不过前程总还是在望啊。要是他运气好，找到份美差，他一定忍受难以避免的磨难，决不气馁。他感谢上帝赐他以结实的身体和充沛的精力，随之鼓起了勇气。眼下固然对什么都望门兴叹，包括学院在内，但是也许有那么一天，他就能升堂入室。就说那些大放光明、领袖群伦的学问宫殿吧，迟早有一天他会在那儿临窗俯瞰人间。
他后来果真收到石作的通知，说有个位子等他去。这让他头一回觉着心强气旺，所以毫不迟疑地接受了这个要求。
他白天干了整天活，晚上还用大半夜读书，满腔热忱，悉力以赴去追求他的事业，要不是他年轻力壮，要这样撑下去是绝对不可能的。他先花四先令六便士买了盏带罩子的灯，这样灯光就足了，又买了笔纸和必不可少的书籍。他又把屋里全部家具挪了地方（其实他活动和睡觉就那么一间），用绳子在墙两头拉起来，上面搭上帘子，一间隔成了两间，还在窗户上挂起厚帘子，晚上谁也看不见他牺牲睡眠，坐下来，摊开书看。房东太太对他屋里的挪动大惑不解。
他以前为成家租房子，置家具，弄得窘迫不堪，到后来妻子远走高飞，那些东西，也就一风吹了。从那回卤莽行事、倒了大霉之后，他压根儿没存过一个子儿，这会儿开始拿工钱了，非得省吃俭用不可。为买一两本书，竟然到了不能举火的地步。到了夜里，阴冷的空气从草场那边袭来，他就把大衣穿上，戴上帽子和毛手套，端坐在灯前。
他打窗户那儿望得见大教堂的塔尖，还有那个双曲拱穹顶，城市大钟在它下面发出宏大声响。走到楼梯平台，还能一瞥河边学院的高塔楼，它的钟楼高官以及高尖塔。每当他对前途的信念发生动摇，他就把这些眼前物当成刺激剂。
他也跟所有凭一股子热劲儿办事的人一样，不去深究如何按部就班去处理细节问题。他固然偶尔也在无意中了解到普通处世之道，但是他根本不放在心上。他对自己说，就眼前而论，他考虑要办的事就是做好存钱和积累知识这两项准备，静待有朝一日能拜受机缘之赐，让他这样的人成为大学学子。“因为智慧护庇人，好像银钱护庇人一样，惟独智慧能保全智慧人的生命。”他现在全神贯注在自己的愿望上，以致匀不出心思来仔细掂量一下这愿望究竟有几分实现的可能。
恰好这时候可怜的姑婆来了一封信，她心神不定，焦虑重重，谈到她以前为之深感苦恼的题目，也就是她非常担心裘德意志不坚，免不了同他的表姊妹苏•柏瑞和和她的家人发生瓜葛。苏的父亲回伦敦去了，不过姑娘还留在基督堂。令姑婆尤为反感的是，姑娘在一家所谓教会圣器店，充当什么工艺师或设计师一类，那地方是个十足的偶像崇拜的温床，毫无疑问，因为这样的身份，她已经放弃了原来的信仰，就算没当纯粹的教皇派，也是在装腔作势来套表演罢了（多喜•福来小姐随风转，是福音派）。
裘德的职志在求知，神学的事不大在意，所以苏在信仰方面可能有什么倾向，对他并无影响，倒是这个有关她本人的线索令他大感兴趣，乐不可支。等到他头一回有空，他就照姑婆信里的形容，满心高兴地一意去寻找那大略仿佛的铺子。在一家他窥见里面有位年轻姑娘坐在书桌旁边，样子叫人疑惑就是相片本人。他乍着胆子进了铺子，买了点小东西之后故意赖着不走。铺子似乎完全由妇女经营，品种有英国国教的图书、文具纸张和杂七杂八的小玩意儿，像配了座子的石膏小天使，嵌在哥特式镜框里的圣人像、跟受难十字架差不多一样的乌木十字架、跟弥撒书差不到哪儿去的公祷书。他不大好意思直看书桌边的姑娘；她那么俏丽，他才不相信她会成他的人呢。正好她跟柜台后面两个年长些的妇女说话，听得出来她的口音带有他的口音的某些特点；不过经她一说，就显得那么柔和，那么甜润，可这到底是他一样的口音啊。她这会儿忙什么呢？她面前放着一块锌板，裁成三四英尺长的长卷状，一面上了无光漆，她正在上面设计或装饰一个词，用的是国教教会经文常用的字体：
阿里路亚
“多甜美、多圣洁的基督徒行业啊，她就干这个啊！”他心里想。
她人为什么在那儿，现在一下子得到充分的说明了。她干这类活的本事无疑是她当教会金属镌刻工的父亲传给她的。她这会儿制作的字母显然是准备装在圣坛上，以使虔诚的气氛更为浓厚。
他从铺子出来。此时此地，他过去跟她说话不见得有什么不便，不过这样做未免把姑婆的嘱咐完全撤到一边了，未免不够光明磊落，诚然她曾经蛮横地支使过他，不过也是她把他带大呀。她这会儿的确没有管束他的权力了，也因为这样反而勾起了令人感到悲哀的情感力量，从而使姑婆力争此事决不可行的希望得到了支持。
