第一章
五月后半月，有一天傍晚，一位中年男子正从沙斯顿，朝着马洛特村，往家走去。那马洛特村，就坐落在与沙斯顿毗邻的布莱克穆尔谷，也叫布莱克摩谷。这男子走起路来，两条腿蹒蹒跚跚，步履有些偏斜，身子不是直线向前，而总是有点歪向左边。他偶尔下劲地点点头，仿佛是对什么意见表示首肯，尽管他并不在考虑什么特别的事。他胳膊上挎着一只空鸡蛋篮子，帽子的绒毛乱蓬蓬的，帽檐上摘帽时大拇指触摸的地方，还给磨掉了一块。过了不久，他遇见一个上了年纪的牧师，骑着一匹灰色骡马，信口哼着小调，朝他迎面走来。
“晚安，”挎篮子的男子说。
“晚安，约翰爵士，”牧师说。
步行的男子走了一两步，便停住了脚，转过身来。
“哦，先生，对不起。上回赶集那天，咱俩差不多也是这个时候，在这条路上碰见的，俺说了一声‘晚安’，你也像刚才一样，回应说：‘晚安，约翰爵士。’”
“我是这么说的，”牧师说。
“在那以前还有过一回——大约一个月以前。”
“也许有过。”
“俺杰克?德贝菲尔只是个平民，一个小贩，你干吗一次又一次地叫俺‘约翰爵士’？”
牧师拍马走近了一两步。“这只是我一时心血来潮，”他说。接着，迟疑了一下，又说：“那是因为，不久以前，我为编写新郡志而考察各家家谱时，发现了一件事。我是斯丹福特路的特林厄姆牧师，考古学家。难道你真不知道，德贝菲尔，你是德伯维尔爵士世家的直系后代吗？德伯维尔家的始祖是佩根?德伯维尔爵士，据《巴托寺文卷》记载，那位赫赫有名的爵士，是随同征服者威廉一世从诺曼底来到英国的。”
“俺以前从没听说过呀，先生！”
“唔——这可是真事。……你把下巴仰一下，让我仔细瞧瞧你的面部轮廓。不错，正是德伯维尔家的鼻子和下巴——不过，有点不那么威武了。当年，在诺曼底协助埃斯特雷玛维拉勋爵征服格拉摩根郡的，有十二位武士，你的祖宗便是其中的一个。你们家的支族，在英国这一带到处都有庄园。在斯蒂芬王朝，他们的名字都出现在《卷筒卷宗》上。在约翰王朝，你有一位祖宗阔得不得了，把一座庄园捐给了僧侣骑士团。爱德华二世执政时，你的祖宗布赖恩被召到威斯敏斯特，出席了那里的大议会。在奥利弗?克伦威尔时代，你们家有点衰落，但不是很严重。查理二世在位时，你们家因为忠于君主，被封为‘御橡’爵士。哦，你们家有过好多代约翰爵士了。假使爵士也像从男爵那样，可以世袭的话，那你现在就是约翰爵士了。其实，在古时候，爵士封号就是父子相传的。”
“真有这事！”
“总而言之，”牧师果断地拿鞭子拍了拍自己的腿，断定说，“在英国，简直找不出第二个这样的家族！”
“他妈的，真找不出呀，”德贝菲尔说道，“可是你看俺，一年一年地东跑西颠，到处碰壁，好像俺只不过是教区里最低下的人。……特林厄姆牧师，关于俺这消息，大伙都知道多久啦？”
牧师解释说，据他所知，这事早已被世人遗忘，很难说有什么人知道。他自己的考察，是从那年春上的一天开始的。当时，他在考察德伯维尔家族的盛衰荣辱，恰巧看见他的马车上写着德贝菲尔这个姓氏，便追根究底，查寻了他父亲和他祖父的情况，直至把事情搞得确凿无疑。“起先，我并不想把这样一条毫无价值的消息告诉你，搅得你心神不安，”他说，“不过，人有时候太容易冲动，难免失去理智。我还以为你对这事早就有所了解了呢。”
“的确，俺有一两次听人说，俺家没搬到布莱克穆尔以前，倒过过好日子。可俺当时就没理会那话，只当是说俺们家从前养过两匹马，眼下只养得起一匹。俺家里有一把古银匙，还有一方古图章。不过，老天爷，银匙和图章算得了什么？……真想不到，俺和高贵的德伯维尔家一直是一家骨肉。据说俺老爷爷有些秘密事儿，不肯说出自己的来历。……牧师，俺想斗胆地问一句，俺家族的人如今都在哪儿起炉灶？俺是说，俺们德伯维尔家族都住在哪儿？”
“你们家族哪儿也没有人了。你们作为一郡的世家，已经绝嗣了。”
“真倒霉。”
“是啊——就是那些胡编瞎扯的家谱上所说的男系绝嗣无后——其实就是衰败——没落了。”
?
