Tess of the dUrbervilles - Page 96/283

Tess had heard those notes in the attic above her head. Dim,

flattened, constrained by their confinement, they had never appealed

to her as now, when they wandered in the still air with a stark

quality like that of nudity. To speak absolutely, both instrument

and execution were poor; but the relative is all, and as she listened

Tess, like a fascinated bird, could not leave the spot. Far from

leaving she drew up towards the performer, keeping behind the hedge

that he might not guess her presence.

The outskirt of the garden in which Tess found herself had been

left uncultivated for some years, and was now damp and rank with

juicy grass which sent up mists of pollen at a touch; and with tall

blooming weeds emitting offensive smells--weeds whose red and yellow

and purple hues formed a polychrome as dazzling as that of cultivated

flowers. She went stealthily as a cat through this profusion of

growth, gathering cuckoo-spittle on her skirts, cracking snails that

were underfoot, staining her hands with thistle-milk and slug-slime,

and rubbing off upon her naked arms sticky blights which, though

snow-white on the apple-tree trunks, made madder stains on her skin;

thus she drew quite near to Clare, still unobserved of him.

Tess was conscious of neither time nor space. The exaltation which

she had described as being producible at will by gazing at a star

came now without any determination of hers; she undulated upon the

thin notes of the second-hand harp, and their harmonies passed like

breezes through her, bringing tears into her eyes. The floating

pollen seemed to be his notes made visible, and the dampness of

the garden the weeping of the garden's sensibility. Though near

nightfall, the rank-smelling weed-flowers glowed as if they would not

close for intentness, and the waves of colour mixed with the waves of

sound. The light which still shone was derived mainly from a large hole in

the western bank of cloud; it was like a piece of day left behind

by accident, dusk having closed in elsewhere. He concluded his

plaintive melody, a very simple performance, demanding no great

skill; and she waited, thinking another might be begun. But, tired

of playing, he had desultorily come round the fence, and was rambling

up behind her. Tess, her cheeks on fire, moved away furtively, as if

hardly moving at all. Angel, however, saw her light summer gown, and he spoke; his low

tones reaching her, though he was some distance off.

"What makes you draw off in that way, Tess?" said he. "Are you

afraid?"

"Oh no, sir--not of outdoor things; especially just now when the

apple-blooth is falling, and everything is so green."