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The mysterious influences of night invested the writing with the presence of the unknown writer. Somebody's—some woman's—hand had travelled softly over the paper bearing his name; her unrevealed eyes had watched every curve as she formed it; her brain had seen him in imagination the while. Why should she have imagined him? Her mouth—were the lips red or pale, plump or creased?—had curved itself to a certain expression as the pen went on—the corners had moved with all their natural tremulousness: what had been the expression?
I know I am thought of this way. Somebody just needs to find the courage to tell me.
The moon shone to-night, and its light was not of a customary kind. His window admitted only a reflection of its rays, and the pale sheen had that reversed direction which snow gives, coming upward and lighting up his ceiling in an unnatural way, casting shadows in strange places, and putting lights where shadows had used to be.
"In an unnatural way." Typically light symbolizes knowledge/enlightment, but Hardy's use of the word "unnatural" makes me wary
zenith,
the only half of the sun yet visible burnt rayless, like a red and flameless fire shining over a white hearthstone.
Beautiful imagery to represent burgeoning, one-sided (perhaps unrequited?) love
so greatly are people's ideas of probability a mere sense that precedent will repeat itself.
pregnant with intention,
I so rarely see the word "pregnant" used this way. Makes me think of the movie Knocked Up
The scarlet and orange light outside the malthouse did not penetrate to its interior, which was, as usual, lighted by a rival glow of similar hue, radiating from the hearth.
And the romantic rivals, each carryng a fiery passion for Bathsheba, are due to meet. Goddamn, Hardy's good! This makes me want to explore his poetry more
pipkin
entr'acte
Lady Day."
Sexajessamine Sunday,"
"I don't mind owning that I expected it," said Oak, frankly. "Indeed, I hoped for the place. At the same time, Miss Everdene has a right to be her own baily if she choose—and to keep me down to be a common shepherd only." Oak drew a slow breath, looked sadly into the bright ashpit, and seemed lost in thoughts not of the most hopeful hue.
Is he genuinely okay with it? He's thought of Bathsheba as vain in the past-- now he's just defended her agaist others who dare to say the same. Does Oak still think her vain?
doffed
Crazy. Like the opposite off "donned"
kept shut during services, hiding this grotesque clockwork from sight. At present, however, the door was open,
Something unsavory being laid bare.... Foreboding
A man is never more credulous than in receiving favourable opinions on the beauty of a woman he is half, or quite, in love with; a mere child's word on the point has the weight of an R.A.'s.
It was evident that such a nature as his had no attraction for a woman of Bathsheba's taste. But Boldwood grew hot down to his hands with an incipient jealousy; he trod for the first time the threshold of "the injured lover's hell."
This was a triumph; and had it come naturally, such a triumph would have been the sweeter to her for this piquing delay. But it had been brought about by misdirected ingenuity, and she valued it only as she valued an artificial flower or a wax fruit.
Dang, I would think the triumph even more satisfactory, given his interest was seriously piqued by a completely /un/serious Valentine's note
Being a woman with some good sense in reasoning on subjects wherein her heart was not involved,
Same girl
almonry
the celibate
Boldwood is celibate at 40… tragic
inanition,
If an emotion possessed him at all, it ruled him; a feeling not mastering him was entirely latent. Stagnant or rapid, it was never slow. He was always hit mortally, or he was missed.
though not quite companionable in the eyes of merry men and scoffers, and those to whom all things show life as a jest, he was not intolerable to the earnest and those acquainted with grief.
There's no way he'll interpret the note with a "MARRY ME" stamp as a joke
Bathsheba was far from dreaming that the dark and silent shape upon which she had so carelessly thrown a seed was a hotbed of tropic intensity. Had she known Boldwood's moods, her blame would have been fearful, and the stain upon her heart ineradicable. Moreover, had she known her present power for good or evil over this man, she would have trembled at her responsibility. Luckily for her present, unluckily for her future tranquillity, her understanding had not yet told her what Boldwood was.
Uh oh. Shit will eventually hit the fan
A man's body is as the shell, or the tablet, of his soul, as he is reserved or ingenuous, overflowing or self-contained. There was a change in Boldwood's exterior from its former impassibleness; and his face showed that he was now living outside his defences for the first time, and with a fearful sense of exposure. It is the usual experience of strong natures when they love.
The insulation of his heart by reserve during these many years, without a channel of any kind for disposable emotion, had worked its effect.
Mistress and man were engaged in the operation of making a lamb "take," which is performed whenever an ewe has lost her own offspring, one of the twins of another ewe being given her as a substitute. Gabriel had skinned the dead lamb, and was tying the skin over the body of the live lamb,
Oh boy. Disguise? Masquerading as lovers? Has Bathsheba taken the place of another potential love of Boldwood's life, such as Fanny Robin, who is lost to him? Or is this just a metaphor for the early stages of love, when we are likely to cloak ourselves or seem outwardly appealing/palatable to earn a lover's interest/affections
It troubled her much to see what a great flame a little wildfire was likely to kindle.
Reccurring fire motif
She resolved never again, by look or by sign, to interrupt the steady flow of this man's life. But a resolution to avoid an evil is seldom framed till the evil is so far advanced as to make avoidance impossible.
Similar idea to "the more emphatic the renunciation, the less absolute"
The great aids to idealization in love were present here: occasional observation of her from a distance, and the absence of social intercourse with her—visual familiarity, oral strangeness.
Yep. Very easy to project his desires onto merely an image
apotheosis
It was the end of May when the farmer determined to be no longer repulsed by trivialities or distracted by suspense.
Holy shit. He received a Valentine's note, and has not acted on it until May?? Very different from Oak, who proposed marriage right away
Flagons
She heard footsteps brushing the grass, and had a consciousness that love was encircling her like a perfume. Instead of turning or waiting, Bathsheba went further
Silence has sometimes a remarkable power of showing itself as the disembodied soul of feeling wandering without its carcase, and it is then more impressive than speech.
sluices
"No, no, no. Don't say thoughtlessness! Make me think it was something more—that it was a sort of prophetic instinct—the beginning of a feeling that you would like me. You torture me to say it was done in thoughtlessness—I never thought of it in that light, and I can't endure it.
:(
I cannot bear you to feel so much, and me to feel nothing.
Yikes.This must be hard for him to hear. She feels nothing?
"I may think of you?" "Yes, I suppose you may think of me."
"And hope to obtain you?"
Bathsheba does not want to be owned
The rarest offerings of the purest loves are but a self-indulgence, and no generosity at all.
supererogatory.
It appears that ordinary men take wives because possession is not possible without marriage, and that ordinary women accept husbands because marriage is not possible without possession; with totally differing aims the method is the same on both sides.
temerity
syllogisms;
Oak stood somewhat as Eros is represented when in the act of sharpening his arrows:
God of desire? And although Oak's profession is a peaceful one, and he has a "humane nature," he is willing to battle it out for Bathsheba
gaols.
"Loose my hands. I won't have them held!
Right after Hardy included a line about the menial work of turning a wheel being like gaol (variant spelling of jail), Bathsheba demands her hands be set free. Like breaking out of shackles! Will she ever marry?
Thoroughly convinced of the impossibility of his own suit, a high resolve constrained him not to injure that of another. This is a lover's most stoical virtue, as the lack of it is a lover's most venial sin.
Her eyes were at their darkest and brightest now. Bathsheba's beauty belonging rather to the demonian than to the angelic school, she never looked so well as when she was angry—and
