"Ah--now you are angry with me!" she said, a contralto note of tragedy coming suddenly into her silvery voice. "I wouldn't have told you if I had known!"
"No, I am not. Tell me all."
"Well, I invested his money, poor fellow, in a bubble scheme, and lost it. I lived about London by myself for some time, and then I returned to Christminster, as my father-- who was also in London, and had started as an art metal-worker near Long-Acre--wouldn't have me back; and I got that occupation in the artist-shop where you found me.... I said you didn't know how bad I was!"
Jude looked round upon the arm-chair and its occupant, as if to read more carefully the creature he had given shelter to. His voice trembled as he said: "However you have lived, Sue, I believe you are as innocent as you are unconventional!"
"I am not particularly innocent, as you see, now that I have
'twitched the robe From that blank lay-figure your fancy draped,'"
said she, with an ostensible sneer, though he could hear that she was brimming with tears. "But I have never yielded myself to any lover, if that's what you mean! I have remained as I began."
"I quite believe you. But some women would not have remained as they began."
"Pehaps not. Better women would not. People say I must be cold-natured--sexless--on account of it. But I won't have it! Some of the most passionately erotic poets have been the most self-contained in their daily lives."
"Have you told Mr. Phillotson about this university scholar friend?"
"Yes--long ago. I have never made any secret of it to anybody."
"What did he say?"
"He did not pass any criticism--only said I was everything to him, whatever I did; and things like that."
Jude felt much depressed; she seemed to get further and further away from him with her strange ways and curious unconsciousness of gender.
"Aren't you REALLY vexed with me, dear Jude?" she suddenly asked, in a voice of such extraordinary tenderness that it hardly seemed to come from the same woman who had just told her story so lightly. "I would rather offend anybody in the world than you, I think!"
"I don't know whether I am vexed or not. I know I care very much about you!"
"I care as much for you as for anybody I ever met."
"You don't care MORE! There, I ought not to say that. Don't answer it!"
There was another long silence. He felt that she was treating him cruelly, though he could not quite say in what way. Her very helplessness seemed to make her so much stronger than he.
"I am awfully ignorant on general matters, although I have worked so hard," he said, to turn the subject. "I am absorbed in theology, you know. And what do you think I should be doing just about now, if you weren't here? I should be saying my evening prayers. I suppose you wouldn't like----"
"Oh no, no," she answered, "I would rather not, if you don't mind. I should seem so--such a hypocrite."
"I thought you wouldn't join, so I didn't propose it. You must remember that I hope to be a useful minister some day."
"To be ordained, I think you said?"
"Yes."
"Then you haven't given up the idea?--I thought that perhaps you had by this time."
"Of course not. I fondly thought at first that you felt as I do about that, as you were so mixed up in Christminster Anglicanism. And Mr. Phillotson----"
"I have no respect for Christminster whatever, except, in a qualified degree, on its intellectual side," said Sue Bridehead earnestly. "My friend I spoke of took that out of me. He was the most irreligious man I ever knew, and the most moral. And intellect at Christminster is new wine in old bottles. The mediaevalism of Christminster must go, be sloughed off, or Christminster itself will have to go. To be sure, at times one couldn't help having a sneaking liking for the traditions of the old faith, as preserved by a section of the thinkers there in touching and simple sincerity; but when I was in my saddest, rightest mind I always felt,
'O ghastly glories of saints, dead limbs of gibbeted Gods!'"...
"Sue, you are not a good friend of mine to talk like that!"
"Then I won't, dear Jude!" The emotional throat-note had come back, and she turned her face away.
"I still think Christminster has much that is glorious; though I was resentful because I couldn't get there." He spoke gently, and resisted his impulse to pique her on to tears.
"It is an ignorant place, except as to the townspeople, artizans, drunkards, and paupers," she said, perverse still at his differing from her. "THEY see life as it is, of course; but few of the people in the colleges do. You prove it in your own person. You are one of the very men Christminster was intended for when the colleges were founded; a man with a passion for learning, but no money, or opportunities, or friends. But you were elbowed off the pavement by the millionaires' sons."
"Well, I can do without what it confers. I care for something higher."
