Speaker 1: Chapter twenty eight. Her refusal, though unexpected, did not permanently
daunt Claire. His experience of women was great enough for
him to be aware that the negative often meant nothing
more than the preface to the affirmative, and it was
little enough for him not to know that, in the
manner of the present negative there lay a great exception
to the dallyings of coyness. That she had already permitted
him to make love to her. He read as an
additional assurance, not fully trowing that in the fields and
pastures to Pi gratis is by no means deemed waste,
love making being here more often accepted inconsiderately and for
its own sweet sake than in the carking, anxious homes
of the ambitious, where a girl's craving for an establishment
paralyzes her healthy thought of a passion. Tess, why did
you say no in such a positive way, he asked her.
In the course of a few days. She started, don't
ask me. I told you why. Partly I'm not good enough,
not worthy enough, how not fine lady enough? Yes, something
like that, murmured she. Your friends would scorn me, indeed,
you'll mistake them. My father and mother. As for my brothers,
I don't care. He clasped his fingers behind her back
to keep her from slipping away. Now you did not
mean it, sweet, I am sure you did not. You
have made me so restless that I cannot read, or
play or do anything. I'm in no hurry, Tess. But
I want to know, to hear from your own warm lips,
that you will some day be mine, any time you
may choose. But some day she could only shake her
head and look away from him. Claire regarded her attentively,
caln the characters of her face as if they had
been hieroglyphics. The denial seemed real. Then I ought not
to hold you in this way, ought I? I have
no right to you, no right to seek out where
you are or to walk with you. Honestly, Tess, do
you love any other man? How can you ask? She said,
with continued self suppression. I almost know that you do not.
But then why do you repulse me? I don't repulse you.
I'd like you to tell me you love me, and
you may always tell me so as you go about
with me, and never offend me. But why will you
not accept me as a husband? Ah? That's different. It
is for your own good. Indeed, my dearest, oh, believe me,
it is only for your sake. I don't like to
give myself the great happiness of promising to be yours
in that way, because because I am sure, I ought
not to do it. But you will make me happy. Ah,
you think so, but you don't know. In such times
as this, apprehending the grounds of her refusal to be
her modest sense of incompetence in matters social and polite,
he would say that she was wonderfully well informed and versatile,
which was certainly true, her natural quickness and her admiration
for him having led her to pick up his vocabulary,
his accent, and fragments of his knowledge to a surprising extent.
After these contests and her victory, she would go away
by herself under the remotest cow if at milking time,
or into the sedge, or into her room if at
leisure interval, and mourn silently not a minute after an
apparently phlegmatic negative. The struggle was so fearful her own
heart was so strongly on the side of his two
ardent hearts against one poor little conscience, that she tried
to fortify her resolution by every means in her power.
She had come to Talberthigh's with a made up mind.
On no account could she agree to a step which
might afterwards cause bitter ruin to her husband for his
blindness in wedding her. And she held that what her
conscience had decided for her, when her mind was unbiased,
ought not to be overruled. Now, why don't some one
tell him all about me? She said, It was only
forty miles half. Why hasn't it reached here? Somebody must know?
Yet no nobody seemed to know. Nobody told him. For
two or three days, no more was said. She guessed
from the sad countenances of her chamber companions that they
regarded her not only as the favorite, but as the chosen.
But they could see for themselves that she did not
put herself in his way. Tess had never before known
a time in which the thread of her life was
so distinctly twisted of two strands, positive pleasure and positive pain.
At the next cheesemaking, the pair were again left alone together.
The dairyman himself had been lending a hand, but mister Creek,
as well as his wife, seemed latterly to have acquired
a suspicion of mutual interest between these two, though they
walked so circumspectully that suspicion was but of the faintest. Anyhow,
the dairyman left them to themselves. They were breaking out
the masses of Kurds before putting them into the vats.
The operation resembled the act of crumbling bread on a
large scale, and amid the immaculate whiteness of the Kurds,
Tess Durbeyfield's hands showed themselves of the pinkness of the
rose angel, who was filling the vats with his handfuls,
suddenly ceased and laid his hands flat upon hers. Her
sleeves were rolled far above the elbow, and bending lower,
he kissed the inside vein of her soft arm. Although
the early September weather was sultry, her arm from her
dabbling in the Kurds, was as cold and damp to
his mouth as a new gathered mushroom, and tasted of
the way. But she was such a sheaf of susceptibilities
that her pulse was accelerated by the touch. Her blood
driven to her finger ends, and the cool arm flushed hot. Then,
as though her heart had said, is coyness longer necessary?
