She too had sprung up, but she sank down again.
“Now, punish me!” she said, turning up
her eyes to him with the hopeless defiance of the
sparrow’s gaze before its captor twists its neck.
“Whip me, crush me; you need not mind those
people under the rick! I shall not cry out.
Once victim, always victim—that’s
the law!”
“O no, no, Tess,” he said blandly.
“I can make full allowance for this.
Yet you most unjustly forget one thing, that I would
have married you if you had not put it out of my power
to do so. Did I not ask you flatly to be my
wife—hey? Answer me.”
“You did.”
“And you cannot be. But remember one thing!”
His voice hardened as his temper got the better of
him with the recollection of his sincerity in asking
her and her present ingratitude, and he stepped across
to her side and held her by the shoulders, so that
she shook under his grasp. “Remember,
my lady, I was your master once! I will be your
master again. If you are any man’s wife
you are mine!”
The threshers now began to stir below.
“So much for our quarrel,” he said, letting
her go. “Now I shall leave you, and shall
come again for your answer during the afternoon.
You don’t know me yet! But I know you.”
She had not spoken again, remaining as if stunned.
D’Urberville retreated over the sheaves, and
descended the ladder, while the workers below rose
and stretched their arms, and shook down the beer
they had drunk. Then the threshing-machine started
afresh; and amid the renewed rustle of the straw Tess
resumed her position by the buzzing drum as one in
a dream, untying sheaf after sheaf in endless succession.
In the afternoon the farmer made it known that the
rick was to be finished that night, since there was
a moon by which they could see to work, and the man
with the engine was engaged for another farm on the
morrow. Hence the twanging and humming and rustling
proceeded with even less intermission than usual.
It was not till “nammet"-time, about three o-clock,
that Tess raised her eyes and gave a momentary glance
round. She felt but little surprise at seeing
that Alec d’Urberville had come back, and was
standing under the hedge by the gate. He had
seen her lift her eyes, and waved his hand urbanely
to her, while he blew her a kiss. It meant that
their quarrel was over. Tess looked down again,
and carefully abstained from gazing in that direction.
Thus the afternoon dragged on. The wheat-rick
shrank lower, and the straw-rick grew higher, and
the corn-sacks were carted away. At six o’clock
the wheat-rick was about shoulder-high from the ground.
But the unthreshed sheaves remaining untouched seemed
countless still, notwithstanding the enormous numbers
that had been gulped down by the insatiable swallower,
fed by the man and Tess, through whose two young hands
the greater part of them had passed. And the
