子还糟哪，因为你不是我亲妈；你要是不喜欢我，就用不着留我。我就不该上你这儿来——这可一点都不错。我在澳洲麻烦人，上这儿来还麻烦人。但愿我没生下地哟！” “这你办不到啊，亲爱的！” “我觉着，孩子生下来了，又没人想要，那就趁他魂儿没长起来，干脆把他掐死，不让他往大里长，到处跑！” 苏没答话。她心里嘀咕着，拿不定主意怎么对待这个异想天开的孩子。 后来她总算想定了：凡是像老朋友一样愿意和她分忧的人，只要情况许可，她一定对他实心实意，决不藏藏掖掖。 “咱们家又要添个孩子啦。”她含混不清地说。 “什么？” “又要有个小宝宝啦。” “怎么？”孩子发了疯似地跳起来。“哦，上帝哟，妈呀，你可千万别再弄一个来哟，你现在够麻烦啦！” “是啊，是够麻烦啦，我也不好意思说啊，”她嘟囔着，因为忍住泪，眼睛亮晶晶的。 孩子一下子哭了。“哦，你没心没肺，你没心没肺！”他喊起来，毫不留情地责怪她。“妈呀，你怎么这么坏，这么狠心，你就不能等家里好点，爸爸身体好了，再这么干吗？你这不是把咱们家搞得更麻烦吗？咱们没家没业的，爸爸只好到外头住，明儿个咱们又让人赶出去啦；可你还要给咱们家再添口人！……你这是存心哪 ——存心哪，存心哪！”他哭着，走来走去的。 “小裘德哟，你、你可得原谅我呀！”她央告着，她的胸脯这会儿也像孩子的胸脯那样起伏。“我这会儿说不清啊——你长大了，我一定告诉你。现在咱们困难到这个份儿上，真像我是存心要这样哪！我没法说清楚，亲爱的！可是我实在不是存心——我也没办法啊！” “你就是存心——准是存心！你要是不答应，不是行吗？因为这样的事，谁也没法在咱们家里插一手！我决不原谅你，永远不原谅！我以后再也不信你心里记挂我，记挂爸爸，家里哪一个你也不记挂着哟！” 他站定了，转身走到连着她屋子的套间，那儿地板上临时搭了个铺。她听见他在那儿说：“要是我们孩子都走了，不是没了麻烦吗？” “别胡思乱想的，亲爱的。”她大声说，口气很严厉。“好好睡觉吧！” 第二大早晨六点过一点，她醒了，决定立刻起床，在早饭前按裘德告诉她的地点，赶到他住的客店，把他走后发生的事情告诉他。她轻手轻脚地起来，免得惊醒孩子，她知道他们昨天一天都挺吃力，一定累得很。 她看见裘德正在那个不起眼的小酒馆吃早饭，他是为省下钱好垫上她住处的房租，才选上那么个地方。她把现在又要无可为家的情形跟他说了。他说他整夜都替她着急。好在现在已经到了早上，房东要她离开那个住处，就不像头天晚上那么叫人无可奈何了，就算她后来没找成住的地方，也不像原先那么紧迫。裘德同意她的想法，犯不上为住一个礼拜的权利纠缠下去，他们要立刻采取步骤，搬走了事。 “你们先得在这个客店待一两天。”裘德说。“这地方杂得很，对孩子们不合适，可是咱们就有时间，东西南北找地方住啦。我从前住在别是巴，郊区一带出租的房子多得很呢。你就在这儿跟我吃早饭，我的小鸟儿。你是不是觉得身子还好？时间充裕得很，他们没醒之前，够你回去做早饭。反正我跟你一块儿走。” 她跟裘德胡乱吃完饭，一刻钟之后，两人就动身了，决定从苏住的架子老大的那家立刻一走了之。他们一到就上楼，苏发现孩子屋里悄没声的。她怯怯地喊女房东把茶壶和早饭用具送上来。女房东敷衍了事给她办了。苏把自己带来的两个鸡蛋放到水正开着的壶里，喊裘德看着给孩子吃的鸡蛋，她自己去喊他们起来，时间大概是八点半。 裘德弯着腰站在那儿，拿着表，背对着孩子睡的小套间。突地苏一声尖叫，他不由得转过身来，只见套间门开了。原来她推门时候，觉得门扣得很紧，她一进去，就一下子瘫到地板上了。他赶紧过去把她扶起来，转眼往地上床铺看时，孩子们都不在了。他大惑不解，往屋子四下里找，却见门背后原来挂衣服用的钩子上挂着两个小孩子的身体，脖子上各拴着一根捆箱子的绳子，几码以外的一个钉子上也同样吊着小裘德的身体，旁边有个翻了的椅子，他的玻璃一样的眼珠对着屋里张望，而那个小女孩和还在怀抱的小男孩的眼睛却闭上了。 这怪异得无以复加的恐怖景象吓得他魂不附体，他只好让苏先躺下来，再拿小刀割断绳子，把三个孩子都扔到了床上；在这短促的动作中间，他摸了摸他们的身体，心里想他们大概都死了。他一把抱起昏厥的苏，把她放到外间屋床上，跟着透不过气地喊女房东上来，然后跑出去找医生。 他回来时，苏已苏醒；两个手足无措的女人，弯着腰，拼命想叫孩子活过来，这情景加上小尸体三个一排躺在床上的惨象，把他所有自制能力全都摧垮了。离得最近的一位外科医生到了，但正像裘德先已料到的，他在场也无济于事，把孩子救活的时间已经过去了。他们的身体虽然没全凉，但估计那会儿离上吊时间总有一个钟头。后来两个做父母的理智恢复了，他们推究惨剧发生的前因后果时，认为大致情况是：大孩子醒了，朝外间看看苏，一瞧见她人不在，他本来就因为头天晚上的见闻心情非常恶劣，那会儿就变本加厉，于是诱发了他的病态心理，才干出那样的事情；他们还在地上找到一个纸条，是孩子的笔迹，他用身上带的铅笔写着： 我们太多了，算了吧。 苏看了纸条，再也撑不住了；原来她同孩子的一席谈竟是导致惨剧发生的种因。这个可怕的想法使她浑身痉挛，剧烈的痛苦一刻不停地折磨着她。他们也不管她怎么哀求，硬把她抬到下面一层的屋里，她躺在那儿，张着嘴拼命喘气，纤弱的身子随着一抽一抽的。两眼直勾勾对着天花板，女房东怎么劝慰也没用。 他们在这间卧室里听得见上面的人走动，她央告大家让她回到楼上；大家一再劝说，如果孩子还有一线希望，她去了反倒坏事，还提醒她，她一定要注意自己的身体，否则会害了还没生的孩子。如此这般，她才没闹下去。她没完没了地问孩子的情况，最后裘德从楼上下来，告诉她已经毫无希望。等她后来能正常说话了，她就把头天跟孩子说了什么一五一十地告诉了裘德，认为自己就是这场祸事的根子。 “不是那么回事儿，”裘德说，“他这是天性使然，所以才干得出来。大夫讲了，这样的孩子正在咱们这一辈里头冒出来——这样的孩子，上一辈还闻所未闻呢，他们是种种新人生观带来的后果。他们还没长到坚忍不拔到足以抗拒这类思想影响的程度似乎就已经看穿了人生的险恶凶残了。他讲，这种现象表明厌世之想行将在人们中间普遍开始。大夫的思想很前进，不过他也没法去开导——” 为了她的缘故，裘德一直强抑悲痛，现在他也忍不住了。他的悲痛激发了苏对他的同情，这转而缓和了几分她对自己的严酷的谴责。来人散了之后，裘德答应她去看孩子。 他们经历的一切拂逆在大孩子脸上分明表现出来。使裘德第一次婚姻陷于不幸的所有恶兆和阴影，他在第二次结合中发生的所有变故、错误、忧惧和过失，通通汇集到这个小小的形体上。他就是他们的过去和现在的缩影，他们的过去和现在的焦点，并且是他们的过去和现在的独一无二的象征。他已经为先前的父母的混账行为而呻吟，为他们的恶劣结合而颤栗，又为现在的父母噩运当头而送了命。 整个房子静下来了，他们也无事可做，只候着验尸组来验尸，忽然间学院那边一阵宏大低沉的声音，连它后身的厚厚围墙也没挡住，传到了他们的屋里。 “这是什么？”苏说，她的快慢不匀的呼吸骤然停了一下。 “是学院礼拜堂的风琴声音。我想是风琴师在练琴吧。他奏的是《诗篇》第七十三章的一段《颂歌》：‘上帝实在恩待以色列那些清心的人’。” 她又呜咽起来。“呜，呜，我的宝贝儿哟！他们没干过坏事！干吗不把我带走，把他们带走了哟！” 又是一阵寂静——后来又让外面什么地方两个人说话声打破了。 “他们议论咱们呢，没错儿！”苏哭着说。“‘我们成了一台戏，给世人和天使都看过了。’” 裘德听了听——“他们不是议论咱们。”他说。“是两位观点不一致的牧师，正辩论东向位置。天哪——什么东向位置不东向位置，众生都苦苦呻吟着哪！” 又一阵沉寂，直到她又因悲不自胜而开口。“咱们身外有个东西说，‘你别干啦！’它先说，‘你别学习啦！’接着说，‘你别做工啦！’现在说，‘你别爱啦！’” 他想宽慰她，就说，“你心里太苦才这样啊，亲亲！” 他们还是往下等。她又回到自己的屋子。顶小的孩子的连衣裙、鞋和袜子在他死时候都放在椅上，到现在她也不把它们拿开。裘德虽然不想再让她瞧见，可每逢他一动这些东西，她就央告他还是让它们放在那儿。女房东也想把它们拿开，她简直发了疯一样，跟她大哭大闹。 裘德固然担心她的阵发性抽搐，可是更害怕她把痛苦闷在心里，不言不语地麻木下去。“你干吗不理我，裘德？”沉默一会儿之后，她高声喊出来。“你别对我不管不顾的，你要不在我身边，那么孤单，我可受不了。” “你看，亲爱的，我不是在这儿吗？”他说，同时脸挨近她的脸。 “对啦！……哦，我的同志，咱们这完美的结合——咱们这二合一整体，现在沾上了鲜血啦！” “是让死亡的阴影笼罩啦——应该这么看。” “啊，可的确是我把他引得那样啊，虽然我当时没想到把他引错了。我跟他说话，就跟同懂事的成年人说话一样。我说这世界就是跟咱们作对，花这样的代价活在这世界上还不如死了好。他把这些话都当真啦。我还跟他说又要生孩子了。他一听就慌了神啦。哦，他把我熊得好厉害哟！” “你干吗跟他说这个呢，苏？” “我也说不上来。我是想做到诚实无欺。我实在不忍对他隐瞒真相。可是我并没有诚实无欺，因为我当时是转弯抹角跟他说的。我怎么比别的女人都笨，没点心眼哪？简直笨透啦！我干吗不跟他说叫他高兴的一套，假的也行啊，何必用半真半假的一套？这是因为我没自制能力，所以我遮掩不了，也说不明白。” “碰到大多数情形，你这个办法或许是个顶用的；只是咱们的情形太特别，碰巧用了一下，就糟糕了。他要是不死的话，早晚还是会明白过来的。” “再说我正给小宝贝儿做新连衣裙哪，我可永远看不见他穿着啦，永远没法跟他说话啦……我眼睛胀得很，简直看不出东西啦；可是就在一年前，我还觉得自己幸福呢！咱们未免太卿卿我我喽——两个人净顾自个儿，完全落到了自私自利的地步。咱们说过——你记得吧——咱们要做到真心快乐，叫人羡慕。我说过这就是自然的意向、自然的法则和自然之所以为自然，按自然赋予我们的本能，我们要真真得到快乐——文明已经一手把这些本能扼杀了。我说的这些话够多造孽呀！好啦，现在咱们就为蠢得把自然的法则信以为真，命运女神才在咱们背上狠狠捅了一刀！” 苏沉默下来，陷入深思，过了会儿又说： “也许他们走了是件大好事——是呀，我看是这样，与其以后看着他们令人伤心地枯萎下去，倒不如趁着他们新鲜劲儿采摘下来还好些吧。” “是这样啊。”裘德回答说。“有人说总有那么一天，长辈看着孩子在襁褓中死掉，心里会高兴呢。” “但是他们实际不理解啊！……哦，我的宝贝儿，宝贝儿啊，你们这会儿活着够多好呀！你可以说大孩子想死，要不然他就不会干那样的事。他这样死不算情理之外，多少跟他治不好的天生悲观有关系，可怜的小东西！但是那两个呢——我自己生的孩子，也是你的孩子，那可不一样啊！” 苏又望着挂着的连衣裙，望着袜子和鞋，浑身哆嗦得像根弦。“我是个可怜虫啊！”她说。“天不留地不要啦！真把我逼疯啦！该怎么办哪！”她盯着裘德，紧紧握着他的手。 “没有办法啦。”他回答说。“命中注定，在劫难逃，也只能这样收场了。” 她停了一下。“不错！这话谁说的？”她难过地问。 “这话是《阿迦门农》合唱里的一句。打事情一出来，我就一直念叨着这句话。” “我的可怜的裘德——你真是妙手空空啊——你比我还苦啊，因为我总算还有你哪！可怜你一无依傍，全靠苦读，学有所成，到头来还是穷愁潦倒，前途无望，真叫人想不通呀！” 谈话把她的悲苦心情暂时岔开了一会儿，可是她又猛然伤痛起来。 恰好验尸组如时到了，他们看了尸体，按规定验了尸；随后就到了凄惨的送葬的清晨。经过报上一传，爱看热闹的闲人都给引到了出事现场，他们站着没事，就数窗户上有多少块玻璃、墙上有多少块石头。裘德夫妇不明不白的关系更给他们的好奇心添油加醋。苏说过了，她要送两个小的到坟地，但是临走之前，她撑不住了，只好躺下来，趁这时候，他们把棺材悄悄抬出了房子。裘德一上运尸车，就把它赶走了。房东于是大大松了口气，眼下他只剩下苏和她的行李要处理掉，他希望到下半天房子就一切恢复原状。他老婆因为不走运，招进来这家子，这礼拜弄得他的房子声名狼藉，这下子完全可以洗清了。下午他偷偷跟房子的产权人商量了一番，两人都同意，要是因为房子里发生过惨剧，社会上对它有成见，敬而远之，他们就要想方设法把它的门牌号数换一个。 裘德看着两个小棺材——一个装小裘德，一个装两个小点的孩子——放到墓穴里，跟着赶快往回奔去看苏，她还在自己屋里躺着，他也就没惊动她。可是他老是放心不下，四点钟光景又回去了。房东太太还当她还在屋里，可是看了一下，就下来告诉裘德她不在屋里。她的帽子跟上衣也没了，这说明她出去了。裘德急忙跑到他住的那家客店，她也不在那儿。他琢磨可能发生的情况之后，就顺着大路，直奔公墓，一进门就横插过去，径直到棺材下葬的地方。那些因为出了惨剧而跟着来看热闹的人已经散了。一个人拿着铁锹正朝埋三个孩子的坟里填土，但是在填了一半的坑旁边，有个女人抓着他胳臂不放，求他别填。那正是苏。她根本就没想到把她的带颜色的衣服脱下来，换上裘德替她买的丧服，可是即便她跟一般丧失子女的人一样从俗换上丧服，那也不像她穿着现在这样的衣服把她的悲痛表现得如此之深。 “他要把他们埋了，这不行啊，我还要看我的孩子！”她一看见裘德就疯了似地哭喊着。“我要再看一遍。哦，裘德，开开恩吧，我要看他们。我不知道你趁我睡着了，就叫人把他们抬走啦！你说过，他们的棺材没上钉的时候，我还可以再看一遍，可你说话不算数，你把他们抬走啦！哦，裘德呀，你对我也忍心哪！” “她要我把棺材再挖出来，让她撬开棺材。”拿铁锹的人说。“瞧她这样儿，你得把她弄回家才行。可怜的东西，她这简直是胡来嘛。太太，棺材可不能再挖出来。你还是跟你丈夫回家吧，忍着点吧，感谢上帝，你又快有孩子啦，那就别管多伤心也都冲掉啦。” 但是苏苦苦哀求没个完：“让我看一遍吧——就一遍哟，行不行啊？就那么一丁点工夫，裘德呀？没一会儿就行啦！那我也就安下心啦，裘德！裘德，你要是再让我看，我以后什么都好说好办，什么都听你的。一看了，我就跟没事儿一样回家啦，以后再也不想啦，行不行呀？干吗不行哪！” 她没完没了地央告，裘德心痛如割，他几乎要那个工人答应再把棺材起出来。但是那样一来，不单毫无好处，还可能叫她的情形更糟下去。他明白他得当机立断，先把她立刻弄回家。于是耐下心，劝她，哄她，温存体贴地跟她悄悄说话，抱着她，好让她有个依靠；后来她也闹不下去了，听他的话，离开了公墓。 他想找辆轻便马车送她，可是他们的境况如此之窘，她不许他这样。两个人就一路慢慢走回去，裘德一身黑，她一身褐加红。他们要在下午搬到新住处，但是裘德觉得眼下不大行得通，于是他们就不经意地走进了他们现在打心里憎恶的房子。苏立刻躺下来，裘德出去请大夫。 裘德整晚上都在楼下等着。很晚了，人家才告诉他，胎儿早产，成了死胎，是跟前面三个孩子一样的尸体。 |
| Part 6 Chapter 3 SUE was convalescent, though she had hoped for death, and Jude had again obtained work at his old trade. They were in other lodgings now, in the direction of Beersheba, and not far from the Church of Ceremonies-- Saint Silas. They would sit silent, more bodeful of the direct antagonism of things than of their insensate and stolid obstructiveness. Vague and quaint imaginings had haunted Sue in the days when her intellect scintillated like a star, that the world resembled a stanza or melody composed in a dream; it was wonderfully excellent to the half-aroused intelligence, but hopelessly absurd at the full waking; that the first cause worked automatically like a somnambulist, and not reflectively like a sage; that at the framing of the terrestrial conditions there seemed never to have been contemplated such a development of emotional perceptiveness among the creatures subject to those conditions as that reached by thinking and educated humanity. But affliction makes opposing forces loom anthropomorphous; and those ideas were now exchanged for a sense of Jude and herself fleeing from a persecutor. "We must conform!" she said mournfully. "All the ancient wrath of the Power above us has been vented upon us. His poor creatures, and we must submit. There is no choice. We must. It is no use fighting against God!" "It is only against man and senseless circumstance," said Jude. "True!" she murmured. "What have I been thinking of! I am getting as superstitious as a savage! ... But whoever or whatever our foe may be, I am cowed into submission. I have no more fighting strength left; no more enterprise. I am beaten, beaten! ... 'We are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men!' I am always saying that now." "I feel the same!" "What shall we do? You are in work now; but remember, it may only be because our history and relations are not absolutely known.... Possibly, if they knew our marriage had not been formalized they would turn you out of your job as they did at Aldbrickham!" "I hardly know. Perhaps they would hardly do that. However, I think that we ought to make it legal now--as soon as you are able to go out." "You think we ought?" "Certainly." And Jude fell into thought. "I have seemed to myself lately," he said, "to belong to that vast band of men shunned by the virtuous-- the men called seducers. It amazes me when I think of it! I have not been conscious of it, or of any wrongdoing towards you, whom I love more than myself. Yet I am one of those men! I wonder if any other of them are the same purblind, simple creatures as I? ... Yes, Sue--that's what I am. I seduced you.... You were a distinct type--a refined creature, intended by Nature to be left intact. But I couldn't leave you alone!" "No, no, Jude!" she said quickly. "Don't reproach yourself with being what you are not. If anybody is to blame it is I." "I supported you in your resolve to leave Phillotson; and without me perhaps you wouldn't have urged him to let you go." "I should have, just the same. As to ourselves, the fact of our not having entered into a legal contract is the saving feature in our union. We have thereby avoided insulting, as it were, the solemnity of our first marriages." "Solemnity?" Jude looked at her with some surprise, and grew conscious that she was not the Sue of their earlier time. "Yes," she said, with a little quiver in her words, "I have had dreadful fears, a dreadful sense of my own insolence of action. I have thought--that I am still his wife!" "Whose?" "Richard's." "Good God, dearest!--why?" "Oh I can't explain! Only the thought comes to me." "It is your weakness--a sick fancy, without reason or meaning! Don't let it trouble you." Sue sighed uneasily. As a set-off against such discussions as these there had come an improvement in their pecuniary position, which earlier in their experience would have made them cheerful. Jude had quite unexpectedly found good employment at his old trade almost directly he arrived, the summer weather suiting his fragile constitution; and outwardly his days went on with that monotonous uniformity which is in itself so grateful after vicissitude. People seemed to have forgotten that he had ever shown any awkward aberrancies: and he daily mounted to the parapets and copings of colleges he could never enter, and renewed the crumbling freestones of mullioned windows he would never look from, as if he had known no wish to do otherwise. There was this change in him; that he did not often go to any service at the churches now. One thing troubled him more than any other; that Sue and himself had mentally travelled in opposite directions since the tragedy: events which had enlarged his own views of life, laws, customs, and dogmas, had not operated in the same manner on Sue's. She was no longer the same as in the independent days, when her intellect played like lambent lightning over conventions and formalities which he at that time respected, though he did not now. On a particular Sunday evening he came in rather late. She was not at home, but she soon returned, when he found her silent and meditative. "What are you thinking of, little woman?" he asked curiously. "Oh I can't tell clearly! I have thought that we have been selfish, careless, even impious, in our courses, you and I. Our life has been a vain attempt at self-delight. But self-abnegation is the higher road. We should mortify the flesh--the terrible flesh--the curse of Adam!" "Sue!" he murmured. "What has come over you?" "We ought to be continually sacrificing ourselves on the altar of duty! But I have always striven to do what has pleased me. I well deserved the scourging I have got! I wish something would take the evil right out of me, and all my monstrous errors, and all my sinful ways!" "Sue--my own too suffering dear!--there's no evil woman in you. Your natural instincts are perfectly healthy; not quite so impassioned, perhaps, as I could wish; but good, and dear, and pure. And as I have often said, you are absolutely the most ethereal, least sensual woman I ever knew to exist without inhuman sexlessness. Why do you talk in such a changed way? We have not been selfish, except when no one could profit by our being otherwise. You used to say that human nature was noble and long-suffering, not vile and corrupt, and at last I thought you spoke truly. And now you seem to take such a much lower view!" "I want a humble heart; and a chastened mind; and I have never had them yet!" "You have been fearless, both as a thinker and as a feeler, and you deserved more admiration than I gave. I was too full of narrow dogmas at that time to see it." "Don't say that, Jude! I wish my every fearless word and thought could be rooted out of my history. Self-renunciation--that's everything! I cannot humiliate myself too much. I should like to prick myself all over with pins and bleed out the badness that's in me!" "Hush!" he said, pressing her little face against his breast as if she were an infant. "It is bereavement that has brought you to this! Such remorse is not for you, my sensitive plant, but for the wicked ones of the earth--who never feel it!" "I ought not to stay like this," she murmured, when she had remained in the position a long while. "Why not?" "It is indulgence." "Still on the same tack! But is there anything better on earth than that we should love one another?" "Yes. It depends on the sort of love; and yours--ours is the wrong." "I won't have it, Sue! Come, when do you wish our marriage to be signed in a vestry?" She paused, and looked up uneasily. "Never," she whispered. Not knowing the whole of her meaning he took the objection serenely, and said nothing. Several minutes elapsed, and he thought she had fallen asleep; but he spoke softly, and found that she was wide awake all the time. She sat upright and sighed. "There is a strange, indescribable perfume or atmosphere about you to-night, Sue," he said. "I mean not only mentally, but about your clothes, also. A sort of vegetable scent, which I seem to know, yet cannot remember." "It is incense." "Incense?" "I have been to the service at St. Silas', and I was in the fumes of it." "Oh--St. Silas'." "Yes. I go there sometimes." "Indeed. You go there!" "You see, Jude, it is lonely here in the weekday mornings, when you are at work, and I think and think of--of my--" She stopped till she could control the lumpiness of her throat. "And I have taken to go in there, as it is so near." "Oh well--of course, I say nothing against it. Only it is odd, for you. They little think what sort of chiel is amang them!" "What do you mean, Jude?" "Well--a sceptic, to be plain." "How can you pain me so, dear Jude, in my trouble! Yet I know you didn't mean it. But you ought not to say that." "I won't. But I am much surprised!" "Well--I want to tell you something else, Jude. You won't be angry, will you? I have thought of it a good deal since my babies died. I don't think I ought to be your wife--or as your wife-- any longer." "What? ... But you ARE!" "From your point of view; but--" "Of course we were afraid of the ceremony, and a good many others would have been in our places, with such strong reasons for fears. But experience has proved how we misjudged ourselves, and overrated our infirmities; and if you are beginning to respect rites and ceremonies, as you seem to be, I wonder you don't say it shall be carried out instantly? You certainly ARE my wife, Sue, in all but law. What do you mean by what you said?" "I don't think I am!" "Not? But suppose we HAD gone through the ceremony? Would you feel that you were then?" "No. I should not feel even then that I was. I should feel worse than I do now." "Why so--in the name of all that's perverse, my dear?" "Because I am Richard's." "Ah--you hinted that absurd fancy to me before!" "It was only an impression with me then; I feel more and more convinced as time goes on that--I belong to him, or to nobody." "My good heavens--how we are changing places!" "Yes. Perhaps so." Some few days later, in the dusk of the summer evening, they were sitting in the same small room down-stairs, when a knock came to the front door of the carpenter's house where they were lodging, and in a few moments there was a tap at the door of their room. Before they could open it the comer did so, and a woman's form appeared. "Is Mr. Fawley here?" Jude and Sue started as he mechanically replied in the affirmative, for the voice was Arabella's. He formally requested her to come in, and she sat down in the window bench, where they could distinctly see her outline against the light; but no characteristic that enabled them to estimate her general aspect and air. Yet something seemed to denote that she was not quite so comfortably circumstanced, nor so bouncingly attired, as she had been during Cartlett's lifetime. The three attempted an awkward conversation about the tragedy, of which Jude had felt it to be his duty to inform her immediately, though she had never replied to his letter. "I have just come from the cemetery," she said. "I inquired and found the child's grave. I couldn't come to the funeral-- thank you for inviting me all the same. I read all about it in the papers, and I felt I wasn't wanted.... No--I couldn't come to the funeral," repeated Arabella, who, seeming utterly unable to reach the ideal of a catastrophic manner, fumbled with iterations. "But I am glad I found the grave. As 'tis your trade, Jude, you'll be able to put up a handsome stone to 'em." "I shall put up a headstone," said Jude drearily. "He was my child, and naturally I feel for him." "I hope so. We all did." "The others that weren't mine I didn't feel so much for, as was natural." "Of course." A sigh came from the dark corner where Sue sat. "I had often wished I had mine with me," continued Mrs. Cartlett. "Perhaps 'twouldn't have happened then! But of course I didn't wish to take him away from your wife." "I am not his wife," came from Sue. The unexpectedness of her words struck Jude silent. "Oh, I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said Arabella. "I thought you were!" Jude had known from the quality of Sue's tone that her new and transcendental views lurked in her words; but all except their obvious meaning was, naturally, missed by Arabella. The latter, after evincing that she was struck by Sue's avowal, recovered herself, and went on to talk with placid bluntness about "her" boy, for whom, though in his lifetime she had shown no care at all, she now exhibited a ceremonial mournfulness that was apparently sustaining to the conscience. She alluded to the past, and in making some remark appealed again to Sue. There was no answer: Sue had invisibly left the room. "She said she was not your wife?" resumed Arabella in another voice. "Why should she do that?" "I cannot inform you," said Jude shortly. "She is, isn't she? She once told me so." "I don't criticize what she says." "Ah--I see! Well, my time is up. I am staying here to-night, and thought I could do no less than call, after our mutual affliction. I am sleeping at the place where I used to be barmaid, and to-morrow I go back to Alfredston. Father is come home again, and I am living with him." "He has returned from Australia?" said Jude with languid curiosity. "Yes. Couldn't get on there. Had a rough time of it. Mother died of dys--what do you call it--in the hot weather, and Father and two of the young ones have just got back. He has got a cottage near the old place, and for the present I am keeping house for him." Jude's former wife had maintained a stereotyped manner of strict good breeding even now that Sue was gone, and limited her stay to a number of minutes that should accord with the highest respectability. When she had departed Jude, much relieved, went to the stairs and called Sue--feeling anxious as to what had become of her. There was no answer, and the carpenter who kept the lodgings said she had not come in. Jude was puzzled, and became quite alarmed at her absence, for the hour was growing late. The carpenter called his wife, who conjectured that Sue might have gone to St. Silas' church, as she often went there. "Surely not at this time o' night?" said Jude. "It is shut." "She knows somebody who keeps the key, and she has it whenever she wants it." "How long has she been going on with this?" "Oh, some few weeks, I think." Jude went vaguely in the direction of the church, which he had never once approached since he lived out that way years before, when his young opinions were more mystical than they were now. The spot was deserted, but the door was certainly unfastened; he lifted the latch without noise, and pushing to the door behind him, stood absolutely still inside. The prevalent silence seemed to contain a faint sound, explicable as a breathing, or a sobbing, which came from the other end of the building. The floor-cloth deadened his footsteps as he moved in that direction through the obscurity, which was broken only by the faintest reflected night-light from without. High overhead, above the chancel steps, Jude could discern a huge, solidly constructed Latin cross--as large, probably, as the original it was designed to commemorate. It seemed to be suspended in the air by invisible wires; it was set with large jewels, which faintly glimmered in some weak ray caught from outside, as the cross swayed to and fro in a silent and scarcely perceptible motion. Underneath, upon the floor, lay what appeared to be a heap of black clothes, and from this was repeated the sobbing that he had heard before. It was his Sue's form, prostrate on the paving. "Sue!" he whispered. Something white disclosed itself; she had turned up her face. "What--do you want with me here, Jude?" she said almost sharply. "You shouldn't come! I wanted to be alone! Why did you intrude here?" "How can you ask!" he retorted in quick reproach, for his full heart was wounded to its centre at this attitude of hers towards him. "Why do I come? Who has a right to come, I should like to know, if I have not! I, who love you better than my own self--better-- far better--than you have loved me! What made you leave me to come here alone?" "Don't criticize me, Jude--I can't bear it!