因此裘德当时没做任何表示。眼下他还不准备郑重其事地同她会面。另外还有原因使他不便这样。他身穿粗布上装，裤子上满是尘污，而她却显得那么雅洁，以他这副样子跟她邂逅，实在自惭形秽。他之所以不要跟费乐生先生晤面也是这个道理。很可能她禀赋家里人一脉相承的对异性的嫌恶之心，特别是他一旦告诉她他曾经因为自己痛心的婚史而终于一辈子同一个与她同性别而她又决看不起的人拴在一起，她必定按照一个基督徒该做的那样，对他不齿。
所以他只从旁边留心她，想到她人在那儿，心里就喜欢。在他意识里，她的生动鲜明的存在让他不断兴奋。不过她终归是个多多少少理想化了的人物，因而他开始在她身上编织的是个荒唐无稽的白日梦。
过了两三个礼拜，他同几个工友一块儿在古老街上权杖学院外边，把一块加工好的石头从货车上卸下，先抬过人行道，再举上他们正在修复的护墙。各就各位之后，工头说，“我一喊就举啊！嗨——嗬！”他们跟着喊起来。
他刚往上举，冷不防他表亲正站在他胳膊肘紧边上。她一只脚往后一撤，稍等了一下，好让挡路的东西先移开。她那明如秋水、内蕴深沉的双眸注意看着他，目光里融合着或者他仿佛觉得融合着敏慧和温柔，而敏慧与温柔再融入了神秘，就使眼睛的表情，还有嘴唇的表情，在她向同伴说话那一刻，显得那么有生气，而且在看他时，不经意地把这有生气的表情转向他这边。其实她看他，也不过像看他干活时扬起的灰尘而已。
她靠他如此之近，不禁使他深深感到刺激，以致发起抖来；出于羞怯的本能，他把脸转过去了，免得她把他看清楚：既然她以前压根儿没见过他，所以他以为她要把他看清楚是无从说起的，再说她连他姓字名谁根本没听说过。他看得很明白，她虽然原先是个乡下小姑娘，后来几年在伦敦也还是少女，长大成人来到这地方，可是她已经出落得没乡下人的土气了。
她走了，他接着干活，一边心里琢磨着她。她刚才那会儿对他的影响把他搞晕了，弄得他对她的体态和身材没一点数。他能想得起来的是，她体型并不高大，而是轻盈、苗条，人们常说的优雅型。他所看到的无非这些。她外表不是雕像般娴静，动作带有神经质的意味。她顾盼生光，气韵生动，然而画家不会说她大家风范或明艳照人。不过就是到这个程度已经令他大为惊奇了。拿他一比，她已经脱尽了他身上那样的粗俗鄙陋。怪的是，他那家门一向生性乖戾、命途多舛，几乎神人共弃，怎么会出了这样的凤凰，直逼纯美的高度，他想这该是伦敦陶冶之功吧。
他长期受孤寂的封闭影响，搭上他把现在呆的地方诗化的结果，使他心中积蓄的感情此时如火如茶，也从这一刻起倾注到这个半是由幻觉造成的女性身上。他明知这样跟信守姑婆的再三叮咛背道而驰，可是很快他就没法再克制同她结识的欲望了。
他硬装出来想念她完全是因为一个家门的关系，这是因为有种种不容置辩的理由由不得他再有别的想法，也不该再有别的想法。
第一条理由就是他结过婚，有另外的想法，就是错；第二条，就算环境睁只眼闭只眼，表亲恋爱也于情于理不合；第三条，就算他是自由身，在他们这个家门里，婚姻一向是令人伤痛的悲剧，而有血亲关系的婚姻势必使本已不堪的情况变本加厉，令人伤痛的悲剧就会变成令人恐怖的惨剧了。
所以想来想去，他这方面只好本着亲戚之间彼此共有的好感去想念苏；从实际出发去关注她，把她当成一位值得引以为荣的人，值得相互交谈的人，值得向她打招呼的人。以后呢，就成了接受她邀请去喝茶的人；在她身上用情切切要以愿她事事遂心如意的亲眷之情为限。如此这般，她可能成为他的慈心惠爱的天使，催他发愤图强的力量，圣公会礼拜堂的同契，温良可亲的挚友。
Part 2 Chapter 3
BUT under the various deterrent influences Jude's instinct was to approach her timidly, and the next Sunday he went to the morning service in the Cathedral church of Cardinal College to gain a further view of her, for he had found that she frequently attended there.
