Тесс з роду д’Ербервілей

Chapter 41

           ThewifeofAngelClareputherhandinherbrow,andfeltitscurve,andtheedgesofhereye-socketsperceptibleunderthesoftskin,andthoughtasshedidsothatatimewouldcomewhenthatbonewouldbebare.“Iwishitwerenow,”shesaid.

           Inthemidstofthesewhimsicalfanciessheheardanewstrangesoundamongtheleaves.Itmightbethewind;yettherewasscarcelyanywind.Sometimesitwasapalpitation,sometimesaflutter;sometimesitwasasortofgasporgurgle.Soonshewascertainthatthenoisescamefromwildcreaturesofsomekind,themoresowhen,originatingintheboughsoverhead,theywerefollowedbythefallofaheavybodyupontheground.Hadshebeenensconcedhereunderotherandmorepleasantconditionsshewouldhavebecomealarmed;but,outsidehumanity,shehadatpresentnofear.

           Dayatlengthbrokeinthesky.Whenithadbeendayaloftforsomelittlewhileitbecamedayinthewood.

           Directlytheassuringandprosaiclightoftheworld’sactivehourshadgrownstrongshecreptfromunderherhillockofleaves,andlookedaroundboldly.Thensheperceivedwhathadbeengoingontodisturbher.Theplantationwhereinshehadtakenshelterrandownatthisspotintoapeak,whichendedithitherward,outsidethehedgebeingarableground.

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