--I have often told you so. You must take me as I am. I am a wretch--broken by my distractions! I couldn't BEAR it when Arabella came--I felt so utterly miserable I had to come away. She seems to be your wife still, and Richard to be my husband!" "But they are nothing to us!" "Yes, dear friend, they are. I see marriage differently now. My babies have been taken from me to show me this! Arabella's child killing mine was a judgement--the right slaying the wrong. What, WHAT shall I do! I am such a vile creature-- too worthless to mix with ordinary human beings!" "This is terrible!" said Jude, verging on tears. "It is monstrous and unnatural for you to be so remorseful when you have done no wrong!" "Ah--you don't know my badness!" He returned vehemently: "I do! Every atom and dreg of it! You make me hate Christianity, or mysticism, or Sacerdotalism, or whatever it may be called, if it's that which has caused this deterioration in you. That a woman-poet, a woman-seer, a woman whose soul shone like a diamond--whom all the wise of the world would have been proud of, if they could have known you-- should degrade herself like this! I am glad I had nothing to do with Divinity--damn glad--if it's going to ruin you in this way!" "You are angry, Jude, and unkind to me, and don't see how things are." "Then come along home with me, dearest, and perhaps I shall. I am overburdened--and you, too, are unhinged just now." He put his arm round her and lifted her; but though she came, she preferred to walk without his support. "I don't dislike you, Jude," she said in a sweet and imploring voice. "I love you as much as ever! Only--I ought not to love you--any more. Oh I must not any more!" "I can't own it." "But I have made up my mind that I am not your wife! I belong to him--I sacramentally joined myself to him for life. Nothing can alter it!" "But surely we are man and wife, if ever two people were in this world? Nature's own marriage it is, unquestionably!" "But not Heaven's. Another was made for me there, and ratified eternally in the church at Melchester." "Sue, Sue--affliction has brought you to this unreasonable state! After converting me to your views on so many things, to find you suddenly turn to the right-about like this--for no reason whatever, confounding all you have formerly said through sentiment merely! You root out of me what little affection and reverence I had left in me for the Church as an old acquaintance.... What I can't understand in you is your extraordinary blindness now to your old logic. Is it peculiar to you, or is it common to woman? Is a woman a thinking unit at all, or a fraction always wanting its integer? How you argued that marriage was only a clumsy contract-- which it is--how you showed all the objections to it-- all the absurdities! If two and two made four when we were happy together, surely they make four now? I can't understand it, I repeat!" "Ah, dear Jude; that's because you are like a totally deaf man observing people listening to music. You say 'What are they regarding? Nothing is there.' But something is." "That is a hard saying from you; and not a true parallel! You threw off old husks of prejudices, and taught me to do it; and now you go back upon yourself. I confess I am utterly stultified in my estimate of you." "Dear friend, my only friend, don't be hard with me! I can't help being as I am, I am convinced I am right-- that I see the light at last. But oh, how to profit by it!" They walked along a few more steps till they were outside the building and she had returned the key. "Can this be the girl," said Jude when she came back, feeling a slight renewal of elasticity now that he was in the open street; "can this be the girl who brought the pagan deities into this most Christian city?--who mimicked Miss Fontover when she crushed them with her heel?--quoted Gibbon, and Shelley, and Mill? Where are dear Apollo, and dear Venus now!" "Oh don't, don't be so cruel to me, Jude, and I so unhappy!" she sobbed. "I can't bear it! I was in error--I cannot reason with you. I was wrong--proud in my own conceit! Arabella's coming was the finish. Don't satirize me: it cuts like a knife!" He flung his arms round her and kissed her passionately there in the silent street, before she could hinder him. They went on till they came to a little coffee-house. "Jude," she said with suppressed tears, "would you mind getting a lodging here?" "I will--if, if you really wish? But do you? Let me go to our door and understand you." He went and conducted her in. She said she wanted no supper, and went in the dark upstairs and struck a light. Turning she found that Jude had followed her, and was standing at the chamber door. She went to him, put her hand in his, and said "Good-night." "But Sue! Don't we live here?" "You said you would do as I wished!" "Yes. Very well! ... Perhaps it was wrong of me to argue distastefully as I have done! Perhaps as we couldn't conscientiously marry at first in the old-fashioned way, we ought to have parted. Perhaps the world is not illuminated enough for such experiments as ours! Who were we, to think we could act as pioneers!" "I am so glad you see that much, at any rate. I never deliberately meant to do as I did. I slipped into my false position through jealousy and agitation!" "But surely through love--you loved me?" "Yes. But I wanted to let it stop there, and go on always as mere lovers; until----" "But people in love couldn't live for ever like that!" "Women could: men can't, because they--won't. An average woman is in this superior to an average man--that she never instigates, only responds. We ought to have lived in mental communion, and no more." "I was the unhappy cause of the change, as I have said before! ... Well, as you will! ... But human nature can't help being itself." "Oh yes--that's just what it has to learn--self-mastery." "I repeat--if either were to blame it was not you but I." "No--it was I. Your wickedness was only the natural man's desire to possess the woman. Mine was not the reciprocal wish till envy stimulated me to oust Arabella. I had thought I ought in charity to let you approach me-- that it was damnably selfish to torture you as I did my other friend. But I shouldn't have given way if you hadn't broken me down by making me fear you would go back to her.... But don't let us say any more about it! Jude, will you leave me to myself now?" "Yes.... But Sue--my wife, as you are!" he burst out; "my old reproach to you was, after all, a true one. You have never loved me as I love you--never--never! Yours is not a passionate heart--your heart does not burn in a flame! You are, upon the whole, a sort of fay, or sprite-- not a woman!" "At first I did not love you, Jude; that I own. When I first knew you I merely wanted you to love me. I did not exactly flirt with you; but that inborn craving which undermines some women's morals almost more than unbridled passion--the craving to attract and captivate, regardless of the injury it may do the man--was in me; and when I found I had caught you, I was frightened. And then--I don't know how it was-- I couldn't bear to let you go--possibly to Arabella again--and so I got to love you, Jude. But you see, however fondly it ended, it began in the selfish and cruel wish to make your heart ache for me without letting mine ache for you." "And now you add to your cruelty by leaving me!" "Ah--yes! The further I flounder, the more harm I do!" "O Sue!" said he with a sudden sense of his own danger. "Do not do an immoral thing for moral reasons! You have been my social salvation. Stay with me for humanity's sake! You know what a weak fellow I am. My two arch-enemies you know-- my weakness for womankind and my impulse to strong liquor. Don't abandon me to them, Sue, to save your own soul only! They have been kept entirely at a distance since you became my guardian-angel! Since I have had you I have been able to go into any temptations of the sort, without risk. Isn't my safety worth a little sacrifice of dogmatic principle? I am in terror lest, if you leave me, it will be with me another case of the pig that was washed turning back to his wallowing in the mire!" Sue burst out weeping. "Oh, but you must not, Jude! You won't! I'll pray for you night and day!" "Well--never mind; don't grieve," said Jude generously. "I did suffer, God knows, about you at that time; and now I suffer again. But perhaps not so much as you. The woman mostly gets the worst of it in the long run!" "She does." "Unless she is absolutely worthless and contemptible. And this one is not that, anyhow!" Sue drew a nervous breath or two. "She is--I fear! ... Now Jude--good-night,--please!" "I mustn't stay?--Not just once more? As it has been so many times-- O Sue, my wife, why not!" "No--no--not wife! ... I am in your hands, Jude--don't tempt me back now I have advanced so far!" "Very well. I do your bidding. I owe that to you, darling, in penance for how I overruled it at the first time. My God, how selfish I was! Perhaps--perhaps I spoilt one of the highest and purest loves that ever existed between man and woman! ... Then let the veil of our temple be rent in two from this hour!" He went to the bed, removed one of the pair of pillows thereon, and flung it to the floor. Sue looked at him, and bending over the bed-rail wept silently. "You don't see that it is a matter of conscience with me, and not of dislike to you!" she brokenly murmured. "Dislike to you! But I can't say any more--it breaks my heart--it will be undoing all I have begun! Jude--good-night!" "Good-night," he said, and turned to go. "Oh but you shall kiss me!" said she, starting up. "I can't--bear!" He clasped her, and kissed her weeping face as he had scarcely ever done before, and they remained in silence till she said, "Good-bye, good-bye!" And then gently pressing him away she got free, trying to mitigate the sadness by saying: "We'll be dear friends just the same, Jude, won't we? And we'll see each other sometimes--yes!--and forget all this, and try to be as we were long ago?" Jude did not permit himself to speak, but turned and descended the stairs. 苏虽然痛不欲生，但她的健康日有起色，裘德也在老本行找到了工作。她们如今已迁到别是巴一带的一个寓所，离仪式派圣•西拉教堂不远。 他们每每枯坐，相对无言，固然苦于事事拂逆，处处无情，但在他们的遭遇中包含的敌意尤令他们懔于来日大难方临。往日苏的灵性本像星光般闪亮，她不断纵情邀游于虚无飘渺的奇幻想象中。她把世界想象为梦中写成的一首诗或梦中谱就的一段旋律；在如梦似醒的朦胧中，这样的意境显得美妙无比，但一经醒觉，在光天化日下，就是荒唐无稽了。她想象造物主实行他的意旨有如梦游者自发行动，无为无不为，不像圣哲贤士那样苦心筹思，煞费周章；他为尘寰设定种种条件时，似乎万万没想到芸芸众生竟然要让能思想、受教育的人类所造成的环境所左右，以致他们在情感方面发展到如此细腻敏锐的程度。历经磨难，困苦颠连，不免把敌对力量夸大，仿佛面对着噬人的人形怪兽，因而她原有的思想到此急转直下，而为她本人和裘德逃避迫害的紧迫感所替代了。 “咱们得听从天意啊！”她沉痛地说。“巍巍上苍把亘古至今的天谴神罚一齐降在咱们这两个下界子民身上啦，咱们只好乖乖认命，不能再道天行事啦。咱们只好这样。违抗上帝没有用啊。” “谁违抗上帝来着？咱们反抗的无非是人，是愚昧的环境。” “一点不错！”她咕哝着。“我都想了些什么呀！我变啦，跟野蛮人一样迷信啦！……可是不管咱们的敌人是人还是物，反正吓得我服服帖帖啦。我一点战斗力都没啦，一点儿豁着干的胆量也没啦；我败啦，败啦！‘我们成了一台戏，给世人和天使都看了！’现在我念来念去没个完。” “我也有同感啊！” “咱们还要干什么？你现在是有活儿可干；可别忘了，这大概是因为他们还不全了解咱们的历史跟关系！……说不定，他们一知道咱们的婚姻没经过法律手续，就跟奥尔布里肯那帮子人一样，把你开掉啦！” “这我也说不上来。他们不一定就那么干吧。我倒是想咱们现在该把婚姻关系合法化——一到你能出去的时候，咱们就办吧。” “你是想咱们该这么办？” “当然。” 跟着裘德骤然想起心事来了。“我新近一直琢磨我算怎么回事儿。”他说。“有那么一帮子人，正人君子都避之唯恐不及，他们就叫做诱奸者，我看我得算他们里头的一员吧。我一这么想，就浑身直冒冷汗！我一向没意识到那类人，也没意识到我做过什么对不起你的事，我爱你胜过自己，可我的确是那类人的一分子哪！我还不知道他们里头有没有我这样蠢头蠢脑、简单无识的货色呢？……对啦，苏呀，我是那么回事呀。我把你诱奸了……你从前是超凡出众——是玲珑剔透的妙人儿，大自然老想着你保持完美无瑕，不受到损伤。可我不想让你洁身自好，白璧无玷！” “你说得不对，不对，裘德！”她赶紧说。“你根本不是那么回事，别瞎怪自己。要怪都得怪我。” “你从前决定离开费乐生，我给你撑腰；要是没我，你大概不会盯着他非让你走不可。” “不管怎么着，我反正要走。至于说咱们俩，既然没订过法定契约，咱们的结合倒大有好处，非同小可呢。因为这一来，可以说咱们避免了头一回那样亵渎婚姻的神圣性啦。” “神圣性？”他有点吃惊地瞧着她，开始意识到她不是早先相处的那个苏了。 “不错。”她说，一字一句说出来，声音都有点抖抖的。“我害怕，怕得不得了，以前我目空一切，胆大妄为，太可怕啦。我也想过——我，我这会儿还是他妻子！” “谁的？” “里查的。” “哎呀呀，最亲爱的——这是从何说起呢？” “哦，我没法说明白，反正这么想就是了。” “这是因为你人太虚弱——病了才胡思乱想的，没道理，也没意义！别为这搞得心烦意乱吧。” 苏很不自在地叹了口气。 他们的经济状况已经有所好转，在他们早先生活中若能这样，他们自然觉得称心如意；不过现在这种状况对他们诸如此类的讨论也还是起了制约作用。裘德刚到基督堂时候，说来意想不到，立刻在老本行找到了怪不错的差使。夏天的气候于他的单薄体质也很适宜；表面上看，在频频动荡之后，他能日复一日过上稳定的生活，的确值得庆幸。看来别人已经忘了他从前种种不堪的胡作非为了。他每天能进到他永远不能入学的学院，跨在屋顶下短垣和护墙上面，把他永远休想从里面往外望的直棂窗的石框更换。他于起活来那么起劲，就像除此之外，他压根儿没起过要干什么别的事的念头。 而他的内心正是此时发生了变化：他不再上教堂做礼拜了。不过有件事却又让他深感不安，原来惨剧发生后，他和苏在精神领域已经分道扬镳。种种遭际把他对人生、法律、习俗和教义各方面的视野扩大了，可是同一情况对苏的观点却没起同样作用。苏非复当年那样精神独立了，那时她的灵性犹如闪电般倏然明亮，把他当初一味尊崇、而如今不予一顾的习俗、礼法映照得原形毕露。 有个礼拜天晚上很特别，他回家迟些，苏却没在家，不过没多久她就回来了，他见她不言不语，若有所思。 “你又想什么啦，小女人？”他好奇地问。 “哦，我没法说清楚。我觉得你跟我，咱们做人行事一向是没头没脑，自私自利，甚至是邪魔外道的。咱们的生活但求自乐，不计其他。但是舍己为人才是高尚的道路啊。咱们应该摒弃肉欲——可怕的肉欲——叫亚当受到惩罚的肉欲。” “苏，”他咕哝着，“你这是见了鬼吧？” “咱们要不断地在本分的祭坛上拿自己当供品！而我历来是从心所欲，就干自己高兴的，理所当然，我该受天罚，并不冤枉。我希望有一种力量把我身上的邪恶除掉，把我做过的所有卑鄙的事。所有罪恶的行为除掉！” “苏啊——我的受了大罪的亲人哪！你根本不是什么邪恶的女人。上天赋予你的本能是十分健全的；也许你不尽如我希望的那样热情奔放，但是你又善良，又纯洁，又可亲可爱；我以前不是常说嘛，你是我见过的这世上最脱俗、最没肉欲的女人，但是你又不是违乎人情、没有性别特征的女人。你这会儿说的话怎么这样跟从前大异其趣呢？咱们向来都不自私自利，只能说咱们自私自利的时候，并没让别人受益过。你以前常说人性是高尚的，历尽艰难困苦而不渝，并不是天生就卑鄙和腐恶，我后来终于认为你的话完全对。而你现在这样的见解看来低下多啦。” “我要低首下心；我要洗心革面；我至今也一点没做到！” “你不论对什么事思考和探索时候向来是无所畏惧，所以你该得到的赞扬，决不是我说过的几句话所能尽。每当看到你这些方面，我就觉着脑子里装着的狭隘的教条大多太多啦。” “裘德，你别说这些啦！我但愿我什么无所畏惧的话、无所畏惧的思想，都能从我的历史上连根铲掉。否定自我——这就是唯一该做的事！我再怎么贬低我，都不算过分。我恨不能拿针扎我的全身，让我的坏水都流出来。” “嘘！”他说，把她的小脸紧紧按在自己胸上，仿佛她是个婴儿。“你是因为丧子才弄到这地步呀！你不该这样作践自己啊，我的含羞草哟，世界上那些坏人才该受这样作践哪——可他们倒不觉得该这样呢！” “我不该再这样下去啦。”她嘟囔着，她在他怀里已经好一会儿了。 “怎么不该呢？” “因为那是沉迷不返。” “还是那一套！难道说世界上还有什么东西比咱们相爱更美好吗？” “有。那要看什么样的爱；你的——咱们的爱是错误的。” “这我不承认；苏！好吧，你究竟打算哪一天咱们到法衣室签婚约？” 她稍停了一下，然后紧张地抬起头来看。“永远也不签。”她低声说。 他并不明白她说这话的整个用意，也就平心静气地接受了她的反对表示，没说什么。几分钟之后，他想她是睡着了，但是他一轻轻说话，却发现她一直醒着。她坐起来，叹口气。 “苏，你今天晚上身上有一种奇怪的、讲不出来的味道，一种气味。”他说。“我不单是指你的思想，还有你的衣服。我觉得这味儿挺熟，一股子草香气。” “是烧的香。” “烧的香？” “我在圣•西拉教堂做礼拜来着，我这是让香薰的。” “哦——圣•西拉。” “对。我有时候上那儿去。” “是吗，你上那儿去啦？” “你知道，裘德，你平常上班，上午家里冷清清的，我就想啊想到——”她停下来，直到她能把发硬的喉头平抑下去。“于是我就开始到那里边去啦，反正它挺近。” “哦，呃——我当然不反对。不过，按你这个人，不免有点怪。他们可没想到他们里头居然来了个捣乱鬼。” “你什么意思，裘德？” “呃——干脆说吧，来了个怀疑派。” “你怎么在我心里正烦的时候，还这么揉搓我，亲爱的裘德！当然我知道你不是有意的，可是你总不该这么说呀！” “我不说就是啦。不过我实在太意外啦！” “呃——我还想跟你说点别的，裘德。你别生气，行不行？我的宝贝儿死了之后，我想了好多好多。我觉着我不该再做你的妻子啦，或者算是你妻子。” “你说什么呀？……可是你现在就是啊！” “从你的角度看，是这样；不过——”。 “咱们从前当然是害怕那套仪式，恐怕也有好多处在咱们这种地位的人，也有类似的强有力的理由，心怀疑惧。但是经验证明了咱们其实误断了自己，把自己没有恒心毅力估计得也太过分了；要是你现在真是尊重那些繁文褥节，我就不懂你干吗不明说咱们该立刻履行那套手续？苏呀，你千真万确是我的妻子，所差的就是法律手续。你刚才的话到底是什么意思呢？” “我认为我不是。” “不是？那就设想一下咱们举行过仪式，好不好？那你该觉得是我的妻子吧？” “也不会。就算那样办了，也不觉得是你妻子。那我要觉得比我现在的感觉还要糟。” “这又怎么解释呢——就按你这么蛮不讲理的说法吧，亲爱的？” “因为我是里查的妻子。” “啊——你先前已经把这个荒乎其唐的念头若明若暗地表示过啦！” “那时候，我不过那么个印象；时间越久，我就越这么确信了——我属于他，不属于其他任何人。” “天哪——这下子咱们都掉换了位子啦！” “对。也许就是这样。” 过了一两天，正值夏日黄昏时分，他们还是在楼下那间小屋里坐着，忽然听到他们住的房东木匠家的大门有人敲，隔了一会儿，又有人敲了敲他们的屋门。他们没来得及开门，来人就把门开了，一个女人身影出现了。 “福来先生住这儿吗？” 裘德和苏吓了一大跳，他不由自主地做了肯定的回答，因为那是阿拉贝拉说话的声音。 他客客气气把她让进来，她就在临窗的凳子上坐下了，这样他们能看清楚她背着光的大致形态；不过她身上也没什么特别显眼的地方，所以他们也没法估摸出她外表和神态究竟如何。有点什么东西似乎表明她处境并不怎么得意，也不像卡特莱在世时穿着炫丽。 三个人都想谈谈那场悲剧，可是都觉得挺别扭。出事之后，裘德自以为责无旁贷，立即写信告诉她经过，不过她压根儿没回信。 “我刚打公墓来。”她说。“我一打听好，就到孩子坟上去了。我没能给他送葬——当然你请我来，我还是谢谢。报上登的我全看了，觉得用不着再来了……也不是这样，我是没法来。”阿拉贝拉又把话重了一遍，看来她装不出创巨痛深的样儿，就没完没了数落着。“不过能把坟找到，我心里也舒坦了。裘德，按你这行，你该给他立块像样的碑。” “我是要立个碑。”裘德愁眉苦脸地说。 “他是我的孩子，我难免心里老想着他。” “我想是。咱们都想着他。” “别的孩子不是我的，我没想那么多，这也是常情。” “当然。” 从苏坐的那个黑暗角落传出一声叹息。 “以前我想，我的孩子要是跟我一块儿就好啦。”卡特莱太太继续说。“那样的话，就出不了事啦！不过，我当然没想从你太太手里把他带走的意思。” “我不是他太太。”这是苏说出来的。 她的话如此突如其来，一下子叫裘德懵住了。他没说什么。 “哦，对不起，我想是这样。”阿拉贝拉说。“不过我认为你以前是。” 裘德却从苏说话的那种特殊腔调懂得她话里没明说却心照不宣的含义，而阿拉贝拉只能接受这句话的表面意思，此外无所领会。苏的直言不讳使她吃了一惊，她随又恢复了常态，大言不惭地谈论“她的”孩子；虽然孩子活着时候，她毫不关心，这时又装得哀哀欲绝，显然不如此不足以表示她有良心。她故意提到往事，又说了些给苏听的话，但没听到苏答理，原来苏已经人不知鬼不觉地出了屋子。 “她说她不是你太太？”阿拉贝拉换了口气，又拾起话碴儿。“她干吗说这话？” “我用不着跟你说。”裘德一句话了掉。 “她是你的妻子，对不对？她有一回跟我这么说过。” “她怎么说，我用不着多嘴。” “啊——明白啦！啊，我没工夫了。我今儿晚上就住在这地方，我想，咱们共过患难，我还是该来瞧瞧。我要到从前当过女招的那个酒吧过夜，明儿回阿尔夫瑞顿。爸爸回老家了，我跟他住一块儿。” “从澳洲回来？”裘德不无好奇地说了句。 “是。那儿混不下去了。日子够苦的。大热天，我妈因为拉痢疾死了，你们管这病叫什么？爸爸跟两个小家伙才回来。他在老地方附近找了个小房子，我这会儿给他管家。” 哪怕苏这会儿已经走开了，裘德的前妻还是死装出一副受过严格而良好的教育样儿没变。还把造访限定在一定时间之内，好跟她那极为高雅的气派相称。她走了之后，裘德如释重负上楼去找苏，心里七上八下，怕她出问题。 没人答话。房东木匠说没看见她进来过。因为此刻天已够晚了，裘德不知她的去向，不禁惊慌失措。木匠就把她妻子喊来问，她猜苏多半上圣•西拉教堂去了，她常去那地方。 “晚上到这时候怕进不去了？”裘德说。“大门都关了。” “她认识拿钥匙的，她什么时候要，都拿得到。” “她这样有多少天啦？” “哦，我看，总有几个礼拜了。” 裘德昏昏沉沉地朝教堂方向走去。那地方，当年他醉心于神秘宗信仰时，是常去的；自多年前搬走后，一次也没到过。教堂周围不见人影，但大门显然没上锁。他抬上门搭子，没弄出响声，推开门进去，然后把门掩上，在里边屏息而立。在一片沉寂中，教堂另一端似有极轻微的声音，听起来像是喘息，又像哽咽。他在昏暗中向那边轻轻走去，脚步踩到地毯上，没露响声。堂外夜光微茫，照到里面，因而把昏暗稍稍破开了点。 裘德勉强看清，在祭坛层阶上方，高悬着一个巨大的、造得很结实的拉丁式十字架——大概是依原件尺寸而设计，供信徒瞻仰，好像是用看不见的铁丝把它吊在半空，上面嵌着多枚大颗宝石；在十字架无声地、难以觉察地前后摆动中，由于外面微弱光线射进的缘故，宝石稍稍闪光。祭坛下面的地上似摊着一堆黑衣服，他刚才听到的哽咽声一再从那儿发出来。原来是他的苏的形体，匍匐在垫子上。 “苏！”他低声说。 这时露出了白色的东西，原来是她把脸转过来了。 “你到这儿来找我想干吗，裘德？”她几乎气愤地说。“你不该来！我要一个人呆着！你干吗闯到这儿来？” “亏你问得出口？”他用激烈的责备口气反洁她。她竟然对他那样的态度，不禁伤了他整个心，直痛到最深处。“我干吗来？要是我不该来，我倒要知道知道谁才有权利来！我爱你胜过爱自己——胜过——远远胜过你爱我啊！你神差鬼使地离开我，一个人上这儿来，究竟为什么？” “你别挑我的刺儿啦，裘德——我没法受下去啦！——我已经一再跟你说过啦。我是什么样的人，你就得当我什么样的人，不这样不行。我是个倒霉鬼——误入歧途，毁掉啦！阿拉贝拉一来，我觉着伤心得要死，只好走开啦。看来她还是你妻子，里查还是我丈夫。” “但是他们根本不算一回事嘛！” “不是那样，亲爱的朋友，他们还算一回事。我现在对婚姻的看法不一样了。我的宝贝儿给夺走了，这就给我指点迷津啦！阿拉贝拉的孩子杀了我的孩子就好像是上帝的惩罚——对的把错的干掉啦。唉，我可怎么好呢！我这人是这么个下贱货——真真一文不值，根本不配跟普普通通人搀和到一块儿！” “你说得太可怕了！”裘德说，差不多要哭了。“你并没做过什么错事，你这么悔恨交加，实在太没道理，大反常啦！” “啊，你还不知道我有多坏哪！” 他正言厉色地反唇相讥：“我知道！连皮带骨，哪一点都知道！如果说基督教、神秘宗、僧侣团，还是叫别的名堂，就是造成你精神退化的因由，那你就是叫我恨这样的东西。像你这样一个女诗人、女先知、一个灵魂像钻石般闪光的女人 ——世上几明哲有识者，如果对你有了解，都会引你为做，而你居然把自己贬到这地步。如果神学就这样把你毁掉，我才为自己跟神学绝了缘庆幸呢，才他妈庆幸呢！” “你生气啦，裘德，对我发狠啦，你根本不知道所以然啊。” “那你跟我回家吧，最亲爱的，也许我以后知道所以然。现在，我压得透不过气来，你也心乱如麻啊。”他搂着她的腰，把她拉起来；可是她起来是起来了，却宁肯自己走，不用他扶着。 “我不是不喜欢你，裘德。”她用爱娇而又央求的口气说。“不过——我不该再爱你爱下去——不该再爱下去啦。哦，决不该再爱下去啦！” “这我可不能答应。” “可我主意拿定啦，我不是你妻子！我属于他——我行过神圣的仪式，是要跟他过一辈子的。这怎么也变不了！” “要是说，这人世间还有两个人称得上夫妻，那毫不含糊就是咱们两个。大自然给咱们匹配的，这可是没半点疑问！” “不过那不是上天的意旨。上帝给我在那边配了姻缘呢，是在麦尔切斯特订下终身的。” “苏啊，苏啊——人生的忧患把你搞得连理性都失掉的地步啦！从前你让我在多方面改变信仰，相信你的观点，现在我反而发现你突然一百八十度大转弯——根本没道理，无非一时感情用事，把从前说的话翻了个个儿。你把我对教会这个老朋友剩下来的感情、崇敬连根铲掉了……你现在怎么对你从前的逻辑变成很离奇的睁眼瞎，我倒真是不明白所以然哪。只有你才这么特殊呢，还是女人一概如此？究竟女人是一个能思想的整体，有本账，还是思想散散落落，老归不到一块儿？你不是极力强调婚姻充其极是一张恶俗不堪的契约吗？这话也对！你不是极力把婚姻说得一无是处——是彻头彻尾的荒谬绝伦之举吗？要说咱们在一块儿过快乐舒心的日子，那时候是二加二等于四，而今不也明明白白是个四吗？我再说一遍，我实在不明白所以然！” “唉，亲爱的裘德呀，这是因为你跟个地地道道的聋子一样，看着别人听音乐，你说‘他们盯着瞧什么？那儿什么也没有啊。’但是那儿的确有东西。” “你说这话太刻薄啦；再说这个比喻根本不成立。你把由来已久的偏见所形成的糟粕一概抛弃了，教我也这样；而你现在却一个跟斗翻回去了。我承认自己蠢到了家，完全错看了你。” “亲爱的朋友，我唯一的朋友啊，别对我这么狠吧！我现在只好这样啦，因为我现在相信自己是正确的——我终于看到了光明。但是，唉，又怎么样才能从中得益呢！” 他们又往前走了几步，到了教堂外面，她去还了钥匙。“难道这就是那位姑娘吗？”她回来以后裘德说，一到开敞的大街上，他觉得自己平素应付局面的能力又稍微恢复了。“难道这就是把异教神像带进了这个最富于基督教精神的城市的那位姑娘吗？——是学着方道悟小姐拿脚后跟把它们踩碎的那位姑娘吗？是动辄引用吉本、雪莱和密尔的那位姑娘吗？到如今，亲爱的阿波罗上哪儿去啦？亲爱的维纳斯，上哪儿去啦？” “哦，裘德，别对我这样残酷吧，别这样吧，我心里够难过啦！”她呜咽着。“我受不了啦！以前我想错了——我现在没法跟你评这个理，我错了——因为我狂妄自大，才什么都不放在眼里。阿拉贝拉一来，总算有个了局啦。你别那样挖苦我，好吧，那真像刀子扎肉啊！” 他伸出胳臂把她搂住，她没来得及阻止他，他就在寂静的大街上狂吻她。他们又往前走，到了一家小咖啡馆前面。‘嚷德，”她强忍住泪说，“你在这儿给我找个地方住，行不行啊？” “要是、要是你打算这样——我可以照办。不过你未必真要这么办吧？还是让我先回咱们家，再弄明白你意思好啦。” 他开了门，把她领进去。她说不想吃晚饭了，摸黑上了楼梯，又擦了根火柴，回身一看，原来裘德跟着她上来了，正站在卧室门前。她走到他身边，把一只手放在他手里，说，“晚安。” “可是苏啊！咱们就不一块儿在这儿睡吗？” “你说了我怎么打算，你就怎么办！” “是呀，好极啦！也许我刚才争来争去，争得那么倒胃口，全都错啦！也许咱们当初没按旧式婚礼正大光明地成了结发夫妻，所以早该一刀两断才是啊！这个世界也许还没开通到能容得下咱们这样的试验啊！咱们居然自命是先驱，干起来了，现在想想咱们算是老几啊！” “无论如何，你总算明白过来了，我很高兴。我做事向来顾前不顾后，一意孤行。我因为心里嫉妒、躁动，才不由自主地错到底啦！” “可也还是因为爱吧——你不是爱过我吗？” “爱过。不过我原来是想到一定限度为止，以后充其量也只是情人罢了；后来——” “不过男女一堕人爱河，那就欲罢不能了，没法老那样下去啊！” “女人行；男人办不到，因为他们——下不了决心。一个平平常常的女人比一个平平常常的男人在这方面总是高一筹——她决不会先挑逗，只是对男人回应。咱们本来应该神交，其他都是多此一举。” “我以前说过了，事情变了卦，我就是那个不幸的根子。……好吧，照你说的办吧！不过人本来就是江山易改，禀性难移啊！” “哦，就是啊——所以这就是非学不可的地方——要做到我役我心。” “我还要说一遍——咱们两个，不能怪你，只能怪我。” “不对——该怪我。你固然也有坏地方，不过那是男人天生要对女人占有的欲望。在嫉妒心驱使我要把阿拉贝拉挤开之前，我这方面可没存投桃报李之想。我当时想我应该发点慈悲，让你接近我——觉得我要是像从前对我那个朋友那么折腾你，那就自私自利得该死了。要不是你当时可能会把她叫回来，叫我怕得要死，把不住自己了，我也不会听了你的……不过咱们用不着再批这些啦！裘德，你现在就让我一个人呆着，行不行？” “行啊……可是苏——我的妻啊，因为你现在还是啊。”他忍不住说出来了：“我从前责备你究竟还是合乎实情的。你压根儿没像我爱你那样爱过我——压根儿没有过。你的心没有充沛的热情，你的心不是熊熊燃起的烈火！你这个人，整个看来，是仙女下凡，是精灵作怪，可就不是个地地道道的女人。” “原先我并不爱你，裘德，这我承认。我刚认识你时候，无非想叫你爱上我。我倒不是有意勾引你，但是有些女人与生俱来的那种内心饥渴，我也有；它戕害起妇女的德性来，简直比放荡不羁的激情还要厉害。——那是引诱男人，魁惑男人的渴望，至于对男人造成什么样伤害是在所不计的；到我发现你已经上钩的时候，我又怕起来了。后来——我也说不上所以然——我就不能放手，纵你而去——多半又到阿拉贝拉那儿去——于是我就慢慢爱上你了，裘德。但是你看哪，不管结局糟不糟，我这边纯粹出于自私而残忍的欲望，让你的心为我而痛苦，我的心却不为你而痛苦。” “你现在又用甩了我的办法，对我加倍残忍哪！” “啊，对啦！我要是再摇摆不定下去，我造的孽就更大啦！” “哦，苏！”他说，猛烈意识到自己要面临的险境。“别以道德的名义干不道德的事吧，你一直是我这辈子的救世主。为了人道，你别跟我分手吧。你知道我为人多么软弱。你知道我心里有两个魔——对女人心慈面软，对烈酒一见上瘾。苏啊，你可别就为救自己的灵魂，生生把我丢给恶魔啊！自从你成了我的守护大使，我才远远避开了它们的祸害。自从我有了你，随便我碰上什么诱惑，也出不了漏于。为我的安全无虞，难道就不值得你稍稍牺牲点僵化的原则吗？你要是一走，我真怕我又成了才洗刷干净的猪，又回到脏圈里头打滚啦！” 苏一下子哭了。“哦，你可不许这样啊，裘德！你别这样啊！我白天夜里都要为你祈祷！” “呃——没关系；别伤心吧。”裘德宽厚地说。“大有眼睛，从前我真是为你受了苦，如今再受苦就是啦。不过恐怕还没你受苦受得那么厉害。到头来，还是女人受苦受得最厉害！” “她就是这样啊。” “她要不是这样，那她准是个十足下贱、令人唾弃的东西。无论怎么说，眼前这位女人也不是那类人哪！” 她紧张地透了一两口气。“她是那类人——我担心啊！现在，袭德——晚安——请吧！” “我就真不能呆在这儿？——连一回都不行？我呆在这儿有多少回呀——哦，苏，我的妻呀，怎么就不行啊？” “不行——不行——我不是你的妻子啦！……我就掐在你手心里，裘德——我既然往前走了这么远了，你就别再把我引诱回来吧！” “好极啦，我就认你这个账。亲亲，为了我头一回沾了你的光，占了你便宜，就赎罪还账吧。上帝啊，我以前多自私自利啊！也许——也许——人世上男女之间最高尚最纯洁的爱情中的这一份，让我全糟蹋啦！……那就从此时此刻，让咱们圣堂上的帐子也裂成两半好啦！” 他走到床边，把那对枕头中的一个抓起来，摔到地上。 苏看着他，人又伏在床上吞声哭着。“你就不明白我这么做是受良心驱使，不是因为不喜欢你！”她断断续续地咕哝着。“会不喜欢你吗？不过我没法再说啦——我心碎啦——这一来我开始做的一切都不会有好结果哟！裘德——晚安！” “晚安！”他说完转身就走。 “哦，可你总得吻吻我呀！”她说，立起身来。“我没法——受啦——！” 裘德紧紧抱着她，吻她满是泪的脸，他以前从没这样吻过她。他们谁也没说话，顶到后来她说，‘再见吧，再见吧！”接着把他轻轻推开，她自己能活动了，就想把悲伤气氛缓和一下，于是说，“咱们以后还照样是朋友，裘德，是不是呀？以后咱们有时候还要见见面吧，对不对呀？——是啊！——把这些全忘掉了，咱们尽量做到好久以前那个老样子，好不好？” 裘德心一横，一句没说，转身下楼去了。 Part 6 Chapter 4 THE man whom Sue, in her mental VOLTE-FACE, was now regarding as her inseparable husband, lived still at Marygreen. On the day before the tragedy of the children, Phillotson had seen both her and Jude as they stood in the rain at Christminster watching the procession to the theatre. But he had said nothing of it at the moment to his companion Gillingham, who, being an old friend, was staying with him at the village aforesaid, and had, indeed, suggested the day's trip to Christminster. "What are you thinking of?" said Gillingham, as they went home. "The university degree you never obtained?" "No, no," said Phillotson gruffly. "Of somebody I saw to-day." In a moment he added, "Susanna." "I saw her, too." "You said nothing." "I didn't wish to draw your attention to her. But, as you did see her, you should have said: 'How d'ye do, my dear-that-was?'" "Ah, well. I might have. But what do you think of this: I have good reason for supposing that she was innocent when I divorced her-- that I was all wrong. Yes, indeed! Awkward, isn't it?" "She has taken care to set you right since, anyhow, apparently." "H'm. That's a cheap sneer. I ought to have waited, unquestionably." At the end of the week, when Gillingham had gone back to his school near Shaston, Phillotson, as was his custom, went to Alfredston market; ruminating again on Arabella's intelligence as he walked down the long hill which he had known before Jude knew it, though his history had not beaten so intensely upon its incline. Arrived in the town he bought his usual weekly local paper; and when he had sat down in an inn to refresh himself for the five miles' walk back, he pulled the paper from his pocket and read awhile. The account of the "strange suicide of a stone-mason's children" met his eye. Unimpassioned as he was, it impressed him painfully, and puzzled him not a little, for he could not understand the age of the elder child being what it was stated to be. However, there was no doubt that the newspaper report was in some way true. "Their cup of sorrow is now full!" he said: and thought and thought of Sue, and what she had gained by leaving him. Arabella having made her home at Alfredston, and the schoolmaster coming to market there every Saturday, it was not wonderful that in a few weeks they met again--the precise time being just alter her return from Christminster, where she had stayed much longer than she had at first intended, keeping an interested eye on Jude, though Jude had seen no more of her. Phillotson was on his way homeward when he encountered Arabella, and she was approaching the town. "You like walking out this way, Mrs. Cartlett?" he said. "I've just begun to again," she replied. "It is where I lived as maid and wife, and all the past things of my life that are interesting to my feelings are mixed up with this road. And they have been stirred up in me too, lately; for I've been visiting at Christminster. Yes; I've seen Jude." "Ah! How do they bear their terrible affliction?" "In a ve-ry strange way--ve-ry strange! She don't live with him any longer. I only heard of it as a certainty just before I left; though I had thought things were drifting that way from their manner when I called on them." "Not live with her husband? Why, I should have thought 'twould have united them more." "He's not her husband, after all. She has never really married him although they have passed as man and wife so long. And now, instead of this sad event making 'em hurry up, and get the thing done legally, she's took in a queer religious way, just as I was in my affliction at losing Cartlett, only hers is of a more 'sterical sort than mine. And she says, so I was told, that she's your wife in the eye of Heaven and the Church-- yours only; and can't be anybody else's by any act of man." "Ah--indeed? ... Separated, have they!" "You see, the eldest boy was mine--" "Oh--yours!" "Yes, poor little fellow--born in lawful wedlock, thank God. And perhaps she feels, over and above other things, that I ought to have been in her place. I can't say. However, as for me, I am soon off from here. I've got Father to look after now, and we can't live in such a hum-drum place as this. I hope soon to be in a bar again at Christminster, or some other big town." They parted. When Phillotson had ascended the hill a few steps he stopped, hastened back, and called her. "What is, or was, their address?" Arabella