"ALL HEMIN HEIS THEOS HO PATER, EX HOU TA PANTA, KAI HEMEIS EIS AUTON:"
Till the sounds rolled with reverent loudness, as a book was heard to close:--
"KAI HEIS KURIOS IESOUS CHRISTOS, DI HOU TA PANTA KAI HEMEIS DI AUTOU!"
尽管裘德受到各种各样影响的制约，他自身的本能依然促使他去接近她，不过藏头露尾、畏畏缩缩就是了。他预定下个礼拜天到大教堂红衣主教学院礼拜堂做早礼拜，因为他已经发现她常去那地方做礼拜，这样他就有机会把她看得仔细些。
她上午没来。他下午又去等她，下午天气也好了点。他知道，如果她来，必定顺着大绿四方院东面走，那条路可以通到礼拜堂。钟响着时候，他就朝一个角落一站。礼拜开始前几分钟，果然她夹在一群人中间过来了，沿着学院外墙往前走。他一瞧见她就赶忙奔到路对面，紧跟她进了堂。他因为没在她面前露相，心里很得意。眼下只要能瞧见她，又没让她瞧见自己，又不让她知道他是谁，也就够了。
礼拜开始后，他先在门厅里转悠了一下，然后进去找座位坐下。午后浓云密布，气象惨淡，一片沉寂。逢这样天气，只要是宗教，脚踏实地的老百姓似乎都把它当成必需品，而不仅是供多愁善感的有闲阶级专用的奢侈品。堂里光线很暗，两侧高窗透进来的亮光一闪一闪的，他只能模模糊糊地看到邻行坐着的教徒，不过他知道苏就在他们中间，果然没费什么工夫就找到了她坐的地方，一点也不错。唱诗班合唱《诗篇》第一百一十九章，这时唱到了第二节In guo corriget（你怎么改好），在往下唱的时候，风琴转而奏出伤感的格里戈利调，
少年人用什么洁净他们的行为呢？
此时此刻，这问题就在他心里盘旋不已。想当初他跟畜牲一样发情，在一个女人身上发泄了兽欲；就因为这样，造成多么不幸的后果。后来他想干脆把自己了掉就算了；跟着又自暴自弃，喝得醺醺大醉，足见他是多么卑鄙下贱的家伙！脚踏风琴奏出的乐声波澜壮阔，合着唱诗班的歌声起伏回荡，使人如入神明上界，如同他从前经历过那样。他自幼受神道儒染，难怪这会儿他简直以为慈悲为本的上帝为他头一回瞻礼圣殿，特意给他安排好这章诗篇，——其实每到一个月第二十四个晚上，这章诗篇都照唱不误。
他心里对那位姑娘极其特别的情苗已经开始发荣滋长，觉着她这会儿想必也为这飘进他耳朵的和谐的音乐所陶醉。想到这里，他真是满心欢喜。她大概经常出人这个礼拜堂。由于职业和习惯，她必定整个身心都浸润着对圣教的虔诚。这无疑是他们声气相应的方面啊。对于他这样一个易于感受影响而又索居独处的青年来说，一旦这样意识到精神找到了寄托，而这种寄托对于他想异日在社会和精神方面大显身手的意愿，不啻广开了种种可能的前景，真好比遇到黑门降下了甘露。所以在整个礼拜过程中，他一直持续处在令人情绪高昂、极度欢欣鼓舞的气氛中。
他自己当然可以这样深信不疑，可是别人恐怕会斩钉截铁地提醒他，算了吧，这股从加利利吹过来的大气，还不是跟塞浦路斯那边吹过来的一个样嘛。
裘德一直等到她离开座位，走过隔开圣坛的屏幕，才站起来。她并没朝他这边看，等他到了门口，她已经在宽阔的甬道上走了一半。他穿的是礼拜天服装，所以他很想跟下去，向她自我介绍为何许人。不过他到底没做好充分的心理准备；唉，他究竟该不该因为产生了那样的感情，就不顾一切这么干呢？