"And I for something broader, truer," she insisted. "At present intellect in Christminster is pushing one way, and religion the other; and so they stand stock-still, like two rams butting each other."
"What would Mr. Phillotson----"
"It is a place full of fetishists and ghost-seers!"
He noticed that whenever he tried to speak of the schoolmaster she turned the conversation to some generalizations about the offending university. Jude was extremely, morbidly, curious about her life as Phillotson's PROTEGEE and betrothed; yet she would not enlighten him.
"Well, that's just what I am, too," he said. "I am fearful of life, spectre-seeing always."
"But you are good and dear!" she murmured.
His heart bumped, and he made no reply.
"You are in the Tractarian stage just now, are you not?" she added, putting on flippancy to hide real feeling, a common trick with her. "Let me see--when was I there? In the year eighteen hundred and----"
"There's a sarcasm in that which is rather unpleasant to me, Sue. Now will you do what I want you to? At this time I read a chapter, and then say prayers, as I told you. Now will you concentrate your attention on any book of these you like, and sit with your back to me, and leave me to my custom? You are sure you won't join me?"
"I'll look at you."
"No. Don't tease, Sue!"
"Very well--I'll do just as you bid me, and I won't vex you, Jude," she replied, in the tone of a child who was going to be good for ever after, turning her back upon him accordingly. A small Bible other than the one he was using lay near her, and during his retreat she took it up, and turned over the leaves.
"Jude," she said brightly, when he had finished and come back to her; "will you let me make you a NEW New Testament, like the one I made for myself at Christminster?"
"Oh yes. How was that made?"
"I altered my old one by cutting up all the Epistles and Gospels into separate BROCHURES, and rearranging them in chronological order as written, beginning the book with Thessalonians, following on with the Epistles, and putting the Gospels much further on. Then I had the volume rebound. My university friend Mr. ---- --but never mind his name, poor boy-- said it was an excellent idea. I know that reading it afterwards made it twice as interesting as before, and twice as understandable."
"H'm!" said Jude, with a sense of sacrilege.
"And what a literary enormity this is," she said, as she glanced into the pages of Solomon's Song. "I mean the synopsis at the head of each chapter, explaining away the real nature of that rhapsody. You needn't be alarmed: nobody claims inspiration for the chapter headings. Indeed, many divines treat them with contempt. It seems the drollest thing to think of the four-and-twenty elders, or bishops, or whatever number they were, sitting with long faces and writing down such stuff."
Jude looked pained. "You are quite Voltairean!" he murmured.
"Indeed? Then I won't say any more, except that people have no right to falsify the Bible! I HATE such hum-bug as could attempt to plaster over with ecclesiastical abstractions such ecstatic, natural, human love as lies in that great and passionate song!" Her speech had grown spirited, and almost petulant at his rebuke, and her eyes moist. "I WISH I had a friend here to support me; but nobody is ever on my side!"
"But my dear Sue, my very dear Sue, I am not against you!" he said, taking her hand, and surprised at her introducing personal feeling into mere argument.
"Yes you are, yes you are!" she cried, turning away her face that he might not see her brimming eyes. "You are on the side of the people in the training-school--at least you seem almost to be! What I insist on is, that to explain such verses as this: 'Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women?' by the note: 'THE CHURCH PROFESSETH HER FAITH,' is supremely ridiculous!"
"Well then, let it be! You make such a personal matter of everything! I am--only too inclined just now to apply the words profanely. You know YOU are fairest among women to me, come to that!"
"But you are not to say it now!" Sue replied, her voice changing to its softest note of severity. Then their eyes met, and they shook hands like cronies in a tavern, and Jude saw the absurdity of quarrelling on such a hypothetical subject, and she the silliness of crying about what was written in an old book like the Bible.
"I won't disturb your convictions--I really won't!" she went on soothingly, for now he was rather more ruffled than she. "But I did want and long to ennoble some man to high aims; and when I saw you, and knew you wanted to be my comrade, I-- shall I confess it?--thought that man might be you. But you take so much tradition on trust that I don't know what to say."
"Well, dear; I suppose one must take some things on trust. Life isn't long enough to work out everything in Euclid problems before you believe it. I take Christianity."
"Well, perhaps you might take something worse."
"Indeed I might. Perhaps I have done so!" He thought of Arabella.