gave it. "Thank you. Good afternoon." Arabella smiled grimly as she resumed her way, and practised dimple-making all along the road from where the pollard willows begin to the old almshouses in the first street of the town. Meanwhile Phillotson ascended to Marygreen, and for the first time during a lengthened period he lived with a forward eye. On crossing under the large trees of the green to the humble schoolhouse to which he had been reduced he stood a moment, and pictured Sue coming out of the door to meet him. No man had ever suffered more inconvenience from his own charity, Christian or heathen, than Phillotson had done in letting Sue go. He had been knocked about from pillar to post at the hands of the virtuous almost beyond endurance; he had been nearly starved, and was now dependent entirely upon the very small stipened from the school of this village (where the parson had got ill-spoken of for befriending him ). He had often thought of Arabella's remarks that he should have been more severe with Sue, that her recalcitrant spirit would soon have been broken. Yet such was his obstinate and illogical disregard of opinion, and of the principles in which he had been trained, that his convictions on the rightness of his course with his wife had not been disturbed. Principles which could be subverted by feeling in one direction were liable to the same catastrophe in another. The instincts which had allowed him to give Sue her liberty now enabled him to regard her as none the worse for her life with Jude. He wished for her still, in his curious way, if he did not love her, and, apart from policy, soon felt that he would be gratified to have her again as his, always provided that she came willingly. But artifice was necessary, he had found, for stemming the cold and inhumane blast of the world's contempt. And here were the materials ready made. By getting Sue back and remarrying her on the respectable plea of having entertained erroneous views of her, and gained his divorce wrongfully, he might acquire some comfort, resume his old courses, perhaps return to the Shaston school, if not even to the Church as a licentiate. He thought he would write to Gillingham to inquire his views, and what he thought of his, Phillotson's, sending a letter to her. Gillingham replied, naturally, that now she was gone it were best to let her be, and considered that if she were anybody's wife she was the wife of the man to whom she had borne three children and owed such tragical adventures. Probably, as his attachment to her seemed unusually strong, the singular pair would make their union legal in course of time, and all would be well, and decent, and in order. "But they won't--Sue won't!" exclaimed Phillotson to himself. "Gillingham is so matter of fact. She's affected by Christminster sentiment and teaching. I can see her views on the indissolubility of marriage well enough, and I know where she got them. They are not mine; but I shall make use of them to further mine." He wrote a brief reply to Gillingham. "I know I am entirely wrong, but I don't agree with you. As to her having lived with and had three children by him, my feeling is (though I can advance no logical or moral defence of it, on the old lines) that it has done little more than finish her education. I shall write to her, and learn whether what that woman said is true or no." As he had made up his mind to do this before he had written to his friend, there had not been much reason for writing to the latter at all. However, it was Phillotson's way to act thus. He accordingly addressed a carefully considered epistle to Sue, and, knowing her emotional temperament, threw a Rhadamanthine strictness into the lines here and there, carefully hiding his heterodox feelings, not to frighten her. He stated that, it having come to his knowledge that her views had considerably changed, he felt compelled to say that his own, too, were largely modified by events subsequent to their parting. He would not conceal from her that passionate love had little to do with his communication. It arose from a wish to make their lives, if not a success, at least no such disastrous failure as they threatened to become, through his acting on what he had considered at the time a principle of justice, charity, and reason. To indulge one's instinctive and uncontrolled sense of justice and right, was not, he had found, permitted with impunity in an old civilization like ours. It was necessary to act under an acquired and cultivated sense of the same, if you wished to enjoy an average share of comfort and honour; and to let crude loving kindness take care of itself. He suggested that she should come to him there at Marygreen. On second thoughts he took out the last paragraph but one; and having rewritten the letter he dispatched it immediately, and in some excitement awaited the issue. A few days after a figure moved through the white fog which enveloped the Beersheba suburb of Christminster, towards the quarter in which Jude Fawley had taken up his lodging since his division from Sue. A timid knock sounded upon the door of his abode. It was evening--so he was at home; and by a species of divination he jumped up and rushed to the door himself. "Will you come out with me? I would rather not come in. I want to--to talk with you--and to go with you to the cemetery." It had been in the trembling accents of Sue that these words came. Jude put on his hat. "It is dreary for you to be out," he said. "But if you prefer not to come in, I don't mind." "Yes--I do. I shall not keep you long." Jude was too much affected to go on talking at first; she, too, was now such a mere cluster of nerves that all initiatory power seemed to have left her, and they proceeded through the fog like Acherontic shades for a long while, without sound or gesture. "I want to tell you," she presently said, her voice now quick, now slow, "so that you may not hear of it by chance. I am going back to Richard. He has--so magnanimously-- agreed to forgive all." "Going back? How can you go----" "He is going to marry me again. That is for form's sake, and to satisfy the world, which does not see things as they are. But of course I AM his wife already. Nothing has changed that." He turned upon her with an anguish that was well-nigh fierce. "But you are my wife! Yes, you are. You know it. I have always regretted that feint of ours in going away and pretending to come back legally married, to save appearances. I loved you, and you loved me; and we closed with each other; and that made the marriage. We still love--you as well as I-- KNOW it, Sue! Therefore our marriage is not cancelled." "Yes; I know how you see it," she answered with despairing self-suppression. "But I am going to marry him again, as it would be called by you. Strictly speaking you, too--don't mind my saying it, Jude!--you should take back--Arabella." "I should? Good God--what next! But how if you and I had married legally, as we were on the point of doing?" "I should have felt just the same--that ours was not a marriage. And I would go back to Richard without repeating the sacrament, if he asked me. But 'the world and its ways have a certain worth' (I suppose): therefore I concede a repetition of the ceremony.... Don't crush all the life out of me by satire and argument, I implore you! I was strongest once, I know, and perhaps I treated you cruelly. But Jude, return good for evil! I am the weaker now. Don't retaliate upon me, but be kind. Oh be kind to me--a poor wicked woman who is trying to mend!" He shook his head hopelessly, his eyes wet. The blow of her bereavement seemed to have destroyed her reasoning faculty. The once keen vision was dimmed. "All wrong, all wrong!" he said huskily. "Error--perversity! It drives me out of my senses. Do you care for him? Do you love him? You know you don't! It will be a fanatic prostitution-- God forgive me, yes--that's what it will be!" "I don't love him--I must, must, own it, in deepest remorse! But I shall try to learn to love him by obeying him." Jude argued, urged, implored; but her conviction was proof against all. It seemed to be the one thing on earth on which she was firm, and that her firmness in this had left her tottering in every other impulse and wish she possessed. "I have been considerate enough to let you know the whole truth, and to tell it you myself," she said in cut tones; "that you might not consider yourself slighted by hearing of it at second hand. I have even owned the extreme fact that I do not love him. I did not think you would be so rough with me for doing so! I was going to ask you ..." "To give you away?" "No. To send--my boxes to me--if you would. But I suppose you won't." "Why, of course I will. What--isn't he coming to fetch you-- to marry you from here? He won't condescend to do that?" "No--I won't let him. I go to him voluntarily, just as I went away from him. We are to be married at his little church at Marygreen." She was so sadly sweet in what he called her wrong-headedness that Jude could not help being moved to tears more than once for pity of her. "I never knew such a woman for doing impulsive penances, as you, Sue! No sooner does one expect you to go straight on, as the one rational proceeding, than you double round the corner!" "Ah, well; let that go! ... Jude, I must say good-bye! But I wanted you to go to the cemetery with me. Let our farewell be there-- beside the graves of those who died to bring home to me the error of my views." They turned in the direction of the place, and the gate was opened to them on application. Sue had been there often, and she knew the way to the spot in the dark. They reached it, and stood still. "It is here--I should like to part," said she. "So be it!" "Don't think me hard because I have acted on conviction. Your generous devotion to me is unparalleled, Jude! Your worldly failure, if you have failed, is to your credit rather than to your blame. Remember that the best and greatest among mankind are those who do themselves no worldly good. Every successful man is more or less a selfish man. The devoted fail.... 'Charity seeketh not her own.'" "In that chapter we are at one, ever beloved darling, and on it we'll part friends. Its verses will stand fast when all the rest that you call religion has passed away!" "Well--don't discuss it. Good-bye, Jude; my fellow-sinner, and kindest friend!" "Good-bye, my mistaken wife. Good-bye!" 苏在信仰彻底大转变过程中一心认定的那个永远跟她分不开的丈夫的男人，当时还住在马利格林。 她和裘德的孩子发生惨剧的头一天，费乐生曾在基督堂瞧见他们两个在雨地里看着游行队伍朝圆形会堂行进。不过他那会儿没对他的同伴季令安提。季令安是他的老朋友，恰好在他那儿盘桓，到基督堂观光其实是他的主意。 “你心里又念叨什么啦？”回去路上，季令安说。“莫非那个永远到不了手的大学学位吗？” “非也。”费乐生没好气地说。“我今天瞧见一个人。”稍停又说，“苏珊娜。” “我也瞧见了。” “你怎么没说？” “我可不想叫你牵挂着她。不过，你既然瞧见她，干吗不跟她打招呼：‘你好哇，我从前的宝贝儿？’” “啊，呃。可以当然可以。不过，我倒有个想法，你看怎么样：我现在有充分理由认为我跟她离婚那会儿，她是完全无辜的——千错万猎都是我错。实实在在是这么回事！这就不好收拾了，对不对？” “可是不管你怎么说，反正她总算大费心机把你领上了正路啦。” “哼。你这么损我，太没意思啦。毫无疑问，我当时该等下去才对。” 到了周末，季令安回到沙氏顿附近自己的小学，费乐生也照例到阿尔夫瑞顿的集市。他走下那个绵延很长、他比裘德认识得更早的山丘，但是他的历史不像裘德那样同那片斜坡休戚相关。他一边走，一边琢磨阿拉贝拉带来的消息。到了镇上，他买了份平常看的当地出版的周报，然后到一家小客店坐着，歇歇脚，好有劲再走那五英里回头路。他从衣袋里把报纸抽出来，随意看了看，忽地一条“石匠之子自杀奇闻”的新闻，进入他的眼帘。 他固然不是轻易动感情的人，可是这条消息还是让他心酸，也让他大惑不解。因为他不明白那个大孩子的年纪怎么会像报上说的那么大。不过，报道总还是真实可信，毋庸置疑。 “他们的悲伤的杯子现在装得满满啦！”他说，同时翻来覆去地想着苏，想着她离他而去的得失。 阿拉贝拉已在阿尔夫瑞顿住定了，小学老师既是每礼拜六上那儿的集市，所以过了几个礼拜，他们又碰上，也是势在必然——碰见的时间，说准确了，正好是她刚从基督堂回来。她在那儿呆的时间比原来打算的长多了，一直起劲地注意着裘德的动向，裘德那方面却再没瞧见她。费乐生这天回家路上碰见她的时候，她已经快到镇上了。 “你爱出来上这条路走走吧，卡特莱太太？”他说。 “我这才重新开头哪。”她答道。“我当姑娘，跟嫁人之后，都住在这儿。我这辈子前头觉着有滋有味儿的事儿，样样宗宗都跟这条路搀合着。这些事新近又在我心里鼓捣个没完；因为我刚去过一趟基督堂。是呀；我见过裘德啦。” “啊！经过那么一场打击，他们的情形怎么样啦？” “他们的办法可真出奇啦——真出奇啦！她不跟他住一块儿啦。我走之前才听说的，千真万确的。不过我先头找他们的时候，我一看他们俩的态度，就觉着他们早晚非走这一步不可。” “不跟她丈夫一块儿住啦？唉，我本来觉着这一来他们俩结合得更紧呢。” “闹来闹去，他根本不算她丈夫。虽说他们这么多年跟夫妻俩一样过，她可压根儿没跟他真正结过婚。现在嘛，这件惨事不单没让他们赶着办，把关系弄个合法化，她反倒怪里怪气地信起教来了，就跟卡特莱死了，我受打击的时候一个样，不过她神经兮兮比我还厉害呢。她说，我这是听人家说的，她说在上帝跟教会眼里头，她是你的妻子——就是你的妻子，此外什么人，怎么干，都不能算数。” “啊——真的吗？分开啦，他们分开啦！” “你还不知道，那个顶大的孩子是我的呢——” “哦——你生的！” “对啦，可怜的小家伙——感谢上帝，他可是我明媒正娶生下来的。她大概前思后想之后，才觉着，别的不算，只有我才该占着她那个位子。我这会儿还不能说准了。不过，拿我自个儿说吧，我快离开这儿啦，我这会儿得照顾爸爸，没法在这个带死不活的地方往下住啦。我希望到基督堂，要么别的大城市，找个酒吧活儿于于。” 他们分了手。费乐生往山坡上才走几步就停住了，赶快掉头，又把她喊住。 “你有他们的住址吗，从前的也行？” 阿拉贝拉跟他说了。 “谢谢。再见。” 阿拉贝拉一边往前走，一边脸上露出阴险的笑容，一路上还不断练习咋酒涡。正是从那个地点起，路两边都是截去顶枝的柳树，一直通到镇里头条街的善堂。 同时，费乐生上了山，往马利格林走去。悠悠岁月，他这是头一回在生活中睁开眼睛往前看。他从草地上大树底下过去，走向他不得已而去工作的那个不起眼的小学的时候，想象着苏走出门来接他的光景。在这世界上，不论是基督徒还是异教徒，谁也没像费乐生那样只为出自一番好心让苏离开他，因而闹得麻烦不可开交。正人君子们对他的打击之大，实在超出了人类承受力的极限；他被逼得走投无路，濒于饿死，就是现在在这个乡村小学挣到的那点微薄报酬也只是差可糊口而已（当地那位牧师还因为对他关照而备遭非议）。他常常想起阿拉贝拉的话：他应该对她严厉点，那样她的犟劲儿用不了多久就垮了。但是他这人是个死心眼儿，对别人的意见有理没理都听不进去，再搭上他受教育时接受的原则，所以他认为自己对妻子的处置，无可訾议，这个信念，他从来就没动摇过。 原则这玩意儿诚然可以由于某种心理倾向而置诸脑后，但换了另一种心理倾向，说不定也会轻而易举地同样酿成无穷祸害。从前既是本能促使他给了苏自由，现在也能叫他把苏和裘德同居看成无伤大雅。要是说他并不爱她，他也还可以按他的特异方式对她抱希望，而且很快就感到，且不说如何对付外界，单是她愿意回来，把她再弄上手，那可是谢天谢地的好事了。 不过他已经懂得，要对付那班铁石心肠的人不惜伤天害理对他的肆意污蔑，他非得要手段不可。而且这可以就地取材，信手拈来。一巳把她弄回来了，而且光明磊落地宣告他从前把她看错了，所以离婚也就离错了，所以要和她重结连理，再续良缘。这样一来他大概可以得到若干补偿，得以重理旧业，也许还能回沙氏顿小学，说不定教会还能让他当特准传教士哩。 他想写封信征询季令安的意见，看他对写信给她这一手作如何想。季令安当然回了信，说她既经离去，最好听之任之；他认为她既为人妇，自应属与之生男青女、患难相共之人，更何况他对她一往情深，非同一般，说不定再过若干日子，他们这对古怪夫妇的结合会办法律手续，此后当可万事大吉，既得体，又如意了。 “可他们才不干哪，苏才不干哪！”他自己一个人大呼小叫的。“季令安真是就事论事啊。苏这是接受了基督堂的感情和教导才到这一步啊。她认为婚姻是绝对解除不了的，这我看得清清楚楚；我也清楚她怎么有了这样的想法。她的想法跟我并不一样，不过我得利用她的想法，促我的想法实现。” 他给季令安回了封短信。“我自知全盘错误，但我不同意你的看法。至于说她与那个男人同居，生男青女，我认为（虽然我无法按古老成规从逻辑上或伦理上提出辩解）那也不过使她得以完成自己的教育而已。我要写信给她，以证实那个女人的话是真是假。” 他给朋友写信之前本就立意如此，所以写不写原来无所谓，费乐生为人做事大抵如此。 于是他经过一番仔细推敲，给苏写了信。既然知道她的气质易于激动，他在信里边随时都摆出一副拉德曼舍式正颜厉色；还小心翼翼地避免流露有悖教义的感情，兔得她看了害怕。他声称就他见闻所及，得悉她的思想大有改变，所以他深感不可不说，自他们仳离后，历经世事，他的见解也颇有变化。他愿坦陈无隐，他写此信殊与热烈的爱情无涉，而是因为他切望使他们的生活即使不算成功，至少不致重演因他当初自以为根据公正、仁善和理性的原则所作所为而造成的令人痛心的结局的危险。 他已恍然大悟，身处他们这种古老文明之中，谁若不顾一切任凭自己生而有之的正义感和公平心而无所节制，势必碰得头破血流。你若一心想混到手你那份舒适和体面，你一切行为非遵循你经教导而养成的正义感和公平心不可。至于什么朴质纯真的爱人之心，那就去它的吧。 他提议说，他目前住在马利格林，她无妨来此。 写完了，转念一想，他把倒数第二段删掉了；重抄一遍，立即发出；多少有点心痒难挠地等待下回分解。 几天后，有个人影穿过为茫茫雾气笼罩的基督堂郊区别是巴，往裘德在同苏分居后所赁的住所走去；乍着胆子在他门上敲了敲。 已经是晚上了，所以他在家。他似乎有某种预感，一跃而起，赶快开门。 “你跟我出来一下好不好？我不想进去。我想——跟你谈谈——跟你一块儿上公墓去。” 苏是声音颤抖着把这几句话说出来的。裘德戴上了帽子。“你这时候跑到外边来，太苦啦。不过你要是真不想进来，我也不勉强。” “我不想进去。我不会耽误你多大工夫。” 裘德因为觉得非常不自然，一时没再把话说下去；她呢，好像思绪乱结，一点主动说话的能耐都没了。他们如同阴曹地府的鬼魂，在浓雾中走了好久，没出声，也没做什么表示。 “我想跟你说一下。”她终于开了口，话音一快一慢的。“这样你就不会突然听见别人说起来了。我准备回里查那儿。他大度包容，表示对过去一切决不计较。” “回他那儿？你怎么能回——” “他打算跟我再结次婚。那不过是个形式，好应付社会上那些人，他们是不会实事求是地看人论事的。不管怎么着，我原来就是他的妻子。这怎么也改变不了。” 他转过身来对着她，显出撕心裂腑般痛苦。 “可是你是我的妻子呀！是啊，你现在就是啊。你不是清清楚楚吗？咱们为了应付别人的恶言恶语，出了那趟门，回来时候装着按法律结了婚，面子上好过得去，这事我一直后悔呢。我爱你，你爱我；咱们相依为命，这才是婚姻啊。咱们现在还是相爱，我清楚，你不也一样清楚吗？苏啊！因为这样，咱们的婚姻是勾销不了的。” “不错，你的看法我知道。”她回答，用了那样充满了失望而又勉强抑制自己感情的口气。“但是我还是要跟他再结婚，这你是一定要斥责的。要是从严说的话，请你别生气，裘德，你也该把阿拉贝拉弄回来。” “我该把她弄回来？天哪——还要干什么！不过你跟我要是按法律结了婚，像咱们以前考虑那样办了，此时你又当如何？” “我还是一样想法——咱们这个算不上婚姻。即便里查不要求我再来一次神圣的仪式，我还是要回他那儿。但是，‘世间万事，各行其道’（我这么想），所以我同意再举行一次仪式。你别挖苦，也别强词夺理，搞得我活不下去，我求求你！我从前是坚强不过的，这我知道，也许从前我才对你无情无义过。可是，裘德，你就以德报怨吧！我现在是弱者。别对我报仇泄愤吧，慈悲慈悲吧。哦，对我这个想要改邪归正的坏女人慈悲慈悲吧！” 他绝望地摇了摇头，眼睛湿了。亲子夭殇这个大故看来把她的推理能力彻底摧毁了，那一度深睿的洞察力黯然失色了。“错到底啦，这样胡搅蛮缠，不可理喻！”他嘎声说。‘要把我逼疯啦。你喜欢他吗？你爱他吗？你知道根本不是那么回事！你这不是一心要卖淫吗？上帝宽恕我吧，将来不就是这么回事嘛！” “我不爱他——就算我现在痛改前非了，这我也一定承认，一定承认！不过我要努力学会用服从他的办法去爱他。” 裘德反复不断地譬解，劝说，央求，可是她的信念一点不动摇。看来她只剩下这个信念算最拿得稳了，唯有把这个信念坚持下去，她才不致让她历来种种冲动和愿望把她弄得无所适从。 “我把整个事实都告诉你了，亲口说了，我算够体谅你了，”她冷冷地说，“省得你一听到别人转告，觉着我瞧不起你。我连不爱他这样的底也承认了。我没想到你因为我这样做，竞然对我这么粗暴！我要请求你……” “让你走？” “不是。把我的箱子——寄给我，要是你肯的话。不过我想你不肯。” “哈，我当然肯喽。这么说——他不到这儿来接你——到这儿来跟你结婚喽？他不肯屈尊俯就喽？” “不是那么回事——是我不让他来。我自愿到他那儿，跟我当初自愿离开他一样。我们要在马利格林小教堂结婚。” 他说她顽梗不化，一错到底的时候，她显得既哀伤，又娇婉，裘德不止一次因为可怜她而落泪。“我从来没见过有哪个女人像你这样全凭冲动忏悔罪过的法子，苏！别人刚希望你走阳关大道，本来是理所当然，可你偏偏要钻死胡同！” “啊，呢；那就这样好啦！……裘德，我得说再会啦！不过我还要你跟我去趟公墓。咱们就在那儿告别好啦——在他们旁边，他们没白死，总算把我的错误思想纠正过来了。” 他们朝公墓方向走，经过向看墓人说明，他开了公墓门让他们进去。他以前常来，知道怎么摸黑走到坟头的路。到了之后，他们默默立着。 “就在这儿——我愿意咱们在这儿分手。”她说。 “就依你的！” “你别因为我按自己的信念行事，就觉着我狠戾无情。你对我宽和大度，用情专一，这是绝无仅有的。你在社会上失败了——如果你失败了的话，那并非你的过错，而是你的光荣。别忘了，人类中间只有那些决不孳孳为利的，才是真正的出类拔萃的人物。但凡功成名就的人，多多少少是自私自利者。忠信笃实非失败不可…… ‘爱不求自己的益处。’ “咱们对这一章真是情同此心，心同此理啊，我永远爱的亲亲，咱们就按这一章，分手时也是朋友吧。哪怕你所谓的宗教那类东西都湮灭了，这一章的内容也历久不衰，万古犹新！” “好啦——别说啦。再会，裘德，我一块儿造孽的同伙，最亲切善良的朋友！” “再会，我的走入迷途的妻子，再会！” Part 6 Chapter 5 THE next afternoon the familiar Christminster fog still hung over all things. Sue's slim shape was only just discernible going towards the station. Jude had no heart to go to his work that day. Neither could he go anywhere in the direction by which she would be likely to pass. He went in an opposite one, to a dreary, strange, flat scene, where boughs dripped, and coughs and consumption lurked, and where he had never been before. "Sue's gone from me--gone!" he murmured miserably. She in the meantime had left by the train, and reached Alfredston Road, where she entered the steam-tram and was conveyed into the town. It had been her request to Phillotson that he should not meet her. She wished, she said, to come to him voluntarily, to his very house and hearthstone. It was Friday evening, which had been chosen because the schoolmaster was disengaged at four o'clock that day till the Monday morning following. The little car she hired at the Bear to drive her to Marygreen set her down at the end of the lane, half a mile from the village, by her desire, and preceded her to the schoolhouse with such portion of her luggage as she had brought. On its return she encountered it, and asked the driver if he had found the master's house open. The man informed her that he had, and that her things had been taken in by the schoolmaster himself. She could now enter Marygreen without exciting much observation. She crossed by the well and under the trees to the pretty new school on the other side, and lifted the latch of the dwelling without knocking. Phillotson stood in the middle of the room, awaiting her, as requested. "I've come, Richard," said she, looking pale and shaken, and sinking into a chair. "I cannot believe--you forgive your--wife!" "Everything, darling Susanna," said Phillotson. She started at the endearment, though it had been spoken advisedly without fervour. Then she nerved herself again. "My children--are dead--and it is right that they should be! I am glad--almost. They were sin-begotten. They were sacrificed to teach me how to live! Their death was the first stage of my purification. That's why they have not died in vain! ... You will take me back?" He was so stirred by her pitiful words and tone that he did more than he had meant to do. He bent and kissed her cheek. Sue imperceptibly shrank away, her flesh quivering under the touch of his lips. Phillotson's heart sank, for desire was renascent in him. "You still have an aversion to me!" "Oh no, dear--I have been driving through the damp, and I was chilly!" she said, with a hurried smile of apprehension. "When are we going to have the marriage? Soon?" "To-morrow morning, early, I thought--if you really wish. I am sending round to the vicar to let him know you are come. I have told him all, and he highly approves--he says it will bring our lives to a triumphant and satisfactory issue. But--are you sure of yourself? It is not too late to refuse now if-- you think you can't bring yourself to it, you know?" "Yes, yes, I can! I want it done quick. Tell him, tell him at once! My strength is tried by the undertaking--I can't wait long!" "Have something to eat and drink then, and go over to your room at Mrs. Edlin's. I'll tell the vicar half-past eight to-morrow, before anybody is about--if that's not too soon for you? My friend Gillingham is here to help us in the ceremony. He's been good enough to come all the way from Shaston at great inconvenience to himself." Unlike a woman in ordinary, whose eye is so keen for material things, Sue seemed to see nothing of the room they were in, or any detail of her environment. But on moving across the parlour to put down her muff she uttered a little "Oh!" and grew paler than before. Her look was that of the condemned criminal who catches sight of his coffin. "What?" said Phillotson. The flap of the bureau chanced to be open, and in placing her muff upon it her eye had caught a document which lay there. "Oh--only a--funny surprise!" she said, trying to laugh away her cry as she came back to the table. "Ah! Yes," said Phillotson. "The licence.... It has just come." Gillingham now joined them from his room above, and Sue nervously made herself agreeable to him by talking on whatever she thought likely to interest him, except herself, though that interested him most of all. She obediently ate some supper, and prepared to leave for her lodging hard by. Phillotson crossed the green with her, bidding her good-night at Mrs. Edlin's door. The old woman accompanied Sue to her temporary quarters, and helped her to unpack. Among other things she laid out a night-gown tastefully embroidered. "Oh--I didn't know THAT was put in!" said Sue quickly. "I didn't mean it to be. Here is a different one." She handed a new and absolutely plain garment, of coarse and unbleached calico. "But this is the prettiest," said Mrs. Edlin. "That one is no better than very sackcloth o' Scripture!" "Yes--I meant it to be. Give me the other." She took it, and began rending it with all her might, the tears resounding through the house like a screech-owl. "But my dear, dear!--whatever ..." "It is adulterous! It signifies what I don't feel--I bought it long ago-- to please Jude. It must be destroyed!" Mrs. Edlin lifted her hands, and Sue excitedly continued to tear the linen into strips, laying the pieces in the fire. "You med ha' give it to me!" said the widow. "It do make my heart ache to see such pretty open-work as that a-burned by the flames-- not that ornamental night-rails can be much use to a' ould 'ooman like I. My days for such be all past and gone!" "It is an accursed thing--it reminds me of what I want to forget!" Sue repeated. "It is only fit for the fire." "Lord, you be too strict! What do ye use such words for, and condemn to hell your dear little innocent children that's lost to 'ee! Upon my life I don't call that religion!" Sue flung her face upon the bed, sobbing. "Oh, don't, don't! That kills me!" She remained shaken with her grief, and slipped down upon her knees. "I'll tell 'ee what--you ought not to marry this man again!" said Mrs. Edlin indignantly. "You are in love wi' t' other still!" "Yes I must--I am his already!" "Pshoo! You be t' other man's. If you didn't like to commit yourselves to the binding vow again, just at first, 'twas all the more credit to your consciences, considering your reasons, and you med ha' lived on, and made it all right at last. After all, it concerned nobody but your own two selves." "Richard says he'll have me back, and I'm bound to go! If he had refused, it might not have been so much my duty to-- give up Jude. But--" She remained with her face in the bed-clothes, and Mrs. Edlin left the room. Phillotson in the interval had gone back to his friend Gillingham, who still sat over the supper-table. They soon rose, and walked out on the green to smoke awhile. A light was burning in Sue's room, a shadow moving now and then across the blind. Gillingham had evidently been impressed with the indefinable charm of Sue, and after a silence he said, "Well: you've all but got her again at last. She can't very well go a second time. The pear has dropped into your hand." "Yes! ... I suppose I am right in taking her at her word. I confess there seems a touch of selfishness in it. Apart from her being what she is, of course, a luxury for a fogy like me, it will set me right in the eyes of the clergy and orthodox laity, who have never forgiven me for letting her go. So I may get back in some degree into my old track." "Well--if you've got any sound reason for marrying her again, do it now in God's name! I was always against your opening the cage-door and letting the bird go in such an obviously suicidal way. You might have been a school inspector by this time, or a reverend, if you hadn't been so weak about her." "I did myself irreparable damage--I know it." "Once you've got her housed again, stick to her." Phillotson was more evasive to-night. He did not care to admit clearly that his taking Sue to him again had at bottom nothing to do with repentance of letting her go, but was, primarily, a human instinct flying in the face of custom and profession. He said, "Yes--I shall do that. I know woman better now. Whatever justice there was in releasing her, there was little logic, for one holding my views on other subjects." Gillingham looked at him, and wondered whether it would ever happen that the reactionary spirit induced by the world's sneers and his own physical wishes would make Phillotson more orthodoxly cruel to her than he had erstwhile been informally and perversely kind. "I perceive it won't do to give way to impulse," Phillotson resumed, feeling more and more every minute the necessity of acting up to his position. "I flew in the face of the Church's teaching; but I did it without malice prepense. Women are so strange in their influence that they tempt you to misplaced kindness. However, I know myself better now. A little judicious severity, perhaps...." "Yes; but you must tighten the reins by degrees only. Don't be too strenuous at first. She'll come to any terms in time." The caution was unnecessary, though Phillotson did not say so. "I remember what my vicar at Shaston said, when I left after the row that was made about my agreeing to her elopement. 