“I cannot” he said, “without despising myself, and what is worse, perhaps, despising you.  I mean, of course, cannot live with you in the ordinary sense.  At present, whatever I feel, I do not despise you.  And, let me speak plainly, or you may not see all my difficulties.  How can we live together while that man lives?—­he being your husband in nature, and not I. If he were dead it might be different...  Besides, that’s not all the difficulty; it lies in another consideration—­one bearing upon the future of other people than ourselves.  Think of years to come, and children being born to us, and this past matter getting known—­for it must get known.  There is not an uttermost part of the earth but somebody comes from it or goes to it from elsewhere.  Well, think of wretches of our flesh and blood growing up under a taunt which they will gradually get to feel the full force of with their expanding years.  What an awakening for them!  What a prospect!  Can you honestly say ‘Remain’ after contemplating this contingency?  Don’t you think we had better endure the ills we have than fly to others?”

Her eyelids, weighted with trouble, continued drooping as before.

“I cannot say ‘Remain,’” she answered, “I cannot; I had not thought so far.”

Tess’s feminine hope—­shall we confess it?—­had been so obstinately recuperative as to revive in her surreptitious visions of a domiciliary intimacy continued long enough to break down his coldness even against his judgement.  Though unsophisticated in the usual sense, she was not incomplete; and it would have denoted deficiency of womanhood if she had not instinctively known what an argument lies in propinquity.  Nothing else would serve her, she knew, if this failed.  It was wrong to hope in what was of the nature of strategy, she said to herself:  yet that sort of hope she could not extinguish.  His last representation had now been made, and it was, as she said, a new view.  She had truly never thought so far as that, and his lucid picture of possible offspring who would scorn her was one that brought deadly convictions to an honest heart which was humanitarian to its centre.  Sheer experience had already taught her that in some circumstances there was one thing better than to lead a good life, and that was to be saved from leading any life whatever.  Like all who have been previsioned by suffering, she could, in the words of M. Sully-Prudhomme, hear a penal sentence in the fiat, “You shall be born,” particularly if addressed to potential issue of hers.

Yet such is the vulpine slyness of Dame Nature, that, till now, Tess had been hoodwinked by her love for Clare into forgetting it might result in vitalizations that would inflict upon others what she had bewailed as misfortune to herself.