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“
Didn
’
t
you
see
me
?
”
asked
d
’
Urberville
.
“
I
was
not
attending
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
heard
you
,
I
believe
,
though
I
fancied
it
was
a
carriage
and
horses
.
I
was
in
a
sort
of
dream
.
”
“
Ah
!
you
heard
the
d
’
Urberville
Coach
,
perhaps
.
You
know
the
legend
,
I
suppose
?
”
“
No
.
My
—
somebody
was
going
to
tell
it
me
once
,
but
didn
’
t
.
”
“
If
you
are
a
genuine
d
’
Urberville
I
ought
not
to
tell
you
either
,
I
suppose
.
As
for
me
,
I
’
m
a
sham
one
,
so
it
doesn
’
t
matter
.
It
is
rather
dismal
.
It
is
that
this
sound
of
a
non
-
existent
coach
can
only
be
heard
by
one
of
d
’
Urberville
blood
,
and
it
is
held
to
be
of
ill
-
omen
to
the
one
who
hears
it
.
It
has
to
do
with
a
murder
,
committed
by
one
of
the
family
,
centuries
ago
.
”
“
Now
you
have
begun
it
,
finish
it
.
”
“
Very
well
.
One
of
the
family
is
said
to
have
abducted
some
beautiful
woman
,
who
tried
to
escape
from
the
coach
in
which
he
was
carrying
her
off
,
and
in
the
struggle
he
killed
her
—
or
she
killed
him
—
I
forget
which
.
Such
is
one
version
of
the
tale
.
.
.
.
I
see
that
your
tubs
and
buckets
are
packed
.
Going
away
,
aren
’
t
you
?
”
“
Yes
,
tomorrow
—
Old
Lady
Day
.
”
“
I
heard
you
were
,
but
could
hardly
believe
it
;
it
seems
so
sudden
.
Why
is
it
?
”
