裘德把抱着的孩子换了个位置，好省点劲，接着就把话说完了：“我这会儿又病又穷，可是这还不是我顶糟的地方。因为我这会儿脑子里的信仰成了一团乱麻——黑里瞎摸，找不着头绪。做事靠本能，无所取则。八九年前我到这儿的时候，我的思想坚定，条理分明，但是后来它们陆陆续续逃之夭夭啦。越到后来，我就越对自己没信心。我怀疑我如今还有什么能算得上人生大义，我只剩了下边两条心愿：于己无害，于人无伤；再有是真正做到让我最爱的人快乐。各位先生，既然你们都想知道我是怎么混过来的，我已经—一奉告啦。但愿对诸位有好处！到此为止，我也不能往下说啦。依我看，咱们社会这套规范准是哪儿出了岔子，这可得靠比我目光深远锐利的男男女女去探明究竟——假定他们真能做到。‘因为谁知道什么于他有益呢？谁能告诉他身居日光之下有什么事呢？’”
“好哇，好哇。”众人不约而同地说。
“讲得真不赖呀！”补锅匠泰勒说，又悄悄地跟紧边上的人说，‘明阿哈，那些吃牧师饭的成群凑到这一带来了，里头有一个趁着咱们的当家牧师想休假，就替他带着做礼拜，要是捞不到一个几尼，他大概不肯这样讲道吧？你看呢？我敢起誓，他们那帮子里头谁也讲不来。再说他们大概得先把要说的写下来才行。这小子讲得这么好，可是个工人哪！”
恰好这时候有辆马车赶过来了，里面坐着一位喘吁吁的身穿大袍的博士，无奈辕马不听使唤，没在雇车人要停的地方停住，只见博士从车里跳出来，径直奔进了学院大门。车夫纵身跳下车座，开始往那畜牲肚子上踢，这个光景倒像为裘德一番讲话做了客观注脚。
“要是这世界上最信教、最尊重教育的城市，”裘德说，“要是在学院大门口这儿，连这类事都于得出来，那咱们还有多大出息，还有谁说得清呢？”
“别吵！”一个警察说，他刚跟一位同志忙着打开学院对面几个大门。“伙计，游行队伍过来的时候，你闭上嘴好吧。”雨下得更大了，带着伞的人都把伞撑起来。苏只带了把小伞，晴雨两用的。她的脸色显得苍白，不过裘德当时没注意到。
“亲爱的，咱们还是走吧。”她低声说，尽量不让他淋着。“别忘了，咱们还没找到地方住呢，东西还放在车站，再说你身上也没好利落呢，我害怕一淋湿了，你又要病啦！”
“队伍过来了。稍等一会儿，我看了就走！”他说。
一时间六钟齐响和鸣，好多人的脸挤到了窗口上，而院长和新博士们也露面了，他们穿着红色和黑色大袍的形体好似可望而不可及的行星通过望远镜的物镜一般，从裘德的视野中倏忽而过。
在他们行进时，认识他们的好事之徒一一点出了他们的名字，等他们走到伦恩造的老圆形会堂，人群就欢呼起来。
“咱们往那边走！”裘德大声说。雨下个不停，但他似乎丝毫没觉察到，带着一家绕到会堂那边。他们站在为减少车轮的不谐调的噪声而铺垫地面的干草上，那儿有许多经过霜雪剥蚀而显得古意盎然的半身雕像，它们环列在会堂周围，冷眼旁观正在进行的仪式——神情恹恹而阴沉，特别在望着浑身淋得透湿的裘德、苏和他们的孩子的时候，好像觉得他们非常滑稽：到这儿来，本来无所事事，何必多此一举。
“但愿我也能参加进去啊！”他热切而认真地说。“听吧，我呆在这儿，可以听得见拉丁文讲演的几个词儿，窗户都开着哪！”
但是，除了风琴奏出的和谐的乐音和每次讲演中间的喊声和欢呼，裘德只间或听到um或ibus的铿锵之声，绝少拉丁文传到他脑际，白白站在雨地里。
“唉——我就是活到死，也只好置身门外啦！”稍后他叹了口气。“现在我要走啦，我的能忍让的苏啊。你始终在雨里等着，你心多好啊——就为的是让我做一场春梦！我以后决不会再念叨这鬼地方啦，绝对不念叨啦！可是刚才咱们在隔栏边上，你怎么那样抖呀？苏，你脸色多苍白哟！”
“我瞧见里查来着，就在对面那群人里头。”
“啊——真的？”