'The only thing you can do to retrieve your position and hers is to admit your error in not restraining her with a wise and strong hand, and to get her back again if she'll come, and be firm in the future.' But I was so headstrong at that time that I paid no heed. And that after the divorce she should have thought of doing so I did not dream." The gate of Mrs. Edlin's cottage clicked, and somebody began crossing in the direction of the school. Phillotson said "Good-night." "Oh, is that Mr. Phillotson," said Mrs. Edlin. "I was going over to see 'ee. I've been upstairs with her, helping her to unpack her things; and upon my word, sir, I don't think this ought to be!" "What--the wedding?" "Yes. She's forcing herself to it, poor dear little thing; and you've no notion what she's suffering. I was never much for religion nor against it, but it can't be right to let her do this, and you ought to persuade her out of it. Of course everybody will say it was very good and forgiving of 'ee to take her to 'ee again. But for my part I don't." "It's her wish, and I am willing," said Phillotson with grave reserve, opposition making him illogically tenacious now. "A great piece of laxity will be rectified." "I don't believe it. She's his wife if anybody's. She's had three children by him, and he loves her dearly; and it's a wicked shame to egg her on to this, poor little quivering thing! She's got nobody on her side. The one man who'd be her friend the obstinate creature won't allow to come near her. What first put her into this mood o' mind, I wonder!" "I can't tell. Not I certainly. It is all voluntary on her part. Now that's all I have to say." Phillotson spoke stiffly. "You've turned round, Mrs. Edlin. It is unseemly of you!" "Well. I knowed you'd be affronted at what I had to say; but I don't mind that. The truth's the truth." "I'm not affronted, Mrs. Edlin. You've been too kind a neighbour for that. But I must be allowed to know what's best for myself and Susanna. I suppose you won't go to church with us, then?" "No. Be hanged if I can.... I don't know what the times be coming to! Matrimony have growed to be that serious in these days that one really do feel afeard to move in it at all. In my time we took it more careless; and I don't know that we was any the worse for it! When I and my poor man were jined in it we kept up the junketing all the week, and drunk the parish dry, and had to borrow half a crown to begin housekeeping!" When Mrs. Edlin had gone back to her cottage Phillotson spoke moodily. "I don't know whether I ought to do it--at any rate quite so rapidly." "Why?" "If she is really compelling herself to this against her instincts-- merely from this new sense of duty or religion--I ought perhaps to let her wait a bit." "Now you've got so far you ought not to back out of it. That's my opinion." "I can't very well put it off now; that's true. But I had a qualm when she gave that little cry at sight of the licence." "Now, never you have qualms, old boy. I mean to give her away to-morrow morning, and you mean to take her. It has always been on my conscience that I didn't urge more objections to your letting her go, and now we've got to this stage I shan't be content if I don't help you to set the matter right." Phillotson nodded, and seeing how staunch his friend was, became more frank. "No doubt when it gets known what I've done I shall be thought a soft fool by many. But they don't know Sue as I do. Though so elusive, hers is such an honest nature at bottom that I don't think she has ever done anything against her conscience. The fact of her having lived with Fawley goes for nothing. At the time she left me for him she thought she was quite within her right. Now she thinks otherwise." The next morning came, and the self-sacrifice of the woman on the altar of what she was pleased to call her principles was acquiesced in by these two friends, each from his own point of view. Phillotson went across to the Widow Edlin's to fetch Sue a few minutes after eight o'clock. The fog of the previous day or two on the low-lands had travelled up here by now, and the trees on the green caught armfuls, and turned them into showers of big drops. The bride was waiting, ready; bonnet and all on. She had never in her life looked so much like the lily her name connoted as she did in that pallid morning light. Chastened, world-weary, remorseful, the strain on her nerves had preyed upon her flesh and bones, and she appeared smaller in outline than she had formerly done, though Sue had not been a large woman in her days of rudest health. "Prompt," said the schoolmaster, magnanimously taking her hand. But he checked his impulse to kiss her, remembering her start of yesterday, which unpleasantly lingered in his mind. Gillingham joined them, and they left the house, Widow Edlin continuing steadfast in her refusal to assist in the ceremony. "Where is the church?" said Sue. She had not lived there for any length of time since the old church was pulled down, and in her preoccupation forgot the new one. "Up here," said Phillotson; and presently the tower loomed large and solemn in the fog. The vicar had already crossed to the building, and when they entered he said pleasantly: "We almost want candles." "You do--wish me to be yours, Richard?" gasped Sue in a whisper. "Certainly, dear: above all things in the world." Sue said no more; and for the second or third time he felt he was not quite following out the humane instinct which had induced him to let her go. There they stood, five altogether: the parson, the clerk, the couple, and Gillingham; and the holy ordinance was resolemnized forthwith. In the nave of the edifice were two or three villagers, and when the clergyman came to the words, "What God hath joined," a woman's voice from among these was heard to utter audibly: "God hath jined indeed!" It was like a re-enactment by the ghosts of their former selves of the similar scene which had taken place at Melchester years before. When the books were signed the vicar congratulated the husband and wife on having performed a noble, and righteous, and mutually forgiving act. "All's well that ends well," he said smiling. "May you long be happy together, after thus having been 'saved as by fire.'" They came down the nearly empty building, and crossed to the schoolhouse. Gillingham wanted to get home that night, and left early. He, too, congratulated the couple. "Now," he said in parting from Phillotson, who walked out a little way, "I shall be able to tell the people in your native place a good round tale; and they'll all say 'Well done,' depend on it." When the schoolmaster got back Sue was making a pretence of doing some housewifery as if she lived there. But she seemed timid at his approach, and compunction wrought on him at sight of it. "Of course, my dear, I shan't expect to intrude upon your personal privacy any more than I did before," he said gravely. "It is for our good socially to do this, and that's its justification, if it was not my reason." Sue brightened a little. 第二天下午，人们习以为常的基督堂浓雾依然笼罩着一切。苏的纤弱的身影在雾中依稀可辨。她正在往车站的路上。 裘德那天百事无心，没去上班。凡苏一路可能行经的地方他也一概不想去，故此采取了相反的方向，走到了一处前此从未到过的地方，但见物景凄迷、诡异、毫无生趣，成片的树枝不断滴水，咳嗽和肺痨随处隐藏着。 “苏把我甩啦——把我甩啦！”他悲伤地嘟嘟囔囔。 苏在同一时间已经坐火车到了阿尔夫瑞顿大路，在那儿上了汽动有轨车，转往镇内。事先她请求费乐生勿来接她。她说，此来系自愿，希望一径到他家，到他炉旁。 那是个礼拜五晚上，所以选择这个时间，是因为小学老师从那天下午四点直到礼拜一上午都没课。她在大熊客栈雇的小车把她送到马利格林，先在离村半英里远的篱路一头停住，让她先下车后再往前赶，把她带来的行李送到小学。小车掉头回来的路上跟她碰头。她问车夫老师家的门开没开着。车夫告诉她门开了，老师还亲自把她的东西搬进去。 这样她可以进入马利格林而不引得人人注目。她打井边走过去，从大树底下走到另一边看上去相当新的校舍，门也没敲就抬起门搭子进去了。费乐生果然如她嘱咐，站在屋子当中等着她。 “我来了，里查。”她说，面色苍白，身上直哆嗦，一屁股坐到了椅子上。“我真不敢信——你不计较你的——妻子啦！” “什么都不计较，亲爱的苏珊娜。”费乐生说。 他这么亲呢倒叫她一愣，不过他这是准备有素，说得有板有眼，何尝有一点点炽热的情感。跟着苏又折腾起自己来了。 “我的孩子——都死啦！——死得活该！我心里高兴——简直高兴啊。他们生下来就是罪孽。他们送了命可教我懂得了该怎么活着啦！他们一死，我就过了洗心革面第一关。所以他们并不是白死啊！……你真要我回来吗？” 她的话，她的声调那么凄楚，他不由得心里一乱，这一来做出了他本来无心的举动。他弯下腰，亲了亲她的一边脸。 她稍微一闪，不怎么看得出来，让他嘴唇一碰，浑身的肉都颤起来了。 费乐生大失所望，因为他的欲火又升起来了。“我看你还是嫌我！” “哦，不是，亲爱的——我——我是一直在湿淋淋的大雾里头坐车来的，身上冷飕飕的！”她说，出自某种担心，赶紧笑了笑。‘咱们什么时候举行婚礼呀？快了吧？” “我想好了，明天一大早，要是你也愿意的话。我要叫人给教区长送个信，说你到了。我什么都告诉他了，他非常赞成——他说这么一办，咱们以后的日子准是功德圆满，万事如意。不过——你自己是不是主意定了？你要是觉着现在还不好走这一步，现在说不行也不迟。” “行，行，我都行！我就是要快办快了。告诉他吧，马上告诉他。这件事正是考验我的力量——我等不下去啦！” “那就先吃点喝点吧，然后咱们就上艾林太太家里你那间屋子。我要通知教区长，订在明天八点半，那时候没什么人出来转悠——这样你不觉着太紧吧？我的朋友季令安要到这儿来，参加咱们的婚礼。他人实在好，不嫌路远不便，硬要从沙氏顿赶来。” 苏不像一般女人那样对物质东西极为经心，一眼不放过；她好像对他们屋子里的东西，或者对她周围的任何细微的情况，都茫茫然一无所见。但当她穿过小客厅去放下手笼时候，低低地‘哎呀！”了一声，面色比先前更苍白了。她脸上的神情犹如死刑犯见了自己的棺材。 “怎么啦？”费乐生说。 写字台的盖子正好翻起来，她放下手笼的时候一眼看见了放在那儿的文件。“哦——没什么——就是惊了一下，怪可笑的！”她说，一边回到桌子旁，一边笑出来，极力遮掩自己无意中的叫声。 “啊！对啦。”费乐生说。“结婚证。……刚拿来的。” 季令安从楼上他的房间下来，到了他们一块儿。苏神经很紧张，她尽量找些叫他感兴趣的话说，让他觉着自己随和，容易相处，就是不说她自己，而他最感兴趣的恰在她本人。她敷衍了事吃了饭，准备去自己的住处。费乐生陪她走过草地，在艾林太太门口道了晚安。 老太婆把她带到她临时下榻的屋子，帮她打开行李。她拿出来的东西中间，有一件是绣花睡衣，绣工精美。 “哎呀——这东西也放在里头啦，我怎么不知道呀！”她急急地说。“我本来不要它啦。这儿还有一件哪，不一样。”她递给艾林太太一件非常朴素的新睡衣，料子是本色白粗布。 “可那件真漂亮极啦。”艾林太太说。“这件比《圣经》里说的粗布好不到哪儿！” “我就是想要这件。把那件给我。”她接过来，浑身使劲，把睡衣撕开了，只撕得吱吱响，活像尖枭预报出了祸事的声音。 “可是我的亲爱的，亲爱的！——无论怎么着……” “这件衣裳是通奸用的！我可没想到，倒叫它说出来了——是我老早以前买的，专为让裘德高兴的。一定得把它撕烂了！” 艾林太太把双手举起来。苏激动不已，继续撕，把亚麻睡衣撕成一条条的，然后把碎片一齐扔到火里。 “你不是可以给我嘛！”寡妇说。“做得这么精这么细的活儿，一下子甩到火里烧了，大叫人心疼啦——倒不是这花花绿绿的睡衣，我老太婆这把年纪还有什么用。我穿这样东西的日子早过去啦。” “这东西真该死——它叫我想起来我要忘的事！”她重复了一遍。“就是该放在火里烧了。” “天哪，你严刻得过头啦！你说这些话干吗？你这是咒你没罪死了的亲爱的小宝贝儿，叫他们下地狱！唉，你这一套，我可决不能说你信教！” 她一下子把脸扑在床上，呜呜哭起来。“别说啦，别说啦！要叫我死啦！”她因为痛心而继续哆嗦着，一滑就跪到地板上了。 “我要跟你讲明白——你决不能再跟这个男的结婚！”艾林太太气愤地说。“你直到这会儿爱的还是另一个男的！” “我一定跟他结婚——我早就是他的人啦！” “屁！你是另外那个男人的。要是你们俩当初就不愿意照头一回那样让誓言捆住，按你们的道理，凭你们自个儿良心，可以好好过下去，日久天长什么都顺顺当当啦。说到底，这是你们俩的事，谁都管不了。” “里查说要我回来，我只好回来啦！要是他不要我，我何必担这么大不是——把裘德甩了呢。不过——”她脸还伏在床单上，而艾林太太却离开了她的屋子。 费乐生这时候又回到他的朋友季令安那儿，原来他坐在晚饭桌边没动过。稍后他们站起来，走到外面草地上，抽了会儿烟。只见苏屋里有了灯光，一个人影有时在窗帘上来回移动。 季令安显然对苏那难以描述的丰姿深为心折，他们沉默一会儿后，他说，“呃，你现在总算又把她弄回来了。她总不能故伎重演吧。梨子算掉到你手心里啦。” “对！……我看我拿她的话当话，一点儿没错。我承认，这里头似乎有那么点自私自利味道。先不说她这个人对我这样的老古板毫无疑问是个无价之宝；这件事，就是在教会人眼里头，在那些卫道的俗人眼里头，我这人也是又归了正道了，他们就是为我让苏走了，始终不饶我。如今这么一来，我多多少少可以旧调重弹吧。” “咂——要是你的确有了站得住的理由跟她结婚，那你现在就光明正大地办好啦。我从前一直不赞成你开了笼门把鸟儿放走，这明明是把你自己坑到底的办法。你当初要不是那么软，恐怕你这会儿就已经是督学了，也许还担任了圣职呢。” “我给自己造成的损失，的确是无法弥补的——这我心里有数。” “你一把她弄回来住，就一定得盯牢她。” 费乐生那晚上说起话来不免闪烁其词。他不愿意明白表示他之所以把苏又弄回来，根本同他后悔当初放走她这一点无关，而主要是出自他不甘向习俗和同道示弱的那种人类具有的反抗本能。他说，“是——我一定要做到。现在我比从前懂得女人了。从前放走她不论多合乎公道，但是要拿我这个人在别的事情上的观点一比，那就完全不合逻辑了。” 季令安瞧着他，琢磨着世人对他费乐生的冷嘲热讽和他自身的生理要求会不会诱发他的逆反心理，使他一反从前对她的姑息放纵，而置礼法于度外，竟然变得以卫道为名而对她横施暴虐。 “我看单靠冲动办事是行不通的。”费乐生又把话接下去。随着每分钟过去，他越来越感到他此后一言一行非得符合自己的身份不可。“我从前不肯听教会的训示，不过我那样不是蓄意对教会伤害。女人的影响真是怪极了，她们一诱惑了你，你就把仁爱之心滥用起来了。不过我现在比以前有点自知之明啦。稍微厉害那么一点，而又通情达理，也许……” “对啊；不过你总得一步一步把缰绳勒紧才行。开头别搞得太猛。到时候，随你干什么，她就都乖乖听话了。” 这番告诫大可不必，不过费乐生当时没这么表示就是了。“我还没忘，我答应她私奔之后，人家把我轰走了，沙氏顿那位教区长说的话：‘你要想恢复你跟她的身份，你只有一件事好做，就是承认你错在出手不灵不硬，没管住她；要是再把她弄回来，假定她会回来，那从今而后你就得主意拿定不动摇。’不过我当时意气用事，那些话，我当成了耳旁风。再说我做梦也没想到她离婚之后居然还想到要回来。” 艾林太太的街门卡嗒响了一声。正好有个人从学校那边过来。费乐生说了声“晚安”。 “哟，费乐生先生哪。”艾林太太说。“我正要过去瞧瞧你。我一直在楼上跟她一块儿，帮她开箱子拣东西呢。说实在的，先生，我看这事儿办不得呀！ “什么事——婚礼吗？” “对啦。她这是硬逼着自个儿呀，可怜的小东西啊；她受了多少罪，你心里可没点影子哟。我向来不信教，我也不反教，可让她干这事儿，那就是不对，你应该劝她别这么着。当然人人都要说你心眼儿好，饶了她，把她又弄回来。我可不这么看。” “这是她心里想，我也愿意。”费乐生说，极力克制自己，因为别人一反对，他更固执到不讲理的程度。“从前稀里糊涂地错了，这以后就要改过来了。” “我才不信呢。要讲她是什么人的老婆，她就是他的老婆。她跟他生了三个娃儿，他爱她爱得才厉害呢；挑唆她干这事，那是太不要脸啦，那个哆嗦得没完没了的小东西可怜哪！她旁边可没一个人跟她商量呀。那个男的是她的朋友，可这个拧脾气的丫头就是不许他沾边。我纳闷，究竟什么东西头一个闹得她有这样个瞎想头。” “这我说不上来。反正不是我。她这完全是自愿。我该说的现在都说了。”费乐生生硬地说。“你这是大转弯啦，艾林太太。你这可不够交情！” “呃，我知道我一说该说的话，就把你得罪啦，我可不在乎。实话实说，硬碰硬的。” “我可没觉着你得罪我，艾林太太。对这样的事儿，你做邻居的心太好啦。可是得由我自己做主，我知道怎么办对我自己、对苏顶好。我看，照这样，你不跟我们一块儿上教堂吧？” “不去啦。就勒死我，我也不去。……我不知道这年月是怎么回事儿！结婚这阵子都成了那么了不起的大事啦，真叫人害怕，不敢结啦。我那时候，我们才不当回事呢；我看不出来我们那阵子比这会儿坏到哪儿！我跟我可怜的那口子到了一块儿，吃吃逛逛，足足一个礼拜，连教堂里的酒都喝光了，只好借了半个克朗才揭开锅！” 艾林太太回她小房子那一刻，费乐生闷闷不乐地说，“我也不知道该办不该办——无论如何，总是太快了吧。” “这怎么说？” “要是她真违反了本心，就为了她的本分和对宗教的新感受，强逼着自己这么着，我应该让她等等才对。” “这会儿你这么走过来了，就不好往回退了。我是这么想的。” “我现在也的确不好把它往后拖了，这也是真情。不过她一看见结婚证，就叫出来，声音一丁点，我可是心里直嘀咕。” “老家伙，你这就别嘀咕啦。我打的主意是明儿早上给她主婚，把人交给你，你打的主意是把她带走，成了亲，这不就行了嘛。我当初没死说活说劝你留住她，我良心上老觉着过意不去，到了这个节骨眼儿，我要是不帮你把事情理顺了，我赶明儿个心里还会不舒服呢。” 费乐生点点头，一看他的朋友那么心直口快，他也就比较坦率了。“毫无疑问，我所作所为，别人一知道了，少不了好些人把我当个没骨头的糊涂蛋。不过他们并不像我了解苏。苏这人虽说实在不好捉摸，可是她打心眼里天生诚实无欺，我认为她压根儿没于过什么违背良心的事。她跟福来一块儿过的事，现在一风吹了。当初她离开我，去就他，她认为这全是她自己权利范围里的事。现在她想的完全反过来了。” 第二天早晨到了，两位朋友从各自角度出发，都默然承认她该上那个她称之为原则的祭坛，作为女人活该当供品。八点几分，费乐生到艾林太太家接苏。前两天在低地上弥漫的雾气现在已往上飘浮到这边来了，草地上的树木水汽盈抱，随又如阵雨般大滴洒落。新娘在屋里等着，一切就绪，穿戴得齐齐整整。她名苏珊娜，可是她这辈子还没有过像那天在早晨青白光色中那样，名副其实地堪称百合花。她因精神饱受折磨，因对人生感到厌倦，再加上神经恒常处于紧张状态，这就损伤了她的体质，她整个体态比从前显得瘦小了，虽然她体气健旺时候本也不是大块头女子。 “万事俱备啦。”小学老师说，同时意态宽宏地拉起她的手。不过他把自己想吻她的冲动克制住了，因为他没忘记昨天她失神的样子，那不快的一幕仍然留在他心头。 季令安也到了，他们离开了那座房子。艾林寡妇还是毫不通融，拒绝参加他们的婚礼。 “教堂在哪儿？”苏说。自从老教堂拆了，苏没在那个地方住多长，这会儿她满腔心事，想不起来还有新教堂。 “就在前边。”费乐生说；霎时间，只见塔楼在雾中浮现，高大庄严。教区长已经到了教堂，他们一进门，他就喜气洋洋地说：“咱们大概要点上蜡烛呢。” “你真——真要我成你的人吗，里查？”苏有点透不气来，小声说。 “这还有得说嘛，亲爱的；普天之下我唯爱你。” 她没再说什么，而他却第二次或者第三次感到他这会儿办的事丝毫也不符合当初促使他放走她的那种合乎人道的本能。 他们都站在那儿，一共五个：牧师、办事员、新人和季令安；神圣的仪式再次庄严地举行了。教堂中段有两三个村里人，在教区长说到“上帝为尔玉成”的时候，其中一个女的说了话，声音听得清清楚楚： “上帝才没玉成呢！” 一切光景宛如他们的魂灵把多年前在麦尔切斯特那回仪式重新搬演了一遍。他们在册子上签了名之后，教区长为他们这样高尚、正直的互谅互恕的举动，向他们祝贺，“结局好就什么都好，”他笑着说，“你们这样‘从火里经过而得救’，谨祝你们百年好合，白头偕老。” 他们从差不多没人的教堂出来，径直向学校走去。季令安要在当天晚上之前到家，所以提早走了。他也向他们表示祝贺。“现在，”他由费乐生陪着走了一段路，到分手时候说，“我就好给你老家的人讲一段破镜重圆的好故事啦；他们准会说‘棒极啦’，你信我好啦。” 老师回到家里，苏装着干家务事，仿佛她一直就住在那儿，可是他一走过来，她就露出来有点发怵；他看得出来，心里很不是滋味。 “我的亲爱的，我不会再跟从前一样打扰你私生活，叫你不得安宁，一定这样。”他郑重其事地说。“咱们彰明较著地办这件事，全是为咱们自己在社会上好办，就不说我完全是为这个吧，这总算是个根据啊。” 苏脸色为之稍霁。 |
| Part 6 Chapter 6 THE place was the door of Jude's lodging in the out-skirts of Christminster--far from the precincts of St. Silas' where he had formerly lived, which saddened him to sickness. The rain was coming down. A woman in shabby black stood on the doorstep talking to Jude, who held the door in his hand. "I am lonely, destitute, and houseless--that's what I am! Father has turned me out of doors after borrowing every penny I'd got, to put it into his business, and then accusing me of laziness when I was only waiting for a situation. I am at the mercy of the world! If you can't take me and help me, Jude, I must go to the workhouse, or to something worse. Only just now two undergraduates winked at me as I came along. 'Tis hard for a woman to keep virtuous where there's so many young men!" The woman in the rain who spoke thus was Arabella, the evening being that of the day after Sue's remarriage with Phillotson. "I am sorry for you, but I am only in lodgings," said Jude coldly. "Then you turn me away?" "I'll give you enough to get food and lodging for a few days." "Oh, but can't you have the kindness to take me in? I cannot endure going to a public house to lodge; and I am so lonely. Please, Jude, for old times' sake!" "No, no," said Jude hastily. "I don't want to be reminded of those things; and if you talk about them I shall not help you." "Then I suppose I must go!" said Arabella. She bent her head against the doorpost and began sobbing. "The house is full," said Jude. "And I have only a little extra room to my own--not much more than a closet--where I keep my tools, and templates, and the few books I have left!" "That would be a palace for me!" "There is no bedstead in it." "A bit of a bed could be made on the floor. It would be good enough for me." Unable to be harsh with her, and not knowing what to do, Jude called the man who let the lodgings, and said this was an acquaintance of his in great distress for want of temporary shelter. "You may remember me as barmaid at the Lamb and Flag formerly?" spoke up Arabella. "My father has insulted me this afternoon, and I've left him, though without a penny!" The householder said he could not recall her features. "But still, if you are a friend of Mr. Fawley's we'll do what we can for a day or two--if he'll make himself answerable?" "Yes, yes," said Jude. "She has really taken me quite unawares; but I should wish to help her out of her difficulty." And an arrangement was ultimately come to under which a bed was to be thrown down in Jude's lumber-room, to make it comfortable for Arabella till she could get out of the strait she was in-- not by her own fault, as she declared--and return to her father's again. While they were waiting for this to be done Arabella said: "You know the news, I suppose?" "I guess what you mean; but I know nothing." "I had a letter from Anny at Alfredston to-day. She had just heard that the wedding was to be yesterday: but she didn't know if it had come off." "I don't wish to talk of it." "No, no: of course you don't. Only it shows what kind of woman----" "Don't speak of her I say! She's a fool! And she's an angel, too, poor dear!" "If it's done, he'll have a chance of getting back to his old position, by everybody's account, so Anny says. All his well-wishers will be pleased, including the bishop himself." "Do spare me, Arabella." Arabella was duly installed in the little attic, and at first she did not come near Jude at all. She went to and fro about her own business, which, when they met for a moment on the stairs or in the passage, she informed him was that of obtaining another place in the occupation she understood best. When Jude suggested London as affording the most likely opening in the liquor trade, she shook her head. "No--the temptations are too many," she said. "Any humble tavern in the country before that for me." On the Sunday morning following, when he breakfasted later than on other days, she meekly asked him if she might come in to breakfast with him, as she had broken her teapot, and could not replace it immediately, the shops being shut. "Yes, if you like," he said indifferently. While they sat without speaking she suddenly observed: "You seem all in a brood, old man. I'm sorry for you." "I am all in a brood." "It is about her, I know. It's no business of mine, but I could find out all about the wedding--if it really did take place-- if you wanted to know." "How could you?" "I wanted to go to Alfredston to get a few things I left there. And I could see Anny, who'll be sure to have heard all about it, as she has friends at Marygreen." Jude could not bear to acquiesce in this proposal; but his suspense pitted itself against his discretion, and won in the struggle. "You can ask about it if you like," he said. "I've not heard a sound from there. It must have been very private, if--they have married." "I am afraid I haven't enough cash to take me there and back, or I should have gone before. I must wait till I have earned some." "Oh--I can pay the journey for you," he said impatiently. And thus his suspense as to Sue's welfare, and the possible marriage, moved him to dispatch for intelligence the last emissary he would have thought of choosing deliberately. Arabella went, Jude requesting her to be home not later than by the seven o'clock train. When she had gone he said: "Why should I have charged her to be back by a particular time! She's nothing to me--nor the other neither!" But having finished work he could not help going to the station to meet Arabella, dragged thither by feverish haste to get the news she might bring, and know the worst. Arabella had made dimples most successfully all the way home, and when she stepped out of the railway carriage she smiled. He merely said "Well?" with the very reverse of a smile. "They are married." "Yes--of course they are!" he returned. She observed, however, the hard strain upon his lip as he spoke. "Anny says she has heard from Belinda, her relation out at Marygreen, that it was very sad, and curious!" "How do you mean sad? She wanted to marry him again, didn't she? And he her!" "Yes--that was it. She wanted to in one sense, but not in the other. Mrs. Edlin was much upset by it all, and spoke out her mind at Phillotson. But Sue was that excited about it that she burnt her best embroidery that she'd worn with you, to blot you out entirely. Well--if a woman feels like it, she ought to do it. I commend her for it, though others don't." Arabella sighed. "She felt he was her only husband, and that she belonged to nobody else in the sight of God A'mighty while he lived. Perhaps another woman feels the same about herself, too!" Arabella sighed again. "I don't want any cant!" exclaimed Jude. "It isn't cant," said Arabella. "I feel exactly the same as she!" He closed that issue by remarking abruptly: "Well--now I know all I wanted to know. Many thanks for your information. I am not going back to my lodgings just yet." And he left her straightway. In his misery and depression Jude walked to well-nigh every spot in the city that he had visited with Sue; thence he did not know whither, and then thought of going home to his usual evening meal. But having all the vices of his virtues, and some to spare, he turned into a public house, for the first time during many months. Among the possible consequences of her marriage Sue had not dwelt on this. Arabella, meanwhile, had gone back. The evening passed, and Jude did not return. At half-past nine Arabella herself went out, first proceeding to an outlying district near the river where her father lived, and had opened a small and precarious pork-shop lately. "Well," she said to him, "for all your rowing me that night, I've called in, for I have something to tell you. I think I shall get married and settled again. Only you must help me: and you can do no less, after what I've stood 'ee." "I'll do anything to get thee off my hands!" "Very well. I am now going to look for my young man. He's on the loose I'm afraid, and I must get him home. All I want you to do to-night is not to fasten the door, in case I should want to sleep here, and should be late." "I thought you'd soon get tired of giving yourself airs and keeping away!" "Well--don't do the door. That's all I say." She then sallied out again, and first hastening back to Jude's to make sure that he had not returned, began her search for him. A shrewd guess as to his probable course took her straight to the tavern which Jude had formerly frequented, and where she had been barmaid for a brief term. She had no sooner opened the door of the "Private Bar" than her eyes fell upon him-- sitting in the shade at the back of the compartment, with his eyes fixed on the floor in a blank stare. He was drinking nothing stronger than ale just then. He did not observe her, and she entered and sat beside him. Jude looked up, and said without surprise: "You've come to have something, Arabella? ... I'm trying to forget her: that's all! But I can't; and I am going home." She saw that he was a little way on in liquor, but only a little as yet. "I've come entirely to look for you, dear boy. You are not well. Now you must have something better than that." Arabella held up her finger to the barmaid. "You shall have a liqueur-- that's better fit for a man of education than beer. You shall have maraschino, or curacao dry or sweet, or cherry brandy. I'll treat you, poor chap!" "I don't care which! Say cherry brandy.... Sue has served me badly, very badly. I didn't expect it of Sue! I stuck to her, and she ought to have stuck to me. I'd have sold my soul for her sake, but she wouldn't risk hers a jot for me. To save her own soul she lets mine go damn! ... But it isn't her fault, poor little girl-- I am sure it isn't!" How Arabella had obtained money did not appear, but she ordered a liqueur each, and paid for them. When they had drunk these Arabella suggested another; and Jude had the pleasure of being, as it were, personally conducted through the varieties of spirituous delectation by one who knew the landmarks well. Arabella kept very considerably in the rear of Jude; but though she only sipped where he drank, she took as much as she could safely take without losing her head--which was not a little, as the crimson upon her countenance showed. Her tone towards him to-night was uniformly soothing and cajoling; and whenever he said "I don't care what happens to me," a thing he did continually, she replied, "But I do very much!" The closing hour came, and they were compelled to turn out; whereupon Arabella put her arm round his waist, and guided his unsteady footsteps. When they were in the streets she said: "I don't know what our landlord will say to my bringing you home in this state. I expect we are fastened out, so that he'll have to come down and let us in." "I don't know--I don't know." "That's the worst of not having a home of your own. I tell you, Jude, what we had best do. Come round to my father's-- I made it up with him a bit to-day. I can let you in, and nobody will see you at all; and by to-morrow morning you'll be all right." "Anything--anywhere," replied Jude. "What the devil does it matter to me?" They went along together, like any other fuddling couple, her arm still round his waist, and his, at last, round hers; though with no amatory intent; but merely because he was weary, unstable, and in need of support. "This--is th' Martyrs'--burning-place," he stammered as they dragged across a broad street. "I remember--in old Fuller's HOLY STATE-- and I am reminded of it--by our passing by here--old Fuller in his HOLY STATE says, that at the burning of Ridley, Doctor Smith-- preached sermon, and took as his text 'THOUGH I GIVE MY BODY TO BE BURNED, AND HAVE NOT CHARITY, IT PROFITETH ME NOTHING.'