Jude the Obscure

JUDE THE OBSCURE

the pink and blue and yellow ladies retired from the barges, and the people who had watched began to move.

«Well – it’s been awfully good», cried Arabella. «But I think I must get back to my poor man. Father is there, so far as I know; but I had better get back».

«What’s your hurry?»

«Well, I must go… Dear, dear, this is awkward!»

At the narrow gangway where the people ascended from the riverside path to the bridge the crowd was literally jammed into one hot mass – Arabella and Vilbert with the rest; and here they remained motionless, Arabella exclaiming, «Dear, dear!» more and more impatiently; for it had just occurred to her mind that if Jude were discovered to have died alone an inquest might be deemed necessary.

«What a fidget you are, my love», said the physician, who, being pressed close against her by the throng, had no need ofpersonal effort for contact. «Just as well have patience: there’s no getting away yet!»

It was nearly ten minutes before the wedged multitude moved sufficiently to let them pass through. As soon as she got up into the street Arabella hastened on, forbidding the physician to accompany her further that day. She did not go straight to her house; but to the abode ofa woman who performed the last necessary offices for the poorer dead; where she knocked.

«My husband has just gone, poor soul», she said. «Can you come and lay him out?»

Arabella waited a few minutes; and the two women went along, elbowing their way through the stream offashionable people pouring out ofCardinal meadow, and being nearly knocked down by the carriages.

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«I must call at the sexton’s about the bell, too», said Arabella. «It is just round here, isn’t it? I’ll meet you at my door».

By ten o’clock that night Jude was lying on the bedstead at his lodging covered with a sheet, and straight as an arrow. Through the partly opened window the joyous throb ofa waltz entered from the ball-room at Cardinal.

Two days later, when the sky was equally cloudless, and the air equally still, two persons stood beside Jude’s open coffin in the same little bedroom. On one side was Arabella, on the other the Widow Edlin. They were both looking at Jude’s face, the worn old eyelids ofMrs. Edlin being red.

«How beautiful he is!» said she.

«Yes. He’s a ‘andsome corpse», said Arabella.

The window was still open to ventilate the room, and it being about noontide the clear air was motionless and quiet without. From a distance came voices; and an apparent noise ofpersons stamping.

«What’s that?» murmured the old woman.

«Oh, that’s the Doctors in the theatre, conferring Honorary degrees on the Duke ofHamptonshire and a lot more illustrious gents ofthat sort. It’s Remembrance Week, you know. The cheers come from the young men».

«Aye; young and strong-lunged! Not like our poor boy here». An occasional word, as from some one making a speech, floated from the open windows ofthe theatre across to this quiet corner, at which there seemed to be a smile ofsome sort upon the marble features ofJude; while the old, superseded, Delphin editions ofVirgil and Horace, and the dog-eared

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