“他显然也跟咱们这伙人一样，到耶路撒冷来瞧瞧节日的盛况。这么着，他住的地方大概离这儿不怎么远。他从前也像你死乞白赖地要上大学，不过表面上没那么火辣辣就是啦。我看他没瞧见我；虽然他总会听见你跟大伙儿说话，不过不像怎么注意。”
“呃——不注意就不注意吧。你现在不会为他牵肠挂肚吧，苏？”
“不会啦，不会啦。不过我这个人太软弱，我固然知道咱们所有打算都对，可是我怪得很，老觉着怕他。我不在乎什么习俗不习俗，可这样怕他还是跟尊重习俗或者惧怕习俗有关系，就仿佛受了瘫痪病侵袭，慢慢，慢慢，越来越厉害，心里真难过！”
“你这会儿挺累啦，苏。哦——我倒忘了，亲亲！好，咱们马上走吧。”
于是他们动身去找住的地方，最后在霉巷找到了，看上去挺称心的，这地点对裘德特别有诱惑力，但是苏觉得巷子窄，又在学院后墙根上，只不通学院就是了。学院的高楼大厦把小房子的光挡住，弄得昏暗得很：学院里的生活同居民的生活竟是天渊之别，犹如彼此各处地球的一端，其实只是一堵厚墙之隔罢了。有两三处房子贴着有屋子出租的帖子，他们新来乍到，就敲了敲一家的门。一个女人应声出来，把门开了。
“啊——听啊！”裘德突然说，他却没跟她搭话。
“什么？”
“钟声啊！是哪个教堂的钟声呢？怪熟的。”
在稍远地方又响起了众钟和鸣。
“我不懂！”女房东用挖苦的口气说。‘你敲门就为这个？”
“不是，是要租房子。”裘德说，又回过神来。
房东对苏的外形仔细打量了一下。“我没屋子租。”说着把门一下关上。
裘德很狼狈，大孩子怪难受。“啊，裘德，”苏说，“我试试看吧。你干这类事不行。”
他们又在附近找了第二家；但是房东不仅观察了苏，还观察大小孩子，很斯文地说，“对不起，有孩子的人家，我不租。”也把门关了。
顶小的孩子噘着嘴，不出声地哭起来，本能使他感到碰上了麻烦事。大男孩叹口气。“我讨厌死基督堂啦！”他说。“那些又大又旧的房子是监狱吧？”
“不是，是学院，”裘德说，“也许有那么一天，你也在里头念书呢。”
“我才不想哪。”大孩子回了一句。
“咱们再试试瞧，”苏说，“我把大衣裹得紧点。……离开肯尼桥到这地方就跟该亚发去见彼拉多似的……亲爱的，你看我现在这样儿如何？”
“现在就不会有人注意你了。”裘德说。
还有一处房子招租，他们就试第三次。女房东倒也和善，不过她空出的屋子很小，如果苏的丈夫能到别处去，她就答应让苏和孩子住进来。他们找房子已经耽误了，到这么晚还没找到，只好接受这样的安排。他们跟她商量租用条件；虽然房租有点超出他们当前的负担能力，也只好答应下来，好在在裘德找到常住寓所之前，一时总能勉强渡过难关。苏租下的是这房子三楼一间背光的屋子，里边有个套间，能安顿下孩子。裘德呆了会儿，喝了杯茶，发现窗户对着另一所学院的后墙，心中为之一喜。他吻罢四个人，就出去买日用品，给自己找落脚地方。
他走了之后，女房东到楼上来，想跟苏谈谈，以便对房客家庭状况有所了解。苏素常胸无城府，不善作伪，在她承认她家遇到困难和过着居处不定的生活之后，冷不防女房东说出下面一句话，令她为之惊愕：
“你的确是结过婚的女人吗？”
苏颇感犹豫，随即在一时冲动之下，未加思索就对那女人说：她跟他丈夫都曾结过婚，不过头一次婚姻都令他们很苦恼，深恐此后若再有第二次婚姻形式的结合，可能重蹈覆辙，终身受害，无从摆脱。尽管他们誓愿毕生厮守在一起，都害怕一纸婚约上的种种条件反而葬送了他们的爱情，所以虽然两三次打算签约，无如委实鼓不起勇气搞那一套。如此这般，她言下自己的确是结了婚的妇女，不过房东不以为然。
那位女主人表情显得尴尬，就下楼了。苏坐在窗前，对着外面的雨出神。有人已经进了房子，一阵响声把她已经安定下来的心情打破了，接着就听见楼下过道里一个男人跟女人说话声音。原来女房东的丈夫回来了，她正对他说明他不在时，她把房客招进来了。