"I won't ask what, because we are going to be VERY nice with each other, aren't we, and never, never, vex each other any more?" She looked up trustfully, and her voice seemed trying to nestle in his breast.
"I shall always care for you!" said Jude.
"And I for you. Because you are single-hearted, and forgiving to your faulty and tiresome little Sue!"
He looked away, for that epicene tenderness of hers was too harrowing. Was it that which had broken the heart of the poor leader-writer; and was he to be the next one? ... But Sue was so dear! ... If he could only get over the sense of her sex, as she seemed to be able to do so easily of his, what a comrade she would make; for their difference of opinion on conjectural subjects only drew them closer together on matters of daily human experience. She was nearer to him than any other woman he had ever met, and he could scarcely believe that time, creed, or absence, would ever divide him from her.
But his grief at her incredulities returned. They sat on till she fell asleep again, and he nodded in his chair likewise. Whenever he aroused himself he turned her things, and made up the fire anew. About six o'clock he awoke completely, and lighting a candle, found that her clothes were dry. Her chair being a far more comfortable one than his she still slept on inside his great-coat, looking warm as a new bun and boyish as a Ganymede. Placing the garments by her and touching her on the shoulder he went downstairs, and washed himself by starlight in the yard.
一阵嘎吱嘎吱上楼声打断了裘德的遐想。
他赶紧把放在椅子上烘的苏的衣服拽下来，往床底下一塞，然后坐到椅子上，装出看书的样子。有人敲了敲门，跟着门就开了。来人是房东太太。
“福来先生，我不知道你在不在家。我想问一下你吃不吃晚饭。我看你这儿有位年轻先生嘛——”
“是啊，太太。我今儿晚上不打算下去啦。好不好请你拿个盘子把晚饭端上来。我还要杯茶。”
按裘德平日习惯，为图省事，他该下楼跟房东一家一块儿吃饭。不过房东太太还是把晚饭端上楼，他在门口接过来。
她下去之后，他就把茶壶搁在炉边支架上，又把苏的衣服从床下拽出来；但是衣服离干了还老远呢。他摸摸厚呢长袍，觉着还是水渍渍的，又把衣服都挂起来，把火升旺，水蒸气就往烟囱里冒，他在一边默默想着。
突然她说，“裘德呀！”
“哎。我在这儿。你觉着怎么样？”
“好多啦，全好啦。哎，我睡着了，对吧？什么时候啦？还不怎么晚吧？”
“十点多啦。”
“真的吗？那我该怎么办哪！”她说，一下子站起来。
“你还是呆在这儿吧。”