-- Often think of it as I pass here. Ridley was a----" "Yes. Exactly. Very thoughtful of you, deary, even though it hasn't much to do with our present business." "Why, yes it has! I'm giving my body to be burned! But--ah you don't understand!--it wants Sue to understand such things! And I was her seducer--poor little girl! And she's gone-- and I don't care about myself! Do what you like with me! ... And yet she did it for conscience' sake, poor little Sue!" "Hang her!--I mean, I think she was right," hiccuped Arabella. "I've my feelings too, like her; and I feel I belong to you in Heaven's eye, and to nobody else, till death us do part! It is--hic--never too late--hic to mend!" They had reached her father's house, and she softly unfastened the door, groping about for a light within. The circumstances were not altogether unlike those of their entry into the cottage at Cresscombe, such a long time before. Nor were perhaps Arabella's motives. But Jude did not think of that, though she did. "I can't find the matches, dear," she said when she had fastened up the door. "But never mind--this way. As quiet as you can, please." "It is as dark as pitch," said Jude. "Give me your hand, and I'll lead you. That's it. Just sit down here, and I'll pull off your boots. I don't want to wake him." "Who?" "Father. He'd make a row, perhaps." She pulled off his boots. "Now," she whispered, "take hold of me-- never mind your weight. Now--first stair, second stair" "But,--are we out in our old house by Marygreen?" asked the stupefied Jude. "I haven't been inside it for years till now! Hey? And where are my books? That's what I want to know?" "We are at my house, dear, where there's nobody to spy out how ill you are. Now--third stair, fourth stair--that's it. Now we shall get on." 地点是裘德在基督堂郊区的住家的门前——离他原先住的圣•西拉教堂一带很远；那地方叫他痛心疾首，他只得搬走。雨在下。一个穿着破旧黑衫裙的女人站在门口台阶上，正跟裘德说话，裘德一只手把着门。 “我这会儿孤苦伶仃，穷得光光的，连家也没有——落到这个份儿上！爸爸把我的钱都掏走了，做生意，还骂我是懒虫，我是等着活儿于呢。他就把我赶到街上来了。我这会儿只好靠老天爷了。裘德，要是你不肯帮帮忙，把我收下，我只好上救济院了，要不就得上更坏的地方。刚才我路上走的时候，就有两个大学生直朝我飞眼呢。这儿有那么多小伙子，女人要是不下水，难得很哪。” 雨里说这些话的女人是阿拉贝拉，晚上是苏又跟费乐生结婚的那天晚上。 “我替你难受，不过我这会儿也只算有个落脚地方。”裘德毫无兴致地说。 “那你是赶我走喽？” “我要给你点钱，够你几天吃住的。” “哦，难道你就不能发点善心，让我进去吗？再去找酒馆住，我真吃不消了；我真是孤苦伶什哪。裘德，看老面子，总行吧！” “你别说这个。”裘德赶紧说。“我可不想你再提那些事；你要是唠叨这些，那我就一点忙也不帮。” “这么说，我非走不可啦！”阿拉贝拉说。她把头抵在门框上，哭哭啼啼的。 “这房子全住满了，我住的那间之外，还有个小间，比柜子大不了多少——我在那儿放工具、模板，还有几本剩下来的书！” “拿我说，那比得上王宫啦！” “里头没床。” “打地铺就行了。这对我就好得不得了啦。” 裘德既不能对她忍心不管，又不知道怎么办，只好把房东叫来，跟他说，这是他一个熟人，临时要找个地方住，急得不得了。 “你大概还记得我从前在羊羔和旗子酒店当女招待吧。”阿拉贝拉插进来说。“我爸爸今儿下午臭骂我一顿，我就躲出来了，身上一个大钱也没有！” 房东说他想不起来她从前模样。“不过算啦，既然你是福来先生的朋友，咱们就凑合着让你住一两天——不过他愿不愿意担保呢？” “行，行，我担保。”裘德说。“她猛孤丁地到这儿来，我真一点不知道；不过我想还是先帮她过难关吧。”他们终于商定了，抬来一张床，勉强把它塞进裘德堆东西的小房间，也尽量叫阿拉贝拉住得舒服点，直到她能够摆脱困境——照她说，这不是她的过错——再回她父亲家。 就在他们等着放好床的时候，阿拉贝拉说：“我想你听到消息了，是吧？” “我猜得出来你指什么；不过我一无所知。” “今儿我接到阿尔夫瑞顿安妮的信。她也是刚听说婚礼定在昨儿个的；不过她不知道真办了没有。” “我不想谈这事。” “你不想谈，是呀，你当然不想谈喽。这正好表明什么样的女人——” “我说你别提她行不行！她是个糊涂虫，可也是个天使，可怜的亲爱的！” “要是真办了的话，旁人都说他就有机会回到老位子上去了，安妮信里这么说的。凡是给他帮腔的人都称了愿，里头还有主教呢。” “你饶了我吧，阿拉贝拉。” 阿拉贝拉不失时机地在小阁楼里安顿下来。开头她并不去接近裘德。她出出进进办自己的事。他们偶然在楼梯上或通道里碰上，她就告诉他，她正忙着在她顶熟的那行找位子。裘德向她建议，伦敦大概是酒店生意最吃香的地方，她摇摇头，“不行——那地方歪门邪道太多啦，”她说，“我还是在乡下不起眼的酒馆先找个事儿，那以后再说吧。” 下面那个礼拜天早上，裘德早饭比平常吃得晚点，她低声下气地问她好不好过来跟他一块儿吃早饭，因为她把茶壶摔了，那会儿铺子还没开门，没法买一个。 “行啊，你愿意就行。”他不在意地说。 他们坐着没说话，突然她开口撩他了，“老家伙，你看着一肚子心事嘛。我真替你难受。” “我是一肚子心事。” “想必是为她喽，我知道。这我管不着，不过他们要是真办了婚礼，前前后后我大概都能打听得到——只要你想知道就行。” “你怎么打听得到？” “我原来就想上阿尔夫瑞顿，把丢在那儿的几样东西取来。我见得到安妮，婚礼的事儿，她准什么都听说了，因为她在马利格林有朋友。” 裘德固然不会冒然对这样的建议表示同意，但是他对苏念念不忘的心情压倒了他平素的审慎周详，占了上风。‘你要是愿意的话，那就打听打听好啦。”他说。“我到这会儿还没打那边听到什么信呢。要是——他们真结了婚，大概也没怎么张扬。” “我手里恐怕没那么多现钱够打个来回的，要不然我早就去了。我先得赚点钱再说吧。” “哦——我可以给你出路费。”他烦躁地说。因为他对苏的境遇和可能的婚事老悬着心，这就促使他派了个最不相宜的使者去打听消息，而他若是深思熟虑，断乎不会取中这样的人选。 在裘德请她务必坐七点钟以前火车到家之后，阿拉贝拉就走了。她一走，他就说：“我何必特意给她规定个时间要她回来！她跟我有什么关系！另外那个又有什么关系！” 但是他干完活之后，情不自禁地去车站迎阿拉贝拉，心急火燎地赶到那儿，好听她带来的消息，想知道最糟糟到什么程度。阿拉贝拉在回家路上没完没了咋酒窝，咋得尽善尽美。她一出车厢就笑了。他只说出来“呃？”，一脸晦气。 “他们成婚啦。” “成婚啦——他们当然成婚喽！”他回了一句。可是她看得明白，他说话时候嘴唇绷得极不自然。 “安妮说她是听马利格林的亲戚贝林达说的，真是又惨又怪哪！” “你说惨，指什么？她要跟他再结婚，不是这回事吗？他不也要这样嘛！” “对——是这么回事。她一个心是结婚，还有一个心是不想结婚。这件事儿把艾林太太闹得都六神无主啦，她干脆把她的心事跟费乐生先生说了。可是苏为这档子事太激动啦，连从前跟你在一块儿穿的绣花睡衣都烧啦，要把你一笔勾销。呢——女人要是怎么想，就该怎么办。我倒挺佩服她，可别人不这么看。”阿拉贝拉叹了口气。“她认为他是她唯一丈夫，只要他活着，在万能的上帝眼里，她不归另外哪个人。说不定还有别的女人也想到自个儿跟她一样哪！”阿拉贝拉又叹了口气。 “我可不想听这套假仁假义！”裘德大喊大叫的。 “不是假仁假义，”阿拉贝拉说。“我想的就是跟她一样。” 他出其不意地说了下面几句，就把这个局面刹住了：“行啦——该知道的，我这会儿全知道啦！多谢你把消息告诉我。我这会儿还不想回住的地方。”说完了，把她撂一边，扬长而去。 裘德愁肠百结，意气消沉。他把从前跟苏一起走过的地方差不多走个遍；后来他也不知道还往哪儿去好，就想回去吃那顿定时的晚饭。不过他这人品德固然不错，毛病也颇不少，有些还挺顽固，所以他转身到了一家酒馆，多少个月来这还是头一回。苏对于她结婚可能造成的种种后果中间这一点，可没用心好好想过。 在同一时间，阿拉贝拉却回去了。到了晚上该歇的时间，还不见裘德转来。九点半，阿拉贝拉又出去了，她先去离河边一个挺偏僻的地方，她父亲就住在那儿，新近开了个勉强混的猪肉铺。 “嗨，”她对他说，“那晚上你把我骂了个够，因为我有事要跟你说，我不记恨又来啦。我就要结婚安家了。有件事，你可得帮忙；我替你忙活过了，这个情你得还。” “只要你滚了，我干什么都行。” “那好吧。我马上去找我那个小伙子。我怕他胡来，得把他带家里来。回来得晚，今儿晚上我要你办的，就是别闩门，我大概要在这儿睡。” “我就想得到，没几天你就腻了，在外边混不下去啦！” “好啦——别闩门，我就是这句话。” 她紧接着往外跑，先奔到裘德的住处，弄明白他的确没回来，然后开始搜寻他。她灵机一动，猜到他大概去向，就直奔裘德从前常照顾的那个酒馆，她在那儿也干过几天女招待。她一开“包间”的门，就看到他——在厢座后首的灯影里坐着，两眼无神，盯着地上。他刚喝的啤酒没别的酒劲大。他并没朝她望，于是她走进去，往他旁边一坐。 裘德抬头一看，一点也不觉着怪地说，‘你是来喝点吧，阿拉贝拉？……我正恨不得把她忘了呢；非这样不可啊！可是我办不到啊！我要回家啦。”她知道他稍微有点醉，不过也就是那么一点，不怎么样。 “我来就是为找到你呀，亲爱的孩子。你身体不舒服。这会儿你该喝点比这好的。”阿拉贝拉朝女招待往上一伸指头。“你得来点利古酒，有学问的人喝这个比喝啤酒更对路。你还可以来马拉奇诺，也可以要干古拉索、甜古拉索，要樱桃白兰地也行。” “我才不管什么酒呢！就来樱桃白兰地吧。……苏待我真坏啊，太坏啦。我可万没想到苏这样！我一直守住她，她也该守住我啊！我为她连灵魂都卖了，她可不肯狠下心为我卖一点啊！她为救自己的灵魂，宁可叫我灵魂下地狱哟！……不过这也不是她的过错啊，可怜的小姑娘哪——我敢说不是她的过错！” 阿拉贝拉究竟怎么弄到钱，这不清楚，反正她给他们各要了一杯利古酒；裘德呢，好像在这个五花八门的酒国里，有个老马识途的人给他指路，有点乐不可支的样子。阿拉贝拉喝起来老是落在他后边挺远的；不过他大口喝的时候，她尽管小口抿，还是多少以她完全不上脑子为限，可还是喝了不少，上了脸，红红的。 她那晚上对他一直甜言蜜语，温存体贴。只要他说出来，而又不断地说，“我才不在乎倒什么霉呢。”她就答话，“我可在乎啊。”酒馆关门时间到了，他们只好出去；阿拉贝拉乘势搂住他的腰，带着他摇摇晃晃往前走。 到了街上，阿拉贝拉说，“我可不知道，我要是把你这个样儿带回家，房东不定怎么说呢。我倒愿意咱们给关在外边，省得他下来开门让咱们进去了。” “我不知道——我不知道。” “你连个家都没有，这就糟透啦。我跟你说，裘德，咱们有个顶好的解决办法。就上我爸爸家里去——今儿个我算跟他讲和了。我能把你带进去，谁也看不见；明儿早上你人就回醒过来啦。” “怎么办都行——上哪儿都行。”裘德回答说。“这他妈的算得了什么？” 他们一块儿往前走，像一般喝醉的夫妇那样，她还是胳臂搂着他的腰，后来他也搂起她来了，当然并非半点出自爱意，只是因为他困倦，走不稳，得靠着东西。 “这——是殉教者——给烧死的地方呀。”他们拖拖拉拉地跨过一条很宽的大街时，他结结巴巴地说。“我记得——老弗勒那本《圣诫》里头——一过这儿——我就想起来啦——老弗勒在《圣诫》里头说，在黎德利上火刑那会儿——史密斯博士——就讲起道来啦，就拿这样的经文开篇啦——‘又舍己身叫人焚烧，却没有爱，仍然于我无益。’——我一到这儿，老是想起来。黎德利是个——” “对啦。一点不错。你这人思想才深呢，亲爱的，话说回来，这跟咱们这会儿的事儿可不相干哪。” “什么话，怎么不相干！我现在正舍身给人烧哪！可是——唉——你一点不懂啊！——这类事，只有苏才懂呢！我是她的诱奸者哟——可怜的小姑娘！她走啦——我也不管自己是什么下场啦！你想怎么收拾我都行！……可她做事是本着良心哪！可怜的小苏啊！” “去她的吧！——我是说，我觉着她做得对呢。”阿拉贝拉直打嗝。“我也有我的感情，跟她的一样；所以我觉着，老天爷眼里头，我就是你的人，不是别的什么人的，不到咱们死，不分开！俗话说——嗝——只要改——嗝——什么时候都不晚！” 他们到了她父亲的房子。她轻轻推开门，在屋里摸索着，找火柴。这会儿的情景同已经年深日久的那回进水芹峪小房子的情景简直没两样。阿拉贝拉的动机怕也没两样吧。尽管裘德没往这上面想，她可是想到了呢。 “我找不着火柴，亲爱的。”她闩k门以后说。“不过没关系——就这么走吧。你可千万别出声，来吧。” “真是黑咕隆咚啊。”裘德说。 “把手递给我，我领着你。就这样，就坐在这儿，我要给你脱靴子。我不想吵醒他。” “吵醒谁呀？” “爸爸。吵醒了，他大概要混闹一阵子呢。” 她给他脱了靴子。“哪，”她小声说，‘靠紧了我——别怕压得重。哪，一碰，两蹬——” “可是——咱们这是不是到那个靠着马利格林的老屋子呀？”迷迷糊糊的裘德问。“到现在多年啦，我没到过里头呢！嗨，我的书放在哪儿呀？我就是想知道。” “咱们是在我家里头，亲爱的，这儿谁也别想偷瞧你病成什么样儿。哪——三磴，四磴——好嘛，咱们就这样上去。” Part 6 Chapter 7 ARABELLA was preparing breakfast in the downstairs back room of this small, recently hired tenement of her father's. She put her head into the little pork-shop in front, and told Mr. Donn it was ready. Donn, endeavouring to look like a master pork-butcher, in a greasy blue blouse, and with a strap round his waist from which a steel dangled, came in promptly. "You must mind the shop this morning," he said casually. "I've to go and get some inwards and half a pig from Lumsdon, and to call elsewhere. If you live here you must put your shoulder to the wheel, at least till I get the business started!" "Well, for to-day I can't say." She looked deedily into his face. "I've got a prize upstairs." "Oh? What's that?" "A husband--almost." "No!" "Yes. It's Jude. He's come back to me." "Your old original one? Well, I'm damned!" "Well, I always did like him, that I will say." "But how does he come to be up there?" said Donn, humour-struck, and nodding to the ceiling. "Don't ask inconvenient questions, Father. What we've to do is to keep him here till he and I are--as we were." "How was that?" "Married." "Ah.... Well it is the rummest thing I ever heard of-- marrying an old husband again, and so much new blood in the world! He's no catch, to my thinking. I'd have had a new one while I was about it." "It isn't rum for a woman to want her old husband back for respectability, though for a man to want his old wife back--well, perhaps it is funny, rather!" And Arabella was suddenly seized with a fit of loud laughter, in which her father joined more moderately. "Be civil to him, and I'll do the rest," she said when she had recovered seriousness. "He told me this morning that his head ached fit to burst, and he hardly seemed to know where he was. And no wonder, considering how he mixed his drink last night. We must keep him jolly and cheerful here for a day or two, and not let him go back to his lodging. Whatever you advance I'll pay back to you again. But I must go up and see how he is now, poor deary." Arabella ascended the stairs, softly opened the door of the first bedroom, and peeped in. Finding that her shorn Samson was asleep she entered to the bedside and stood regarding him. The fevered flush on his face from the debauch of the previous evening lessened the fragility of his ordinary appearance, and his long lashes, dark brows, and curly back hair and beard against the white pillow completed the physiognomy of one whom Arabella, as a woman of rank passions, still felt it worth while to recapture, highly important to recapture as a woman straitened both in means and in reputation. Her ardent gaze seemed to affect him; his quick breathing became suspended, and he opened his eyes. "How are you now, dear?" said she. "It is I--Arabella." "Ah!--where--oh yes, I remember! You gave me shelter.... I am stranded--ill--demoralized--damn bad! That's what I am!" "Then do stay here. There's nobody in the house but father and me, and you can rest till you are thoroughly well. I'll tell them at the stoneworks that you are knocked up." "I wonder what they are thinking at the lodgings!" "I'll go round and explain. Perhaps you had better let me pay up, or they'll think we've run away?" "Yes. You'll find enough money in my pocket there." Quite indifferent, and shutting his eyes because he could not bear the daylight in his throbbing eye-balls, Jude seemed to doze again. Arabella took his purse, softly left the room, and putting on her outdoor things went off to the lodgings she and he had quitted the evening before. Scarcely half an hour had elapsed ere she reappeared round the corner, walking beside a lad wheeling a truck on which were piled all Jude's household possessions, and also the few of Arabella's things which she had taken to the lodging for her short sojourn there. Jude was in such physical pain from his unfortunate break-down of the previous night, and in such mental pain from the loss of Sue and from having yielded in his half-somnolent state to Arabella, that when he saw his few chattels unpacked and standing before his eyes in this strange bedroom, intermixed with woman's apparel, he scarcely considered how they had come there, or what their coming signalized. "Now," said Arabella to her father downstairs, "we must keep plenty of good liquor going in the house these next few days. I know his nature, and if he once gets into that fearfully low state that he does get into sometimes, he'll never do the honourable thing by me in this world, and I shall be left in the lurch. He must be kept cheerful. He has a little money in the savings bank, and he has given me his purse to pay for anything necessary. Well, that will be the licence; for I must have that ready at hand, to catch him the moment he's in the humour. You must pay for the liquor. A few friends, and a quiet convivial party would be the thing, if we could get it up. It would advertise the shop, and help me too." "That can be got up easy enough by anybody who'll afford victuals and drink.... Well yes--it would advertise the shop-- that's true." Three days later, when Jude had recovered somewhat from the fearful throbbing of his eyes and brain, but was still considerably confused in his mind by what had been supplied to him by Arabella during the interval-- to keep him, jolly, as she expressed it--the quiet convivial gathering, suggested by her, to wind Jude up to the striking point, took place. Donn had only just opened his miserable little pork and sausage shop, which had as yet scarce any customers; nevertheless that party advertised it well, and the Donns acquired a real notoriety among a certain class in Christminster who knew not the colleges, nor their works, nor their ways. Jude was asked if he could suggest any guest in addition to those named by Arabella and her father, and in a saturnine humour of perfect recklessness mentioned Uncle Joe, and Stagg, and the decayed auctioneer, and others whom he remembered as having been frequenters of the well-known tavern during his bout therein years before. He also suggested Freckles and Bower o' Bliss. Arabella took him at his word so far as the men went, but drew the line at the ladies. Another man they knew, Tinker Taylor, though he lived in the same street, was not invited; but as he went homeward from a late job on the evening of the party, he had occasion to call at the shop for trotters. There were none in, but he was promised some the next morning. While making his inquiry Taylor glanced into the back room, and saw the guests sitting round, card-playing, and drinking, and otherwise enjoying themselves at Donn's expense. He went home to bed, and on his way out next morning wondered how the party went off. He thought it hardly worth while to call at the shop for his provisions at that hour, Donn and his daughter being probably not up, if they caroused late the night before. However, he found in passing that the door was open, and he could hear voices within, though the shutters of the meat-stall were not down. He went and tapped at the sitting-room door, and opened it. "Well--to be sure!" he said, astonished. Hosts and guests were sitting card-playing, smoking, and talking, precisely as he had left them eleven hours earlier; the gas was burning and the curtains drawn, though it had been broad daylight for two hours out of doors. "Yes!" cried Arabella, laughing. "Here we are, just the same. We ought to be ashamed of ourselves, oughtn't we! But it is a sort of housewarming, you see; and our friends are in no hurry. Come in, Mr. Taylor, and sit down." The tinker, or rather reduced ironmonger, was nothing loath, and entered and took a seat. "I shall lose a quarter, but never mind," he said. "Well, really, I could hardly believe my eyes when I looked in! It seemed as if I was flung back again into last night, all of a sudden." "So you are. Pour out for Mr. Taylor." He now perceived that she was sitting beside Jude, her arm being round his waist. Jude, like the rest of the company, bore on his face the signs of how deeply he had been indulging. "Well, we've been waiting for certain legal hours to arrive, to tell the truth," she continued bashfully, and making her spirituous crimson look as much like a maiden blush as possible. "Jude and I have decided to make up matters between us by tying the knot again, as we find we can't do without one another after all. So, as a bright notion, we agreed to sit on till it was late enough, and go and do it off-hand." Jude seemed to pay no great heed to what she was announcing, or indeed to anything whatever. The entrance of Taylor infused fresh spirit into the company, and they remained sitting, till Arabella whispered to her father: "Now we may as well go." "But the parson don't know?" "Yes, I told him last night that we might come between eight and nine, as there were reasons of decency for doing it as early and quiet as possible; on account of it being our second marriage, which might make people curious to look on if they knew. He highly approved." "Oh very well: I'm ready," said her father, getting up and shaking himself. "Now, old darling," she said to Jude. "Come along, as you promised." "When did I promise anything?" asked he, whom she had made so tipsy by her special knowledge of that line of business as almost to have made him sober again--or to seem so to those who did not know him. "Why!" said Arabella, affecting dismay. "You've promised to marry me several times as we've sat here to-night. These gentlemen have heard you." "I don't remember it," said Jude doggedly. "There's only one woman-- but I won't mention her in this Capharnaum!" Arabella looked towards her father. "Now, Mr. Fawley be honourable," said Donn. "You and my daughter have been living here together these three or four days, quite on the understanding that you were going to marry her. Of course I shouldn't have had such goings on in my house if I hadn't understood that. As a point of honour you must do it now." "Don't say anything against my honour!" enjoined Jude hotly, standing up. "I'd marry the W---- of Babylon rather than do anything dishonourable! No reflection on you, my dear. It is a mere rhetorical figure--what they call in the books, hyperbole." "Keep your figures for your debts to friends who shelter you," said Donn. "If I am bound in honour to marry her--as I suppose I am-- though how I came to be here with her I know no more than a dead man--marry her I will, so help me God! I have never behaved dishonourably to a woman or to any living thing. I am not a man who wants to save himself at the expense of the weaker among us!" "There--never mind him, deary," said she, putting her cheek against Jude's. "Come up and wash your face, and just put yourself tidy, and off we'll go. Make it up with Father." They shook hands. Jude went upstairs with her, and soon came down looking tidy and calm. Arabella, too, had hastily arranged herself, and accompanied by Donn away they went. "Don't go," she said to the guests at parting. "I've told the little maid to get the breakfast while we are gone; and when we come back we'll all have some. A good strong cup of tea will set everybody right for going home." When Arabella, Jude, and Donn had disappeared on their matrimonial errand the assembled guests yawned themselves wider awake, and discussed the situation with great interest. Tinker Taylor, being the most sober, reasoned the most lucidly. "I don't wish to speak against friends," he said. "But it do seem a rare curiosity for a couple to marry over again! If they couldn't get on the first time when their minds were limp, they won't the second, by my reckoning." "Do you think he'll do it?" "He's been put upon his honour by the woman, so he med." "He'd hardly do it straight off like this. He's got no licence nor anything." "She's got that, bless you. Didn't you hear her say so to her father?" "Well," said Tinker Taylor, relighting his pipe at the gas-jet. "Take her all together, limb by limb, she's not such a bad-looking piece-- particular by candlelight. To be sure, halfpence that have been in circulation can't be expected to look like new ones from the mint. But for a woman that's been knocking about the four hemispheres for some time, she's passable enough. A little bit thick in the flitch perhaps: but I like a woman that a puff o' wind won't blow down." Their eyes followed the movements of the little girl as she spread the breakfast-cloth on the table they had been using, without wiping up the slops of the liquor. The curtains were undrawn, and the expression of the house made to look like morning. Some of the guests, however, fell asleep in their chairs. One or two went to the door, and gazed along the street more than once. Tinker Taylor was the chief of these, and after a time he came in with a leer on his face. "By Gad, they are coming! I think the deed's done!" "No," said Uncle Joe, following him in. "Take my word, he turned rusty at the last minute. They are walking in a very unusual way; and that's the meaning of it!" They waited in silence till the wedding-party could be heard entering the house. First into the room came Arabella boisterously; and her face was enough to show that her strategy had succeeded. "Mrs. Fawley, I presume?" said Tinker Taylor with mock courtesy. "Certainly. Mrs. Fawley again," replied Arabella blandly, pulling off her glove and holding out her left hand. "There's the padlock, see.... Well, he was a very nice, gentlemanly man indeed. I mean the clergyman. He said to me as gentle as a babe when all was done: 'Mrs. Fawley, I congratulate you heartily,' he says. 'For having heard your history, and that of your husband, I think you have both done the right and proper thing. And for your past errors as a wife, and his as a husband, I think you ought now to be forgiven by the world, as you have forgiven each other,' says he. Yes: he was a very nice, gentlemanly man. 