他突然大发雷霆，嗓门一下子大起来：“谁要在家里留这样的女人？也许她就要生孩子！……再说，我不是讲过招没孩子的吗？过厅跟楼梯刚涂过，就得让他们踢来踢去的！你本来该明白嘛，他们这个样儿来，根本不是正派人。我说租给单身汉，你偏招进来一家子。”
妻子做了番解释，但是丈夫大概是固执己见，毫不通融。过会儿，苏门上有人敲了一下，那女人露面了。
“太太，对不起，我想跟你谈一下。”她说。“直说吧，我现在不好再把屋子租给你一个礼拜了。因为我丈夫不赞成，我只好请你们搬出去。你今儿晚上在这儿过夜，我没意见，因为下午到这会儿，也够晚了，不过，我还是想你明儿一大早就走才好！”
苏自然心里有数，她完全有权利住上一个礼拜，可是她不想因此而在那对夫妇间挑起是非，于是表示可以接她的要求一大早走。女房东走后，她又望着窗外。看到雨不下了，她就向大孩子提议，她先把小的哄睡了，然后他们俩出去想法订到明天的住处，免得像今天这样给逼得到处碰壁。
所以她没把裘德刚从车站送来的箱子打开，就跟孩子一块儿出去了，到了几条潮湿的、不过还不叫人难受的街道。苏想到裘德大概正为自己找地方烦心，决定不拿人家通知她搬走的消息去干扰他。孩子给她做伴，她串到东串到西；虽然试了十几家，可是孤军作战，比裘德陪着，运气还糟。没一个人答应第二天给她一间屋子，家家房主人都斜眼睨着这样一个带着孩子，天黑了还找住处的女人。
“我真不该生出来，对不对？”男孩子惶惶不安地说。
苏终于疲惫不堪，只好回到她不受欢迎的地方；反正她在那儿至少可以托庇过夜。裘德在她外出时来过，留下他的地址。因为她知道他现在还很虚弱，所以她坚持原来的决定，不去干扰他，留到明天再说。
Part 6 Chapter 2
SUE sat looking at the bare floor of the room, the house being little more than an old intramural cottage, and then she regarded the scene outside the uncurtained window. At some distance opposite, the outer walls of Sarcophagus College-- silent, black, and windowless--threw their four centuries of gloom, bigotry, and decay into the little room she occupied, shutting out the moonlight by night and the sun by day. The outlines of Rubric College also were discernible beyond the other, and the tower of a third farther off still. She thought of the strange operation of a simple-minded man's ruling passion, that it should have led Jude, who loved her and the children so tenderly, to place them here in this depressing purlieu, because he was still haunted by his dream. Even now he did not distinctly hear the freezing negative that those scholared walls had echoed to his desire.
