These little obstacles to the indulgence of what had been the merest passing fancy created in Sue a great zest for unpacking her objects and looking at them;and at bedtime,when she was sure of being undisturbed,she unrobed the divinities in comfort.Placing the pair of figures on the chest of drawers,a candle on each side of them,she withdrew to the bed,flung herself down thereon,and began reading a book she had taken from her box,which Miss Fontover knew nothing of.It was a volume of Gibbon,and she read the chapter dealing with the reign of Julian the Apostate.
Occasionally she looked up at the statuettes,which appeared strange and out of place,there happening to be a Calvary print hanging between them,and,as if the scene suggested the action,she at length jumped up and withdrew another book from her box -a volume of verse -and turned to the familiar poem -Thou hast conquered,O pale Galilean:
The world has grown grey from thy breath!which she read to the end.Presently she put out the candles,undressed,and finally extinguished her own light.
She was of an age which usually sleeps soundly,yet to-night she kept waking up,and every time she opened her eyes there was enough diffused light from the street to show her the white plaster figures,standing on the chest of drawers in odd contrast to their environment of text and martyr,and the Gothic-framed Crucifix-picture that was only discernible now as a Latin cross,the figure thereon being obscured by the shades.
On one of these occasions the church clocks struck some small hour.It fell upon the ears of another person who sat bending over his books at a not very distant spot in the same city.Being Saturday night the morrow was one on which Jude had not set his alarm-clock to call him at his usually early time,and hence he had stayed up,as was his custom,two or three hours later than he could afford to do on any other day of the week.Just then he was earnestly reading from his Griesbach's text.
At the very time that Sue was tossing and staring at her figures,the policeman and belated citizens passing along under his window might have heard,if they had stood still,strange syllables mumbled with fervour within -words that had for Jude an indescribable enchantment:inexplicable sounds something like these:-'All hemin heis theos ho pater ,ex hou ta panta ,kai hemeis eis auton :'
Till the sounds rolled with reverent loudness,as a book was heard to close:-'Kai heis Kurios Iesous Christos ,di hou ta panta kai hemeis di autou !'
He was a handy man at his trade,an all-round man,as artizans in country-towns are apt to be.In London the man who carves the boss or knob of leafage declines to cut the fragment of moulding which merges in that leafage,as if it were a degradation to do the second half of one whole.When there was not much Gothic moulding for Jude to run,or much window-tracery on the bankers,he would go out lettering monuments or tombstones,and take a pleasure in the change of handiwork.
The next time that he saw her was when he was on a ladder executing a job of this sort inside one of the churches.There was a short morning service,and when the parson entered Jude came down from his ladder,and sat with the half-dozen people forming the congregation,till the prayer should be ended,and he could resume his tapping.He did not observe till the service was half over that one of the women was Sue,who had perforce accompanied the elderly Miss Fontover thither.
Jude sat watching her pretty shoulders,her easy,curiously nonchalant risings and sittings,and her perfunctory genuflexions,and thought what a help such an Anglican would have been to him in happier circumstances.
It was not so much his anxiety to get on with his work that made him go up to it immediately the worshipers began to take their leave:it was that he dared not,in this holy spot,confront the woman who was beginning to influence him in such an indescribable manner.Those three enormous reasons why he must not attempt intimate acquaintance with Sue Bridehead,now that his interest in her had shown itself to be unmistakably of a sexual kind,loomed as stubbornly as ever.But it was also obvious that man could not live by work alone;that the particular man Jude,at any rate,wanted something to love.Some men would have rushed incontinently to her,snatched the pleasure of easy friendship which she could hardly refuse,and have left the rest to chance.Not so Jude -at first.
But as the days,and still more particularly the lonely evenings,dragged along,he found himself,to his moral consternation,to be thinking more of her instead of thinking less of her,and experiencing a fearful bliss in doing what was erratic,informal,and unexpected.Surrounded by her influence all day,walking past the spots she frequented,he was always thinking of her,and was obliged to own to himself that his conscience was likely to be the loser in this battle.
To be sure she was almost an ideality to him still.Perhaps to know her would be to cure himself of this unexpected and unauthorized passion.
A voice whispered that,though he desired to know her,he did not desire to be cured.
