这个问题，当下的情势也不容苏回答。
“我想她——你那位夫人——就算她人不正派吧——也是个——挺漂亮的女人吧？”
“要说的话，她还够漂亮的。”
“比我漂亮，那没错啦。”
“你跟她完全是两码事呀。这几年我一直没见过她……不过她总是要回来的，她们这类人向来是这样！”
“你对她这么甩手不管，也太少见啦！”她说，故作讥讽，实则嘴唇颤动，喉头哽咽。“你，还是个信教信得诚的人呢。你那个万神殿里托生为人的神仙——我是指你称之为圣人的那伙传奇人物——知道这件事，该怎么样替你打圆场呢？哪，要是我干了这样事儿，那可就不一样，我根本不当回事，因为我至少没把结婚当圣礼。你那套理论可跟不上你实践那么进步哟！”
“苏呀，你一想当个——十足的伏尔泰，嘴就跟刀子一样厉害！反正你怎么待我，都随你便！”
她看见他难过到那种地步，心也就软下来了，眨眨眼睛把眼泪眨掉，然后带着个伤透了心的女人的得理不饶人的气势说：“哎——你——想到求我爱你，就应该先把那件事跟我说才对！在火车站那回子之前，我还没那样感觉呢，除了——”这回苏可是跟他一样悲伤起来，虽然她极力要控制自己的感情，还是不大能奏效。
“别哭啦，亲爱的！”他恳求着。
“我——没哭呀——因为我本来就——不爱你呀——倒是因为你对我——不信任哪！”
市场外面的广场完全把他们遮住了，他情不自禁地把胳臂伸到她腰那儿。他一刹那的欲望反而做成了她振作起来、借题发挥的机会。“不行，不行！”她板着脸往后一退，擦了擦眼泪。“既然口口声声咱们是表亲，这么一装腔作势就透着虚伪啦；不管怎么着，是表亲就没门儿。”
他们往前走了十多步光景，这时她显得镇静如常了。裘德却让她刚才那下于弄得要发狂。要是她没来那一套，随便她怎么样，他的心也不会那么痛楚，其实她那样的表现无非一时冲动，因为她也跟别的女人一样，受不得半点委屈，所以才大发脾气，要说是女人，本来在所难免；可是她这人心胸宽、度量大，凡事一经多方考虑，是不会苛求于人的。
“你当初办不到的事，我才不怪你呢。”她说，破涕为笑。“我哪儿会蠢到那个份儿上呢？我是因为你先前没跟我说，才怪了你一点点。不过，说到底，这又算得了什么。咱们本来就不该凑到一块儿，就算你生活里没有过那个事，还不是一样？”
“那可不行呀，苏呀，咱们不能那样哟！那件事只能算个障碍！”
“你忘啦，就算没那个障碍，也得我爱你，想做你的妻子才行哪。”苏说，口气既严肃，又宛转，心意到底如何一点没露出来。“再说咱们是表亲，表亲联姻总不是好事，何况——我已经跟人订了婚啦。至于说咱们还照以前那样一块儿出出进进，我看周围的人也饶不了咱们。他们对两性之间的关系看得太狭隘了，她们把我从那个学校开除了，还不足以证明吗？他们的哲学只承认以兽欲为基础的两性关系。说到强烈的男恋女慕，那本来就是个广大的感情世界，情欲无论如何只占个次要地位；他们那些人有眼无珠，根本不通。那是谁的领域呢？是维纳斯•尤莱尼亚的！”
她能这样旁征博引，滔滔不绝，说明她已经神完气足；分手以前，她已照常一样顾盼神飞，应对从容，意态欣欣然；对于和她年龄相若、性别相同的人的态度固然不免有所挑剔，可是一经反思，她还是宽大为怀，不再计较。
他这会儿也好从容自在地说话了。“有好几个理由不许我仓卒行事，才没跟你说。一个我已经说过；再一个一直不断地影响我——我命里不该结婚——我属于那个又古怪又特别的家门——那个生来不宜结婚的怪种。”
“哦——谁跟你这么说来着？”
“我姑婆。她说咱们福来家的人结婚总没好结果。”
“这可奇啦，我爸爸先前也常跟我说这样的话！”
他们站在那儿，心里都让同样的思想占据了，且不说别的，就算假设吧，那也够丑恶啦。因为万一可能的话，他们结合到一块儿，那不是要颠倒错乱到了极端可怕的程度——一个盘子里盛着两道苦菜吗？
“哦，这说来说去毫无意义！”她说，面上故作轻松，内里其实紧张。“咱们家那些年选择对象都挺不吉利——就是这么回事儿！”
于是他们装出来自己已经想开了的样子，刚才那些事没什么影响，他们仍旧是表亲、朋友和热情的通信人，见面时还会亲切愉快，哪怕比以前见面机会少了也没关系。他们在深厚的友情中惜别，然而裘德看了她最后一眼，不免心里打鼓，因为就在那阵子，他还是揣摩不透她的真心实意到底如何。
Part 3 Chapter 7
TIDINGS from Sue a day or two after passed across Jude like a withering blast.