She did not come, and he awaited her in the afternoon, which was finer. He knew that if she came at all she would approach the building along the eastern side of the great green quadrangle from which it was accessible, and he stood in a corner while the bell was going. A few minutes before the hour for service she appeared as one of the figures walking along under the college walls, and at sight of her he advanced up the side opposite, and followed her into the building, more than ever glad that he had not as yet revealed himself. To see her, and to be himself unseen and unknown, was enough for him at present.
He lingered awhile in the vestibule, and the service was some way advanced when he was put into a seat. It was a louring, mournful, still afternoon, when a religion of some sort seems a necessity to ordinary practical men, and not only a luxury of the emotional and leisured classes. In the dim light and the baffling glare of the clerestory windows he could discern the opposite worshippers indistinctly only, but he saw that Sue was among them. He had not long discovered the exact seat that she occupied when the chanting of the 119th Psalm in which the choir was engaged reached its second part, IN QUO CORRIGET, the organ changing to a pathetic Gregorian tune as the singers gave forth:
Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way?
It was the very question that was engaging Jude's attention at this moment. What a wicked worthless fellow he had been to give vent as he had done to an animal passion for a woman, and allow it to lead to such disastrous consequences; then to think of putting an end to himself; then to go recklessly and get drunk. The great waves of pedal music tumbled round the choir, and, nursed on the supernatural as he had been, it is not wonderful that he could hardly believe that the psalm was not specially set by some regardful Providence for this moment of his first entry into the solemn building. And yet it was the ordinary psalm for the twenty-fourth evening of the month.
The girl for whom he was beginning to nourish an extraordinary tenderness was at this time ensphered by the same harmonies as those which floated into his ears; and the thought was a delight to him. She was probably a frequenter of this place, and, steeped body and soul in church sentiment as she must be by occupation and habit, had, no doubt, much in common with him. To an impressionable and lonely young man the consciousness of having at last found anchorage for his thoughts, which promised to supply both social and spiritual possibilities, was like the dew of Hermon, and he remained throughout the service in a sustaining atmosphere of ecstasy.
Though he was loth to suspect it, some people might have said to him that the atmosphere blew as distinctly from Cyprus as from Galilee.
Jude waited till she had left her seat and passed under the screen before he himself moved. She did not look towards him, and by the time he reached the door she was half-way down the broad path. Being dressed up in his Sunday suit he was inclined to follow her and reveal himself. But he was not quite ready; and, alas, ought he to do so with the kind of feeling that was awakening in him?
For though it had seemed to have an ecclesiastical basis during the service, and he had persuaded himself that such was the case, he could not altogether be blind to the real nature of the magnetism. She was such a stranger that the kinship was affectation, and he said, "It can't be! I, a man with a wife, must not know her!" Still Sue WAS his own kin, and the fact of his having a wife, even though she was not in evidence in this hemisphere, might be a help in one sense. It would put all thought of a tender wish on his part out of Sue's mind, and make her intercourse with him free and fearless. It was with some heartache that he saw how little he cared for the freedom and fearlessness that would result in her from such knowledge.
Some little time before the date of this service in the cathedral the pretty, liquid-eyed, light-footed young woman Sue Bridehead had an afternoon's holiday, and leaving the ecclesiastical establishment in which she not only assisted but lodged, took a walk into the country with a book in her hand. It was one of those cloudless days which sometimes occur in Wessex and elsewhere between days of cold and wet, as if intercalated by caprice of the weather-god. She went along for a mile or two until she came to much higher ground than that of the city she had left behind her. The road passed between green fields, and coming to a stile Sue paused there, to finish the page she was reading, and then looked back at the towers and domes and pinnacles new and old.
On the other side of the stile, in the footpath, she beheld a foreigner with black hair and a sallow face, sitting on the grass beside a large square board whereon were fixed, as closely as they could stand, a number of plaster statuettes, some of them bronzed, which he was re-arranging before proceeding with them on his way. They were in the main reduced copies of ancient marbles, and comprised divinities of a very different character from those the girl was accustomed to see portrayed, among them being a Venus of standard pattern, a Diana, and, of the other sex, Apollo, Bacchus, and Mars. Though the figures were many yards away from her the south-west sun brought them out so brilliantly against the green herbage that she could discern their contours with luminous distinctness; and being almost in a line between herself and the church towers of the city they awoke in her an oddly foreign and contrasting set of ideas by comparison. The man rose, and, seeing her, politely took off his cap, and cried "I-i-i-mages!" in an accent that agreed with his appearance. In a moment he dexterously lifted upon his knee the great board with its assembled notabilities divine and human, and raised it to the top of his head, bringing them on to her and resting the board on the stile. First he offered her his smaller wares-- the busts of kings and queens, then a minstrel, then a winged Cupid. She shook her head.