'The Church don't recognize divorce in her dogma, strictly speaking,' he says: 'and bear in mind the words of the service in your goings out and your comings in: What God hath joined together let no man put asunder.' Yes: he was a very nice, gentlemanly man.... But, Jude, my dear, you were enough to make a cat laugh! You walked that straight, and held yourself that steady, that one would have thought you were going 'prentice to a judge; though I knew you were seeing double all the time, from the way you fumbled with my finger." "I said I'd do anything to--save a woman's honour," muttered Jude. "And I've done it!" "Well now, old deary, come along and have some breakfast." "I want--some--more whisky," said Jude stolidly. "Nonsense, dear. Not now! There's no more left. The tea will take the muddle out of our heads, and we shall be as fresh as larks." "All right. I've--married you. She said I ought to marry you again, and I have straightway. It is true religion! Ha--ha--ha!" 阿拉贝拉在她父亲新近租下的小房子楼下后间准备晚饭。她头探到前间肉铺，告诉邓恩先生饭做好了。邓恩立刻过来，他有意把自己打扮成宰猪老把式，穿着油腻腻的蓝褂子，腰上围着宽皮带，皮带上吊着磨刀用的钢杵子。 “你今儿上半天得照应铺子。”他顺口说。“我得上拉姆登办杂碎跟半个猪片子，还要上别处找人。你要是想在这儿呆下去，就得好好地卖力气，至少得到我把生意做开了才行。” “是嘛，今儿可办不到。”她盯着他看。“我楼上有个宝贝呢。” “哦，是什么东西？” “是个爷们——可以这么说。” “没影的事儿！” “真的。就是裘德，他又回我这儿来了。” “还是先头那个旧货吗？唉！真他妈丧气！” “我可一直喜欢他呢，这可不含糊。” “可他怎么到了那儿呀？”邓恩说，觉着怪有趣的，朝天花板点了点头。 “你别问叫人不好意思的问题吧，爸，咱们这会儿该干的就是想法留住他，别让他走，直到他跟我——跟我们俩从前一样——” “跟从前怎么样？” “结婚呗。” “啊哈……这可真是天底下没听过的怪事儿——跟从前的老公又结婚啦，可这会儿新鲜货不是多得很吗？我看这是个赔本买卖。我要干这样的事，准搞个新的。” “女人家要面子，要叫她前边男人回头，这没什么怪事不怪事的。男人可不然啦，再把从前的老婆弄回来，那就怪了——呃，那才是笑话呢！”阿拉贝拉不知怎么一来放声笑起来了，她父亲也跟着笑，不过笑得没那么厉害。 “你得对他客客气气的，剩下的事儿都归我办。”她说这话时变得一本正经。“他今儿早上跟我说他头疼得要炸开了，像是不知道自个儿在哪儿。昨儿晚上他杂七杂八喝了不少，也难怪这样。这一两天，他在这儿，咱们一定得让他开心，似醉不醉的，决不能让他回住的地方。别管花多少钱，你先垫上，我以后全还你。不过我这会儿得上楼瞧瞧他怎么样啦，可怜的乖乖！” 阿拉贝拉上了楼，把头一间卧室的门轻轻开了，偷偷往里看。原来她那位让人剪了头发的参孙还在熟睡，于是她走进去，站到床边，定睛看着他。他头天晚上因为喝得过量，所以脸上涨得鲜红，不像平常那么虚弱；他的长睫毛、深浓眉、黑鬈发、黑胡子，经白枕头一衬，真个是一表非凡。在阿拉贝拉这样淫邪成性的女人看来，觉得把他再弄上手还是划算的，何况她眼下既要顾生计，还要落个好名声，把他弄上手看来更是分外地重要。她的火热的注视似乎把他惊动了，他紧促的呼吸暂时停下来，跟着睁开了眼睛。 “你这会儿觉着怎么样，亲爱的？”她说。“是我呀——阿拉贝拉。” “哎呀——我是在哪儿呀——哦，对啦，对啦！你把我收留啦！……我没辙啦，病啦，堕落啦——我他妈的坏到底啦，就这样没得救啦！” “那就呆在这儿别走吧。家里头就有爸爸跟我，没别人，你可以好好养息，等身子完全好了再说。我到石作去，告诉那儿的人，说你累病了。” “我还不知道我住的那个地方，人家该怎么想呢！” “我绕到那儿，跟他们说明白就是了。也许顶好你让我把房租交了，要不然他们不是当咱们溜了吗？” “对。你就在我那儿的口袋里掏钱吧，足够用的。” 裘德对什么都不往心里去，又因为眼珠子抽动，受不了亮光刺激，就闭上眼睛，似乎又打盹了。阿拉贝拉拿了他的钱包，轻轻出了屋子，穿好出门的衣服，拿上该带的东西，就往她同他头天晚上离开的住处走去。 不到半个钟头，她又出现在街角上，一个小厮拉着辆货车，她跟在旁边走，车上堆着裘德的全部家当，还有几件是阿拉贝拉临时寄居带过去的。裘德不仅因为头天晚上那阵不幸的胡；司，浑身疼痛，而且因为失掉苏，因为在迷迷糊糊中受了阿拉贝拉的摆布，内心痛苦不堪，一看到自己为数很少的东西在这间奇怪的屋子里，放在自己眼前，还夹着些女人的衣物，他简直莫名其妙，闹不清它们究竟怎么来的，来了又究竟意味着什么。 “哪，”阿拉贝拉在楼下对她父亲说，“往后这几天，咱们得在家里备足了好酒。我知道他性子，他要是一无精打采起来，有时候他还真那样，他决不肯跟我办那件顶体面的事儿，那我就没得指望啦。咱们得老叫他高高兴兴才行。他在银行存了点钱，把钱包也交给我了，为的买日常用品好开支。呃，先得办结婚证；因为我得先把它准备好，趁他兴致好那会儿，让他上套儿。你得出酒钱。要是想大功告成的话，咱们就找几个朋友来聚聚，安安静静办个喜庆宴会。这一来给你铺子做了广告，我也如了愿啦。” “有得吃，有得喝，有人出钱，还有什么办不成的……呃，是啊——给铺子做广告，这倒是真格的。” 三天后，裘德从原来真有点怕人的眼珠和脑筋的抽动恢复过来了，不过因为那段时间阿拉贝拉向他提供的东西——她所谓叫他似醉非醉——他的思想还是乱成一团，而她打定主意要办的安安静静的喜庆宴会，借此把裘德逼上梁山，也就如期举行了。 邓恩的蹩脚的卖猪肉和腊肠的小铺子才开张，还没什么主顾，那次聚会确实帮它做成了广告，邓恩家在基督堂那个不知学院、学院工作和学院生活为何物的阶层中间可算是出了大名。阿拉贝拉和她父亲问裘德，除了他们要请的客人，他要不要再提点人出来，他心不在焉，半赌气半玩笑地提出了乔爷和司太格、年老力衰的拍卖商，还有他没忘的当年泡在那家著名酒馆时候认识的常年顾客。此外还提出麻点子和安乐窝。阿拉贝拉按他的意思请了男客，把女宾都勾掉了。 还有个他们认识的人，补锅匠泰勒，也住在那条街，不过没在邀请之列。偏巧宴会那晚上他干了晚班回家的路上，因为想要买猪蹄子，就到肉铺来了。邓恩回他没货，答应第二天上午有得卖。泰勒问话时瞄了瞄后间，只见客人们由邓恩出钱，团团坐着，喝酒，打牌，还干别的。他回家睡觉了，第二天早上在路上心里嘀咕那会散没散。他觉着，要是头天晚上闹得很晚，邓恩跟她女儿八成还没起来，这个辰光就到铺子去买他要的东西，未免不合适。没想到他路过的时候，门还开着，听得见里边叽叽咕咕说话，不过肉案的门面板没下掉。他走过去，敲敲起坐间的门，然后拉开门。 “喝——真够劲儿！”他说，一下子吓住了。 主客还坐着打牌，抽烟，聊天，跟十一个钟头之前他离开时候一模一样；汽灯点着，窗帘放着，可外边大天白日已经两个钟头了。 “是啊！”阿拉贝拉高声说，大笑着。“咱们这儿还连一点没改变哪。咱们真该害臊啦，对不对呀？可这是给新人暖房哪，瞧瞧吧；咱们的朋友才不慌不忙呢；请进吧，泰勒先生，请坐吧。” 补锅匠，或者说本是个倒了生意的铁器商，经这一让挺乐意，随即进门落座。“我这要耽误一刻钟了，不过没关系。”他说。“呃，说真的，我往里一瞧，简直不信自个儿的眼睛！仿佛猛孤丁地又把我甩回到昨儿晚上啦。” “你这样才好嘛。给泰勒先生上酒。” 他这才看出来她是坐在裘德旁边，拿胳臂搂着他的腰。裘德脸上分明带出来他也跟这伙人一样纵饮狂欢。 “呃，说实在的，我们俩正等着那个法律定的时辰哪，”她继续腼腼腆腆地说，脸喝得通红，尽量装得像个少女羞红了脸的样儿。“裘德跟我都觉着我们俩实在谁也离不开谁，决定重新和好，再结良缘。我们想到了这么个妙不可言的主意，愿意在这儿等着，等到晚上一过，到时候就去行婚礼。” 她究竟当众宣布了什么，看样子裘德是充耳不闻，还可以说他对眼前一切一概是视而不见，无所用心。泰勒一人座，大家的兴头来了，照样坐着。接着阿拉贝拉跟她父亲说：“咱们这会儿该去啦。” “可是牧师还不知道吧？” “知道啦，我昨晚上就关照他了，说八点到九点，咱们人就到了，因为要顾到体面，得尽早，不做声不做气的，我们俩都是回头婚，人家会觉着太稀奇，就赶来看热闹啦。他已经完全点头啦。” “哦，这挺好嘛；我是准备好啦。”他父亲说，站起来，活动活动身子。 “现在，老乖乖，”她对裘德说，“就按你答应的，咱们走吧。” “我答应什么啦，什么时候答应的？”他问。她呢，本来靠她干的那行专门学会的一手，先把他收拾得颠三倒四了，这会儿又要逗得他人清醒过来——或者说在那班不了解他的底细的人看来，他样儿还是清醒的呢。 “怎么！”阿拉贝拉说，假装吃惊的样子。“咱们今儿晚上坐在这儿，你不是好几回答应要我结婚吗？在座的各位先生都听见啦！” “我不记得啦。”裘德一着不让地说。“只有一个女人——在这个迦百农，我可不想提到她。” 阿拉贝拉对他父亲瞧着。“我说，福来先生，你可要顾惜名誉啊。”邓恩说。“你跟我女儿住在这儿三四天啦。你要跟她结婚大家都是心里有数啦，要是我没数，我怎么会容我家里头出这样的事儿。这事关名誉呀，你这会儿不认账可不行。” “你可别糟蹋我名誉！”裘德火辣辣拦住他的话，一边站起来。“我宁可跟巴比伦的淫妇结婚，也决不干什么不名誉的事儿！你可别多心，我的亲爱的，这不过是说话打个比方——书里头都管这叫夸张法。” “把你的比方收起来吧，用不着跟收留你的朋友说。你欠着他们的厚情呢。” “虽说我跟她上这儿来那会儿跟死人差不多，人事不知，要是为了名誉我得跟她结婚——我看我得跟她结的话，那我一定结，愿上帝保佑！我这辈子还没对女人或什么活物干过见不起人的事呢。有人为了救自己，就拿咱们里头女人当牺牲品，我可不是那类人！” “算啦——别跟他计较吧，亲亲。”她说，拿脸紧贴着他的脸。“上楼吧，洗洗脸，打扮打扮，然后咱们就走吧。跟爸爸讲和吧。” 两个男人握握手。裘德跟她上了楼，很快就下来了，显得衣饰整洁，神态平静。阿拉贝拉也匆匆打扮了一下，由邓恩陪着出了门。 “各位别走。”她离开时对客人说。“我嘱咐过小丫头，我们出去之后，由她做早饭；我们回来时候要吃点。各位来杯又好又酽的茶，保管神清气爽好回家。” 阿拉贝拉、裘德和邓恩为完成结婚大礼一走，聚在那儿的客人大打呵欠，把睡意差不多解掉了，于是兴致勃勃地谈起阿拉贝拉和裘德的情况。其中补锅匠泰勒算神志最清楚，因此有板有眼地讲出了一番道理： “我不想说朋友的怪话，”他说，“不过要是公母俩再结回婚，这事儿透着太稀奇、太少见啦！要是头一回那阵子，总还有点新鲜劲儿吧，他们俩还闹得别别扭扭，过不下去，我估摸这第二回也没辙。” “你看他肯不肯办呢？” “那女人拿名誉将他军，他大概只好办喽。” “他未必就能这样一下子办妥吧。他手里还没结婚证哪，啥都没有。” “她已经弄到手啦，伙计，你可真是的。你没听见她跟她爸爸这么说吗？” “呃，”补锅匠凑着汽灯又把烟袋点着了。“要是把她从头到脚、浑身上下一看，那模样还不能说赖——特别是在烛光边上瞧才是呢。讲真格的，街面上用的半便士哪比得了造币厂里才打好的新币呢。不过要拿一个东南西北闯荡过一阵子的女人说，她还真算过得去的。肋旁骨上的肉是嫌厚实了点，可我不喜欢那一阵风吹得倒的女人。” 他们的眼睛随着小姑娘转，她正在铺早饭用的桌布，桌上洒的酒印子连擦都没擦。窗帘拉开了，屋里也因此显出来早晨的气氛。但是有些客人在椅子上睡着了。有一两个人到门口几回，朝街上仔细张望。补锅匠泰勒是望街的主角，他又望了一回就进来了，朝大家做了个鬼脸。 “老天爷，他们来啦！我看是大事已毕喽！” “没那回事儿。”乔爷一边跟他进来，一边说。“信我的吧，他人到最后那分钟准又犯混了。他们那个走路样儿可特别呢，这还不说明白没成事嘛！” 他们没吱声地等着，直等到听见了结婚那对到家的声音。阿拉贝拉头一个进屋子，喜上眉梢，那神气足以说明她的谋略已经完全奏效了。 “福来太太喽，我斗胆说？”补锅匠泰勒说，装出彬彬有礼的样子。 “一点不错呀，又是福来太太啦，”阿拉贝拉和和气气地回答，褪下了手套，把左手一伸。“瞧，这不是戒箍吗？……呃，他这人可真够味儿，真有个派头啊。我这指的是牧师。行完礼，他就跟我说，口气跟个怀抱里的小娃娃似的，‘福来太太，我诚心诚意祝贺你，’他说，‘你前边的事儿，我听说过，他的也听说过，所以我认为你们现在办的事又正确又得体。讲到你从前做妻子的错失，他做丈夫的错失，现在不论谁，都应该像你们俩互谅互恕那样，谅解你们。’他说。不错不错，他这人真够味儿，真有个派头啊。‘严格地说吧，教会按教理是不承认离婚的，’他说：‘以后你们一出一人，一来一去，都得牢记行礼时的话：上帝玉成的婚姻，决不让人拆散。’不错不错，他这人真够味儿，真有个派头儿啊……可是，裘德，我的亲爱的，你那样儿真能叫泥菩萨胎都乐起来啦！你走起来那么个笔管条直，身子摆得那么个四平八稳，人家一看还当你学着当法官呢，不过我知道行礼前后，你眼睛看什么都是毛毛的，你一摸着找我的手指头，我就明白啦。” “我说过啦——为了给一个女人保住名誉，我什么都肯干。”裘德嘟囔着。“我不是说到做到嘛！” “这就行啦，老乖乖，过来吃点早饭吧。” “我想——再来点——威士忌。”裘德傻乎乎地说。 “瞎说，亲爱的。这会儿不行！威士忌全喝完了。一喝茶，咱们脑子里的酒渣就掏干净啦，咱们就跟百灵鸟一样精神抖擞啦。” “好吧。我已经娶了你啦。她说过我应该再把你娶回来，我已经干净利落地办完啦。这才叫真正的宗教哪！哈——哈——哈！” Part 6 Chapter 8 MICHAELMAS came and passed, and Jude and his wife, who had lived but a short time in her father's house after their remarriage, were in lodgings on the top floor of a dwelling nearer to the centre of the city. He had done a few days' work during the two or three months since the event, but his health had been indifferent, and it was now precarious. He was sitting in an arm-chair before the fire, and coughed a good deal. "I've got a bargain for my trouble in marrying thee over again!" Arabella was saying to him. "I shall have to keep 'ee entirely-- that's what 'twill come to! I shall have to make black-pot and sausages, and hawk 'em about the street, all to support an invalid husband I'd no business to be saddled with at all. Why didn't you keep your health, deceiving one like this? You were well enough when the wedding was!" "Ah, yes!" said he, laughing acridly. "I have been thinking of my foolish feeling about the pig you and I killed during our first marriage. I feel now that the greatest mercy that could be vouchsafed to me would be that something should serve me as I served that animal." This was the sort of discourse that went on between them every day now. The landlord of the lodging, who had heard that they were a queer couple, had doubted if they were married at all, especially as he had seen Arabella kiss Jude one evening when she had taken a little cordial; and he was about to give them notice to quit, till by chance overhearing her one night haranguing Jude in rattling terms, and ultimately flinging a shoe at his head, he recognized the note of genuine wedlock; and concluding that they must be respectable, said no more. Jude did not get any better, and one day he requested Arabella, with considerable hesitation, to execute a commission for him. She asked him indifferently what it was. "To write to Sue." "What in the name--do you want me to write to her for?" "To ask how she is, and if she'll come to see me, because I'm ill, and should like to see her--once again." "It is like you to insult a lawful wife by asking such a thing!" "It is just in order not to insult you that I ask you to do it. You know I love Sue. I don't wish to mince the matter-- there stands the fact: I love her. I could find a dozen ways of sending a letter to her without your knowledge. But I wish to be quite above-board with you, and with her husband. A message through you asking her to come is at least free from any odour of intrigue. If she retains any of her old nature at all, she'll come." "You've no respect for marriage whatever, or its rights and duties!" "What DOES it matter what my opinions are--a wretch like me! Can it matter to anybody in the world who comes to see me for half an hour--here with one foot in the grave! ... Come, please write, Arabella!" he pleaded. "Repay my candour by a little generosity!" "I should think NOT!" "Not just once?--Oh do!" He felt that his physical weakness had taken away all his dignity. "What do you want HER to know how you are for? She don't want to see 'ee. She's the rat that forsook the sinking ship!" "Don't, don't!" "And I stuck to un--the more fool I! Have that strumpet in the house indeed!" Almost as soon as the words were spoken Jude sprang from the chair, and before Arabella knew where she was he had her on her back upon a little couch which stood there, he kneeling above her. "Say another word of that sort," he whispered, "and I'll kill you-- here and now! I've everything to gain by it--my own death not being the least part. So don't think there's no meaning in what I say!" "What do you want me to do?" gasped Arabella. "Promise never to speak of her." "Very well. I do." "I take your word," he said scornfully as he loosened her. "But what it is worth I can't say." "You couldn't kill the pig, but you could kill me!" "Ah--there you have me! No--I couldn't kill you--even in a passion. Taunt away!" He then began coughing very much, and she estimated his life with an appraiser's eye as he sank back ghastly pale. "I'll send for her," Arabella murmured, "if you'll agree to my being in the room with you all the time she's here." The softer side of his nature, the desire to see Sue, made him unable to resist the offer even now, provoked as he had been; and he replied breathlessly: "Yes, I agree. Only send for her!" In the evening he inquired if she had written. "Yes," she said; "I wrote a note telling her you were ill, and asking her to come to-morrow or the day after. I haven't posted it yet." The next day Jude wondered if she really did post it, but would not ask her; and foolish Hope, that lives on a drop and a crumb, made him restless with expectation. He knew the times of the possible trains, and listened on each occasion for sounds of her. She did not come; but Jude would not address Arabella again thereon. He hoped and expected all the next day; but no Sue appeared; neither was there any note of reply. Then Jude decided in the privacy of his mind that Arabella had never posted hers, although she had written it. There was something in her manner which told it. His physical weakness was such that he shed tears at the disappointment when she was not there to see. His suspicions were, in fact, well founded. Arabella, like some other nurses, thought that your duty towards your invalid was to pacify him by any means short of really acting upon his fancies. He never said another word to her about his wish or his conjecture. A silent, undiscerned resolve grew up in him, which gave him, if not strength, stability and calm. One midday when, after an absence of two hours, she came into the room, she beheld the chair empty. Down she flopped on the bed, and sitting, meditated. "Now where the devil is my man gone to!" she said. A driving rain from the north-east had been falling with more or less intermission all the morning, and looking from the window at the dripping spouts it seemed impossible to believe that any sick man would have ventured out to almost certain death. Yet a conviction possessed Arabella that he had gone out, and it became a certainty when she had searched the house. "If he's such a fool, let him be!" she said. "I can do no more." Jude was at that moment in a railway train that was drawing near to Alfredston, oddly swathed, pale as a monumental figure in alabaster, and much stared at by other passengers. An hour later his thin form, in the long great-coat and blanket he had come with, but without an umbrella, could have been seen walking along the five-mile road to Marygreen. On his face showed the determined purpose that alone sustained him, but to which has weakness afforded a sorry foundation. By the up-hill walk he was quite blown, but he pressed on; and at half-past three o'clock stood by the familiar well at Marygreen. The rain was keeping everybody indoors; Jude crossed the green to the church without observation, and found the building open. Here he stood, looking forth at the school, whence he could hear the usual sing-song tones of the little voices that had not learnt Creation's groan. He waited till a small boy came from the school--one evidently allowed out before hours for some reason or other. Jude held up his hand, and the child came. "Please call at the schoolhouse and ask Mrs. Phillotson if she will be kind enough to come to the church for a few minutes." The child departed, and Jude heard him knock at the door of the dwelling. He himself went further into the church. Everything was new, except a few pieces of carving preserved from the wrecked old fabric, now fixed against the new walls. He stood by these: they seemed akin to the perished people of that place who were his ancestors and Sue's. A light footstep, which might have been accounted no more than an added drip to the rainfall, sounded in the porch, and he looked round. "Oh--I didn't think it was you! I didn't--Oh, Jude!" A hysterical catch in her breath ended in a succession of them. He advanced, but she quickly recovered and went back. "Don't go--don't go!" he implored. "This is my last time! I thought it would be less intrusive than to enter your house. And I shall never come again. Don't then be unmerciful. Sue, Sue! We are acting by the letter; and 'the letter killeth'!" "I'll stay--I won't be unkind!" she said, her mouth quivering and her tears flowing as she allowed him to come closer. "But why did you come, and do this wrong thing, after doing such a right thing as you have done?" "What right thing?" "Marrying Arabella again. It was in the Alfredston paper. She has never been other than yours, Jude--in a proper sense. And therefore you did so well--Oh so well!--in recognizing it-- and taking her to you again." "God above--and is that all I've come to hear? If there is anything more degrading, immoral, unnatural, than another in my life, it is this meretricious contract with Arabella which has been called doing the right thing! And you too--you call yourself Phillotson's wife! HIS wife! You are mine." "Don't make me rush away from you--I can't bear much! But on this point I am decided." "I cannot understand how you did it--how you think it-- I cannot!" "Never mind that. He is a kind husband to me--And I-- I've wrestled and struggled, and fasted, and prayed. I have nearly brought my body into complete subjection. And you mustn't--will you--wake--" "Oh you darling little fool; where is your reason? You seem to have suffered the loss of your faculties! I would argue with you if I didn't know that a woman in your state of feeling is quite beyond all appeals to her brains. Or is it that you are humbugging yourself, as so many women do about these things; and don't actually believe what you pretend to, and only are indulging in the luxury of the emotion raised by an affected belief?" "Luxury! How can you be so cruel!" "You dear, sad, soft, most melancholy wreck of a promising human intellect that it has ever been my lot to behold! Where is your scorn of convention gone? I WOULD have died game!" "You crush, almost insult me, Jude! Go away from me!" She turned off quickly. "I will. I would never come to see you again, even if I had the strength to come, which I shall not have any more. Sue, Sue, you are not worth a man's love!" Her bosom began to go up and down. "I can't endure you to say that!" she burst out, and her eye resting on him a moment, she turned back impulsively. "Don't, don't scorn me! Kiss me, oh kiss me lots of times, and say I am not a coward and a contemptible humbug-- I can't bear it!" She rushed up to him and, with her mouth on his, continued: "I must tell you--oh I must--my darling Love! It has been--only a church marriage--an apparent marriage I mean! He suggested it at the very first!" "How?" "I mean it is a nominal marriage only. It hasn't been more than that at all since I came back to him!" "Sue!" he said. Pressing her to him in his arms he bruised her lips with kisses: "If misery can know happiness, I have a moment's happiness now! Now, in the name of all you hold holy, tell me the truth, and no lie. You do love me still?" "I do! You know it too well! ... But I MUSTN'T do this! I mustn't kiss you back as I would!" "But do!" "And yet you are so dear!--and you look so ill----" "And so do you! There's one more, in memory of our dead little children-- yours and mine!" The words struck her like a blow, and she bent her head. "I MUSTN'T--I CAN'T go on with this!" she gasped presently. "But there, there, darling; I give you back your kisses; I do, I do! ... And now I'll HATE myself for ever for my sin!" "No--let me make my last appeal. Listen to this! We've both remarried out of our senses. I was made drunk to do it. You were the same. I was gin-drunk; you were creed-drunk. Either form of intoxication takes away the nobler vision.... Let us then shake off our mistakes, and run away together!" "No; again no! ... Why do you tempt me so far, Jude! It is too merciless! ... But I've got over myself now. Don't follow me--don't look at me. Leave me, for pity's sake!" She ran up the church to the east end, and Jude did as she requested. He did not turn his head, but took up his blanket, which she had not seen, and went straight out. As he passed the end of the church she heard his coughs mingling with the rain on the windows, and in a last instinct of human affection, even now unsubdued by her fetters, she sprang up as if to go and succour him. But she knelt down again, and stopped her ears with her hands till all possible sound of him had passed away. He was by this time at the corner of the green, from which the path ran across the fields in which he had scared rooks as a boy. He turned and looked back, once, at the building which still contained Sue; and then went on, knowing that his eyes would light on that scene no more. There are cold spots up and down Wessex in autumn and winter weather; but the coldest of all when a north or east wind is blowing is the crest of the down by the Brown House, where the road to Alfredston crosses the old Ridgeway. Here the first winter sleets and snows fall and lie, and here the spring frost lingers last unthawed. Here in the teeth of the north-east wind and rain Jude now pursued his way, wet through, the necessary slowness of his walk from lack of his former strength being insufficent to maintain his heat. He came to the milestone, and, raining as it was, spread his blanket and lay down there to rest. Before moving on he went and felt at the back of the stone for his own carving. It was still there; but nearly obliterated by moss. He passed the spot where the gibbet of his ancestor and Sue's had stood, and descended the hill. It was dark when he reached Alfredston, where he had a cup of tea, the deadly chill that began to creep into his bones being too much for him to endure fasting. To get home he had to travel by a steam tram-car, and two branches of railway, with much waiting at a junction. He did not reach Christminster till ten o'clock. 米迦勒节来了又去了，裘德和他的妻子再次结婚后，在她父亲家住的时间并不长，随后搬到离基督堂城中心较近的一所公寓顶层的房间。 婚后两三个月他只于过有限几天活，身体每况愈下，病情险恶。他坐在火边的扶手椅上，咳嗽得很厉害。 “我这回又跟你结了婚，算是做了笔倒霉生意。”阿拉贝拉正说给他听。“我以后只好一直养着你啦——以后的日子就是这样啦！我只好做血肠跟腊肠，上街吆喝着卖啦，全都为养活一个有病的男人，我又何必找这份罪受啊。你干吗不好好保养，这么坑人哪？结婚时候，你不是挺好嘛！” “啊，就是呀！”他说，气得只好苦笑着。“我一直想着咱们头回结婚之后，那会儿你跟我宰猪时候我那个糊涂想法，这会儿我觉着要是拿收抬那个畜牲的办法收抬我，那才是大恩大德哩。” 这是他们每天必来一回的对话。公寓的老板听说他们这一对非常古怪，疑心他们压根儿没结过婚，特别是有天晚上他看见阿拉贝拉因为一时有点回心转意，吻了裘德，疑心就更大了；他已经打算通知他们走人，后来他又在一天夜里偶然偷听到她叽哩咕噜数落裘德，临了还把一只鞋往他脑袋上摔，这才了然他们这样的确是结了婚的夫妇，认定他们还算是正派人，也就没再说什么。 裘德身体始终不见好。一天他吞吞吐吐地请阿拉贝拉替他办件事。她带搭不理地问什么事。 “给苏写封信。” “你凭什么要我替你——给她写信，想干什么？” “问问她近况，能不能来看看我，因为我病了，很想见她——再见一回。” “你叫我干这宗子事，你这不是侮辱正配夫人嘛！” “我就是因为不想侮辱你，才请你写。你也知道我爱苏。我不想瞒着你——事情是明摆着的。我也可以想出来十几种办法瞒着你，但是我很想对你，也对她丈夫完全做到光明磊落。托你写封信叫她来，怎么说也不算损人的阴招。要是她还是老脾气，她准会来。” “反正你对婚姻一点不尊重，什么婚姻的权利跟义务一点不在乎。” “我这样的可怜虫怎么个意思，有什么了不起的！谁来看我，半个钟头的事儿，根本碍不着谁——我这会儿都土埋半截啦！……劳你驾写一写吧，阿拉贝拉！”他央告着。“你就算认我还老实，就宽宏大量点吧！” “我就是不写！” “连一回都不写——哦，写吧！”他感到自己衰弱不堪，再顾不上脸面了。 “你让她来看你，究竟什么打算？她才不想来看你呢。她是隔岸观火，与己无关。” “别说啦，别说啦。” “我呢，死粘着你不撒开，就更傻啦！让那个婊子进家门，还得了！” 她这话差不多刚出口，裘德就从椅子上蹦起来，阿拉贝拉还来不及明白，他就把她头朝上背朝下按在旁边放的软榻上，两个膝头卡住她。 “你要是再说那样的话。”他小声说。“我就宰了你——一点不耽误！我宰了你，我就一了百了——我自己死也死得值了。你可别拿我的话不当回事。” “那你想叫我干什么？”阿拉贝拉气堵着说。 “不许你以后再说她，答应不答应？” “答应，不说啦！” “我信你的。”他一边松开她，一边口气轻蔑地说。“不过你的话算不算数，我还没法说。” “你宰不了猪，倒还想宰我！” “啊——你这算把我说准啦！是啊——我不会宰了你——就算真急了——也不一定把你宰了。你混骂好啦。” 跟着他剧烈地咳嗽起来，脸白得跟死人一样，一下又跌坐到椅子上。而她却以一个估价人的眼光忖度他的寿命。“要是你肯答应她在这儿的时候，我可以一直在旁边，”阿拉贝拉咕哝着，“那我就写。” 他生有不忍之仁，兼以渴望见到苏，纵使到了现在这种局面，虽然他已气昏了，可是他还是无法回绝她这个意见，于是他说，“我答应。只要你给她写信就行。” 晚上他问写了没有。 “写了，我写了个条子，说你病了，请她明后天来。还没寄出去。” 第二天，裘德纳闷信究竟寄没寄，不过也没问她。他的希望本属蠢不可及，犹如空中楼阁，风中游丝，可是因为他一心盼着苏来，整天折腾得坐立不安，心急如焚。他知道每班火车的大致时间，所以到时候，就倾耳细听她来了没来。 她没来；但是裘德也不想再跟阿拉贝拉过话。他把所有希望和心愿都放到第二天上；苏还是没露面；而且连个简单的复信也没有。裘德暗自琢磨，肯定阿拉贝拉信是写了，却根本没寄出去，从她的态度上也大致看得出来。他身体如此虚弱，阿拉贝拉不在眼前，他竟因失望而潸然泪下。他的猜疑实际上完全有道理。阿拉贝拉也跟另外一些护士没什么两样，认为对病人的责任固然是要用种种办法哄他们安心治病，至于他们有什么奇想妄念就大可不必去操心。 这之后，他对她一个字儿也没提过他的愿望或猜测，他暗暗下了决心，胸有成竹，守口如瓶。这个决心即使不能说给他增添了力量，也叫他心里踏实、安定。有一天，阿拉贝拉外出两个钟头，中午时分回来，一进屋子，就看见椅子空着。 她往床上一靠，又坐起来，细细想了想。“这家伙他妈的上哪儿去了？” 一上午，从东边过来的雨浙浙沥沥没个停，隔着窗户看得见屋檐在滴水。一个身患重病的人这时候不顾死活，硬往外跑，似乎不大可能。不过阿拉贝拉确实认为他人出去了，这没什么可疑惑的；一当她把整个屋子搜遍了，她这想法就成为确凿的事实了。“他这么个糊涂东西，就活该去受吧！”她说。“我管不了啦。” 裘德此刻却坐火车快到阿尔夫瑞顿了，身上裹得怪模怪样，脸白得像石膏像，别的旅客都盯着他看。一个钟头以后，可以瞧见他的瘦弱身形，穿着长大衣，裹着毯子，没打伞，顺着五英里长的大路，向马利格林走去。从他脸上的神情看得出来，他这一路全靠义无反顾的决心撑着；不过他病得这样厉害，这样的决心只有百害而无一利，实是可悲。上山时，他已筋疲力竭，可是他继续咬牙向前。三点半光景，他站在马利格林那口熟悉的井边。因为下雨，人人都呆在家里，裘德走过草地，到了教堂，没人看见；他发现教堂大门没关死，他站在那儿，望着前面的学校，居然听见了孩子们通常像唱歌一样的悦耳的朗读声，这样的童声是丝毫没领略过人生的苦涩的。 他等着，终于有个男孩从学校出来了——显然他是为了什么事，老师准许他提前离校。裘德朝他招招手，孩子就过来了。 “我想请你到老师家里去一下，问问费乐生太太还能抽空到教堂来一下。” 孩子去了，裘德听见他敲老师家的门。他自己先一步进了教堂。一切都是新的，只有几件从残砖剩瓦中拣出来的雕像安装在新墙壁上。他就在这些东西旁边站着，它们仿佛同原住此地、早经过世的他的祖先和苏的祖先有过血缘关系。 门廊上响起了轻轻的脚步声，轻到差不多跟雨滴声分辨不出来，他回头一看。 “没想到是你啊！没想到——哦，裘德！”她的呼吸歇斯底里地哽住了，连续硬了之后才缓过来。他朝她走去，但她很快恢复了常态，转身想走。 “别走——别走！”他央告着。“我这是最后一回啦！我考虑过了，到这儿来，不像上你们家那样莽撞。我以后再不来了。别那么无情无义吧，苏啊，苏啊！咱们现在一言一行都抠着法律字眼儿办哪，可是‘法律致人死’啊。” “我不走——我心里决不狠。”她答应他走过来，嘴唇颤动，泪如泉涌。“你干吗来啊？你不是做对了吗？干吗又做错事呢？” “做对了什么？” “跟阿拉贝拉又结了婚啊。阿尔夫瑞顿的报上登了。她压根儿就是你的人哪，裘德——这本是正理嘛。所以你这事办得太好啦——哦，太好啦！——你总算明白过来啦——又把她娶回去啦。” “老天爷呀——我上这儿来就是为听这一套吗？按我这辈子，要说我干了什么更下流、更无耻、更逆天违理的事，那就莫过于我跟阿拉贝拉订的嫖娼卖淫契约了，可你居然说我做对了！而你也——自称费乐生的妻子！他的妻子！你明明是我的妻子！” “你这不是一个劲儿赶我走吗——你这么胡说八道，我可受不了！反正这件事，我是站得住拿得稳的。” “我真不懂你这是怎么搞的——你这是怎么想出来的——真是不懂！” “这用不着你管。他是个有情有义的丈夫——我折腾过，挣扎过，斋戒过，祈祷过，总算信服得五体投地，别无杂念啦。你千万别——你想——唤醒我——” “哦，你这个亲爱的小傻瓜哟！你的理性跑哪儿去啦！仿佛你的整个推理能力全丧失啦！我既然知道你是有这样想法的女人，已经到了无理可喻的地步，那我又何必再枉费唇舌呢。不然的话，那你就是自欺欺人，跟好多女人如出一辙了。你装着信的那一套，实际上你一点也不信，你这不就是故作虔诚，恣意玩弄感情吗？” “玩弄感情，你怎么能这么损人！” “你的灵性本来是无限光明，我有幸深知，可是如今这灵性全毁了，成了叫人爱，叫人悲，叫人苦，叫人无限神伤的一堆破烂啦！你从前对习俗的蔑弃哪儿去啦？我呢，我可是坚持到底，宁折不弯啊！” “你这是逼我死呀，你简直是糟蹋我呀，裘德！你滚吧！”她立刻转身就走。 “我滚！我决不会再来见你。就算我还有气力来，我怎么也不来啦。苏啊，苏啊，你不配一个男人的爱情！” 她胸部开始一起一伏。“你这些话，我真听不下去啦！”她脱口而出，先注视他一下子，随即在冲动中转过身来。“别瞧不起我吧，别瞧不起我吧，哦，吻我吧，多多吻我吧，说我不是个胆小鬼吧，说我不是个下贱的骗子吧——我实在受不了啦！”她奔到他跟前，够着他，把嘴放在他嘴上，接着说，“我得告诉你——哦，得告诉你——我的至爱的爱人哪！那——充其极是个教堂里的婚姻——我是说做给人看的婚姻！他起先就这么表示的！” “到底是怎么回事呢？” “我是说那仅仅是有名无实的婚姻罢啦。打从我回到他那儿，一直是那么回事！” “苏啊！”他说，把她抱得紧紧的，吻得她嘴唇都疼了。“如果说，悲伤的心还能感到快乐，那我这会儿就顷刻有了快乐啦！哪，凭你认为神圣的一切，跟我说实话，别撒谎。你现在还真爱我吗？” “真爱！你自己不是清楚嘛！……不过我决不该这样爱啦！因为你吻我，我就回吻你，太不该啦！” “不过你得回吻哪！” “你还是那么招人疼——你病到这样——” “你也一样招人疼啊！好啦，再吻一回吧，纪念死了的孩子——你的，也是我的！” 她一听这话就像挨了狠狠一击，低了头。“我不该——我不能这样下去啦！”随即大口喘气。“不过，哪哪，亲亲；我回你吻，我回啦，回啦！……现在为我的罪过，我要一辈子痛恨自己啦！” “别这样——让我最后表表心迹吧。听着！咱们两个都是因为当时神志昏馈结了婚的。我是叫人灌醉了才干出来的。你也一样。我是叫金酒灌醉的，你是叫宗教信条迷醉的。都是沉醉不醒，形式不同，反正把咱们高尚的理想都给卷走了。……咱们就把自己的错误甩掉，一块儿逃走吧！” “不行，一百个不行；你引诱我，怎么到这地步啦，裘德！你做得太不仁不义啦！……不过我现在又清醒过来啦。别跟着我——别瞧我。可怜可怜我，让我走！” 她直朝教堂东头跑去，裘德听她的话没追过去。他没掉过头看，而是拿起刚才她没看见的那块毯子，径直出了教堂。就在他出了教堂那一刻，她听见他的咳嗽声同打在窗上的雨点声混在一起。而那人类固有的恻隐本能，纵使她那些戒律也禁锢不了，她一跃而起，仿佛想要追上去救护他。然而她却又跪倒在地，两手捂住耳朵，一直捂到再也听不到他的声音。 他那时走到草地边角上，小路从那儿穿过，延伸到他小时候赶老鸹的麦田。他又回头望了望苏隐身在内的教堂，心知自己决不会再看见那样的情景了。 维塞克斯郡从南到北，有些地方人了秋冬就很冷了，但是最冷的地方要数北风和东风呼啸而过的栋房子旁边低地的凸起处，大路正是从这儿横穿“山脊路”到阿尔夫瑞顿。那一带已经下过几场冻雨和雪，在地上冻住不化，而春天的雪也要好晚才融掉。裘德就在北边过来的凄风苦雨中从这儿赶路，浑身淋得湿透；由于他已经不像从前壮实，只好慢慢走，可这样就不足以维持身上的热气了。他走到里程碑那儿，尽管雨还下着，还是把毯子铺在地上，躺下来休息。在继续赶路之前，他过去摸了摸碑阴上自己刻的字。字还在，不过差不多让苔薛盖满了。他从原先竖着自己和苏的祖先受刑的绞架的地方走过去，下了山。 他到阿尔夫瑞顿已经天黑，峭寒逼人，砭肌刺骨。他空着肚子，实在受不了，莫奈何在镇上买了杯茶喝。要到家，他先得乘汽轨车，然后换坐两条支线的火车，还得在联络点上等老半天，到基督堂时候已经十点了。 |