Before reading the letter he was led to suspect that its contents were of a somewhat serious kind by catching sight of the signature-- which was in her full name, never used in her correspondence with him since her first note:
MY DEAR JUDE,--I have something to tell you which perhaps you will not be surprised to hear, though certainly it may strike you as being accelerated (as the railway companies say of their trains). Mr. Phillotson and I are to be married quite soon-- in three or four weeks. We had intended, as you know, to wait till I had gone through my course of training and obtained my certificate, so as to assist him, if necessary, in the teaching. But he generously says he does not see any object in waiting, now I am not at the training school. It is so good of him, because the awkwardness of my situation has really come about by my fault in getting expelled.
Wish me joy. Remember I say you are to, and you mustn't refuse!-- Your affectionate cousin,
SUSANNA FLORENCE MARY BRIDEHEAD.
Jude staggered under the news; could eat no breakfast; and kept on drinking tea because his mouth was so dry. Then presently he went back to his work and laughed the usual bitter laugh of a man so confronted. Everything seemed turning to satire. And yet, what could the poor girl do? he asked himself: and felt worse than shedding tears.
"O Susanna Florence Mary!" he said as he worked. "You don't know what marriage means!"
Could it be possible that his announcement of his own marriage had pricked her on to this, just as his visit to her when in liquor may have pricked her on to her engagement? To be sure, there seemed to exist these other and sufficient reasons, practical and social, for her decision; but Sue was not a very practical or calculating person; and he was compelled to think that a pique at having his secret sprung upon her had moved her to give way to Phillotson's probable representations, that the best course to prove how unfounded were the suspicions of the school authorities would be to marry him off-hand, as in fulfilment of an ordinary engagement. Sue had, in fact, been placed in an awkward corner. Poor Sue!
He determined to play the Spartan; to make the best of it, and support her; but he could not write the requested good wishes for a day or two. Meanwhile there came another note from his impatient little dear:
Jude, will you give me away? I have nobody else who could do it so conveniently as you, being the only married relation I have here on the spot, even if my father were friendly enough to be willing, which he isn't. I hope you won't think it a trouble? I have been looking at the marriage service in the prayer-book, and it seems to me very humiliating that a giver-away should be required at all. According to the ceremony as there printed, my bridegroom chooses me of his own will and pleasure; but I don't choose him. Somebody GIVES me to him, like a she-ass or she-goat, or any other domestic animal. Bless your exalted views of woman, O churchman! But I forget: I am no longer privileged to tease you.--Ever,
SUSANNA FLORENCE MARY BRIDEHEAD.
Jude screwed himself up to heroic key; and replied:
MY DEAR SUE,--Of course I wish you joy! And also of course I will give you away. What I suggest is that, as you have no house of your own, you do not marry from your school friend's, but from mine. It would be more proper, I think, since I am, as you say, the person nearest related to you in this part of the world.
I don't see why you sign your letter in such a new and terribly formal way? Surely you care a bit about me still!--Ever your affectionate, JUDE.
What had jarred on him even more than the signature was a little sting he had been silent on--the phrase "married relation"-- What an idiot it made him seem as her lover! If Sue had written that in satire, he could hardly forgive her; if in suffering-- ah, that was another thing!
His offer of his lodging must have commended itself to Phillotson at any rate, for the schoolmaster sent him a line of warm thanks, accepting the convenience. Sue also thanked him. Jude immediately moved into more commodious quarters, as much to escape the espionage of the suspicious landlady who had been one cause of Sue's unpleasant experience as for the sake of room.
Then Sue wrote to tell him the day fixed for the wedding; and Jude decided, after inquiry, that she should come into residence on the following Saturday, which would allow of a ten days' stay in the city prior to the ceremony, sufficiently representing a nominal residence of fifteen.
She arrived by the ten o'clock train on the day aforesaid, Jude not going to meet her at the station, by her special request, that he should not lose a morning's work and pay, she said (if this were her true reason). But so well by this time did he know Sue that the remembrance of their mutual sensitiveness at emotional crises might, he thought, have weighed with her in this. When he came home to dinner she had taken possession of her apartment.
She lived in the same house with him, but on a different floor, and they saw each other little, an occasional supper being the only meal they took together, when Sue's manner was something like that of a scared child. What she felt he did not know; their conversation was mechanical, though she did not look pale or ill. Phillotson came frequently, but mostly when Jude was absent. On the morning of the wedding, when Jude had given himself a holiday, Sue and her cousin had breakfast together for the first and last time during this curious interval; in his room--the parlour-- which he had hired for the period of Sue's residence. Seeing, as women do, how helpless he was in making the place comfortable, she bustled about.
"What's the matter, Jude?" she said suddenly.
He was leaning with his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands, looking into a futurity which seemed to be sketched out on the tablecloth.
"Oh--nothing!"
"You are 'father', you know. That's what they call the man who gives you away."
Jude could have said "Phillotson's age entitles him to be called that!" But he would not annoy her by such a cheap retort.
She talked incessantly, as if she dreaded his indulgence in reflection, and before the meal was over both he and she wished they had not put such confidence in their new view of things, and had taken breakfast apart. What oppressed Jude was the thought that, having done a wrong thing of this sort himself, he was aiding and abetting the woman he loved in doing a like wrong thing, instead of imploring and warning her against it. It was on his tongue to say, "You have quite made up your mind?"
