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- Томас Харди
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- Тэсс из рода д’Эрбервиллей
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- Стр. 113/360
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At
these
non
-
human
hours
they
could
get
quite
close
to
the
waterfowl
.
Herons
came
,
with
a
great
bold
noise
as
of
opening
doors
and
shutters
,
out
of
the
boughs
of
a
plantation
which
they
frequented
at
the
side
of
the
mead
;
or
,
if
already
on
the
spot
,
hardily
maintained
their
standing
in
the
water
as
the
pair
walked
by
,
watching
them
by
moving
their
heads
round
in
a
slow
,
horizontal
,
passionless
wheel
,
like
the
turn
of
puppets
by
clockwork
.
They
could
then
see
the
faint
summer
fogs
in
layers
,
woolly
,
level
,
and
apparently
no
thicker
than
counterpanes
,
spread
about
the
meadows
in
detached
remnants
of
small
extent
.
On
the
gray
moisture
of
the
grass
were
marks
where
the
cows
had
lain
through
the
night
—
dark
-
green
islands
of
dry
herbage
the
size
of
their
carcasses
,
in
the
general
sea
of
dew
.
From
each
island
proceeded
a
serpentine
trail
,
by
which
the
cow
had
rambled
away
to
feed
after
getting
up
,
at
the
end
of
which
trail
they
found
her
;
the
snoring
puff
from
her
nostrils
,
when
she
recognized
them
,
making
an
intenser
little
fog
of
her
own
amid
the
prevailing
one
.
Then
they
drove
the
animals
back
to
the
barton
,
or
sat
down
to
milk
them
on
the
spot
,
as
the
case
might
require
.
Or
perhaps
the
summer
fog
was
more
general
,
and
the
meadows
lay
like
a
white
sea
,
out
of
which
the
scattered
trees
rose
like
dangerous
rocks
.
Birds
would
soar
through
it
into
the
upper
radiance
,
and
hang
on
the
wing
sunning
themselves
,
or
alight
on
the
wet
rails
subdividing
the
mead
,
which
now
shone
like
glass
rods
.
Minute
diamonds
of
moisture
from
the
mist
hung
,
too
,
upon
Tess
’
s
eyelashes
,
and
drops
upon
her
hair
,
like
seed
pearls
.
When
the
day
grew
quite
strong
and
commonplace
these
dried
off
her
;
moreover
,
Tess
then
lost
her
strange
and
ethereal
beauty
;
her
teeth
,
lips
,
and
eyes
scintillated
in
the
sunbeams
and
she
was
again
the
dazzlingly
fair
dairymaid
only
,
who
had
to
hold
her
own
against
the
other
women
of
the
world
.
About
this
time
they
would
hear
Dairyman
Crick
’
s
voice
,
lecturing
the
non
-
resident
milkers
for
arriving
late
,
and
speaking
sharply
to
old
Deborah
Fyander
for
not
washing
her
hands
“
For
Heaven
’
s
sake
,
pop
thy
hands
under
the
pump
,
Deb
!
Upon
my
soul
,
if
the
London
folk
only
knowed
of
thee
and
thy
slovenly
ways
,
they
’
d
swaller
their
milk
and
butter
more
mincing
than
they
do
a
’
ready
;
and
that
’
s
saying
a
good
deal
.
”
The
milking
progressed
,
till
towards
the
end
Tess
and
Clare
,
in
common
with
the
rest
,
could
hear
the
heavy
breakfast
table
dragged
out
from
the
wall
in
the
kitchen
by
Mrs
Crick
,
this
being
the
invariable
preliminary
to
each
meal
;
the
same
horrible
scrape
accompanying
its
return
journey
when
the
table
had
been
cleared
.
There
was
a
great
stir
in
the
milk
-
house
just
after
breakfast
.
The
churn
revolved
as
usual
,
but
the
butter
would
not
come
.
Whenever
this
happened
the
dairy
was
paralyzed
.
Squish
,
squash
,
echoed
the
milk
in
the
great
cylinder
,
but
never
arose
the
sound
they
waited
for
.
Dairyman
Crick
and
his
wife
,
the
milkmaids
Tess
,
Marian
,
Retty
Priddle
,
Izz
Huett
,
and
the
married
ones
from
the
cottages
;
also
Mr
Clare
,
Jonathan
Kail
,
old
Deborah
,
and
the
rest
,
stood
gazing
hopelessly
at
the
churn
;
and
the
boy
who
kept
the
horse
going
outside
put
on
moon
-
like
eyes
to
show
his
sense
of
the
situation
.
Even
the
melancholy
horse
himself
seemed
to
look
in
at
the
window
in
inquiring
despair
at
each
walk
round
.
“
’
Tis
years
since
I
went
to
Conjuror
Trendle
’
s
son
in
Egdon
—
years
!
”
said
the
dairyman
bitterly
.
“
And
he
was
nothing
to
what
his
father
had
been
.
I
have
said
fifty
times
,
if
I
have
said
once
,
that
I
DON
’
T
believe
in
en
;
though
‘
a
do
cast
folks
’
waters
very
true
.
But
I
shall
have
to
go
to
‘
n
if
he
’
s
alive
.
O
yes
,
I
shall
have
to
go
to
‘
n
,
if
this
sort
of
thing
continnys
!
”
