Far from the Madding Crowd

THE SAME NIGHT -- THE FIR PLANTATION

AMONG the multifarious duties which Bathsheba hadvoluntarily imposed upon herself by dispensing with theservices of a bailiff, was the particular one of lookinground the homestead before going to bed, to see thatall was right and safe for the night. Gabriel had almostconstantly preceded her in this tour every evening,watching her affairs as carefully as any specially appointedofficer of surveillance could have done; but this tenderdevotion was to a great extent unknown to his mistress,and as much as was known was somewhat thanklesslyreceived. Women are never tired of bewailing man'sfickleness in love, but they only seem to snub his con-stancy.As watching is best done invisibly, she usually carrieda dark lantern in her hand, and every now and thenturned on the light to examine nooks and corners withthe coolness of a metropolitan policeman. This cool-ness may have owed its existence not so much to herfearlessness of expected danger as to her freedom fromthe suspicion of any; her worst anticipated discoverybeing that a horse might not be well bedded, the fowlsnot all in, or a door not closed.This night the buildings were inspected as usual,and she went round to the farm paddock. Here theonly sounds disturbing the stillness were steady munch-ings of many mouths, and stentorian breathings from allbut invisible noses, ending in snores and puffs like theblowing of bellows slowly. Then the munching wouldrecommence, when the lively imagination might assistthe eye to discern a group of pink-white nostrils, shapedas caverns, and very clammy and humid on their sur-faces, not exactly pleasant to the touch until one gotused to them; the mouths beneath having a greatpartiality for closing upon any loose end of Bathsheba'sapparel which came within reach of their tongues.Above each of these a still keener vision suggested abrown forehead and two staring though not unfriendlyeyes, and above all a pair of whitish crescent-shapedhorns like two particularly new moons, an occasionalstolid ” moo!” proclaiming beyond the shade of a doubtthat these phenomena were the features and persons ofDaisy, Whitefoot, Bonny-lass, Jolly-O, Spot, Twinkle-eye,etc., etc. -- the respectable dairy of Devon cows belongingto Bathsheba aforesaid.Her way back to the house was by a path through ayoung plantation of tapering firs, which had been plantedsome years earlier to shelter the premises from the northwind. By reason of the density of the interwoven foliageoverhead, it was gloomy there at cloudless noontide,twilight in the evening, dark as midnight at dusk, andblack as the ninth plague of Egypt at midnight. Todescribe the spot is to call it a vast, low, naturally formedhall, the plumy ceiling of which was supported by slenderpillars of living wood, the floor being covered with a softdun carpet of dead spikelets and mildewed cones, witha tuft of grass-blades here and there.This bit of the path was always the crux of thenight's ramble, though, before starting, her apprehen-sions of danger were not vivid enough to lead her totake a companion. Slipping along here covertly asTime, Bathsheba fancied she could hear footsteps enter-ing the track at the opposite end. It was certainly arustle of footsteps. Her own instantly fell as gently assnowflakes. She reassured herself by a remembrancethat the path was public, and that the traveller wasprobably some villager returning home; regetting, atthe same time, that the meeting should be about tooccur in the darkest point of her route, even thoughonly just outside her own door.The noise approached, came close, and a figure wasapparently on the point of gliding past her when some-thing tugged at her skirt and pinned it forcibly to theground. The instantaneous check nearly threw Bath-sheba off her balance. In recovering she struck againstwarm clothes and buttons.”A rum start, upon my soul!” said a masculine voice,a foot or so above her head. ”Have I hurt you, mate?””No.” said Bathsheba, attempting to shrink a way.”We have got hitched together somehow, I think.””Yes.””Are you a woman?””Yes.””A lady, I should have said.””It doesn't matter.””I am a man.””Oh!”Bathsheba softly tugged again, but to no purpose.”Is that a dark lantern you have? I fancy so.” saidthe man.”Yes.””If you'll allow me I'll open it, and set you free.”A hand seized the lantern, the door was opened, therays burst out from their prison, and Bathsheba beheldher position with astonishment.The man to whom she was hooked was brilliant inbrass and scarlet. He was a soldier. His suddenappearance was to darkness what the sound of a trumpetis to silense. Gloom, the genius loci at all times hitherto,was now totally overthrown, less by the lantern-lightthan by what the lantern lighted. The contrast of thisrevelation with her anticipations of some sinister figurein sombre garb was so great that it had upon her theeffect of a fairy transformation.It was immediately apparent that the military man'sspur had become entangled in the gimp which decoratedthe skirt of her dress. He caught a view of her face.”I'll unfasten you in one moment, miss.” he said,with new-born gallantry.”O no -- I can do it, thank you.” she hastily replied,and stooped for the performance.The unfastening was not such a trifling affair. Therowel of the spur had so wound itself among the gimpcords in those few moments, that separation was likelyto be a matter of time.He too stooped, and the lantern standing on theground betwixt them threw the gleam from its open sideamong the fir-tree needles and the blades of long dampgrass with the effect of a large glowworm. It radiatedupwards into their faces, and sent over half the planta-tion gigantic shadows of both man and woman, eachdusky shape becoming distorted and mangled upon thetree-trunks till it wasted to nothing.He looked hard into her eyes when she raised themfor a moment; Bathsheba looked down again, for hisgaze was too strong to be received point-blank with herown. But she had obliquely noticed that he was