虽然他们做礼拜的时候，似乎彼此有同一宗教信仰做基础，他也极力往这上面想，可是总不能对吸引他的磁力的真正性质成了个睁眼瞎呀！她本来跟他素不相识，形同路人，什么亲戚关系，那还不是自欺欺人之谈？这样一想，他就说， “不行呀，绝对不行呀，我这人有老婆啦，可不能招惹她呀！”苏总还是内亲，再搭上他是有妇之夫，就算他妻子没在这半球露面，这两样缘由在一定意义上总是个帮助吧。苏要是了解了一切，心里就决计不会想到他会有跟她谈恋爱的非分之想，跟他来往也就坦坦然然，不存戒心了。话又说回来，苏要真是心里有数，才坦坦然然，不存戒心，那他可又一点不喜欢，这么一想，他又不免心里难过。
比这次大教堂做礼拜稍早些，那个转盼流波、步态轻盈的年轻标致姑娘苏•柏瑞和有天下午休假。她离开那个既帮活又寄宿的教会圣器店，手上拿本书，到乡间散步。那一天恰好云开日出。好像气象之神发了慈悲开了恩，在维塞克斯郡和别的地方寒冷多雨的日子中间有时插进几天这样好天气。她走了一两英里光景，到了一个地势比她留在后边的城市要高的地方。大路两旁是绿油油田野，她走到一个边篱阶梯处就停步了，她想把正看的那页书看完，后来就回头遥望古老和近时的塔楼、圆顶和尖塔。
她看见篱阶那一边，在一条人踩出的小道上，有个黑头发、黄脸膛的外国人在草地上坐着，身边有块大方板子，上边拴紧许多小石膏像，全都立着放的，挨得很紧，有些还上了青铜色；为了带着这些东西继续上路，他正把它们重新排列。那些像基本上是按大理石雕像原型缩制而成，其中有那姑娘因原来看过画像而知之有素的诸方神祗。要按它们的性质的话，那可是跟她平素的信仰势不两立的。其中一个是典型姿势的维纳斯，一个是戴亚娜，男性方面有阿波罗、拜克斯和马尔斯。虽然那些像距离她好些码，可是在西南方太阳照射下，搭上翠绿繁茂的牧草一陪衬，分外显得光彩夺目，通体轮廊鲜明，纤毫毕呈，她看得清清楚楚。它们的位置差不多正在她同教堂高楼之间的那条线上。这样一对比，不禁激发了她心中一串与她的信仰不合的离经叛道、纯属异端的思想。那个人站起来了，一见她就脱帽行礼，大声喊： “买——像——啊，各式各样啊！”他的口音和外貌是一致的。他随即挺灵便地把大托板带着上面放着的名流显要——神人两界俱全——拿起来放在膝头上，然后举到头那么高，顶在头上，送到她前边，再放到篱梯上面。他先拿小点的货——国王和王后的胸像给她看，又拿行吟诗人、带翅膀的朱庇得。她摇摇头。
“这两个多少钱？”她说，拿指头戳戳维纳斯和阿波罗——这是托板上顶大的两座像。
他说，这两个得十先令。
“我可没那么多钱买。”她说。她还的价非常之低，再没想到，卖像人居然把拴像的细铜丝解开，隔着篱梯把它们递过来。她如获至宝，抱紧了它们。
那个人收了钱就走了。这会儿她反倒为难起来。像一到手里显得老大老大的，还赤身露体，一丝不挂。她天生神经质，因为这事干得出格，不由得哆嗦起来。她把像摆来摆去，又细又白的石膏粉落在她手套和上衣上。带着它们光身子走了一段路以后，她陡然想到个主意，马上从树篱上扯下牛蒡的大叶子、欧芹和别的长野了的植物，用它们把两个累赘密密匝匝裹起来，这样带着它们走，就像大自然爱好者抱着采集来的大捆绿色标本。
“哎，不论什么东西都比教堂那套一成不变、索然寡味的装饰好啊！”她说，不过她还是哆哩哆嗦，瞧那意思倒像后悔买了这两座
她有时候偷偷往叶子里瞧维纳斯的膀子是不是弄断了；带着这两个异教神祗，她挑了条跟主要街道平行的偏僻小街走，进了基督教气味最浓厚的城市，拐过弯儿，就到了她寄宿的房子的傍门。她毫不迟疑，把买的东西带进自己屋里，打算马上锁进她唯一的财产箱子里；无奈又发现它们太大了，就改用大张牛皮纸包起来，立在屋角地上。
