Jude the Obscure (Oxford World's Classics)

particular Sunday, so the men had to work late Saturday night,
against their will, for over-time was not paid then as ’tis now. There
was no true religion in the country at that date, neither among
pa’sons, clerks, nor people, and to keep the men up to their work the
vicar had to let ’em have plenty of drink during the afternoon. As
evening drawed on they sent for some more themselves; rum, by all
account. It got later and later, and they got more and more fuddled,
till at last they went a putting their rum-bottle and rummers upon
the communion table, and drawed up a trestle or two, and sate round
comfortable, and poured out again right hearty bumpers. No sooner
had they tossed o
ff their glasses than, so the story goes, they fell
down senseless, one and all. How long they bode so they didn’t
know, but when they came to themselves there was a terrible thun-
derstorm a-raging, and they seemed to see in the gloom a dark 
figure
with very thin legs and a curious voot, a-standing on the ladder, and
finishing their work. When it got daylight they could see that the
work was really 
finished, and couldn’t at all mind finishing it them-
selves. They went home, and the next thing they heard was that a
great scandal had been caused in the church that Sunday morning,
for when the people came and service began all saw that the Ten
Commandments wez painted with the “Nots” left out. Decent
people wouldn’t attend service there for a long time, and the Bishop
had to be sent for to reconsecrate the church. That’s the tradition as
I used to hear it as a child. You must take it for what it is wo’th, but
this case to-day has reminded me o’t, as I say.’
The visitors gave one more glance, as if to see whether Jude and
Sue had left the Nots out likewise, and then severally left the church,
even the old woman at last. Sue and Jude, who had not stopped
working, sent back the child to school, and remained without speak-
ing; till, looking at her narrowly, he found she had been crying
silently.
‘Never mind, comrade!’ he said. ‘I know what it is!’
‘I can’t bear that they, and everybody, should think people wicked
At Aldbrickham and Elsewhere


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because they may have chosen to live their own way! It is really these
opinions that make the best intentioned people reckless, and actually
become immoral!’
‘Never be cast down! It was only a funny story.’
‘Ah, but we suggested it! I am afraid I have done you mischief,
Jude, instead of helping you by coming!’
To have suggested such a story was certainly not very exhilarating,
in a serious view of their position. However, in a few minutes Sue
seemed to see that their position this morning had a ludicrous side,
and wiping her eyes she laughed.
‘It is droll, after all,’ she said, ‘that we two, of all people, with our
queer history, should happen to be here painting the Ten Com-
mandments! You a reprobate, and I––in my condition. . . . O dear!’
. . . And with her hand over her eyes she laughed again silently and
intermittently, till she was quite weak.*
‘That’s better,’ said Jude gaily. ‘Now we are right again, aren’t we,
little girl!’
‘O but it is serious, all the same!’ she sighed as she took up the
brush and righted herself. ‘But do you see they don’t think we are
married? They won’t believe it! It is extraordinary!’
‘I don’t care whether they think so or not,’ said Jude. ‘I shan’t take
any more trouble to make them.’
They sat down to lunch––which they had brought with them not
to hinder time––and having eaten it were about to set to work anew
when a man entered the church, and Jude recognized in him the
contractor Willis. He beckoned to Jude, and spoke to him apart.
‘Here––I’ve just had a complaint about this,’ he said with rather
breathless awkwardness. ‘I don’t wish to go into the matter––as of
course I didn’t know what was going on––but I am afraid I must
ask you and her to leave o
ff, and let somebody else finish this! It is
best, to avoid all unpleasantness. I’ll pay you for the week, all the
same.’
Jude was too independent to make any fuss; and the contractor
paid him, and left. Jude picked up his tools, and Sue cleansed her
brush. Then their eyes met.
‘How could we––be so simple––as to suppose we might do this!’
said she, dropping to her tragic note. ‘Of course we ought not––I
ought not––to have come!’
‘I had no idea that anybody was going to intrude into such a lonely