Truth is truth between man and woman, as between man
and man. She lifted her eyes and they beamed devotedly
into his, as her lip rose in a tender half smile.
Do you know why I did that, Tess? He said,
because you love me very much? Yes, and as a
preliminary to a new entreaty not again. She looked, a
sudden fear that her resistance might break down under her
own desire. Oh, Tessy, he went on, I cannot think
why you are so tantalizing? Why do you disappoint me?
So you seem almost like a coquette upon my life.
You do a coquette of the first urban water. They
blow hot and blow cold, just as you do. And
it is the very last sort of thing to expect
to find in a retreat like Talbothay's and yet dearest,
he quickly added, observing how the remark had cut her.
I know you to be the most honest, spotless creature
that ever lived. So how can I suppose you a flirt? Tess?
Why don't you like the idea of being my wife?
If you love me as you seem to do, I
have never said I don't like the idea, and I
never could say it because it isn't true. The stress
now getting beyond endurance, her lip quivered, and she was
obliged to go away. Clare was so pained and perplexed
that he ran after and caught her in the passage.
Tell me, tell me, he said, passionately, clasping her in
forgetfulness of his curdy hands. Do tell me that you
won't belong to any one but me. I will. I
will tell you, she exclaimed, And I will give you
a complete answer if you will let go now. I
will tell you my experiences, all about myself. All your experiences, dear, Yes,
certainly any number, he expressed, a scent in loving satire,
looking into her face. My tess has, no doubt, almost
as many experience as that wild convulvulus out there on
the garden hedge that opened itself this morning for the
first time. Tell me anything, but don't use that wretched
expression any more about not being worthy of me. I
will try not, and I'll give you my reasons tomorrow
next week, Say on Sunday, Yes, on Sunday. At last,
she got away and did not stop in her retreat
till she was in the thicket of pollard willows at
the lower side of the Barten, where she could be
quite unseen. Here, Tess flung herself down upon the rustling
undergrowth of spear grass as upon a bed, and remained
crouching in palpitating misery, broken by momentary shoots of joy,
which her fears about the ending could not altogether suppress.
In reality, she was drifting into acquiescence. Every sea saw
of her breath, every wave of her blood, every pulse
singing in her ears was a voice that joined with
nature in revolt against her scrupulousness, reckless, inconsiderate acceptance of him,
to close with him at the altar, revealing nothing and
chancing discovery, to snatch ripe pleasure before the iron teeth
of pain could have time to shut upon her. That
was what Love counseled, and in almost a terror of ecstasy,
Tess divined that despite her many months of lonely self chastisement, wrestlings, communings,
schemes to lead a future of austere isolation, Love's counsel
would prevail. The afternoon advanced, and still she remained among
the willows. She heard the rattle of taking down the
pails from the forked stands the wa Wa which accompanied
the getting together of the cows. But she did not
go to the milking. They would see her agitation, and
the dairy man, thinking the cause to be love alone,
would good naturedly tease her. And that harassment could not
be borne. Her lover must have guessed her overwrought state
and invented some excuse for her non appearance, for no
inquiries were made or calls given. At half past six,
the sun settled down upon the l with the aspect
of a great forge in the heavens, and presently a
monstrous pumpkin like moon arose. On the other hand, the
pollard willows, tortured out of their natural shape by incessant choppings,
became spiny head monsters as they stood up against it.
She went in and upstairs without a light. It was
now Wednesday. Thursday came and Angel looked thoughtfully at her
from a distance, but intruded in no way upon her.
The indoor milkmaids, Marian and the rest seemed to guess
that something definite was afoot, for they did not force
any remarks upon her in the bedchamber. Friday passed Saturday
to morrow was the day I shall give way, I
shall say yes, I shall let myself marry him. I
cannot help it. She glessly panted with her hot face
in the pillow that night, on hearing one of the
other girls sigh his name in her sleep. I cannot
bear to let anybody have him but me. Yes, it
is a wrong to him, and may kill him when
he knows. Oh my heart, oh, oh oh, end of
chapter twenty eight.