The failure to find another lodging, and the lack of room in this house for his father, had made a deep impression on the boy-- a brooding undemonstrative horror seemed to have seized him. The silence was broken by his saying: "Mother, WHAT shall we do to-morrow!"
"I don't know!" said Sue despondently. "I am afraid this will trouble your father."
"I wish Father was quite well, and there had been room for him! Then it wouldn't matter so much! Poor Father!"
"It wouldn't!"
"Can I do anything?"
"No! All is trouble, adversity, and suffering!"
"Father went away to give us children room, didn't he?"
"Partly."
"It would be better to be out o' the world than in it, wouldn't it?"
"It would almost, dear."
"'Tis because of us children, too, isn't it, that you can't get a good lodging?"
"Well--people do object to children sometimes."
"Then if children make so much trouble, why do people have 'em?"
"Oh--because it is a law of nature."
"But we don't ask to be born?"
"No indeed."
"And what makes it worse with me is that you are not my real mother, and you needn't have had me unless you liked. I oughtn't to have come to 'ee--that's the real truth! I troubled 'em in Australia, and I trouble folk here. I wish I hadn't been born!"
"You couldn't help it, my dear."
"I think that whenever children be born that are not wanted they should be killed directly, before their souls come to 'em, and not allowed to grow big and walk about!"
Sue did not reply. She was doubtfully pondering how to treat this too reflective child.
She at last concluded that, so far as circumstances permitted, she would be honest and candid with one who entered into her difficulties like an aged friend.
"There is going to be another in our family soon," she hesitatingly remarked.
"How?"
"There is going to be another baby."
"What!" The boy jumped up wildly. "Oh God, Mother, you've never a-sent for another; and such trouble with what you've got!"
"Yes, I have, I am sorry to say!" murmured Sue, her eyes glistening with suspended tears.
The boy burst out weeping. "Oh you don't care, you don't care!" he cried in bitter reproach. "How EVER could you, Mother, be so wicked and cruel as this, when you needn't have done it till we was better off, and Father well! To bring us all into MORE trouble! No room for us, and Father a-forced to go away, and we turned out to-morrow; and yet you be going to have another of us soon! ... 'Tis done o' purpose!--'tis--'tis!" He walked up and down sobbing.
"Y-you must forgive me, little Jude!" she pleaded, her bosom heaving now as much as the boy's. "I can't explain--I will when you are older. It does seem-- as if I had done it on purpose, now we are in these difficulties! I can't explain, dear! But it--is not quite on purpose--I can't help it!"
"Yes it is--it must be! For nobody would interfere with us, like that, unless you agreed! I won't forgive you, ever, ever! I'll never believe you care for me, or Father, or any of us any more!"
He got up, and went away into the closet adjoining her room, in which a bed had been spread on the floor. There she heard him say: "If we children was gone there'd be no trouble at all!"
"Don't think that, dear," she cried, rather peremptorily. "But go to sleep!"
The following morning she awoke at a little past six, and decided to get up and run across before breakfast to the inn which Jude had informed her to be his quarters, to tell him what had happened before he went out. She arose softly, to avoid disturbing the children, who, as she knew, must be fatigued by their exertions of yesterday.
She found Jude at breakfast in the obscure tavern he had chosen as a counterpoise to the expense of her lodging: and she explained to him her homelessness. He had been so anxious about her all night, he said. Somehow, now it was morning, the request to leave the lodgings did not seem such a depressing incident as it had seemed the night before, nor did even her failure to find another place affect her so deeply as at first. Jude agreed with her that it would not be worth while to insist upon her right to stay a week, but to take immediate steps for removal.
"You must all come to this inn for a day or two," he said. "It is a rough place, and it will not be so nice for the children, but we shall have more time to look round. There are plenty of lodgings in the suburbs--in my old quarter of Beersheba. Have breakfast with me now you are here, my bird. You are sure you are well? There will be plenty of time to get back and prepare the children's meal before they wake. In fact, I'll go with you."