房子女主人叫方道悟小姐，是位上了年纪的戴眼镜的女士，穿装打扮就像庵堂堂主，她严守教会礼仪，这也是她的生意。她还是前面提到的“别是巴”郊区的圣•西拉礼拜堂的信徒，裘德也已经开始上那个堂做礼拜了。她是一位穷困潦倒的牧师的女儿，前几年他去世后，她冒着风险把专售教会用品的小铺子盘下来，因为经营得法，扩大到现在这样令人称许的规模，摆脱了一贫如洗的境况。她脖子上挂着十字架和念珠，算是仅有的饰品。她把奇伯尔《基督年纪》记得烂熟，字字不漏。
她正来喊苏用茶，看她没立刻答应，就进了屋子，苏正在匆匆忙忙给每个包捆绳子。
“柏瑞和小姐，你买东西啦？”她问道，瞟着包起来的东西。
“是呀——想把屋子装点装点哪。”苏说。
“哦，我还当这屋子里装得够啦。”方道悟小姐说，看着四周围哥特式镜框里的印版圣人像、国教教会经卷和其他因为太旧不好卖、就摆在这不起眼的屋子里充数的东西。“是什么呀？老大老大的！”她把牛皮纸捅了个圣饼大小的窟窿眯着眼睛尽往里瞧。“哎呀呀，雕像吗？两个都是吗？哪儿买的呀？”
“哦——我打一个串街的贩子手里买的，他卖小人什么的。”
“两位圣人吗？”
“对啦。”
“哪两位呀？”
“圣彼得和圣抹大拉的马利亚。”
“好啦——下来喝茶吧。待会儿要是光线足，你就把风琴上的经文摘句描完吧。”
苏不过是耽于幻想，一时兴起，破了藩篱，一下子也就过去了，可是这小小的干扰反而促使苏格外热切起来，急于打开包扎，瞧瞧她的玩意儿。到了就寝时间，她有了把握，不会再有人上来打搅，就心安理得地把神像外罩都扒了下来，把石膏像摆到五斗橱上，还在它们两头各点上一根蜡烛，然后退到床边，往床后一躺，开始读从箱子里取出的那本书（不过方道悟小姐对此是毫不知情的）。原来那是吉本的著作。她看了记述叛教者朱利安在位那一章。有时候她抬头看看石膏像，凑巧它们上头挂着一幅耶稣受难像的印版画，这让她觉着它们样子真奇怪，在那儿真是阴错阳差。这幅奇景似乎提醒她去做该做的事，于是她从床上蹦下来，又从箱子里拿出一本诗集，翻到自己熟读的那首诗——
苍白的加利利人啊，你得逞了：
你叱咤间世界就变得带死不活了！
她把这首诗从头到尾读了一遍，跟着吹熄了烛光，脱了衣服，最后让自己心中之光也熄了——睡了。
她年纪轻轻，平常睡得很沉，不过那晚上她老是睡不实，每回醒来一睁眼，从街上透进屋里的散乱的灯光足够她看明白石膏像，它们立在五斗橱上，同陈设着经卷和殉道者以及装在哥特式框子里的耶稣受难像（勉强看得出来拉丁式十字架，人形为阴影遮住）的环境形成了古怪的对照。
有一回她睁开眼看的时候，教堂的报时钟不是打了一下，就是两下，已到了子夜时分。另一个住在城里、离得不远的人，那会儿正坐在灯前埋头读书，钟声他也听到了。因为是礼拜六晚上，他用不着拨准闹钟，到时把他叫醒，所以他可以睡得更迟些，按习惯要比每礼拜工作日晚上读书时间多两三个钟头。他正专心研读格莱斯巴赫版《新约》，而苏此时却翻来覆去睡不着，盯着她的石膏像。警察和迟归市民经过他窗下时候，要是静静驻足一下，准会听得见情感热烈的咕噜声，那是些莫名其妙的音节；但是对于裘德，又是具有无法形容的感召力的字眼儿啊。下边这些声音就谁都不明白：
“All hemin heis Theos ho Pater,ex hou ta panta,kai hemeis eis auton.”
