Chapter 14 Chapter Thirteen

The return of Tess Durbeyfield from her false kinsman was already being talked about, if the word was not too large for a mile's worth of ground.In the afternoon some young girls from the village of Marlotte, who had been Tess' primary schoolmates and friends, came to visit her together, wearing the best clothes they had washed and ironed. clothes, for they considered Tess to be her guest, a distinguished conqueror returning victorious; and they sat in a circle about the room, looking at her with curiosity.Because she was in love with Mr. d'Urberville, a cousin who was said to have been separated by thirty-one generations, a gentleman who was not quite local, and his reputation as a flirtatious and heart-wrenching man had spread everywhere, and he began Beyond the native borders of Trantridge, this frightening situation also made Tess's position, which they considered Tess's, more attractive than it would be if she were in no danger.

They were very interested in her, so that as soon as Tess was turned away some of the younger girls murmured— "How beautiful she is, and she looks even more beautiful in that pretty dress! I believe it cost a fortune, and was a present from him." Tess, standing in the corner of the room, taking the tea things out of the cupboard, did not hear these comments. If she had heard these remarks, she might soon have corrected her friends' misconceptions on the matter.But her mother heard that Joan's simple vanity sought emotional satisfaction in the fact that her daughter was being courted after her hope of a marriage failed.On the whole, she felt satisfied, even if this short and limited victory affected her daughter's reputation; but she might marry him at last, and she was glad to see them envious of her daughter, so she Warmly invite them to stay for tea.

Their gossip, their laughter, their kind innuendos, and above all their evasive jealousy, also revived Tess spiritually; The taste was infected, and almost became gay.The marble-like expression on her face disappeared, and her steps were a little more bouncy when she walked. Her face was radiant, and her whole body showed the beauty of youth. Sometimes, though she was full of thoughts, she answered their questions with an air of condescension, as if acknowledging that her experience in love was indeed somewhat enviable.But she was so far from Robert South's words "with her own destructive love," that her fantasies were only like a flash of lightning, and vanished in a flash; and laughed at her bouts of weakness; something terrible in her momentary pride condemned her, and she became listless again.

①Robert South (Robert South, 1634-1716), a British theologian. The dawn of the next morning was gloomy, it was no longer Sunday, but Monday; the pretty gowns were put away, the laughing guests were gone, and Tess awoke, lying alone on her On the bed where she used to sleep, several innocent children younger than her were lying around her, breathing gently.The excitement and interest of her coming home were gone, and she saw only before her the long, grim avenue on which she was trudging alone, without help or sympathy.Immediately afterwards her spirits sank terribly, and she wished to hide herself in her grave.

It was some weeks before Tess recovered enough to have the courage to show herself, to go to church one Sunday morning.She liked to hear the hymns--and the old ones--and the old hymns, and to sing along to the carols of the Matins.She was born with a love of music, inherited from her mother who loved to sing folk songs, and this love of hers gave the simplest music a power that sometimes almost ripped her heart out of her breast. come out. Desiring, for her own sake, as much as possible to avoid being noticed and being courted by young men, she did not start until the church bells began to strike, and found a Sit in the back seat, near the utility room, where only old men and women sit, and there's a pile of grave-digging tools and a coffin shelf in it.

The parishioners entered the church in twos and threes, and sat in a row before her, and sat there for a quarter of an hour with bowed heads, as if praying, but they did not pray; then they sat upright again, looking about. stand up.When the hymn was sung, it happened to be one she liked--the old "London" duet--but she didn't know what that hymn was called, though she wanted to know very much.She thought to herself, although she couldn't express her thoughts accurately in words, she felt how miraculous the power of a composer was. A girl like her had never heard his name and didn't know him at all. but he, buried in the grave, was able to lead her, in a set of emotional chants, to feelings that at first only he felt.

①The old double chat "Longdon" (the old double chat "Longdon"), Richard Longdon (1730-1803) was a British organist and composer who composed music for "Old Testament Psalms". During the service, those who had turned their heads turned their heads again; and when they saw her there, they whispered to each other.Knowing what they were whispering about, she began to grieve, and felt that she would never be able to come to church again. Compared with the past, the dormitory she shared with her siblings has become a place where she often takes refuge.Just in this bedroom, just a few square feet below the thatched hut, she saw the endless bleak wind, bitter rain, and snowfall outside the window, countless brilliant sunsets, and full moons one after another.She locked herself in the dormitory like this, and almost everyone thought she had left here afterward.

Tess's only activity during this period was after evening; when she went out into the woods, she did not seem to feel alone.She knew how to seize that very short moment in the evening, when light and darkness are justly balanced, and the restraint of day and the tension of night are neutralized, leaving only absolute freedom of mind.Only then is the misery of being alive reduced to the smallest possible degree.She was not afraid of the night; her only thought was to avoid Man--or rather that ruthless mass of beings called the world, so terrible in its totality and not so terrible in its individuality, Poor even.

She walked quietly on these lonely mountains and valleys, and wherever she went, she merged with the surrounding environment.Her evasive and frail body has also become an inseparable part of the scene.Sometimes her fantasies intensify the natural processes around her until they seem to become part of her history.They became not only part of her history, but her own history; for the world is but a mental phenomenon, and what it appears to be is what it is.The midnight wind and chill, whimpering among the buds and bark still tightly wrapped around the winter branches, became words of bitter reproach to Tess.The rainy weather was the expression of irremediable sorrow at her weakness by the vague moral god of her soul, whom she could neither definitely class with the God of her childhood. Go, don't know what else it is.

Tess builds her own character on a mess of traditional customs, her mind is full of shapes and voices that have no sympathy for her, and she surrounds herself tightly, but this is just the poor world of her fantasy. False creations only—fogs of moral monsters she feared for no reason.It is these moral monsters that are alien to the real world, not Tess herself.When she wandered through the hedges where the birds were sleeping, when she saw the hares hopping about in the moonlit meadows, or when she stood under the branches where the pheasants roosted, she saw herself as a sin incarnate. , has been violated in the realm of innocence.All the time, she was trying to differentiate where there was no difference.Where she feels contradictory, she is actually very harmonious.What she passively destroys is only a social law that has been accepted by people, not a social law that is recognized by the environment, but she imagines herself as a nondescript person in this environment.