Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
II
”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 comeback 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--allin the same afternoon.”
”Wardour is Gothic ruins--and I hate Gothic!”
”No. Quite otherwise. It is a classic building--Corinthian, Ithink; 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 nextmorning they prepared to start. Every detail of the outing wasa facet reflecting a sparkle to Jude, and he did not venture tomeditate on the life of inconsistency he was leading. His Sue'sconduct was one lovely conundrum to him; he could say no more.
There duly came the charm of calling at the college door for her; heremergence in a nunlike simplicity of costume that was rather enforcedthan desired; the traipsing along to the station, the porters'”B'your leave!,” the screaming of the trains--everything formed thebasis of a beautiful crystallization. Nobody stared at Sue, becauseshe was so plainly dressed, which comforted Jude in the thought thatonly himself knew the charms those habiliments subdued. A matterof ten pounds spent in a drapery-shop, which had no connectionwith her real life or her real self, would have set all Melchesterstaring. The guard of the train thought they were lovers, and putthem 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 thepicture-galleries, Jude stopping by preference in front of thedevotional pictures by Del Sarto, Guido Reni, Spagnoletto,Sassoferrato, Carlo Dolci, and others. Sue paused patiently besidehim, and stole critical looks into his face as, regarding theVirgins, Holy Families, and Saints, it grew reverent and abstracted.When she had thoroughly estimated him at this, she would move on andwait for him before a Lely or Reynolds. It was evident that hercousin deeply interested her, as one might be interested in a manpuzzling out his way along a labyrinth from which one had one's selfescaped.
When they came out a long time still remained to them and Judeproposed that as soon as they had had something to eat they shouldwalk across the high country to the north of their present position,and intercept the train of another railway leading back toMelchester, at a station about seven miles off. Sue, who wasinclined for any adventure that would intensify the sense of herday's freedom, readily agreed; and away they went, leaving theadjoining station behind them.
It was indeed open country, wide and high. They talked and boundedon, Jude cutting from a little covert a long walking-stick for Sueas tall as herself, with a great crook, which made her look like ashepherdess. About half-way on their journey they crossed a mainroad running due east and west--the old road from London to Land'sEnd. They paused, and looked up and down it for a moment, andremarked upon the desolation which had come over this once livelythoroughfare, while the wind dipped to earth and scooped straws andhay-stems from the ground.
They crossed the road and passed on, but during the next half-mileSue seemed to grow tired, and Jude began to be distressed for her.They had walked a good distance altogether, and if they could notreach the other station it would be rather awkward. For a longtime there was no cottage visible on the wide expanse of down andturnip-land; but presently they came to a sheepfold, and next to theshepherd, pitching hurdles. He told them that the only house nearwas his mother's and his, pointing to a little dip ahead from which afaint blue smoke arose, and recommended them to go on and rest there.
This they did, and entered the house, admitted by an old womanwithout a single tooth, to whom they were as civil as strangers canbe when their only chance of rest and shelter lies in the favour ofthe householder.
”A nice little cottage,” said Jude.
”Oh, I don't know about the niceness. I shall have to thatch itsoon, and where the thatch is to come from I can't tell, for straw doget 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,” hesaid with a deprecating wave of the hand; ”bide here as long as yewill. But mid you be thinking o' getting back to Melchester to-nightby train? Because you'll never do it in this world, since you don'tknow the lie of the country. I don't mind going with ye some o' theways, 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 doworse.” He turned to Jude and asked privately: ”Be you a marriedcouple?”
”Hsh--no!” said Jude.
”Oh--I meant nothing ba'dy--not I! Well then, she can go intoMother's room, and you and I can lie in the outer chimmer afterthey've gone through. I can call ye soon enough to catch the firsttrain back. You've lost this one now.”
On consideration they decided to close with this offer, and drew upand shared with the shepherd and his mother the boiled bacon andgreens for supper.
”I rather like this,” said Sue, while their entertainers wereclearing away the dishes. ”Outside all laws except gravitation andgermination.”
”You only think you like it; you don't: you are quite a product ofcivilization,” said Jude, a recollection of her engagement revivinghis soreness a little.
”Indeed I am not, Jude. I like reading and all that, but I crave toget back to the life of my infancy and its freedom.”
”Do you remember it so well? You seem to me to have nothingunconventional 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 wasbright and clear, and the four miles to the train were accomplishedpleasantly. When they had reached Melchester, and walked to theClose, and the gables of the old building in which she was again tobe immured rose before Sue's eyes, she looked a little scared. ”Iexpect I shall catch it!” she murmured.
They rang the great bell and waited.
”Oh, I bought something for you, which I had nearly forgotten,” shesaid quickly, searching her pocket. ”It is a new little photographof me. Would you like it?”
”WOULD I!” He took it gladly, and the porter came. There seemed tobe an ominous glance on his face when he opened the gate. She passedin, looking back at Jude, and waving her hand.
