They met continually; they could not help it. They met daily in that

strange and solemn interval, the twilight of the morning, in the

violet or pink dawn; for it was necessary to rise early, so very

early, here. Milking was done betimes; and before the milking came

the skimming, which began at a little past three. It usually fell

to the lot of some one or other of them to wake the rest, the first

being aroused by an alarm-clock; and, as Tess was the latest arrival,

and they soon discovered that she could be depended upon not to sleep

though the alarm as others did, this task was thrust most frequently

upon her. No sooner had the hour of three struck and whizzed,

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than she left her room and ran to the dairyman's door; then up the

ladder to Angel's, calling him in a loud whisper; then woke her

fellow-milkmaids. By the time that Tess was dressed Clare was

downstairs and out in the humid air. The remaining maids and the

dairyman usually gave themselves another turn on the pillow, and did

not appear till a quarter of an hour later.

The gray half-tones of daybreak are not the gray half-tones of the

day's close, though the degree of their shade may be the same. In

the twilight of the morning, light seems active, darkness passive;

in the twilight of evening it is the darkness which is active and

crescent, and the light which is the drowsy reverse.

Being so often--possibly not always by chance--the first two persons

to get up at the dairy-house, they seemed to themselves the first

persons up of all the world. In these early days of her residence

here Tess did not skim, but went out of doors at once after rising,

where he was generally awaiting her. The spectral, half-compounded,

aqueous light which pervaded the open mead impressed them with

a feeling of isolation, as if they were Adam and Eve. At this

dim inceptive stage of the day Tess seemed to Clare to exhibit a

dignified largeness both of disposition and physique, an almost

regnant power, possibly because he knew that at that preternatural

time hardly any woman so well endowed in person as she was likely to

be walking in the open air within the boundaries of his horizon; very

few in all England. Fair women are usually asleep at mid-summer

dawns. She was close at hand, and the rest were nowhere.

The mixed, singular, luminous gloom in which they walked along

together to the spot where the cows lay often made him think of the

Resurrection hour. He little thought that the Magdalen might be

at his side. Whilst all the landscape was in neutral shade his

companion's face, which was the focus of his eyes, rising above the

mist stratum, seemed to have a sort of phosphorescence upon it. She

looked ghostly, as if she were merely a soul at large. In reality

her face, without appearing to do so, had caught the cold gleam of

day from the north-east; his own face, though he did not think of

it, wore the same aspect to her.




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