She joined Jude in a hasty meal, and in a quarter of an hour they started together, resolving to clear out from Sue's too respectable lodging immediately. On reaching the place and going upstairs she found that all was quiet in the children's room, and called to the landlady in timorous tones to please bring up the tea-kettle and something for their breakfast. This was perfunctorily done, and producing a couple of eggs which she had brought with her she put them into the boiling kettle, and summoned Jude to watch them for the youngsters, while she went to call them, it being now about half-past eight o'clock.
Jude stood bending over the kettle, with his watch in his hand, timing the eggs, so that his back was turned to the little inner chamber where the children lay. A shriek from Sue suddenly caused him to start round. He saw that the door of the room, or rather closet-- which had seemed to go heavily upon its hinges as she pushed it back-- was open, and that Sue had sunk to the floor just within it. Hastening forward to pick her up he turned his eyes to the little bed spread on the boards; no children were there. He looked in bewilderment round the room. At the back of the door were fixed two hooks for hanging garments, and from these the forms of the two youngest children were suspended, by a piece of box-cord round each of their necks, while from a nail a few yards off the body of little Jude was hanging in a similar manner. An overturned chair was near the elder boy, and his glazed eyes were slanted into the room; but those of the girl and the baby boy were closed.
Half-paralyzed by the strange and consummate horror of the scene he let Sue lie, cut the cords with his pocket-knife and threw the three children on the bed; but the feel of their bodies in the momentary handling seemed to say that they were dead. He caught up Sue, who was in fainting fits, and put her on the bed in the other room, after which he breathlessly summoned the landlady and ran out for a doctor.
When he got back Sue had come to herself, and the two helpless women, bending over the children in wild efforts to restore them, and the triplet of little corpses, formed a sight which overthrew his self-command. The nearest surgeon came in, but, as Jude had inferred, his presence was superfluous. The children were past saving, for though their bodies were still barely cold it was conjectured that they had been hanging more than an hour. The probability held by the parents later on, when they were able to reason on the case, was that the elder boy, on waking, looked into the outer room for Sue, and, finding her absent, was thrown into a fit of aggravated despondency that the events and information of the evening before had induced in his morbid temperament. Moreover a piece of paper was found upon the floor, on which was written, in the boy's hand, with the bit of lead pencil that he carried:
DONE BECAUSE WE ARE TOO MENNY.
At sight of this Sue's nerves utterly gave way, an awful conviction that her discourse with the boy had been the main cause of the tragedy, throwing her into a convulsive agony which knew no abatement. They carried her away against her wish to a room on the lower floor; and there she lay, her slight figure shaken with her gasps, and her eyes staring at the ceiling, the woman of the house vainly trying to soothe her.
They could hear from this chamber the people moving about above, and she implored to be allowed to go back, and was only kept from doing so by the assurance that, if there were any hope, her presence might do harm, and the reminder that it was necessary to take care of herself lest she should endanger a coming life. Her inquiries were incessant, and at last Jude came down and told her there was no hope. As soon as she could speak she informed him what she had said to the boy, and how she thought herself the cause of this.
"No," said Jude. "It was in his nature to do it. The doctor says there are such boys springing up amongst us-- boys of a sort unknown in the last generation--the outcome of new views of life. They seem to see all its terrors before they are old enough to have staying power to resist them. He says it is the beginning of the coming universal wish not to live. He's an advanced man, the doctor: but he can give no consolation to----"
Jude had kept back his own grief on account of her; but he now broke down; and this stimulated Sue to efforts of sympathy which in some degree distracted her from her poignant self-reproach. When everybody was gone, she was allowed to see the children.
The boy's face expressed the whole tale of their situation. On that little shape had converged all the inauspiciousness and shadow which had darkened the first union of Jude, and all the accidents, mistakes, fears, errors of the last. He was their nodal point, their focus, their expression in a single term. For the rashness of those parents he had groaned, for their ill assortment he had quaked, and for the misfortunes of these he had died.
