When it was discovered that the knacker and tanner
would give only a very few shillings for Prince’s
carcase because of his decrepitude, Durbeyfield rose
to the occasion.
“No,” said he stoically, “I won’t
sell his old body. When we d’Urbervilles
was knights in the land, we didn’t sell our chargers
for cat’s meat. Let ’em keep their
shillings! He’ve served me well in his
lifetime, and I won’t part from him now.”
He worked harder the next day in digging a grave for
Prince in the garden than he had worked for months
to grow a crop for his family. When the hole
was ready, Durbeyfield and his wife tied a rope round
the horse and dragged him up the path towards it, the
children following in funeral train. Abraham
and ’Liza-Lu sobbed, Hope and Modesty discharged
their griefs in loud blares which echoed from the
walls; and when Prince was tumbled in they gathered
round the grave. The bread-winner had been taken
away from them; what would they do?
“Is he gone to heaven?” asked Abraham,
between the sobs.
Then Durbeyfield began to shovel in the earth, and
the children cried anew. All except Tess.
Her face was dry and pale, as though she regarded
herself in the light of a murderess.
The haggling business, which had mainly depended on
the horse, became disorganized forthwith. Distress,
if not penury, loomed in the distance. Durbeyfield
was what was locally called a slack-twisted fellow;
he had good strength to work at times; but the times
could not be relied on to coincide with the hours
of requirement; and, having been unaccustomed to the
regular toil of the day-labourer, he was not particularly
persistent when they did so coincide.
Tess, meanwhile, as the one who had dragged her parents
into this quagmire, was silently wondering what she
could do to help them out of it; and then her mother
broached her scheme.
“We must take the ups wi’ the downs, Tess,”
said she; “and never could your high blood have
been found out at a more called-for moment.
You must try your friends. Do ye know that there
is a very rich Mrs d’Urberville living on the
outskirts o’ The Chase, who must be our relation?
You must go to her and claim kin, and ask for some
help in our trouble.”
“I shouldn’t care to do that,” says
Tess. “If there is such a lady, ’twould
be enough for us if she were friendly—not
to expect her to give us help.”
“You could win her round to do anything, my
dear. Besides, perhaps there’s more in
it than you know of. I’ve heard what I’ve
heard, good-now.”
The oppressive sense of the harm she had done led
Tess to be more deferential than she might otherwise
have been to the maternal wish; but she could not
understand why her mother should find such satisfaction
in contemplating an enterprise of, to her, such doubtful
profit. Her mother might have made inquiries,
and have discovered that this Mrs d’Urberville
was a lady of unequalled virtues and charity.
But Tess’s pride made the part of poor relation
one of particular distaste to her.