youngand slim, and that he wore three chevrons upon hissleeve.Bathsheba pulled again.”You are a prisoner, miss; it is no use blinking thematter.” said the soldier, drily. ”I must cut your dressif you are in such a hurry.””Yes -- please do!” she exclaimed, helplessly. ””It wouldn't be necessary if you could wait amoment,” and he unwound a cord from the littlewheel. She withdrew her own hand, but, whether byaccident or design, he touched it. Bathsheba wasvexed; she hardly knew why.His unravelling went on, but it nevertheless seemedcoming to no end. She looked at him again.”Thank you for the sight of such a beautiful face!”said the young sergeant, without ceremony.She coloured with embarrassment. ”'Twas un-willingly shown.” she replied, stiffly, and with as muchdignity -- which was very little -- as she could infuse intoa position of captivity”I like you the better for that incivility, miss.” hesaid.”I should have liked -- I wish -- you had never shownyourself to me by intruding here!” She pulled again,and the gathers of her dress began to give way likeliliputian musketry.”I deserve the chastisement your words give me.But why should such a fair and dutiful girl have suchan aversion to her father's sex?””Go on your way, please.””What, Beauty, and drag you after me? Do butlook; I never saw such a tangle!””O, 'tis shameful of you; you have been makingit worse on purpose to keep me here -- you have!””Indeed, I don't think so.” said the sergeant, with amerry twinkle.”I tell you you have!” she exclaimed, in hightemper. I insist upon undoing it. Now, allow me!””Certainly, miss; I am not of steel.” He added asigh which had as much archness in it as a sigh couldpossess without losing its nature altogether. ”I amthankful for beauty, even when 'tis thrown to me likea bone to a dog. These moments will be over toosoon!”She closed her lips in a determined silence.Bathsheba was revolving in her mind whether by abold and desperate rush she could free herself at therisk of leaving her skirt bodily behind her. Thethought was too dreadful. The dress -- which she hadput on to appear stately at the supper -- was the headand front of her wardrobe; not another in her stockbecame her so well. What woman in Bathsheba'sposition, not naturally timid, and within call of herretainers, would have bought escape from a dashingsoldier at so dear a price?”All in good time; it will soon be done, I perceive,”said her cool friend.”This trifling provokes, and -- and -- -- ””Not too cruel!””-- Insults me!””It is done in order that I may have the pleasureof apologizing to so charming a woman, which Istraightway do most humbly, madam.” he said, bowinglow.Bathsheba really knew not what to say.”I've seen a good many women in my time,continued the young man in a murmur, and morethoughtfully than hitherto, critically regarding her benthead at the same time; ”but I've never seen a womanso beautiful as you. Take it or leave it -- be offendedor like it -- I don't care.””Who are you, then, who can so well afford todespise opinion?””No stranger. Sergeant Troy. I am staying inthis place. -- There! it is undone at last, you see.Your light fingers were more eager than mine. I wish ithad been the knot of knots, which there's no untying!”This was worse and worse. She started up, and sodid he. How to decently get away from him -- thatwas her difficulty now. She sidled off inch by inch,the lantern in her hand, till she could see the rednessof his coat no longer.”Ah, Beauty; good-bye!” he said.She made no reply, and, reaching a distance oftwenty or thirty yards, turned about, and ran indoors.Liddy had just retired to rest. In ascending to herown chamber, Bathsheba opened the girl's door aninch or two, and, panting, said --”Liddy, is any soldier staying in the village --sergeant somebody -- rather gentlemanly for a sergeant,and good looking -- a red coat with blue facings?””No, miss ... No, I say; but really it might beSergeant Troy home on furlough, though I have notseen him. He was here once in that way when theregiment was at Casterbridge.””Yes; that's the name. Had he a moustache -- nowhiskers or beard?””He had.””What kind of a person is he?””O! miss -- I blush to name it -- a gay man! ButI know him to be very quick and trim, who might havemade his thousands, like a squire. Such a cleveryoung dandy as he is! He's a doctor's son by name,which is a great deal; and he's an earl's son bynature!””Which is a great deal more. Fancy! Is it true?””Yes. And, he was brought up so well, and sent toCasterbridge Grammar School for years and years.Learnt all languages while he was there; and it wassaid he got on so far that he could take down Chinesein shorthand; but that I don't answer for, as it wasonly reported. However, he wasted his gifted lot,and listed a soldier; but even then he rose to be asergeant without trying at all. Ah! such a blessing itis to be high-born; nobility of blood will shine out evenin the ranks and files. And is he really come home,miss?””I believe so. Good-night, Liddy.”After all, how could a cheerful wearer of skirtsbe permanently offended with the man? There areoccasions when girls like Bathsheba will put up witha great deal of unconventional behaviour. When theywant to be praised, which is often, when they want tobe mastered, which is sometimes; and when they wantno nonsense, which is seldom. Just now the firstfeeling was in the ascendant with Bathsheba, with a dashof the second. Moreover, by chance or by devilry, theministrant was antecedently made interesting by beinga handsome stranger who had evidently seen betterdays.So she could not clearly decide whether it was heropinion that he had insulted her or not. ””Was ever anything so odd!” she at last exclaimedto herself, in her own room. ”And was ever anythingso meanly done as what I did do to sulk away like thatfrom a man who was only civil and kind!” Clearly shedid not think his barefaced praise of her person aninsult now.It was a fatal omission of Boldwood's that he hadnever once told her she was beautiful.



CHAPTER XXV