| Part 6 Chapter 9 ON the platform stood Arabella. She looked him up and down. "You've been to see her?" she asked. "I have," said Jude, literally tottering with cold and lassitude. "Well, now you'd best march along home." The water ran out of him as he went, and he was compelled to lean against the wall to support himself while coughing. "You've done for yourself by this, young man," said she. "I don't know whether you know it." "Of course I do. I meant to do for myself." "What--to commit suicide?" "Certainly." "Well, I'm blest! Kill yourself for a woman." "Listen to me, Arabella. You think you are the stronger; and so you are, in a physical sense, now. You could push me over like a nine-pin. You did not send that letter the other day, and I could not resent your conduct. But I am not so weak in another way as you think. I made up my mind that a man confined to his room by inflammation of the lungs, a fellow who had only two wishes left in the world, to see a particular woman, and then to die, could neatly accomplish those two wishes at one stroke by taking this journey in the rain. That I've done. I have seen her for the last time, and I've finished myself--put an end to a feverish life which ought never to have been begun!" "Lord--you do talk lofty! Won't you have something warm to drink?" "No thank you. Let's get home." They went along by the silent colleges, and Jude kept stopping. "What are you looking at?" "Stupid fancies. I see, in a way, those spirits of the dead again, on this my last walk, that I saw when I first walked here!" "What a curious chap you are!" "I seem to see them, and almost hear them rustling. But I don't revere all of them as I did then. I don't believe in half of them. The theologians, the apologists, and their kin the metaphysicians, the high-handed statesmen, and others, no longer interest me. All that has been spoilt for me by the grind of stern reality!" The expression of Jude's corpselike face in the watery lamplight was indeed as if he saw people where there was nobody. At moments he stood still by an archway, like one watching a figure walk out; then he would look at a window like one discerning a familiar face behind it. He seemed to hear voices, whose words he repeated as if to gather their meaning. "They seem laughing at me!" "Who?" "Oh--I was talking to myself! The phantoms all about here, in the college archways, and windows. They used to look friendly in the old days, particularly Addison, and Gibbon, and Johnson, and Dr. Browne, and Bishop Ken" "Come along do! Phantoms! There's neither living nor dead hereabouts except a damn policeman! I never saw the streets emptier." "Fancy! The Poet of Liberty used to walk here, and the great Dissector of Melancholy there!" "I don't want to hear about 'em! They bore me." "Walter Raleigh is beckoning to me from that lane--Wycliffe-- Harvey--Hooker--Arnold--and a whole crowd of Tractarian Shades" "I DON'T WANT to know their names, I tell you! What do I care about folk dead and gone? Upon my soul you are more sober when you've been drinking than when you have not!" "I must rest a moment," he said; and as he paused, holding to the railings, he measured with his eye the height of a college front. "This is old Rubric. And that Sarcophagus; and Up that lane Crozier and Tudor: and all down there is Cardinal with its long front, and its windows with lifted eyebrows, representing the polite surprise of the university at the efforts of such as I." "Come along, and I'll treat you!" "Very well. It will help me home, for I feel the chilly fog from the meadows of Cardinal as if death-claws were grabbing me through and through. As Antigone said, I am neither a dweller among men nor ghosts. But, Arabella, when I am dead, you'll see my spirit flitting up and down here among these!" "Pooh! You mayn't die after all. You are tough enough yet, old man." It was night at Marygreen, and the rain of the afternoon showed no sign of abatement. About the time at which Jude and Arabella were walking the streets of Christminster homeward, the Widow Edlin crossed the green, and opened the back door of the schoolmaster's dwelling, which she often did now before bedtime, to assist Sue in putting things away. Sue was muddling helplessly in the kitchen, for she was not a good housewife, though she tried to be, and grew impatient of domestic details. "Lord love 'ee, what do ye do that yourself for, when I've come o' purpose! You knew I should come." "Oh--I don't know--I forgot! No, I didn't forget. I did it to discipline myself. I have scrubbed the stairs since eight o'clock. I MUST practise myself in my household duties. I've shamefully neglected them!" "Why should ye? He'll get a better school, perhaps be a parson, in time, and you'll keep two servants. 'Tis a pity to spoil them pretty hands." "Don't talk of my pretty hands, Mrs. Edlin. This pretty body of mine has been the ruin of me already!" "Pshoo--you've got no body to speak of! You put me more in mind of a sperrit. But there seems something wrong to-night, my dear. Husband cross?" "No. He never is. He's gone to bed early." "Then what is it?" "I cannot tell you. I have done wrong to-day. And I want to eradicate it.... Well--I will tell you this--Jude has been here this afternoon, and I find I still love him--oh, grossly! I cannot tell you more." "Ah!" said the widow. "I told 'ee how 'twould be!" "But it shan't be! I have not told my husband of his visit; it is not necessary to trouble him about it, as I never mean to see Jude any more. But I am going to make my conscience right on my duty to Richard--by doing a penance--the ultimate thing. I must!" "I wouldn't--since he agrees to it being otherwise, and it has gone on three months very well as it is." "Yes--he agrees to my living as I choose; but I feel it is an indulgence I ought not to exact from him. It ought not to have been accepted by me. To reverse it will be terrible--but I must be more just to him. O why was I so unheroic!" "What is it you don't like in him?" asked Mrs. Edlin curiously. "I cannot tell you. It is something ... I cannot say. The mournful thing is, that nobody would admit it as a reason for feeling as I do; so that no excuse is left me." "Did you ever tell Jude what it was?" "Never." "I've heard strange tales o' husbands in my time," observed the widow in a lowered voice. "They say that when the saints were upon the earth devils used to take husbands' forms o' nights, and get poor women into all sorts of trouble. But I don't know why that should come into my head, for it is only a tale.... What a wind and rain it is to-night! Well-- don't be in a hurry to alter things, my dear. Think it over." "No, no! I've screwed my weak soul up to treating him more courteously-- and it must be now--at once--before I break down!" "I don't think you ought to force your nature. No woman ought to be expected to." "It is my duty. I will drink my cup to the dregs!" Half an hour later when Mrs. Edlin put on her bonnet and shawl to leave, Sue seemed to be seized with vague terror. "No--no--don't go, Mrs. Edlin," she implored, her eyes enlarged, and with a quick nervous look over her shoulder. "But it is bedtime, child." "Yes, but--there's the little spare room--my room that was. It is quite ready. Please stay, Mrs. Edlin!--I shall want you in the morning." "Oh well--I don't mind, if you wish. Nothing will happen to my four old walls, whether I be there or no." She then fastened up the doors, and they ascended the stairs together. "Wait here, Mrs. Edlin," said Sue. "I'll go into my old room a moment by myself." Leaving the widow on the landing Sue turned to the chamber which had been hers exclusively since her arrival at Marygreen, and pushing to the door knelt down by the bed for a minute or two. She then arose, and taking her night-gown from the pillow undressed and came out to Mrs. Edlin. A man could be heard snoring in the room opposite. She wished Mrs. Edlin good-night, and the widow entered the room that Sue had just vacated. Sue unlatched the other chamber door, and, as if seized with faintness, sank down outside it. Getting up again she half opened the door, and said "Richard." As the word came out of her mouth she visibly shuddered. The snoring had quite ceased for some time, but he did not reply. Sue seemed relieved, and hurried back to Mrs. Edlin's chamber. "Are you in bed, Mrs. Edlin?" she asked. "No, dear," said the widow, opening the door. "I be old and slow, and it takes me a long while to un-ray. I han't unlaced my jumps yet." "I--don't hear him! And perhaps--perhaps --" "What, child?" "Perhaps he's dead!" she gasped. "And then--I should be FREE, and I could go to Jude! ... Ah--no--I forgot HER--and God!" "Let's go and hearken. No--he's snoring again. But the rain and the wind is so loud that you can hardly hear anything but between whiles." Sue had dragged herself back. "Mrs. Edlin, good-night again! I am sorry I called you out." The widow retreated a second time. The strained, resigned look returned to Sue's face when she was alone. "I must do it--I must! I must drink to the dregs!" she whispered. "Richard!" she said again. "Hey--what? Is that you, Susanna?" "Yes." "What do you want? Anything the matter? Wait a moment." He pulled on some articles of clothing, and came to the door. "Yes?" "When we were at Shaston I jumped out of the window rather than that you should come near me. I have never reversed that treatment till now-- when I have come to beg your pardon for it, and ask you to let me in." "Perhaps you only think you ought to do this? I don't wish you to come against your impulses, as I have said." "But I beg to be admitted." She waited a moment, and repeated, "I beg to be admitted! I have been in error--even to-day. I have exceeded my rights. I did not mean to tell you, but perhaps I ought. I sinned against you this afternoon." "How?" "I met Jude! I didn't know he was coming. And----" "Well?" "I kissed him, and let him kiss me." "Oh--the old story!" "Richard, I didn't know we were going to kiss each other till we did!" "How many times?" "A good many. I don't know. I am horrified to look back on it, and the least I can do after it is to come to you like this." "Come--this is pretty bad, after what I've done! Anything else to confess?" "No." She had been intending to say: "I called him my darling love." But, as a contrite woman always keeps back a little, that portion of the scene remained untold. She went on: "I am never going to see him any more. He spoke of some things of the past: and it overcame me. He spoke of--the children. But, as I have said, I am glad-- almost glad I mean--that they are dead, Richard. It blots out all that life of mine!" "Well--about not seeing him again any more. Come--you really mean this?" There was something in Phillotson's tone now which seemed to show that his three months of remarriage with Sue had somehow not been so satisfactory as his magnanimity or amative patience had anticipated. "Yes, yes!" "Perhaps you'll swear it on the New Testament?" "I will." He went back to the room and brought out a little brown Testament. "Now then: So help you God!" She swore. "Very good!" "Now I supplicate you, Richard, to whom I belong, and whom I wish to honour and obey, as I vowed, to let me in." "Think it over well. You know what it means. Having you back in the house was one thing--this another. So think again." "I have thought--I wish this!" "That's a complaisant spirit--and perhaps you are right. With a lover hanging about, a half-marriage should be completed. But I repeat my reminder this third and last time." "It is my wish! ... O God!" "What did you say 'O God' for?" "I don't know!" "Yes you do! But ..." He gloomily considered her thin and fragile form a moment longer as she crouched before him in her night-clothes. "Well, I thought it might end like this," he said presently. "I owe you nothing, after these signs; but I'll take you in at your word, and forgive you." He put his arm round her to lift her up. Sue started back. "What's the matter?" he asked, speaking for the first time sternly. "You shrink from me again?--just as formerly!" "No, Richard--I I--was not thinking----" "You wish to come in here?" "Yes." "You still bear in mind what it means?" "Yes. It is my duty!" Placing the candlestick on the chest of drawers he led her through the doorway, and lifting her bodily, kissed her. A quick look of aversion passed over her face, but clenching her teeth she uttered no cry. Mrs. Edlin had by this time undressed, and was about to get into bed when she said to herself: "Ah--perhaps I'd better go and see if the little thing is all right. How it do blow and rain!" The widow went out on the landing, and saw that Sue had disappeared. "Ah! Poor soul! Weddings be funerals 'a b'lieve nowadays. Fifty-five years ago, come Fall, since my man and I married! Times have changed since then!" 月台上站着阿拉贝拉。她上上下下地打量着他。 “你算是见过她啦？”她问。 “见过啦。”裘德说，他又冷又累，简直站不住了。 “行啊，那你就撒开腿把家回吧。” 他一走动，身上直往下淌水；跟着咳嗽起来，只好靠着墙，撑住自己。 “小伙子，你这是作死啊。”她说。“我纳闷你知道不知道？” “当然知道。我就是作死。” “怎么——想自杀？” “一点不错。” “唉，该算我倒了霉！为个女人，你居然肯自杀。” “你听着，阿拉贝拉。你自以为比我强，讲体力，你的确比我强。你能一下子就把我撂倒。前几天你没把信寄走，对你这样的行为，我很气，可是无可奈何。不过掉个角度看，我可不像你想的那么弱。我已经想透了，一个男人害肺病，弄得足不出户，这家伙只剩下两个心愿：他要去见一个与众不同的女人，然后死了拉倒。他在雨里出趟远门，岂不是于干脆脆，一举两得，偿了心愿。我就这么干了，最后见了她一面，也了掉自己——把这条害痨病的命送掉。这条命原本不该生下来。” “天哪——你还真能说大话！你是不是来点热的喝喝？” “谢谢，不必啦。咱们就回家吧。” 他们一路走过了一座座阒无声息的学院，裘德老是走走停停。 “你这会儿净瞧什么？” “见到鬼啦。我从前头一回在这儿走，就瞧见了那些死人的魂灵，这会儿走最后一回，好像又瞧见它们啦。” “你这家伙可真怪！” “我好像瞧见他们了，好像听见他们窸窸窣窣的声音了。不过我现在可不像从前崇拜他们那帮子了。他们里头总有一半，我是一点也不信了。什么神学家、护教派、他们的近亲玄学派、强悍的政治家等等，再也引不起我的兴趣来。严酷的现实这块磨盘替我把所有这些人物都碾碎了。” 在带着水汽的灯光下，裘德脸上那种僵死般的表情的确像在没人的地方见到了人。好几回他在拱廊边上站着不动，就像看见什么人走过来，接着又对一扇窗户望，似乎想在窗户后面找到一个熟捻的面孔。他又像听到了说话声；自己把那些话说了又说，似乎想弄懂他们的意思。 “他们好像都在笑我哪！” “谁呀？” “哎——我这是跟自个儿说话呀！鬼全凑在一块儿啦，拱廊里头、窗户里头都是。想当年他们透着多友好啊，特别是艾逖生、吉本、约翰生、布朗博士，克恩主教——” “走你的吧！什么鬼不鬼的！这儿前后左右没活的，也没死的，就他妈个警察！我还没瞧见过街上这么冷冷清清没个人呢！” “想想瞧啊！那位沤歌自由的诗人从前老在这儿徘徊，那位了不起的忧郁病的剖析大家就在那边！” “你别跟我啰嗦这些，腻死我啦！” “沃尔特•罗利正在那个巷子对我招手呢——威克利夫——哈维——胡克尔——安诺德——好多个讲册派鬼魂——” “我跟你说，我不想听那些名字！我干吗管死人？我敢起誓，你没完没了喝酒的时候，脑子比你不喝的时候还清楚点！” “我得歇会儿啦，”他说，停下来，手抓着栏杆，眼睛对着一座座学院的正面，测算它们的高度。“这是丹书；那是石棺；顺那个巷子往前就是权杖和都锋；再往前一直走，就是红衣主教，正面很宽，它的窗媚全往上挑着，表示大学一看到居然有我这样努力向学的人，不禁文诌诌惊讶起来。” “跟我来吧，我来请你的客！” “好哇！那就可以帮我走到家啦，因为这会儿我觉着红衣主教大草场那边吹过来的冷雾跟死神利爪似地钳得我紧紧的。死死的。我就跟安提戈尼说的一样，我人里不算人，鬼里不算鬼。不过，阿拉贝拉，我一死了，你就瞧得见我的魂儿在那群魂儿里头飘上飘下的。” “屁话！照这样你还有得活呢。你的劲儿还足得很，老伙计。” 马利格林已经入夜，从下午起，雨势未见减弱。大致在裘德和阿拉贝拉在基督堂街上往家走的时候，艾林寡妇穿过草地，开了小学教师住宅的后门，她常常这样，在就寝前来帮苏收拾东西。 苏在厨房里忙东忙西，手脚不停，不知怎么好，虽然她一心想当个好当家的，可是她办不到，而且开始对琐碎的家务事感到厌烦。 “老天爷，你这是怎么啦，你干吗自个儿干哪，我不是为这个才来嘛！你又不是不知道我要来。” “哦——我不知道——我忘啦！——不对，不是忘了，我没忘！我这是家务事练练手。我八点以后就把楼梯擦了。家务事，我得尽本分，得练出来。我不能不管不顾的，叫人看不上眼！” “你这是怎么啦？他以后大概搞得到好点学校干，说不定到时候还当上牧师呢，那样你就有两个仆人好使唤呢。你这双好看的手要是糟蹋了，太可惜啦。” “你别提我手好看吧，艾林太太。我这好看的肉身还不是成了祸根吗？” “胡说——你别说什么肉身不肉身的。我心眼里头，你是个精灵啊。不过你今儿晚上显着有点不对劲儿，亲爱的。爷们找碴儿吗？” “没有，他向来不找碴儿。他老早就睡啦。我今天做了错事，非得连根拔不可……好吧，我得告诉你——裘德下午来过啦，我觉着我还是爱他——哦，大错特错啊！我真没法跟你往下说啦。” “啊！”寡妇说。“我不是跟你说过早晚还是这么回事嘛！” “不过总不该那样啊！我还没跟我丈夫提他来过；因为我以后决不会再跟裘德见面，我拿这件事烦他就不必了。不过按我对里查的本分，我还是要做到问心无愧才行——我要表示回心转意——就那么一件事啦。我得那样才行。” “我看你可不能那样——因为他答应过你怎么都行，再说这三个月过来不是挺好嘛！” “不错——他答应过我按自己意思过；可是我觉着硬强着他听我的，未免太出格了。我不该那么接受下来。要是全变过来，那一定很可怕——不过我应该对他公平点。唉，我怎么这么胆小如鼠啊！” “究竟他什么地方，你不喜欢呢？”艾林太太好奇地问。 “这不好跟你说。总有点事情……不好说，顶叫人烦恼不过的是，别管我自个儿觉着怎么样，人家反正认为你毫无道理，所以就是我再有理，也有口难分了。” “这事儿，你以前跟裘德说过没有？” “绝对没有。” “我年轻时候听人讲过爷们的奇怪事儿。”寡妇压低了声音，煞有介事地说。“他们说，世间一有圣人在，邪鬼到晚上就托在爷们身上，这样那样把个可怜的人揉搓得不得了。这会儿我也不明白怎么一下子想起来了，总因为是个传说吧。今儿晚上又刮风又下雨，真厉害！呃——你可别急急忙忙变卦呀，亲爱的。你可得好好想想。” “不行，不行！我已经硬逼着我这没出息的软骨头对他要以礼相待啦——现在只好这样啦——马上就办——乘着我还没垮下来！” “我看你千万别拗着性子来。哪个女人也不该这样。” “这是我的本分哪。我要把苦酒喝干了才罢休。” 半个钟头以后，艾林太太戴好帽子，披上围巾要走了，苏好像感到了莫名的恐惧。 “别——别——别走，艾林太太。”她央告着，眼睛睁得老大，迅速而又紧张地朝她身后望。 “可是到睡觉时候啦，孩子。” “是到了，不过这儿还有间小屋子空着——是我自个儿的屋子。里头什么都齐全。请你留下来吧，艾林太太！——明天早晨我要你在。” “哦，呃——你愿意这样，我倒没问题，反正我那个穷家破业老屋子出不了漏子。” 跟着她把门都关紧了，她们一块儿上了楼。 “你就在这儿等等，艾林太太，”苏说，“我一个人上我老屋子里去一下。” 苏让寡妇呆在楼梯平台上，自己转身进了她到马利格林以来一直归她独用的卧室；她把门关好了，就在床边跪倒，大概一两分钟光景；然后站起来，拿起枕头上的睡衣换上，又出去找艾林太太。这时可以听得见对面卧室里一个男人的鼾声。她向艾林太太道了晚安，寡妇就进了她刚让出来的屋子。 苏刚拉起另一间卧室的门搭子，一阵晕，一屁股坐到了门外地上。她又站起来，然后把门开了一半，说了声“里查”；话一出口，显然浑身哆嗦了一下。 鼾声停了一阵子，可是他没答话。苏似乎心放下来了，赶忙回到艾林太太的卧室。“你睡啦，艾林太太？”她问。 “还没呢，亲爱的，”寡妇说，把门开了。“老啦，手脚不灵便啦，光脱衣服就得老半天。我紧身还没解开呢。” “我——没听见他说话！也许——也许——” “也许什么，孩子？” “也许死了吧！”她上气不接下气地说。“那一来——我可就解脱啦，我就能上裘德那儿去啦！……唉——不行啊——我把她给忘啦——把上帝给忘啦！” “咱们听听去吧。不对——他还打呼噜呢。不过风大、雨大。唿啦唿啦的，两下搀合到一块儿，你就不大听得出来了。” 苏勉勉强强地往后退。“艾林太太，我再道声晚安。又把你叫出来，太对不起啦。”寡妇第二次回到屋里。 苏一个人的时候，脸上又恢复了极为紧张、一拼到底的神情。“我不这样不行——不这样不行！我不喝完这苦酒决不行。”她小声说。“里查！”她又喊了声。 “哎——什么？是你吗，苏珊娜？” “是我。” “你要干什么？有事吗？等一下。”他顺手抄起一件衣服穿上，走到门口。“有事吗？” “从前咱们住在沙氏顿的时候，我不想让你沾我，我宁可跳楼。到这会儿，我还是这么对你，没变过来——我现在来是为了前边的事求你原谅，求你让我进屋里去。” “你大概是一时间想到该这样办吧？我早说过了，我并不想让你拗着本心上我这儿来。” “可我这是来求你让我进去。”她稍停了停，又说了一遍。“我这是来求你让我进去！我错到如今了——何况今天又做了错事。我越轨啦。我本来不打算跟你说，但是我还是得说。今天下午，我做了对不起你的事。” “怎么啦？” “我见到裘德啦！我原先不知道他要到这儿来。还——” “呃？” “我吻了他，还让他吻了我。” “哦——老戏一出嘛！” “里查，我怎么也没想到我跟他会接吻，后来可真这样啦！” “吻了多少回？” “好多好多回。我也搞不清了。我回头再一想，真是毛骨悚然。事情一过去，我起码得像现在这样上你这儿来。” “唉——我总算尽力而为，对得起你了，这一来就太不成话啦！还有什么要坦白吗？” “没啦！”她心里一直想说“我还叫他亲爱的情人来着”。可是她也跟那种悔罪的女人一样，总是留一手，并没把这部分真情道出来。她接着说，“往后我是绝对不再见他了。他提到些从前的事情，我就把持不住了。他提到——孩子。不过，我以前说过了，他们死了，我倒高兴——我意思是简直有点高兴，里查。因为那么一来，我那段生活就给抹掉啦！” “呃——往后不再见他。哈——你真有这个意思？”费乐生这会儿说话的口气多少流露出不满，因为他感到同她再次结婚以来三个月，他这么宽宏大量，或者说抑情制欲，并没得到好报。 “是这个意思，是这个意思！” “恐怕你得按着《新约》立誓，行不行？” “我立誓。” 他回身进了屋子，又拿着一本棕皮小本《新约》出来。“现在立吧：愿上帝助你！” 她立了誓。 “很好！” “照我从前结婚起的誓，里查，我属于你，我愿敬重你、服从你，现在我恳求你让我进去。” “你得好好考虑考虑。这样做有什么意义，你不是不知道。我要你回这个家是一码事——可叫你进来又另一码事。所以你还是想想吧。” “我想过了——我就想这样！” “这倒是一心讨人喜欢喽——说不定你做对了。有个情人老在旁边打转转，半拉个婚姻成什么话，总得地地道道、圆圆满满才成哪。不过我还是得提醒你，这是第三次，也是最后一次。” “这是我心甘情愿！……哦，上帝哟！” “你干吗说“我，上帝哟！’？” “我不知道！” “你就是知道！不过……”她穿着睡衣，在他面前蜷缩着，他阴沉地审视她那纤弱的身形。“呃，我也想过，事情大概是这么个结局。”他随即这样说。“在你种种表现之后，我是不欠你什么情了。不过你说了这些话，我还是要信你的，而且原谅你。” 他抱住她，把她举高。苏吓得一缩。 “怎么回事？”他头一回疾颜厉色地说话。“你还是躲我？——跟从前一样？” “不是，里查——我——我——没想到——” “你不是自愿上我这儿来吗？” “是。 “你没忘这样做有什么意义吗？” “没忘。这是我的本分。” 他把烛台放在五斗橱上，带着她穿过门廊，把她举高了，吻她。她脸上立刻冒出来极为厌恶的表情，但是她咬紧牙关，一声没吭。 艾林太太此刻已脱了衣服，就要上床睡了。她自言自语：“啊——也许我顶好还是看看这小东西怎么样啦。风多大，雨多大哟！” 寡妇出了屋子，走到楼梯平台，一看苏已不在。“唉，可怜的乖乖呀！我看这年头婚礼成了丧礼啦！一到秋天，我跟我那口子结婚就五十五年啦！打那时候，世道人心可大变啦！” Part 6 Chapter 10 DESPITE himself Jude recovered somewhat, and worked at his trade for several weeks. After Christmas, however, he broke down again. With the money he had earned he shifted his lodgings to a yet more central part of the town. But Arabella saw that he was not likely to do much work for a long while, and was cross enough at the turn affairs had taken since her remarriage to him. "I'm hanged if you haven't been clever in this last stroke!" she would say, "to get a nurse for nothing by marrying me!" Jude was absolutely indifferent to what she said, and indeed, often regarded her abuse in a humorous light. Sometimes his mood was more earnest, and as he lay he often rambled on upon the defeat of his early aims. "Every man has some little power in some one direction," he would say. "I was never really stout enough for the stone trade, particularly the fixing. Moving the blocks always used to strain me, and standing the trying draughts in buildings before the windows are in always gave me colds, and I think that began the mischief inside. But I felt I could do one thing if I had the opportunity. I could accumulate ideas, and impart them to others. I wonder if the founders had such as I in their minds--a fellow good for nothing else but that particular thing? ... I hear that soon there is going to be a better chance for such helpless students as I was. There are schemes afoot for making the university less exclusive, and extending its influence. I don't know much about it. And it is too late, too late for me! Ah--and for how many worthier ones before me!" "How you keep a-mumbling!" said Arabella. "I should have thought you'd have got over all that craze about books by this time. And so you would, if you'd had any sense to begin with. You are as bad now as when we were first married." On one occasion while soliloquizing thus he called her "Sue" unconsciously. "I wish you'd mind who you are talking to!" said Arabella indignantly. "Calling a respectable married woman by the name of that--" She remembered herself and he did not catch the word. But in the course of time, when she saw how things were going, and how very little she had to fear from Sue's rivalry, she had a fit of generosity. "I suppose you want to see your--Sue?" she said. "Well, I don't mind her coming. You can have her here if you like." "I don't wish to see her again." "Oh--that's a change!" "And don't tell her anything about me--that I'm ill, or anything. She has chosen her course. Let her go!" One day he received a surprise. Mrs. Edlin came to see him, quite on her own account. Jude's wife, whose feelings as to where his affections were centred had reached absolute indifference by this time, went out, leaving the old woman alone with Jude. He impulsively asked how Sue was, and then said bluntly, remembering what Sue had told him: "I suppose they are still only husband and wife in name?" Mrs. Edlin hesitated. "Well, no--it's different now. She's begun it quite lately--all of her own free will." "When did she begin?" he asked quickly. "The night after you came. But as a punishment to her poor self. He didn't wish it, but she insisted." "Sue, my Sue--you darling fool--this is almost more than I can endure! ... Mrs. Edlin--don't be frightened at my rambling-- I've got to talk to myself lying here so many hours alone-- she was once a woman whose intellect was to mine like a star to a benzoline lamp: who saw all MY superstitions as cobwebs that she could brush away with a word. Then bitter affliction came to us, and her intellect broke, and she veered round to darkness. Strange difference of sex, that time and circumstance, which enlarge the views of most men, narrow the views of women almost invariably. And now the ultimate horror has come--her giving herself like this to what she loathes, in her enslavement to forms! She, so sensitive, so shrinking, that the very wind seemed to blow on her with a touch of deference.... As for Sue and me when we were at our own best, long ago--when our minds were clear, and our love of truth fearless--the time was not ripe for us! Our ideas were fifty years too soon to be any good to us. And so the resistance they met with brought reaction in her, and recklessness and ruin on me! ... There--this, Mrs. Edlin, is how I go on to myself continually, as I lie here. I must be boring you awfully." "Not at all, my dear boy. I could hearken to 'ee all day." As Jude reflected more and more on her news, and grew more restless, he began in his mental agony to use terribly profane language about social conventions, which started a fit of coughing. Presently there came a knock at the door downstairs. As nobody answered it Mrs. Edlin herself went down. The visitor said blandly: "The doctor." The lanky form was that of Physician Vilbert, who had been called in by Arabella. "How is my patient at present?" asked the physician. "Oh bad--very bad! Poor chap, he got excited, and do blaspeam terribly, since I let out some gossip by accident--the more to my blame. But there-- you must excuse a man in suffering for what he says, and I hope God will forgive him." "Ah. I'll go up and see him. Mrs. Fawley at home?" "She's not in at present, but she'll be here soon." Vilbert went; but though Jude had hitherto taken the medicines of that skilful practitioner with the greatest indifference whenever poured down his throat by Arabella, he was now so brought to bay by events that he vented his opinion of Vilbert in the physician's face, and so forcibly, and with such striking epithets, that Vilbert soon scurried downstairs again. At the door he met Arabella, Mrs. Edlin having left. Arabella inquired how he thought her husband was now, and seeing that the doctor looked ruffled, asked him to take something. He assented. "I'll bring it to you here in the passage," she said. "There's nobody but me about the house to-day." She brought him a bottle and a glass, and he drank. Arabella began shaking with suppressed laughter. "What is this, my dear?" he asked, smacking his lips. "Oh--a drop of wine--and something in it." Laughing again she said: "I poured your own love-philtre into it, that you sold me at the agricultural show, don't you re-member?" "I do, I do! Clever woman! But you must be prepared for the consequences." Putting his arm round her shoulders he kissed her there and then. "Don't don't," she whispered, laughing good-humouredly. "My man will hear." She let him out of the house, and as she went back she said to herself: "Well! Weak women must provide for a rainy day. And if my poor fellow upstairs do go off--as I suppose he will soon-- it's well to keep chances open. And I can't pick and choose now as I could when I was younger. And one must take the old if one can't get the young." 