“好吧；我就想这样儿。可不知道别人会怎么嚼舌根呢！那你怎么办哪？”
“我要一夜坐在炉子边看书。明天是礼拜天，我哪儿也不用去。你就在那儿好好休息吧，大概生不了大病啦。用不着大惊小怪的。我这样好得很。你瞧这儿，是我弄来的东西，是点晚饭。”
她坐直了，呼吸还不大自然，就说，“我觉着人还是怪软的，刚才还当是好了。我不应该在这儿呆下去，对不对？”但是晚饭给她添了劲，她喝了点茶，又往后一靠，心情这会儿开朗了，人也透着精神了。
她喝的茶一定是绿茶，要么就是泡得太久了，因为她后来精神显得足得不得了；但裘德一点茶没喝，开始困得很厉害，她一说话才把他的注意力拉回来。
“你说我是个文明的产物，还是什么的，对不对？”她说，打破了沉默。“亏你这么说，真是驴唇不对马嘴。”
“为什么？”
“哎，就因为你根本说错了呗，错得叫人气啊。我该是文明的对立面。”
“你可是哲学意味深长啊，‘对立面’这个提法够深奥的。”
“是吗？那你是不是觉得我学问高深呢？”她问，带着取笑的意思。
“不是——你不是学问高深。倒是你的谈吐不像出自一个姑娘之口——哦，不像出自一个浅薄无知的姑娘之口。”
“我可真有点学问底子呢。我固然不懂拉丁文和希腊文，可懂希腊义和拉丁文文法。不过我是靠英文译本看了大部分希腊文和拉丁文的经典著作，也看过别的书。我看过兰普里耶、加特卢斯、马夏勒、朱文纳尔、卢西昂、毕蒙和弗来彻、薄伽丘、斯卡隆、德•勃朗托姆，还有斯特恩、笛福、斯摩勒特、菲尔丁、莎士比亚、《圣经》，等等，等等。我意想不到的是，这些书凡是蛊惑人心的地方全都引人入胜，最后总叫人生出神秘感。”
“你看得可比我多啊，”他叹了口气说，“在那些希奇古怪的书里头，你居然看了好几本，又是怎么回事呢？”
“哎，”她说，显出来有心事的样子，“那就出乎偶然啦。人家说我怪僻乖张，我这人生来是这么捏成的。我才不怕男人哪，因为这样，我也就不怕他们作的书。我跟他们搅和在一块儿——特别是其中一两个，跟男的简直没两样。我这是说，大多数女人从小受家教，就学到了那一套，什么老要提防着，别让人糟踏了贞操呀，我对男人的看法可跟这不一样。因为，不说只管泄欲的野蛮人吧，一般的男人，她要是不先招惹他，哪个也不会白天黑日里、家里头外边，老纠缠她。要是她那个样儿不像说‘来吧’，那他是绝不敢上来冒犯。要是她压根儿没说，也没露相，他就压根儿不会来。不过我这会儿想说的是我十八岁那会儿的事儿。我那会儿在基督堂，跟个大学生交上朋友，还挺亲密的，他教了我好多好多东西，借书给我看，要不然的话，我就压根儿没碰过它们。”
“你们的友谊吹啦？”
“是啊。他拿到学位之后，就离开基督堂，过了两三年就死啦，这家伙可怜哪。”
“我看你们是常来常往喽？”
“是这样。我们俩老一块儿出去转——徒步旅行呀，看书探奇呀什么的，跟两个男的在一块儿简直没两样。他要我跟他住到一块儿，我也就写信答应啦。不过等我到了伦敦，跟他到了一块儿，才闹明白他的意思跟我的是两码事。实际上，他要我当他的情妇，可我一点不爱他。我就说，他要是不赞成我的计划，我只好走啦，这一来他就依我的啦。我们俩有十五个月共用一间起坐室、他在伦敦一家大报当社论撰稿人，后来病了，只好出国治病。他说咱们俩的屋子靠得这么紧，过了这么久，我没完没了跟他别扭着，把他心都弄碎了；他真不信女人会这么个样儿。他说我要是玩惯了这套把戏，以后有得后悔呢。后来他回国了，就是为死在故上上。他这一死叫我觉得自己真残酷。虽说我希望他完全是害肺痨死的，不是为我的缘故，我还是后悔得要死。我到沙庄去看他下葬，就我这么一个送葬。他给我留了点钱——我想是因为我让他心碎了吧。男子汉就是这个样儿啊——比女人强得多啦！”
“天哪！瞧你怎么干得出来哟？”
“啊，你生我的气，是不是！”她说，她那银铃般声音突然搀进了悲怆的女低音。“要是我知道你这样，我才不告诉你呢！”
“我没生气。都告诉我吧。”
“唉，可怜的人哪，我把他的钱一起投进了一家皮包公司，全都赔光啦。我一个人在伦敦住了些时候，然后回到基督堂。因为我爸爸那会儿也在伦敦，在长开地开了个五金工艺店，他不容我再到他那儿，所以我就在基督堂那家圣器店找了个事做，你就是在那儿找着我的……我所以说你不知道我够多坏！”
裘德对着那张安乐椅和椅上坐着的苏看来看去，好像要更加仔细地把他庇护起来的这个宝贝看清楚。他声音发抖地说：“苏啊，不管你至今日子怎么过来的，我既相信你脱弃凡俗，也相信你纯真无暇。”
“我可不像你说的那么纯真无假；既然我已经
把那空心大老官身上
你用幻觉披上的袍子扯光！”
她说。虽然她强作不屑，但他已经听得出来她眼圈湿了。“不过我绝对没委身什么情人，要是你说的纯真无瑕指这个，就对了！我起头什么样，还是什么样。”
“我完全相信。不过有些女人不会老跟先头一模一样啊。”
