A loud laugh from behind Tess’s back, in the shade of the garden, united with the titter within the room.  She looked round, and saw the red coal of a cigar:  Alec d’Urberville was standing there alone.  He beckoned to her, and she reluctantly retreated towards him.

“Well, my Beauty, what are you doing here?”

She was so tired after her long day and her walk that she confided her trouble to him—­that she had been waiting ever since he saw her to have their company home, because the road at night was strange to her.  “But it seems they will never leave off, and I really think I will wait no longer.”

“Certainly do not.  I have only a saddle-horse here to-day; but come to The Flower-de-Luce, and I’ll hire a trap, and drive you home with me.”

Tess, though flattered, had never quite got over her original mistrust of him, and, despite their tardiness, she preferred to walk home with the work-folk.  So she answered that she was much obliged to him, but would not trouble him.  “I have said that I will wait for ’em, and they will expect me to now.”

“Very well, Miss Independence.  Please yourself...  Then I shall not hurry...  My good Lord, what a kick-up they are having there!”

He had not put himself forward into the light, but some of them had perceived him, and his presence led to a slight pause and a consideration of how the time was flying.  As soon as he had re-lit a cigar and walked away the Trantridge people began to collect themselves from amid those who had come in from other farms, and prepared to leave in a body.  Their bundles and baskets were gathered up, and half an hour later, when the clock-chime sounded a quarter past eleven, they were straggling along the lane which led up the hill towards their homes.

It was a three-mile walk, along a dry white road, made whiter to-night by the light of the moon.

Tess soon perceived as she walked in the flock, sometimes with this one, sometimes with that, that the fresh night air was producing staggerings and serpentine courses among the men who had partaken too freely; some of the more careless women also were wandering in their gait—­to wit, a dark virago, Car Darch, dubbed Queen of Spades, till lately a favourite of d’Urberville’s; Nancy, her sister, nicknamed the Queen of Diamonds; and the young married woman who had already tumbled down.  Yet however terrestrial and lumpy their appearance just now to the mean unglamoured eye, to themselves the case was different.  They followed the road with a sensation that they were soaring along in a supporting medium, possessed of original and profound thoughts, themselves and surrounding nature forming an organism of which all the parts harmoniously and joyously interpenetrated each other.  They were as sublime as the moon and stars above them, and the moon and stars were as ardent as they.

Tess, however, had undergone such painful experiences of this kind in her father’s house that the discovery of their condition spoilt the pleasure she was beginning to feel in the moonlight journey.  Yet she stuck to the party, for reasons above given.