尽管裘德不想活下去，但是他身体却有几分起色，还干了几个礼拜老本行的活。不想圣诞节一过，他又病情恶化，卧床不起。 他用干活赚的钱，搬到离城中心更近的地方。但是阿拉贝拉已经心中有数，他不大可能再干多少活，就算干，也长不了。她因为跟他第二次结婚之后事事不遂心，就没碴找碴，拿他出气。“你最后玩的这一手，要是不算精，那我才该死呢！”她常常说。“你凭娶了我，一个子儿不花，就弄到个护士啦！” 随她怎么说，裘德一概充耳不闻，时常拿她的诡淬开心解闷。有时他的态度郑重点，就躺在床上，絮絮叨叨谈自己如何少年立志，一事无成，话里不胜牢骚。 “不论谁，总是某个方面有点小聪明。”他常常说。“要说我干石作这行，实在压根儿没那个笨力气，特别遇到安装的时候不行。搬呀抬呀，大块石头，老是累得要命；窗子没装好，我人就站在飕飕的风口上，老是着凉，我想我这病就是那么作下的。可是，要是有机会，有件事我能干得很好。在思想方面，我能积少成多，有独到地方，还能把思想传布给别人。我不知道那些创建学院的人想没想到世上还有我这号人——这家伙别的不行，可另有专长哪！我听说，不用多久，我这样得不到帮助的学生就有好点的机会了。说是有些方案订出来了，以后大学就不那么保守封闭了，要把它的影响扩大了。究竟如何，我还不得而知。再说，就算这样，拿我说，也太晚、太晚啦！啊——在我前头还有那么多比我更有价值的人哪，对他们来说不是更晚了吗！” “你干吗老这么碎嘴子！”阿拉贝拉说。“到了这地步，我还当你的书迷全吹了呢。你要是一上来就懂得人情世故，你早就不这样了。我看你这会儿没出息的样儿，跟咱们头回结婚那会儿没两样。” 有一回，他这样念念有辞的时候，无意中管她叫“苏”。 “你难道不明白你这是跟谁说话！”阿拉贝拉愤愤不平地说。“把明媒正娶的夫人，居然叫出来那个——”她想起来上回那一幕，没说出口，所以他也没抓住她的话把子。 但是一天天过去，她对于大势所趋，已经了然于胸，犯不上再为苏这个情敌耗费心思，于是她装出度量大的样子。“我看你还是想见你的——苏吧？”她说。“哎，我一点不在乎她来不来。你要想见她，就在家里见她好啦。” “我不想再见她。” “哦——这倒是人心大变喽！” “你也用不着告诉她我怎么的——用不着说我病了什么的。她走了自己选的路。随她去吧。” 有一天，大出他的意料，艾林太太完全主动来探望他。裘德妻子既然明知他情爱所钟，对此已经装聋做哑，所以就让老太婆一个人跟裘德呆着，自己到外面去了。他感情冲动地问起苏的境况，因为还记得苏以前对他说的话，也就毫不假借地说，“我看他们俩还是挂名夫妻吧。” 艾林太太沉吟了一下。“呃——不这样啦，这会儿不一样啦。她也是新近才那么样——这全是她自个儿做主，没人逼她。” “她打哪天才那样儿呢？”他追着问。 “就打你来的那晚上。不过她那么样，无非自个儿整自个儿这个苦命人。他并不想那么样，可她非要依着她不可。” “苏啊，我的苏啊——我的可怜的糊涂虫啊，你这样，叫我怎么受得了！……艾林太太——我唠里唠叨，你可别怕——我在这儿就是得自言自语，一说就几个钟头 ——她先前是个有灵性的女人，跟我比，就像星星比电石灯，她看我所有迷信的东西好比蜘蛛网，她一句话就能把它们一扫而光了。后来我们经受了深重的苦难，把她的灵性给毁了，她思路一转，就掉到黑暗里头了。性别之间的差异够多怪，一样的时间和环境，叫大多数男人眼界扩大了，可叫女人的眼界几乎是毫无例外地缩小了。最后就出了现在这样骇人听闻的事情——她现在居然以甘心受奴役的形式，不惜对自己原来憎恶的东西屈膝投降。她多敏感，多爱难为情，哪怕风吹到她身上，好像也觉得唐突啊。至于苏跟我，早先我们过得顶美满的时候——我们的思想明朗清澈，我们对真理倾心，无所畏惧，可是就时代而言，临到我们身上，还没成熟呢。我们的思想跑得太快，早了五十年，这对我们只能有害无益。而这些思想遭遇的打击也就在她的内心里发生了负作用，而我呢，却是一意孤行，一毁到底！唉 ——艾林太太，我就是躺在这儿自说自话，这么没完没了的。我一定叫你听腻啦。” “一点都不腻，我的亲爱的孩子。你就是一天说到晚，我也听不腻。” 裘德越细想她的境况，就越心烦意乱。内心的痛楚使他忍不住角恶毒的语言痛斥社会的习俗礼法，这又弄得他咳嗽好一阵。正巧楼下有人敲门。艾林太太因为没人答理，自己就下楼去招呼。 来客礼貌周全地说：“大夫到啦。”原来这个瘦高个儿是韦伯大夫，阿拉贝拉把他请来的。 “这会儿病人怎么样？”大夫问。 “哦，不好——不大好！可怜的家伙，他激动了，狠话说得不得了，因为我无意中说了点闲话——都怪我就是啦。不过——一个活受罪的人无论说什么，你总不该计较，我希望上帝宽恕他。” “哦，我上去瞧瞧他吧。福来太太在家吗？” “这会儿不在，快回来了啦。” 韦伯进去了。虽说不论什么时候阿拉贝拉往裘德嘴里灌那个滑头卖膏药的造的假药，他都当没事一样吞下去，可是这会儿他已经让接二连三的祸事逼到了绝境，于是他不管三七二十一，当着大夫的面，大大发泄了一通对他的看法，口气之激烈，措词之尖刻，搞得韦伯灰溜溜，赶快往楼下跑。他在门口正好碰上阿拉贝拉，艾林太太在这时也就走了。阿拉贝拉直问他，他觉着她丈夫怎么样；一看大夫满脸晦气，就说请他喝点。他表示可以。 “我把它拿到过道这儿来。”她说。“家里今儿就剩我了，没别人。” 她给他拿来一个瓶子和一个杯子，他喝下去了。阿拉贝拉忍住笑，可是身上还是直抖动。“这是什么玩意儿呀，我的亲爱的？”他问，直咂嘴。 “哦——一滴酒——里头搀了点东西。”她说，又笑起来：“酒里头放了你自个儿配的春药，你在农业展览会卖给我的，还记得吗？” “记得，记得！鬼灵精的娘儿们！你可得提防着后劲儿哟。”他搂着她肩膀，拼命亲她。 “不行，不行。”她小声说，开心地笑着。“我男人会听见。” 她把他弄到房子外面去了，回来时候自言自语：“好哇，没个退路的女人总得有备无患才行哪。再说，我家里这个可怜家伙一撒手上了西天——我看是保不住啦，还真得留个后路呢。这会儿我可不好照年轻时候挑挑拣拣啦。要是没法弄上手年轻的，抓到个老的也行嘛。” Part 6 Chapter 11 THE last pages to which the chronicler of these lives would ask the reader's attention are concerned with the scene in and out of Jude's bedroom when leafy summer came round again. His face was now so thin that his old friends would hardly have known him. It was afternoon, and Arabella was at the looking-glass curling her hair, which operation she performed by heating an umbrella-stay in the flame of a candle she had lighted, and using it upon the flowing lock. When she had finished this, practised a dimple, and put on her things, she cast her eyes round upon Jude. He seemed to be sleeping, though his position was an elevated one, his malady preventing him lying down. Arabella, hatted, gloved, and ready, sat down and waited, as if expecting some one to come and take her place as nurse. Certain sounds from without revealed that the town was in festivity, though little of the festival, whatever it might have been, could be seen here. Bells began to ring, and the notes came into the room through the open window, and travelled round Jude's head in a hum. They made her restless, and at last she said to herself: "Why ever doesn't Father come!" She looked again at Jude, critically gauged his ebbing life, as she had done so many times during the late months, and glancing at his watch, which was hung up by way of timepiece, rose impatiently. Still he slept, and coming to a resolution she slipped from the room, closed the door noiselessly, and descended the stairs. The house was empty. The attraction which moved Arabella to go abroad had evidently drawn away the other inmates long before. It was a warm, cloudless, enticing day. She shut the front door, and hastened round into Chief Street, and when near the theatre could hear the notes of the organ, a rehearsal for a coming concert being in progress. She entered under the archway of Oldgate College, where men were putting up awnings round the quadrangle for a ball in the hall that evening. People who had come up from the country for the day were picnicking on the grass, and Arabella walked along the gravel paths and under the aged limes. But finding this place rather dull she returned to the streets, and watched the carriages drawing up for the concert, numerous dons and their wives, and undergraduates with gay female companions, crowding up likewise. When the doors were closed, and the concert began, she moved on. The powerful notes of that concert rolled forth through the swinging yellow blinds of the open windows, over the housetops, and into the still air of the lanes. They reached so far as to the room in which Jude lay; and it was about this time that his cough began again and awakened him. As soon as he could speak he murmured, his eyes still closed: "A little water, please." Nothing but the deserted room received his appeal, and he coughed to exhaustion again--saying still more feebly: "Water--some water--Sue--Arabella!" The room remained still as before. Presently he gasped again: "Throat--water--Sue--darling--drop of water--please--oh please!" No water came, and the organ notes, faint as a bee's hum, rolled in as before. While he remained, his face changing, shouts and hurrahs came from somewhere in the direction of the river. "Ah--yes! The Remembrance games," he murmured. "And I here. And Sue defiled!" The hurrahs were repeated, drowning the faint organ notes. Jude's face changed more: he whispered slowly, his parched lips scarcely moving: "LET THE DAY PERISH WHEREIN I WAS BORN, AND THE NIGHT IN WHICH IT WAS SAID, THERE IS A MAN-CHILD CONCEIVED." ("Hurrah!") "LET THAT DAY BE DARKNESS; LET NOT GOD REGARD IT FROM ABOVE, NEITHER LET THE LIGHT SHINE UPON IT. LO, LET THAT NIGHT BE SOLITARY, LET NO JOYFUL VOICE COME THEREIN." ("Hurrah!") "WHY DIED I NOT FROM THE WOMB? WHY DID I NOT GIVE UP THE GHOST WHEN I CAME OUT OF THE BELLY? ... FOR NOW SHOULD I HAVE LAIN STILL AND BEEN QUIET. I SHOULD HAVE SLEPT: THEN HAD I BEEN AT REST!" ("Hurrah!") "THERE THE PRISONERS REST TOGETHER; THEY HEAR NOT THE VOICE OF THE OPPRESSOR.... THE SMALL AND THE GREAT ARE THERE; AND THE SERVANT IS FREE FROM HIS MASTER. WHEREFORE IS LIGHT GIVEN TO HIM THAT IS IN MISERY, AND LIFE UNTO THE BITTER IN SOUL?" Meanwhile Arabella, in her journey to discover what was going on, took a short cut down a narrow street and through an obscure nook into the quad of Cardinal. It was full of bustle, and brilliant in the sunlight with flowers and other preparations for a ball here also. A carpenter nodded to her, one who had formerly been a fellow-workman of Jude's. A corridor was in course of erection from the entrance to the hall staircase, of gay red and buff bunting. Waggon-loads of boxes containing bright plants in full bloom were being placed about, and the great staircase was covered with red cloth. She nodded to one workman and another, and ascended to the hall on the strength of their acquaintance, where they were putting down a new floor and decorating for the dance. The cathedral bell close at hand was sounding for five o'clock service. "I should not mind having a spin there with a fellow's arm round my waist," she said to one of the men. "But Lord, I must be getting home again-- there's a lot to do. No dancing for me!" When she reached home she was met at the door by Stagg, and one or two other of Jude's fellow stoneworkers. "We are just going down to the river," said the former, "to see the boat-bumping. But we've called round on our way to ask how your husband is." "He's sleeping nicely, thank you," said Arabella. "That's right. Well now, can't you give yourself half an hour's relaxation, Mrs. Fawley, and come along with us? 'Twould do you good." "I should like to go," said she. "I've never seen the boat-racing, and I hear it is good fun." "Come along!" "How I WISH I could!" She looked longingly down the street. "Wait a minute, then. I'll just run up and see how he is now. Father is with him, I believe; so I can most likely come." They waited, and she entered. Downstairs the inmates were absent as before, having, in fact, gone in a body to the river where the procession of boats was to pass. When she reached the bedroom she found that her father had not even now come. "Why couldn't he have been here!" she said impatiently. "He wants to see the boats himself--that's what it is!" However, on looking round to the bed she brightened, for she saw that Jude was apparently sleeping, though he was not in the usual half-elevated posture necessitated by his cough. He had slipped down, and lay flat. A second glance caused her to start, and she went to the bed. His face was quite white, and gradually becoming rigid. She touched his fingers; they were cold, though his body was still warm. She listened at his chest. All was still within. The bumping of near thirty years had ceased. After her first appalled sense of what had happened the faint notes of a military or other brass band from the river reached her ears; and in a provoked tone she exclaimed, "To think he should die just now! Why did he die just now!" Then meditating another moment or two she went to the door, softly closed it as before, and again descended the stairs. "Here she is!" said one of the workmen. "We wondered if you were coming after all. Come along; we must be quick to get a good place.... Well, how is he? Sleeping well still? Of course, we don't want to drag 'ee away if--" "Oh yes--sleeping quite sound. He won't wake yet," she said hurriedly. They went with the crowd down Cardinal Street, where they presently reached the bridge, and the gay barges burst upon their view. Thence they passed by a narrow slit down to the riverside path-- now dusty, hot, and thronged. Almost as soon as they had arrived the grand procession of boats began; the oars smacking with a loud kiss on the face of the stream, as they were lowered from the perpendicular. "Oh, I say--how jolly! I'm glad I've come," said Arabella. "And--it can't hurt my husband--my being away." On the opposite side of the river, on the crowded barges, were gorgeous nosegays of feminine beauty, fashionably arrayed in green, pink, blue, and white. The blue flag of the boat club denoted the centre of interest, beneath which a band in red uniform gave out the notes she had already heard in the death-chamber. Collegians of all sorts, in canoes with ladies, watching keenly for "our" boat, darted up and down. While she regarded the lively scene somebody touched Arabella in the ribs, and looking round she saw Vilbert. "That philtre is operating, you know!" he said with a leer. "Shame on 'ee to wreck a heart so!" "I shan't talk of love to-day." "Why not? It is a general holiday." She did not reply. Vilbert's arm stole round her waist, which act could be performed unobserved in the crowd. An arch expression overspread Arabella's face at the feel of the arm, but she kept her eyes on the river as if she did not know of the embrace. The crowd surged, pushing Arabella and her friends sometimes nearly into the river, and she would have laughed heartily at the horse-play that succeeded, if the imprint on her mind's eye of a pale, statuesque countenance she had lately gazed upon had not sobered her a little. The fun on the water reached the acme of excitement; there were immersions, there were shouts: the race was lost and won, the pink and blue and yellow ladies retired from the barges, and the people who had watched began to move. "Well--it's been awfully good," cried Arabella. "But I think I must get back to my poor man. Father is there, so far as I know; but I had better get back." "What's your hurry?" "Well, I must go.... Dear, dear, this is awkward!" At the narrow gangway where the people ascended from the riverside path to the bridge the crowd was literally jammed into one hot mass-- Arabella and Vilbert with the rest; and here they remained motionless, Arabella exclaiming, "Dear, dear!" more and more impatiently; for it had just occurred to her mind that if Jude were discovered to have died alone an inquest might be deemed necessary. "What a fidget you are, my love," said the physician, who, being pressed close against her by the throng, had no need of personal effort for contact. "Just as well have patience: there's no getting away yet!" It was nearly ten minutes before the wedged multitude moved sufficiently to let them pass through. As soon as she got up into the street Arabella hastened on, forbidding the physician to accompany her further that day. She did not go straight to her house; but to the abode of a woman who performed the last necessary offices for the poorer dead; where she knocked. "My husband has just gone, poor soul," she said. "Can you come and lay him out?" Arabella waited a few minutes; and the two women went along, elbowing their way through the stream of fashionable people pouring out of Cardinal meadow, and being nearly knocked down by the carriages. "I must call at the sexton's about the bell, too," said Arabella. "It is just round here, isn't it? I'll meet you at my door." By ten o'clock that night Jude was lying on the bedstead at his lodging covered with a sheet, and straight as an arrow. Through the partly opened window the joyous throb of a waltz entered from the ball-room at Cardinal. Two days later, when the sky was equally cloudless, and the air equally still, two persons stood beside Jude's open coffin in the same little bedroom. On one side was Arabella, on the other the Widow Edlin. They were both looking at Jude's face, the worn old eyelids of Mrs. Edlin being red. "How beautiful he is!" said she. "Yes. He's a 'andsome corpse," said Arabella. The window was still open to ventilate the room, and it being about noontide the clear air was motionless and quiet without. From a distance came voices; and an apparent noise of persons stamping. "What's that?" murmured the old woman. "Oh, that's the doctors in the theatre, conferring honorary degrees on the Duke of Hamptonshire and a lot more illustrious gents of that sort. It's Remembrance Week, you know. The cheers come from the young men." "Aye; young and strong-lunged! Not like our poor boy here." An occasional word, as from some one making a speech, floated from the open windows of the theatre across to this quiet corner, at which there seemed to be a smile of some sort upon the marble features of Jude; while the old, superseded, Delphin editions of Virgil and Horace, and the dog-eared Greek Testament on the neighbouring shelf, and the few other volumes of the sort that he had not parted with, roughened with stone-dust where he had been in the habit of catching them up for a few minutes between his labours, seemed to pale to a sickly cast at the sounds. The bells struck out joyously; and their reverberations travelled round the bed-room. Arabella's eyes removed from Jude to Mrs. Edlin. "D'ye think she will come?" she asked. "I could not say. She swore not to see him again." "How is she looking?" "Tired and miserable, poor heart. Years and years older than when you saw her last. Quite a staid, worn woman now. 'Tis the man--she can't stomach un, even now!" "If Jude had been alive to see her, he would hardly have cared for her any more, perhaps." "That's what we don't know.... Didn't he ever ask you to send for her, since he came to see her in that strange way?" "No. Quite the contrary. I offered to send, and he said I was not to let her know how ill he was." "Did he forgive her?" "Not as I know." "Well--poor little thing, 'tis to be believed she's found forgiveness somewhere! She said she had found peace! "She may swear that on her knees to the holy cross upon her necklace till she's hoarse, but it won't be true!" said Arabella. "She's never found peace since she left his arms, and never will again till she's as he is now!" 为这些人物生平记事的作者，临到这最后若干页，敢请读者留心在绿阴匝地的夏日重临之际，裘德居室内外的种种景象。 他的脸瘦得连老朋友都认不出来了。那天下午，阿拉贝拉对镜梳理鬈发。她玩这一手的程序是，先点上一根蜡烛，再拿一根伞骨子往火苗上烧热，然后用它在散垂的头发上一绺一绺烫。卷完头发又练咋酒窝。等她穿戴齐了，回头望了望裘德，看样子他是睡着了，不过他身子是半躺半坐的，因为他的病不容他平躺下来。 阿拉贝拉戴着帽子，也戴着手套，整装待发，不过她还是坐下来等着，似乎巴望着有谁来接她的护士班。 屋里听得到外面的喧阗，表明城里正过节，不过不管节日盛况如何，反正屋里一点看不见。钟响起来了，声音从敞开的窗户进来，围着裘德的脑袋嗡嗡响。她一听钟声就坐立不安，后来自言自语的：“爸爸还没来，什么道理呀！” 她又看了看裘德，冷冷地核计着他那奄奄一息的生命，她这几个月已经三番五次这样做过。她朝裘德那只挂在那儿当钟用的表望了一眼，焦急地站起来。裘德还睡呢，于是她主意一定，溜出屋子，把门关好，没弄出响声。整个房子人都走空了。把阿拉贝拉吸引到外边去的那股力量，显然早把屋里其他人勾走了。 那一天日暖风和，万里无云，叫人们感到飘飘然。她关好前门，就两步并一步，三弯两拐，到了大成街。刚到圆形会堂附近，就听见风琴演奏声，原来是正为等会儿举行的音乐会排练呢。她从老栅栏门学院的拱道进去，看见好多人正在四方院里搭篷子，舞会当晚就在那地方的大厅举行。从四乡赶来过节凑热闹的人正在草地上野餐。阿拉贝拉顺石子路，从老酸果树底下往前走。但是她觉得那地方索然寡味，遂又转回街上，看到一辆辆马车赶过来参加音乐会。众多的大学学监和他们的夫人、带着花里胡哨的女伴的大学生，推推搡搡，跻跻跄跄。会堂的门都关上了，音乐会也开始了。她接着朝前走，没停。 音乐会的演奏气势宏阔有力，它的音浪浩浩荡荡冲出敞开的窗户上摆动着的黄幔，越过一座座房顶，流入小巷中静止的空气，甚至远播到裘德躺着的屋子里。正是在这个时刻，他咳嗽起来，从睡梦中咳醒了。 他眼睛还闹着，一到能开口说话，就嘟嘟囔囔：“来点水哟，劳驾。” 屋里空空的，没人回答他的恳求。跟着他又咳起来，咳得七死八活——说话比刚才气息还微弱：“水——来点水——苏——阿拉贝拉！” 屋里依然没有动静。他随又上气不接下气地说：“嗓子——水——苏——亲亲——一点水——劳驾——哦——劳驾！” 没人递水。风琴声继续传到屋里，轻得像蜜蜂嗡嗡。 就在他这样靠着咳着、脸色大变的当口，从河那边传来喊叫声、欢呼声。 “啊——对啦！寄思日赛船哪！”他嘟嘟囔囔的。“我还在这儿，苏成了落汤花啦！” 欢呼声又起来了，淹没了风琴声。裘德的脸色变得更厉害了，他慢慢地小声说，烧于的嘴唇动都没怎么动： “愿我生的那日和说怀了男胎的那夜都灭没。” （“加油！”） “愿那日变为黑暗，愿上帝不从上面寻找它，愿亮光不照于其上。愿那夜被幽暗夺取，不在年中的日子同乐。” （“加油！”） “我为何不出母胎而死，为何不出母腹就绝气？……不然我就早已安静躺卧。我早已安睡，早已安息！” （“加油！”） “那儿被囚的人同得安逸，不听见督工的声音。……大小都在那里，奴仆脱离主人的辖制。受患难的人，为何有光赐给他呢？心中愁苦的人，为何有生命赐给他呢？” 也就是同一时间，阿拉贝拉正一路往前奔，寻奇问胜，她抄了个近路，上了条窄街，再从一个偏僻的角落穿过去，就进入红衣主教学院的四方院。那儿也一样杂沓喧嚣，为舞会准备的花卉和其他彩饰在阳光下鲜艳夺目。一个从前跟裘德一起干过活的木匠冲她点点头。从门口到大厅楼梯搭起一道走廊，上面缀满红的和黄的两样亮丽的旗帜。货车一辆辆运来了成箱的盛开的鲜花，工人正把它们四处摆放。宽大的楼梯已铺上红地毯。她冲这个那个工人点头，因为和他们是熟人关系，胆子壮了，就上楼进了大厅，只见工人正忙着为舞会铺新地板，安装各种彩饰。近边大教堂这时正好响起钟声，原来是宣告五点钟礼拜开始了。 “要是哪个小伙子搂着我跳一转，我才不在乎呢，”她跟工人中一个说。“哎呀，我可得回家啦——家里头还好多事呢。我可没跳舞的命！” 她一到家，就在门口碰上司大格和一两个跟裘德一块儿干过石活的伙伴。“我们正想到河边瞧碰船去哪。”司太格说。“想到顺路过来问问你丈夫这会儿怎么样啦。” “他这会儿睡得挺香，谢谢大家。”阿拉贝拉说。 “那就好。呢，这么着，福来太太，你还能给自个儿放半个钟头假，跟咱们一块儿去轻松轻松，好不好？” “我想是想去。”她说。“我压根儿没看过赛船呢。我听说怪好玩的。” “那就走吧！” “我但愿看得成啊。”她带着非常羡慕的样子直朝街上看。“那就请各位先等等。我跑上去瞧瞧他这会儿怎么样。爸爸跟他在一块儿哪，我看是这样；那我就八成能跟你们一块儿走啦。” 他们就在外边等着，她进去了。楼下住户原已走空，实际上搭伙儿到河边船队要经过的地方去了。她进了卧室一看，她父亲根本没照面。 “怎么搞的，他没来嘛！”她焦躁地说。“他自个儿想看赛船就是了——岂有此理！” 可是她转过来，朝床上一瞧，就展眼舒眉了，因为她看得明白，裘德还在睡乡呢，可是睡的姿势有点异样，他平常因为老要咳嗽，只好半躺半坐，这会儿却滑下来，躺平了。她又看了一眼，不禁慌了神，就走到床边。只见他脸色煞白，脸上线条渐渐变僵了；又摸了摸他的手指头；凉了，不过身上还有点热；再听了听他胸口，里头没一点动静。近乎三十年的搏动已经停止了。 她头一阵吓得三魂出壳，接着就听到河那边传过来的军乐队或铜管乐队演奏的不大清楚的乐声。她满肚子火，大叫起来，“早不死，晚不死，干吗偏挑这会儿死，这不太巧了吗？”她心里仔细掂量了一会儿，然后走到门口，跟先前一样轻轻关上门，又到楼下去了。 “她来啦！”工人中一个说。“我们还嘀咕你来还是不来呢。走吧，咱们得快点走，好去占个好位置……呃，他怎么样？还睡觉吗？照道理我们可不想把你拉走，要是——” “哦，是呀——他睡得才沉呢。他才不会醒呢。”她抢着说。 他们混到大群人中间，一起顺着红衣主教街走，从那儿可以一直走上大桥，五光十色的彩船突然尽收眼底。他们过了桥，穿过一条窄而长的通道，往下走到临河小道上——那儿已经是尘土飞扬，热烘烘的人满为患。他们差不多刚到，盛大的船队就开始动起来，原先直悬着的船浆放下来了，一接触到水面，啪啦啦的就像大声接吻。 “哦，我说——可真有味儿呀！我算没白来啊！”阿拉贝拉说。“再说，我这么来一趟，也不会让我爷们伤筋动骨的。” 河对面，彩船拥在一块儿，上面尽是些服饰华丽、如花似玉的美人儿，绿的。粉的、黄的、白的，色彩缤纷，打扮得好不入时。赛船俱乐部的蓝旗子成了兴趣的集中点，旗子下边是一色红制服的乐队，演奏的曲子，她刚才在死人屋里已经听到过。形形色色的大学生带着小妞儿们，坐在划子上，紧盯着“咱们的”船只，划子在水面一上一下地穿行着。阿拉贝拉对这热闹场面正看得入神的时候，冷不防让人在她肋旁骨上戳了一下；她回头一看，原来是韦伯大夫。 “春药发作啦，你知道吗！”他说，淫邪地挤咕眼。“你真是害人不浅，亏你还不害臊。” “我今儿可不跟谁热乎。” “你这是怎么啦？大伙儿今儿个都是过节找乐子嘛。” 她没答理。韦伯偷偷搂着她的腰，因为人挤得密密的，他这个动作不愁人看见。阿拉贝拉一觉着他膀子上来，一脸心痒难挠的表情，不过她还是盯着河上看，装出来不知道有人搂着她。 人群潮涌般往前挤，你推我操，把阿拉贝拉和她的朋友们快推到河里了；接着是一阵粗鄙不堪的哄闹；要不是她先前死死盯过的那张大理石雕像般惨白面容在她心里留下深深印象，因而她头脑还没糊涂到底，这会儿她准会因为恶作剧而毫无顾忌地开怀大笑呢。 河上的比赛笑料百出，令人捧腹，一时达到了兴奋的高潮，有些船翻了，有些船不住地呐喊。输的输，赢的赢，总算见了分晓，于是彩船上那些粉的、蓝的、黄的太太小姐舍舟登岸，看热闹的人也开始移动。 “呃——真他奶奶的够劲儿啊。”阿拉贝拉大声说。“不过我得回去照顾我的可怜的爷们啦。爸爸在那儿，我知道；可我还是回去好。” “你急着什么呀？” “呃，我得走……哎，哎，事情不好办哪！” 那道开在河边小道和大桥之间的栈桥本是必经之路，这时熙熙攘攘的人群把它挤得水泄不通，他们成了一块冒热气的大肉团——阿拉贝拉挤在里头，想动也动不了，她越来越急，直叫，“他妈的，他妈的。”因为她忽地想到万一有人发现裘德死时候旁边没人，那一定会闹得办验尸手续。 “你急得猫抓心似的，我的好人儿。”大夫说，人把他挤得不用费劲就紧贴着她。“你还是耐着点吧，这会儿没法挤出去。” 前后大概十分钟，挤在一起的人群总算松动了，让了个缝，够他们钻出去。她一到街上，立刻快马加鞭，不许大夫这一天再纠缠她。她没直接回家，而是直奔一个女人家里，那个女人专为死了的穷苦人办必不可少的正式手续。 “我丈夫刚走啦，可怜的好人哪。”她说。“你还能来给他装裹吗？” 阿拉贝拉等了几分钟，随后两个女人就一路走去，恰好从红衣主教学院大草场那边，打扮入时的人流蜂拥而来，她们拼命从中间挤过去，险些让马车撞倒。 “我先得上教堂找管事的，让他撞钟。”阿拉贝拉说。“就在这附近吧？咱们在家门口见就是了。” 那天晚上十点钟光景，裘德躺在自家床上，盖着裹尸布，直挺挺像根箭。红衣主教学院舞会上欢乐的华尔兹舞曲从半开的窗户传进来。 两天后，天空一样万里无云，空气一样凝然不动，还是那间小屋子，没上盖的裘德的棺材旁边站着两个人。一边是阿拉贝拉，另一边是艾林寡妇。她们俩看着裘德的脸，艾林太太的皱缩的眼皮红红的。 “他真好看啊！”她说。 “是啊，他死了还那么帅。”阿拉贝拉说。 窗户依旧开着，好让屋里空气流通。中午时分，清澄的空气静止、安谧，只听得见远处有人说话，还有明白的杂沓的跺脚声。 “怎么回事？”老太婆嘟囔着。 “哦，圆形会堂里头，那些博士，给汉普顿郡公爵跟什么贵人授名誉学位哪。这礼拜是寄思周，你知道吧。那些小伙子高兴得欢呼哪。” “唉，人年轻，肺结实！可不像咱们这儿可怜的孩子啊。” 看来圆形会堂里什么人正发表演说，间或有个把句子飘出来，老远地传到这个静静的角落，裘德的大理石般的面容似乎因此而微露笑容；近旁书架上，过时的老德尔芬版的维吉尔和贺拉斯的著作和书角卷起来的希腊文《新约》，以及很少几部他一直没肯出手的旧书——他工间休息，习惯于拿起浏览几分钟，书皮已让石粉弄糙，好像也听到了同样声音，一时都显得愁容惨淡，恹恹如伤。钟声欢悦，在这间卧室里回环不已。 阿拉贝拉的目光从裘德移向艾林夫人。“你看她会不会来？”她问。 “我也说不上来。她发过誓不再见他。” “她这会儿怎么样？” “可怜的心，那样儿又惨又邋遢啊。跟你上回见她一比，一下子老了多少年啦。成了事事没心的憔悴的女人啦。这都怪那个男的——她实在吃不消他，到这会儿还是一样哪！” “要是裘德还活着见到她，他大概也不会再往心里去啦。” “这就难说啦……打那个奇怪晚上他见她之后，他叫你给她寄过信没有？” “没有。正好反过来。我倒是要寄个信，他说别告诉她他病得怎么样。” “他已经宽恕她啦？” “我知道没有。” “呃——可怜的小东西哟，咱们还是相信她总会找到宽恕吧！她说她心里宁静啦！” “她可以跪下来，对着她项圈上神圣的十字架起誓，说她心宁静了，说得嗓子哑了也行，可是那根本不是实话！”阿拉贝拉说。“打她离开他怀抱那天起，她心里决计没宁静过。不到她跟他这会儿一样，她就永远休想心里宁静。” THE END |