接下去声音琅琅，诚惶诚恐，不绝如缕；随着似乎听见书阖上了：
“Kai heis Kurios Iesous Christos,di hou ta panta Kai hemeis di autou!”
Part 2 Chapter 4
HE was a handy man at his trade, an all-round man, as artizans in country-towns are apt to be. In London the man who carves the boss or knob of leafage declines to cut the fragment of moulding which merges in that leafage, as if it were a degradation to do the second half of one whole. When there was not much Gothic moulding for Jude to run, or much window-tracery on the bankers, he would go out lettering monuments or tombstones, and take a pleasure in the change of handiwork.
The next time that he saw her was when he was on a ladder executing a job of this sort inside one of the churches. There was a short morning service, and when the parson entered Jude came down from his ladder, and sat with the half-dozen people forming the congregation, till the prayer should be ended, and he could resume his tapping. He did not observe till the service was half over that one of the women was Sue, who had perforce accompanied the elderly Miss Fontover thither.
Jude sat watching her pretty shoulders, her easy, curiously nonchalant risings and sittings, and her perfunctory genuflexions, and thought what a help such an Anglican would have been to him in happier circumstances. It was not so much his anxiety to get on with his work that made him go up to it immediately the worshipers began to take their leave: it was that he dared not, in this holy spot, confront the woman who was beginning to influence him in such an indescribable manner. Those three enormous reasons why he must not attempt intimate acquaintance with Sue Bridehead, now that his interest in her had shown itself to be unmistakably of a sexual kind, loomed as stubbornly as ever. But it was also obvious that man could not live by work alone; that the particular man Jude, at any rate, wanted something to love. Some men would have rushed incontinently to her, snatched the pleasure of easy friendship which she could hardly refuse, and have left the rest to chance. Not so Jude--at first.
But as the days, and still more particularly the lonely evenings, dragged along, he found himself, to his moral consternation, to be thinking more of her instead of thinking less of her, and experiencing a fearful bliss in doing what was erratic, informal, and unexpected. Surrounded by her influence all day, walking past the spots she frequented, he was always thinking of her, and was obliged to own to himself that his conscience was likely to be the loser in this battle.
To be sure she was almost an ideality to him still. Perhaps to know her would be to cure himself of this unexpected and unauthorized passion. A voice whispered that, though he desired to know her, he did not desire to be cured.
There was not the least doubt that from his own orthodox point of view the situation was growing immoral. For Sue to be the loved one of a man who was licensed by the laws of his country to love Arabella and none other unto his life's end, was a pretty bad second beginning when the man was bent on such a course as Jude purposed. This conviction was so real with him that one day when, as was frequent, he was at work in a neighbouring village church alone, he felt it to be his duty to pray against his weakness. But much as he wished to be an exemplar in these things he could not get on. It was quite impossible, he found, to ask to be delivered from temptation when your heart's desire was to be tempted unto seventy times seven. So he excused himself. "After all," he said, "it is not altogether an EROTOLEPSY that is the matter with me, as at that first time. I can see that she is exceptionally bright; and it is partly a wish for intellectual sympathy, and a craving for loving-kindness in my solitude." Thus he went on adoring her, fearing to realize that it was human perversity. For whatever Sue's virtues, talents, or ecclesiastical saturation, it was certain that those items were not at all the cause of his affection for her.
On an afternoon at this time a young girl entered the stone-mason's yard with some hesitation, and, lifting her skirts to avoid draggling them in the white dust, crossed towards the office.
"That's a nice girl," said one of the men known as Uncle Joe.
"Who is she?" asked another.
"I don't know--I've seen her about here and there. Why, yes, she's the daughter of that clever chap Bridehead who did all the wrought ironwork at St. Silas' ten years ago, and went away to London afterwards. I don't know what he's doing now--not much I fancy--as she's come back here."
Meanwhile the young woman had knocked at the office door and asked if Mr. Jude Fawley was at work in the yard. It so happened that Jude had gone out somewhere or other that afternoon, which information she received with a look of disappointment, and went away immediately. When Jude returned they told him, and described her, whereupon he exclaimed, "Why--that's my cousin Sue!"