”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 comeback 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--allin the same afternoon.”
”Wardour is Gothic ruins--and I hate Gothic!”
”No. Quite otherwise. It is a classic building--Corinthian, Ithink; 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 nextmorning they prepared to start. Every detail of the outing wasa facet reflecting a sparkle to Jude, and he did not venture tomeditate on the life of inconsistency he was leading. His Sue'sconduct was one lovely conundrum to him; he could say no more.
There duly came the charm of calling at the college door for her; heremergence in a nunlike simplicity of costume that was rather enforcedthan desired; the traipsing along to the station, the porters'”B'your leave!,” the screaming of the trains--everything formed thebasis of a beautiful crystallization. Nobody stared at Sue, becauseshe was so plainly dressed, which comforted Jude in the thought thatonly himself knew the charms those habiliments subdued. A matterof ten pounds spent in a drapery-shop, which had no connectionwith her real life or her real self, would have set all Melchesterstaring. The guard of the train thought they were lovers, and putthem 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 thepicture-galleries, Jude stopping by preference in front of thedevotional pictures by Del Sarto, Guido Reni, Spagnoletto,Sassoferrato, Carlo Dolci, and others. Sue paused patiently besidehim, and stole critical looks into his face as, regarding theVirgins, Holy Families, and Saints, it grew reverent and abstracted.When she had thoroughly estimated him at this, she would move on andwait for him before a Lely or Reynolds. It was evident that hercousin deeply interested her, as one might be interested in a manpuzzling out his way along a labyrinth from which one had one's selfescaped.
When they came out a long time still remained to them and Judeproposed that as soon as they had had something to eat they shouldwalk across the high country to the north of their present position,and intercept the train of another railway leading back toMelchester, at a station about seven miles off. Sue, who wasinclined for any adventure that would intensify the sense of herday's freedom, readily agreed; and away they went, leaving theadjoining station behind them.
It was indeed open country, wide and high. They talked and boundedon, Jude cutting from a little covert a long walking-stick for Sueas tall as herself, with a great crook, which made her look like ashepherdess. About half-way on their journey they crossed a mainroad running due east and west--the old road from London to Land'sEnd. They paused, and looked up and down it for a moment, andremarked upon the desolation which had come over this once livelythoroughfare, while the wind dipped to earth and scooped straws andhay-stems from the ground.
They crossed the road and passed on, but during the next half-mileSue seemed to grow tired, and Jude began to be distressed for her.They had walked a good distance altogether, and if they could notreach the other station it would be rather awkward. For a longtime there was no cottage visible on the wide expanse of down andturnip-land; but presently they came to a sheepfold, and next to theshepherd, pitching hurdles. He told them that the only house nearwas his mother's and his, pointing to a little dip ahead from which afaint blue smoke arose, and recommended them to go on and rest there.
This they did, and entered the house, admitted by an old womanwithout a single tooth, to whom they were as civil as strangers canbe when their only chance of rest and shelter lies in the favour ofthe householder.
”A nice little cottage,” said Jude.
”Oh, I don't know about the niceness. I shall have to thatch itsoon, and where the thatch is to come from I can't tell, for straw doget 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,” hesaid with a deprecating wave of the hand; ”bide here as long as yewill. But mid you be thinking o' getting back to Melchester to-nightby train? Because you'll never do it in this world, since you don'tknow the lie of the country. I don't mind going with ye some o' theways, 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 doworse.” He turned to Jude and asked privately: ”Be you a marriedcouple?”
”Hsh--no!” said Jude.
”Oh--I meant nothing ba'dy--not I! Well then, she can go intoMother's room, and you and I can lie in the outer chimmer afterthey've gone through. I can call ye soon enough to catch the firsttrain back. You've lost this one now.”
On consideration they decided to close with this offer, and drew upand shared with the shepherd and his mother the boiled bacon andgreens for supper.
”I rather like this,” said Sue, while their entertainers wereclearing away the dishes. ”Outside all laws except gravitation andgermination.”
”You only think you like it; you don't: you are quite a product ofcivilization,” said Jude, a recollection of her engagement revivinghis soreness a little.
”Indeed I am not, Jude. I like reading and all that, but I crave toget back to the life of my infancy and its freedom.”
”Do you remember it so well? You seem to me to have nothingunconventional 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 wasbright and clear, and the four miles to the train were accomplishedpleasantly. When they had reached Melchester, and walked to theClose, and the gables of the old building in which she was again tobe immured rose before Sue's eyes, she looked a little scared. ”Iexpect I shall catch it!” she murmured.
They rang the great bell and waited.
”Oh, I bought something for you, which I had nearly forgotten,” shesaid quickly, searching her pocket. ”It is a new little photographof me. Would you like it?”
”WOULD I!” He took it gladly, and the porter came. There seemed tobe an ominous glance on his face when he opened the gate. She passedin, looking back at Jude, and waving her hand.