Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Томас Харди

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into difficulty, disaster, starvation, disease, degradation, death, thither were these half-dozen little captives under hatches compelled to sail with them—six helpless creatures, who had never been asked if they wished for life on any terms, much less if they wished for it on such hard conditions as were involved in being of the shiftless house of Durbeyfield. Some people would like to know whence the poet whose philosophy is in these days deemed as profound and trustworthy as his song is breezy and pure, gets his authority for speaking of ‘Nature’s holy plan.’

      It grew later, and neither father nor mother reappeared. Tess looked out of the door, and took a mental journey through Marlott. The village was shutting its eyes. Candles and lamps were being put out everywhere: she could inwardly behold the extinguisher and the extended hand.

      Her mother’s fetching simply meant one more to fetch. Tess began to perceive that a man in indifferent health, who proposed to start on a journey before one in the morning, ought not to be at an inn at this late hour celebrating his ancient blood.

      ‘Abraham,’ she said to her little brother, ‘do you put on your hat—you bain’t afraid?—and go up to Rolliver’s, and see what has gone wi’ father and mother.’

      The boy jumped promptly from his seat, and opened the door, and the night swallowed him up. Half an hour passed yet again; neither man, woman, nor child returned. Abraham, like his parents, seemed to have been limed and caught by the ensnaring inn.

      ‘I must go myself,’ she said.

      ‘Liza-Lu then went to bed, and Tess, locking them all in, started on her way up the dark and crooked lane or street not made for hasty progress; a street laid out before inches of land had value, and when one-handed clocks sufficiently subdivided the day.

       CHAPTER 4

      Rolliver’s inn, the single alehouse at this end of the long and broken village, could only boast of an off-license; hence, as nobody could legally drink on the premises, the amount of overt accommodation for consumers was strictly limited to a little board about six inches wide and two yards long, fixed to the garden palings by pieces of wire, so as to form a ledge. On this board thirsty strangers deposited their cups as they stood in the road and drank, and threw the dregs on the dusty ground to the pattern of Polynesia, and wished they could have a restful seat inside.

      Thus the strangers. But there were also local customers who felt the same wish; and where there’s a will there’s a way.

      In a large bedroom upstairs, the window of which was thickly curtained with a great woollen shawl lately discarded by the landlady Mrs. Rolliver, were gathered on this evening nearly a dozen persons, all seeking beatitude; all old inhabitants of the nearer end of Marlott, and frequenters of this retreat. Not only did the distance to The Pure Drop, the fully-licensed tavern at the further part of the dispersed village, render its accommodation practically unavailable for dwellers at this end; but the far more serious question, the quality of the liquor, confirmed the prevalent opinion that it was better to drink with Rolliver in a corner of the housetop than with the other landlord in a wide house.

      A gaunt four-post bedstead which stood in the room afforded sitting-space for several persons gathered round three of its sides; a couple more men had elevated themselves on a chest of drawers; another rested on the oak-carved ‘cwoffer’; two on the wash-stand; another on the stool; and thus all were, somehow, seated at their ease. The stage of mental comfort to which they had arrived at this hour was one wherein their souls expanded beyond their skins, and spread their personalities warmly through the room. In this process the chamber and its furniture grew more and more dignified and luxurious; the shawl hanging at the window took upon itself the richness of tapestry; the brass handles of the chest of drawers were as golden knockers; and the carved bedposts seemed to have some kinship with the magnificent pillars of Solomon’s temple.

      Mrs. Durbeyfield, having quickly walked hitherward after parting from Tess, opened the front door, crossed the downstairs room, which was in deep gloom, and then unfastened the stair-door like one whose fingers knew the tricks of the latches well. Her ascent of the crooked staircase was a slower process, and her face, as it rose into the light above the last stairs, encountered the gaze of all the party assembled in the bedroom.

      ‘—Being a few private friends I’ve asked in to keep up club-walking at my own expense,’ the landlady exclaimed at the sound of footsteps, as glibly as a child repeating the Catechism, while she peered over the stairs. ‘Oh, ’tis you, Mrs. Durbeyfield—Lard—how you frightened me!—I thought it might be some gaffer sent by Gover’ment.’

      Mrs. Durbeyfield was welcomed with glances and nods by the remainder of the conclave, and turned to where her husband sat. He was humming absently to himself, in a low tone: ‘I be as good as some folks here and there! I’ve got a great family vault at Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill, and finer skillentons than any man in Wessex!’

      ‘I’ve something to tell ’ee that’s come into my head about that—a grand projick!’ whispered his cheerful wife. ‘Here, John, don’t ’ee see me?’ She nudged him, while he, looking through her as through a window-pane, went on with his recitative.

      ‘Hush! Don’t ’ee sing so loud, my good man,’ said the landlady; ‘in case any member of the Gover’ment should be passing, and take away my licends.’

      ‘He’s told ’ee what’s happened to us, I suppose?’ asked Mrs. Durbeyfield.

      ‘Yes—in a way. D’ye think there’s any money hanging by it?’

      ‘Ah, that’s the secret,’ said Joan Durbeyfield sagely. ‘However, ’tis well to be kin to a coach, even if you don’t ride in ’em.’ She dropped her public voice, and continued in a low tone to her husband: ‘I’ve been thinking since you brought the news that there’s a great rich lady out by Trantridge, on the edge o’ The Chase, of the name of d’Urberville.’

      ‘Hey—what’s that?’ said Sir John.

      She repeated the information. ‘That lady must be our relation,’ she said. ‘And my projick is to send Tess to claim kin.’

      ‘There is a lady of the name, now you mention it,’ said Durbeyfield. ‘Pa’son Tringham didn’t think of that. But she’s nothing beside we—a junior branch of us, no doubt, hailing long since King Norman’s day.’

      While this question was being discussed neither of the pair noticed, in their preoccupation, that little Abraham had crept into the room, and was awaiting an opportunity of asking them to return.

      ‘She is rich, and she’d be sure to take notice o’ the maid,’ continued Mrs. Durbeyfield; ‘and ’twill be a very good thing. I don’t see why two branches o’ one family should not be on visiting terms.’

      ‘Yes; and we’ll all claim kin!’ said Abraham brightly from under the bedstead. ‘And we’ll all go and see her when Tess has gone to live with her; and we’ll ride in her coach and wear black clothes!’

      ‘How do you come here, child? What nonsense be ye talking! Go away, and play on the stairs till father and mother be ready!…Well, Tess ought to go to this other member of our family. She’d be sure to win the lady—Tess would; and likely enough ’twould lead to some noble gentleman marrying her. In short, I know it.’

      ‘How?’

      ‘I tried her fate in the Fortune-Teller, and it brought out that very thing!…You should ha’ seen how pretty she looked to-day; her skin is as sumple as a duchess’s.’

      ‘What says the maid herself to going?’

      ‘I’ve not asked her. She don’t know there is any such lady-relation yet. But it would certainly put her in the way of a grand marriage, and she won’t say nay to going.’

      ‘Tess is queer.’

      ‘But she’s tractable at bottom. Leave her to me.’

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