He looked along the street after her, but she was out of sight. He had no longer any thought of a conscientious avoidance of her, and resolved to call upon her that very evening. And when he reached his lodging he found a note from her-- a first note--one of those documents which, simple and commonplace in themselves, are seen retrospectively to have been pregnant with impassioned consequences. The very unconsciousness of a looming drama which is shown in such innocent first epistles from women to men, or VICE VERSA, makes them, when such a drama follows, and they are read over by the purple or lurid light of it, all the more impressive, solemn, and in cases, terrible.
Sue's was of the most artless and natural kind. She addressed him as her dear cousin Jude; said she had only just learnt by the merest accident that he was living in Christminster, and reproached him with not letting her know. They might have had such nice times together, she said, for she was thrown much upon herself, and had hardly any congenial friend. But now there was every probability of her soon going away, so that the chance of companionship would be lost perhaps for ever.
A cold sweat overspread Jude at the news that she was going away. That was a contingency he had never thought of, and it spurred him to write all the more quickly to her. He would meet her that very evening, he said, one hour from the time of writing, at the cross in the pavement which marked the spot of the Martyrdoms.
When he had despatched the note by a boy he regretted that in his hurry he should have suggested to her to meet him out of doors, when he might have said he would call upon her. It was, in fact, the country custom to meet thus, and nothing else had occurred to him. Arabella had been met in the same way, unfortunately, and it might not seem respectable to a dear girl like Sue. However, it could not be helped now, and he moved towards the point a few minutes before the hour, under the glimmer of the newly lighted lamps.
The broad street was silent, and almost deserted, although it was not late. He saw a figure on the other side, which turned out to be hers, and they both converged towards the crossmark at the same moment. Before either had reached it she called out to him:
"I am not going to meet you just there, for the first time in my life! Come further on."
The voice, though positive and silvery, had been tremulous. They walked on in parallel lines, and, waiting her pleasure, Jude watched till she showed signs of closing in, when he did likewise, the place being where the carriers' carts stood in the daytime, though there was none on the spot then.
"I am sorry that I asked you to meet me, and didn't call," began Jude with the bashfulness of a lover. "But I thought it would save time if we were going to walk."
"Oh--I don't mind that," she said with the freedom of a friend. "I have really no place to ask anybody in to. What I meant was that the place you chose was so horrid--I suppose I ought not to say horrid-- I mean gloomy and inauspicious in its associations.... But isn't it funny to begin like this, when I don't know you yet?" She looked him up and down curiously, though Jude did not look much at her.
"You seem to know me more than I know you," she added.
"Yes--I have seen you now and then."
"And you knew who I was, and didn't speak? And now I am going away!"
"Yes. That's unfortunate. I have hardly any other friend. I have, indeed, one very old friend here somewhere, but I don't quite like to call on him just yet. I wonder if you know anything of him--Mr. Phillotson? A parson somewhere about the county I think he is."
"No--I only know of one Mr. Phillotson. He lives a little way out in the country, at Lumsdon. He's a village schoolmaster."
"Ah! I wonder if he's the same. Surely it is impossible! Only a schoolmaster still! Do you know his Christian name-- is it Richard?"
"Yes--it is; I've directed books to him, though I've never seen him."
"Then he couldn't do it!"
Jude's countenance fell, for how could he succeed in an enterprise wherein the great Phillotson had failed? He would have had a day of despair if the news had not arrived during his sweet Sue's presence, but even at this moment he had visions of how Phillotson's failure in the grand university scheme would depress him when she had gone.
"As we are going to take a walk, suppose we go and call upon him?" said Jude suddenly. "It is not late."
She agreed, and they went along up a hill, and through some prettily wooded country. Presently the embattled tower and square turret of the church rose into the sky, and then the school-house. They inquired of a person in the street if Mr. Phillotson was likely to be at home, and were informed that he was always at home. A knock brought him to the school-house door, with a candle in his hand and a look of inquiry on his face, which had grown thin and careworn since Jude last set eyes on him.
That after all these years the meeting with Mr. Phillotson should be of this homely complexion destroyed at one stroke the halo which had surrounded the school-master's figure in Jude's imagination ever since their parting. It created in him at the same time a sympathy with Phillotson as an obviously much chastened and disappointed man. Jude told him his name, and said he had come to see him as an old friend who had been kind to him in his youthful days.
