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- Томас Харди
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- Тэсс из рода д’Эрбервиллей
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- Стр. 106/360
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She
was
angry
with
herself
afterwards
,
thinking
that
he
,
unaware
of
her
grave
reasons
for
liking
this
seclusion
,
might
have
mistaken
her
meaning
.
She
had
spoken
so
earnestly
to
him
,
as
if
his
presence
were
somehow
a
factor
in
her
wish
.
Her
misgiving
was
such
that
at
dusk
,
when
the
milking
was
over
,
she
walked
in
the
garden
alone
,
to
continue
her
regrets
that
she
had
disclosed
to
him
her
discovery
of
his
considerateness
.
It
was
a
typical
summer
evening
in
June
,
the
atmosphere
being
in
such
delicate
equilibrium
and
so
transmissive
that
inanimate
objects
seemed
endowed
with
two
or
three
senses
,
if
not
five
.
There
was
no
distinction
between
the
near
and
the
far
,
and
an
auditor
felt
close
to
everything
within
the
horizon
.
The
soundlessness
impressed
her
as
a
positive
entity
rather
than
as
the
mere
negation
of
noise
.
It
was
broken
by
the
strumming
of
strings
.
Tess
had
heard
those
notes
in
the
attic
above
her
head
.
Dim
,
flattened
,
constrained
by
their
confinement
,
they
had
never
appealed
to
her
as
now
,
when
they
wandered
in
the
still
air
with
a
stark
quality
like
that
of
nudity
.
To
speak
absolutely
,
both
instrument
and
execution
were
poor
;
but
the
relative
is
all
,
and
as
she
listened
Tess
,
like
a
fascinated
bird
,
could
not
leave
the
spot
.
Far
from
leaving
she
drew
up
towards
the
performer
,
keeping
behind
the
hedge
that
he
might
not
guess
her
presence
.
The
outskirt
of
the
garden
in
which
Tess
found
herself
had
been
left
uncultivated
for
some
years
,
and
was
now
damp
and
rank
with
juicy
grass
which
sent
up
mists
of
pollen
at
a
touch
;
and
with
tall
blooming
weeds
emitting
offensive
smells
—
weeds
whose
red
and
yellow
and
purple
hues
formed
a
polychrome
as
dazzling
as
that
of
cultivated
flowers
.
She
went
stealthily
as
a
cat
through
this
profusion
of
growth
,
gathering
cuckoo
-
spittle
on
her
skirts
,
cracking
snails
that
were
underfoot
,
staining
her
hands
with
thistle
-
milk
and
slug
-
slime
,
and
rubbing
off
upon
her
naked
arms
sticky
blights
which
,
though
snow
-
white
on
the
apple
-
tree
trunks
,
made
madder
stains
on
her
skin
;
thus
she
drew
quite
near
to
Clare
,
still
unobserved
of
him
.
Tess
was
conscious
of
neither
time
nor
space
.
The
exaltation
which
she
had
described
as
being
producible
at
will
by
gazing
at
a
star
,
came
now
without
any
determination
of
hers
;
she
undulated
upon
the
thin
notes
of
the
second
-
hand
harp
,
and
their
harmonies
passed
like
breezes
through
her
,
bringing
tears
into
her
eyes
.
The
floating
pollen
seemed
to
be
his
notes
made
visible
,
and
the
dampness
of
the
garden
the
weeping
of
the
garden
’
s
sensibility
.
Though
near
nightfall
,
the
rank
-
smelling
weed
-
flowers
glowed
as
if
they
would
not
close
for
intentness
,
and
the
waves
of
colour
mixed
with
the
waves
of
sound
.
The
light
which
still
shone
was
derived
mainly
from
a
large
hole
in
the
western
bank
of
cloud
;
it
was
like
a
piece
of
day
left
behind
by
accident
,
dusk
having
closed
in
elsewhere
.
He
concluded
his
plaintive
melody
,
a
very
simple
performance
,
demanding
no
great
skill
;
and
she
waited
,
thinking
another
might
be
begun
.
But
,
tired
of
playing
,
he
had
desultorily
come
round
the
fence
,
and
was
rambling
up
behind
her
.
Tess
,
her
cheeks
on
fire
,
moved
away
furtively
,
as
if
hardly
moving
at
all
.
Angel
,
however
,
saw
her
light
summer
gown
,
and
he
spoke
;
his
low
tones
reaching
her
,
though
he
was
some
distance
off
.
“
What
makes
you
draw
off
in
that
way
,
Tess
?
”
said
he
.
“
Are
you
afraid
?
”
“
Oh
no
,
sir
.
.
.
not
of
outdoor
things
;
especially
just
now
when
the
apple
-
blooth
is
falling
,
and
everything
is
so
green
.
”