Tess of the d’Urbervilles
On an evening in the latter part of May a middle-aged man was
walking homeward from Shaston to the village of Marlott, in the
adjoining Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor. The pair of legs that
carriedhim were rickety, and there was a bias in his gait which
inclined himsomewhat to the left of a straight line. He
occasionally gave a smart nod,as if in confirmation of some
opinion; though he was not thinking ofanything in particular. An
empty egg-basket was slung upon his arm,the nap of his hat was
ruffled, a patch being quite worn away at itsbrim where his thumb
came in taking it off. Presently he was met byan elderly parson
astride on a grey mare, who, as he rode, hummed awandering
tune.
‘Good-night t’ee, ’ said the man with the basket.
‘Good-night, Sir John, ’ said the parson.
The pedestrian, after another pace or two, halted, and
turnedround.
‘Now, sir, begging your pardon; we met last market-day on thisroad
about this time, and I zaid “Good-night,” and you made
reply“Good-night, Sir John,” as now. ’
‘I did, ’ said the parson.
‘And once before that — near a month ago. ’
‘I may have. ’
‘Then what might your meaning be in calling me “Sir John”
thesedifferent times, when I be plain Jack Durbeyfield, the
haggler? ’
The parson rode a step or two nearer. ‘It was only my whim, ’he
said; and, after a moment’s hesitation: ‘It was on account ofa
discovery I made some little time ago, whilst I was hunting
uppedigrees for the new county history. I am Parson Tringham, the
antiquary, of Stagfoot Lane. Don’t you really know,
Durbeyfield,that you are the lineal representative of the ancient
and knightlyfamily of the d’Urbervilles, who derived their descent
from Sir Pagand’Urberville, that renowned knight who came from
Normandy withWilliam the Conqueror, as appears by Battle Abbey
Roll? ’
‘Never heard it before, sir! ’
‘Well — it’s true.... Throw up your chin a moment, so that I
maycatch the profile of your face better. Yes, that’s the
d’Urberville noseand chin — a little debased. Your ancestor was one
of the twelveknights who assisted the Lord of Estremavilla in
Normandy in hisconquest of Glamorganshire. Branches of your family
held manorsover all this part of England; their names appear in the
Pipe Rollsin the time of King Stephen. In the reign of King John
one of themwas rich enough to give a manor to the Knights
Hospitallers; and inEdward the Second’s time your forefather Brian
was summoned toWestminster to attend the great Council there. You
declined a littlein Oliver Cromwell’s time, but to no serious
extent, and in Charlesthe Second’s reign you were made Knights of
the Royal Oak for yourloyalty. Aye, there have been generations of
Sir Johns among you, andif knighthood were hereditary, like a
baronetcy — as it practically wasin old times, when men were
knighted from father to son — you wouldbe Sir John now. ’
‘Ye don’t say so! ’
‘In short, ’ concluded the parson decisively, smacking his leg
withhis switch, ‘there’s hardly such another family in England!
’
‘Daze my eyes, and isn’t there, ’ said Durbeyfield. ‘And here haveI
been knocking about, year after year, from pillar to post, as if I
wasno more than the commonest feller in the parish.... And how long
hev this news about me been knowed, Pa’son Tringham? ’
The clergyman explained that, as far as he was aware, it hadquite
died out of knowledge, and could hardly be said to be knownat all.
His own investigations had begun on a day in the precedingspring
when, having been engaged in tracing the vicissitudes of
thed’Urberville family, he had observed Durbeyfield’s name on his
waggon, and had thereupon been led to make inquiries about his
father andgrandfather till he had no doubt on the subject. ‘At
first I resolved
not to disturb you with such a useless piece of information,’ said
he.‘However, our impulses are too strong for our judgment
sometimes. Ithought you might perhaps know something of it all the
while.’
‘Well, I have heard once or twice, ’tis true, that my family
hadseen better days afore they came to Blackmoor. But I took no
notice o’t, thinking it to mean that we had once kept two horses
where we nowkeep only one. I’ve got a wold silver spoon, and a wold
graven seal athome, too; but Lord, what’s a spoon and seal?... And
to think that Iand these noble d’Urbervilles were one flesh all the
time. ’Twas said that my gr’t-grandfer had secrets, and didn’t care
to talk of where hecame from.... And where do we raise our smoke
now, parson, if I maymake so bold; I mean, where do we
d’Urbervilles live? ’
‘You don’t live anywhere. You are extinct — as a county family.
’
‘That’s bad. ’
‘Yes — what the mendacious family chronicles call extinct in
themale line — that is, gone down — gone under. ’
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