After breakfast they went out on an errand together moved by a mutual thought that it was the last opportunity they would have of indulging in unceremonious companionship. By the irony of fate, and the curious trick in Sue's nature of tempting Providence at critical times, she took his arm as they walked through the muddy street--a thing she had never done before in her life--and on turning the corner they found themselves close to a grey perpendicular church with a low-pitched roof-- the church of St. Thomas.
"That's the church," said Jude.
"Where I am going to be married?"
"Yes."
"Indeed!" she exclaimed with curiosity. "How I should like to go in and see what the spot is like where I am so soon to kneel and do it."
Again he said to himself, "She does not realize what marriage means!"
He passively acquiesced in her wish to go in, and they entered by the western door. The only person inside the gloomy building was a charwoman cleaning. Sue still held Jude's arm, almost as if she loved him. Cruelly sweet, indeed, she had been to him that morning; but his thoughts of a penance in store for her were tempered by an ache:
... I can find no way How a blow should fall, such as falls on men, Nor prove too much for your womanhood!
They strolled undemonstratively up the nave towards the altar railing, which they stood against in silence, turning then and walking down the nave again, her hand still on his arm, precisely like a couple just married. The too suggestive incident, entirely of her making, nearly broke down Jude.
"I like to do things like this," she said in the delicate voice of an epicure in emotions, which left no doubt that she spoke the truth.
"I know you do!" said Jude.
"They are interesting, because they have probably never been done before. I shall walk down the church like this with my husband in about two hours, shan't I!"
"No doubt you will!"
"Was it like this when you were married?"
"Good God, Sue--don't be so awfully merciless! ... There, dear one, I didn't mean it!"
"Ah--you are vexed!" she said regretfully, as she blinked away an access of eye moisture. "And I promised never to vex you! ... I suppose I ought not to have asked you to bring me in here. Oh, I oughtn't! I see it now. My curiosity to hunt up a new sensation always leads me into these scrapes. Forgive me! ... You will, won't you, Jude?"
The appeal was so remorseful that Jude's eyes were even wetter than hers as he pressed her hand for Yes.
"Now we'll hurry away, and I won't do it any more!" she continued humbly; and they came out of the building, Sue intending to go on to the station to meet Phillotson. But the first person they encountered on entering the main street was the schoolmaster himself, whose train had arrived sooner than Sue expected. There was nothing really to demur to in her leaning on Jude's arm; but she withdrew her hand, and Jude thought that Phillotson had looked surprised.
"We have been doing such a funny thing!" said she, smiling candidly. "We've been to the church, rehearsing as it were. Haven't we, Jude?"
"How?" said Phillotson curiously.
Jude inwardly deplored what he thought to be unnecessary frankness; but she had gone too far not to explain all, which she accordingly did, telling him how they had marched up to the altar.
Seeing how puzzled Phillotson seemed, Jude said as cheerfully as he could, "I am going to buy her another little present. Will you both come to the shop with me?"
"No," said Sue, "I'll go on to the house with him"; and requesting her lover not to be a long time she departed with the schoolmaster.
Jude soon joined them at his rooms, and shortly after they prepared for the ceremony. Phillotson's hair was brushed to a painful extent, and his shirt collar appeared stiffer than it had been for the previous twenty years. Beyond this he looked dignified and thoughtful, and altogether a man of whom it was not unsafe to predict that he would make a kind and considerate husband. That he adored Sue was obvious; and she could almost be seen to feel that she was undeserving his adoration.
Although the distance was so short he had hired a fly from the Red Lion, and six or seven women and children had gathered by the door when they came out. The schoolmaster and Sue were unknown, though Jude was getting to be recognized as a citizen; and the couple were judged to be some relations of his from a distance, nobody supposing Sue to have been a recent pupil at the training school.
In the carriage Jude took from his pocket his extra little wedding-present, which turned out to be two or three yards of white tulle, which he threw over her bonnet and all, as a veil.
"It looks so odd over a bonnet," she said. "I'll take the bonnet off."
"Oh no--let it stay," said Phillotson. And she obeyed.
When they had passed up the church and were standing in their places Jude found that the antecedent visit had certainly taken off the edge of this performance, but by the time they were half-way on with the service he wished from his heart that he had not undertaken the business of giving her away. How could Sue have had the temerity to ask him to do it-- a cruelty possibly to herself as well as to him? Women were different from men in such matters. Was it that they were, instead of more sensitive, as reputed, more callous, and less romantic; or were they more heroic? Or was Sue simply so perverse that she wilfully gave herself and him pain for the odd and mournful luxury of practising long-suffering in her own person, and of being touched with tender pity for him at having made him practise it? He could perceive that her face was nervously set, and when they reached the trying ordeal of Jude giving her to Phillotson she could hardly command herself; rather, however, as it seemed, from her knowledge of what her cousin must feel, whom she need not have had there at all, than from self-consideration. Possibly she would go on inflicting such pains again and again, and grieving for the sufferer again and again, in all her colossal inconsistency.