"How much are these two?" she said, touching with her finger the Venus and the Apollo--the largest figures on the tray.
He said she should have them for ten shillings.
"I cannot afford that," said Sue. She offered considerably less, and to her surprise the image-man drew them from their wire stay and handed them over the stile. She clasped them as treasures.
When they were paid for, and the man had gone, she began to be concerned as to what she should do with them. They seemed so very large now that they were in her possession, and so very naked. Being of a nervous temperament she trembled at her enterprise. When she handled them the white pipeclay came off on her gloves and jacket. After carrying them along a little way openly an idea came to her, and, pulling some huge burdock leaves, parsley, and other rank growths from the hedge, she wrapped up her burden as well as she could in these, so that what she carried appeared to be an enormous armful of green stuff gathered by a zealous lover of nature.
"Well, anything is better than those everlasting church fallals!" she said. But she was still in a trembling state, and seemed almost to wish she had not bought the figures.
Occasionally peeping inside the leaves to see that Venus's arm was not broken, she entered with her heathen load into the most Christian city in the country by an obscure street running parallel to the main one, and round a corner to the side door of the establishment to which she was attached. Her purchases were taken straight up to her own chamber, and she at once attempted to lock them in a box that was her very own property; but finding them too cumbersome she wrapped them in large sheets of brown paper, and stood them on the floor in a corner.
The mistress of the house, Miss Fontover, was an elderly lady in spectacles, dressed almost like an abbess; a dab at Ritual, as become one of her business, and a worshipper at the ceremonial church of St. Silas, in the suburb of Beersheba before-mentioned, which Jude also had begun to attend. She was the daughter of a clergyman in reduced circumstances, and at his death, which had occurred several years before this date, she boldly avoided penury by taking over a little shop of church requisites and developing it to its present creditable proportions. She wore a cross and beads round her neck as her only ornament, and knew the Christian Year by heart.
She now came to call Sue to tea, and, finding that the girl did not respond for a moment, entered the room just as the other was hastily putting a string round each parcel.
"Something you have been buying, Miss Bridehead?" she asked, regarding the enwrapped objects.
"Yes--just something to ornament my room," said Sue.
"Well, I should have thought I had put enough here already," said Miss Fontover, looking round at the Gothic-framed prints of saints, the Church-text scrolls, and other articles which, having become too stale to sell, had been used to furnish this obscure chamber. "What is it? How bulky!" She tore a little hole, about as big as a wafer, in the brown paper, and tried to peep in. "Why, statuary? Two figures? Where did you get them?"
"Oh--I bought them of a travelling man who sells casts"
"Two saints?"
"Yes."
"What ones?"
"St. Peter and St.--St. Mary Magdalen."
"Well--now come down to tea, and go and finish that organ-text, if there's light enough afterwards."
These little obstacles to the indulgence of what had been the merest passing fancy created in Sue a great zest for unpacking her objects and looking at them; and at bedtime, when she was sure of being undisturbed, she unrobed the divinities in comfort. Placing the pair of figures on the chest of drawers, a candle on each side of them, she withdrew to the bed, flung herself down thereon, and began reading a book she had taken from her box, which Miss Fontover knew nothing of. It was a volume of Gibbon, and she read the chapter dealing with the reign of Julian the Apostate. Occasionally she looked up at the statuettes, which appeared strange and out of place, there happening to be a Calvary print hanging between them, and, as if the scene suggested the action, she at length jumped up and withdrew another book from her box--a volume of verse-- and turned to the familiar poem--
Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean: The world has grown grey from thy breath!
which she read to the end. Presently she put out the candles, undressed, and finally extinguished her own light.
She was of an age which usually sleeps soundly, yet to-night she kept waking up, and every time she opened her eyes there was enough diffused light from the street to show her the white plaster figures, standing on the chest of drawers in odd contrast to their environment of text and martyr, and the Gothic-framed Crucifix-picture that was only discernible now as a Latin cross, the figure thereon being obscured by the shades.
On one of these occasions the church clocks struck some small hour. It fell upon the ears of another person who sat bending over his books at a not very distant spot in the same city. Being Saturday night the morrow was one on which Jude had not set his alarm-clock to call him at his usually early time, and hence he had stayed up, as was his custom, two or three hours later than he could afford to do on any other day of the week. Just then he was earnestly reading from his Griesbach's text. At the very time that Sue was tossing and staring at her figures, the policeman and belated citizens passing along under his window might have heard, if they had stood still, strange syllables mumbled with fervour within--words that had for Jude an indescribable enchantment: inexplicable sounds something like these:--
