“That's it！Now I have star ted y ou—you'll go on beau tifully.There—I said I wou ld not come near y ou； and， in sp ite of such temptation as n ever before fell to mortal man， I'll keep my word……Tess， do y ou think my mother a queer old soul？”
“I don't know much of her yet， sir.”
“You'll find her so； she must be， to make y ou learn to whis tle to h er bullfinches.I am rather out of her b ooks just no w， but y ou will be quite in favour if y ou treat her live-stock well.Good morning.If y ou meet w ith any difficulties and want help here， don't go to the bailiff， come to me.”
It was in the economy of this régime that Tess Durbeyfield had undertaken to fill a plac e.Her first day's experiences were f airly typical of those which followed through many succeeding days.A familiarity with Alec d'Urberville's presence—which that y oung m an carefully cultivated in her by pl ayful dialogue， an d by jestingly callin g her his cousi n when they were alon e—removed much of her original shyness of h im， without， however， implanting any feeling which could engender shyness of a new and tenderer kind.But she was more pliable under his hands than a mere companionship would have made her， owing to her unavoidable d ependence upon his mother， and， through that lady's comparative helplessness， upon him.
She soon fo und th at whistling to th e bullf inches in Mrs.d'Urberville's room was no such onerous business when she had regained the art， for she had caught fro m her musical mother nu merous airs that su ited those song sters admirably.A far more satisfactory time than when she practised in the garden was this whistling by th e cages each m orning.Unrestrained by the y oung man's presence she thr ew up her m outh， put h er lips near the bars， and piped away in easeful grace to the attentive listeners.
Mrs.d'Urberville slept in a large fo ur-post beds tead hu ng with heavy damask curtains， and the bullfinches occupied the same apartment， where they flitted about freely at certain hours， and made little white spots on the furniture and upho lstery.Once while Tess was at the wind ow where the cag es wer e ranged， giving her lesson as usual， she thought she heard a rustling behind the bed.The old lady was not present， and turning round the girl had an impression that the toes of a pair of boots wer e visible below the f ringe of the curtains.Thereupon h er whistlin g became so disjointed th at the listener， if such there were， must have discov ered her sus picion of his presence.She searched th e curtains every morning after that， but never found anybody within them.Alec d'Urberville had evidently though t better of his freak to terrify her by an ambush of that kind.
10
Every village has its idiosyncrasy， its constitution， often its own code ofmorality.The levity of some of the younger women in and about Trantridge was marked， and was p erhaps symptomatic of the choice spirit who ruled The Slopes in that vicinity.The place had also a more abiding defect； it drank hard.The staple conversation on the farms around was on the uselessness of sav ing money； and sm ockfrocked arith meticians， leaning on their p loughs or h oes， would enter into calculations of great nicety to pro ve that par ish relief was a fuller prov ision for a man in his o ld age than any which could resu lt f rom savings out of their wages during a whole lifetime.
long bef ore her.It was a fin e Sep tember ev ening， just befor e sunset， when yellow lights struggle w ith blue shades in hairlike lines， and the atm osphere itself for ms a prospect withou t aid from more soli d obj ects， ex cept the innumerable winged insects that dance in it.Through this low-lit mistiness Tess walked leisurely along.
The chief pleasure of these philosophers lay in going every Saturday night， when work was done， to Chaseborou gh， a decay ed markettown two or th ree miles distant； and， returning in the small hours of the nex t morning， to spend Sunday in sleeping off the dyspeptic effects of the curious compounds sold to them as beer by the monopolizers of the once independent inns.
For a long tim e Tess did not join in the weekly pilgr images.But under pressure from matrons not much older than hers elf—for a f ieldman's wa ges being as high at twenty-one as at forty， marriage was early here—Tess at length consented to go.Her first exper ience of the journ ey afforded her more en joy-ment than s he had exp ected， the h ilariousness of the oth ers being quite contagious after her monotonous attention to the poultry-farm all the week.She went again and again.Being graceful and interesting， standing moreover on the momentary threshold of womanhood， her appear ance drew d own upon her some sly regards from loungers in the streets of Chaseborough； hence， though sometimes her journey to the tow n was m ade indepen dently， she alway s searched fo r her fello ws at n ightfall， to ha ve th e pro tection of their companionship homeward.
This had go ne on for a m onth or two when there came a Saturday in September， on which a fair and a market co incided； and the pilgrim s from Trantridge sought dou ble d elights at th e inns on that acco unt.Tess's occupations made her late in setting out， so that her comrades reached the town She did not discover the coincidence of the market with the fair till sh e had reached the p lace， by which time it was close upon d usk.Her limited marketing was soon completed； and then as usual she began to look about for some of the Trantridge cottagers.
At first she could not find them， and she was informed that most of them had gone to what they called a private little jig at the house of a hay-trusser and peat-dealer who had transactions with their farm.He lived in an out-ofthe-way nook of the townlet， and in trying to find her course thither her eyes fell upon Mr.d'Urberville standing at a street corner.
“What—my Beauty？You here so late？”he said.
She told him that she was simply waiting for company homeward.
“I'll see y ou again， ”said he ov er her shoulder as she wen t on down th e back lane.
Approaching the hay-trussers she co uld hear the fidd led notes of a re el proceeding f rom so me b uilding in the rear； bu t no sound of dancing was audible—an excep tional state of th ings for thes e parts， whe re as a ru le th e stamping drowned the music.The front door being open she could see straight through the house in to the garden at the back as far as th e s hades of nig ht would allow； and nobod y appearing to her kno ck she trav ersed the dwelling and went up the path to the outhouse whence the sound had attracted her.