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- Тэсс из рода д’Эрбервиллей
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There
stood
her
mother
amid
the
group
of
children
,
as
Tess
had
left
her
,
hanging
over
the
Monday
washing
-
tub
,
which
had
now
,
as
always
,
lingered
on
to
the
end
of
the
week
.
Out
of
that
tub
had
come
the
day
before
—
Tess
felt
it
with
a
dreadful
sting
of
remorse
—
the
very
white
frock
upon
her
back
which
she
had
so
carelessly
greened
about
the
skirt
on
the
damping
grass
—
which
had
been
wrung
up
and
ironed
by
her
mother
’
s
own
hands
.
As
usual
,
Mrs
Durbeyfield
was
balanced
on
one
foot
beside
the
tub
,
the
other
being
engaged
in
the
aforesaid
business
of
rocking
her
youngest
child
.
The
cradle
-
rockers
had
done
hard
duty
for
so
many
years
,
under
the
weight
of
so
many
children
,
on
that
flagstone
floor
,
that
they
were
worn
nearly
flat
,
in
consequence
of
which
a
huge
jerk
accompanied
each
swing
of
the
cot
,
flinging
the
baby
from
side
to
side
like
a
weaver
’
s
shuttle
,
as
Mrs
Durbeyfield
,
excited
by
her
song
,
trod
the
rocker
with
all
the
spring
that
was
left
in
her
after
a
long
day
’
s
seething
in
the
suds
.
Nick
-
knock
,
nick
-
knock
,
went
the
cradle
;
the
candle
-
flame
stretched
itself
tall
,
and
began
jigging
up
and
down
;
the
water
dribbled
from
the
matron
’
s
elbows
,
and
the
song
galloped
on
to
the
end
of
the
verse
,
Mrs
Durbeyfield
regarding
her
daughter
the
while
.
Even
now
,
when
burdened
with
a
young
family
,
Joan
Durbeyfield
was
a
passionate
lover
of
tune
.
No
ditty
floated
into
Blackmoor
Vale
from
the
outer
world
but
Tess
’
s
mother
caught
up
its
notation
in
a
week
.
There
still
faintly
beamed
from
the
woman
’
s
features
something
of
the
freshness
,
and
even
the
prettiness
,
of
her
youth
;
rendering
it
probable
that
the
personal
charms
which
Tess
could
boast
of
were
in
main
part
her
mother
’
s
gift
,
and
therefore
unknightly
,
unhistorical
.
“
I
’
ll
rock
the
cradle
for
‘
ee
,
mother
,
”
said
the
daughter
gently
.
“
Or
I
’
ll
take
off
my
best
frock
and
help
you
wring
up
?
I
thought
you
had
finished
long
ago
.
”
Her
mother
bore
Tess
no
ill
-
will
for
leaving
the
housework
to
her
single
-
handed
efforts
for
so
long
;
indeed
,
Joan
seldom
upbraided
her
thereon
at
any
time
,
feeling
but
slightly
the
lack
of
Tess
’
s
assistance
whilst
her
instinctive
plan
for
relieving
herself
of
her
labours
lay
in
postponing
them
.
Tonight
,
however
,
she
was
even
in
a
blither
mood
than
usual
.
There
was
a
dreaminess
,
a
pre
-
occupation
,
an
exaltation
,
in
the
maternal
look
which
the
girl
could
not
understand
.
“
Well
,
I
’
m
glad
you
’
ve
come
,
”
her
mother
said
,
as
soon
as
the
last
note
had
passed
out
of
her
,
“
I
want
to
go
and
fetch
your
father
;
but
what
’
s
more
’
n
that
,
I
want
to
tell
‘
ee
what
have
happened
.
Y
’
ll
be
fess
enough
,
my
poppet
,
when
th
’
st
know
!
”
(
Mrs
Durbeyfield
habitually
spoke
the
dialect
;
her
daughter
,
who
had
passed
the
Sixth
Standard
in
the
National
School
under
a
London
-
trained
mistress
,
spoke
two
languages
:
the
dialect
at
home
,
more
or
less
;
ordinary
English
abroad
and
to
persons
of
quality
.
)
“
Since
I
’
ve
been
away
?
”
Tess
asked
.
“
Ay
!
”
“
Had
it
anything
to
do
with
father
’
s
making
such
a
mommet
of
himself
in
thik
carriage
this
afternoon
?
Why
did
‘
er
?
I
felt
inclined
to
sink
into
the
ground
with
shame
!
”
