The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy (books under 200 pages .txt) 📕

affairs and ambitions, he had lost in the eyes of the poorer inhabitants something of that wondrous charm which he had had for them as a lighthearted, penniless young man, who sang ditties as readily as the birds in the trees. Hence the anxiety to keep him from annoyance showed not quite the ardour that would have animated it in former days.

“Suppose we make inquiration into it, Christopher,” continued Longways; “and if we find there’s really anything in it, drop a letter to them most concerned, and advise ’em to keep out of the way?”

This course was decided on, and the group separated, Buzzford saying to Coney, “Come, my ancient friend; let’s move on. There’s nothing more to see here.”

These well-intentioned ones would have been surprised had they known how ripe the great jocular plot really was. “Yes, tonight,” Jopp had said to the Peter’s party at the corner of Mixen Lane. “As a windup to the Royal visit the hit will be all the more pat by reason of their great elevation today.”

To him, at least, it was not a joke, but a retaliation.

XXXVIII

The proceedings had been brief⁠—too brief⁠—to Lucetta whom an intoxicating Weltlust had fairly mastered; but they had brought her a great triumph nevertheless. The shake of the Royal hand still lingered in her fingers; and the chitchat she had overheard, that her husband might possibly receive the honour of knighthood, though idle to a degree, seemed not the wildest vision; stranger things had occurred to men so good and captivating as her Scotchman was.

After the collision with the Mayor, Henchard had withdrawn behind the ladies’ stand; and there he stood, regarding with a stare of abstraction the spot on the lapel of his coat where Farfrae’s hand had seized it. He put his own hand there, as if he could hardly realize such an outrage from one whom it had once been his wont to treat with ardent generosity. While pausing in this half-stupefied state the conversation of Lucetta with the other ladies reached his ears; and he distinctly heard her deny him⁠—deny that he had assisted Donald, that he was anything more than a common journeyman.

He moved on homeward, and met Jopp in the archway to the Bull Stake. “So you’ve had a snub,” said Jopp.

“And what if I have?” answered Henchard sternly.

“Why, I’ve had one too, so we are both under the same cold shade.” He briefly related his attempt to win Lucetta’s intercession.

Henchard merely heard his story, without taking it deeply in. His own relation to Farfrae and Lucetta overshadowed all kindred ones. He went on saying brokenly to himself, “She has supplicated to me in her time; and now her tongue won’t own me nor her eyes see me!⁠ ⁠… And he⁠—how angry he looked. He drove me back as if I were a bull breaking fence.⁠ ⁠… I took it like a lamb, for I saw it could not be settled there. He can rub brine on a green wound!⁠ ⁠… But he shall pay for it, and she shall be sorry. It must come to a tussle⁠—face to face; and then we’ll see how a coxcomb can front a man!”

Without further reflection the fallen merchant, bent on some wild purpose, ate a hasty dinner and went forth to find Farfrae. After being injured by him as a rival, and snubbed by him as a journeyman, the crowning degradation had been reserved for this day⁠—that he should be shaken at the collar by him as a vagabond in the face of the whole town.

The crowds had dispersed. But for the green arches which still stood as they were erected Casterbridge life had resumed its ordinary shape. Henchard went down Corn Street till he came to Farfrae’s house, where he knocked, and left a message that he would be glad to see his employer at the granaries as soon as he conveniently could come there. Having done this he proceeded round to the back and entered the yard.

Nobody was present, for, as he had been aware, the labourers and carters were enjoying a half-holiday on account of the events of the morning⁠—though the carters would have to return for a short time later on, to feed and litter down the horses. He had reached the granary steps and was about to ascend, when he said to himself aloud, “I’m stronger than he.”

Henchard returned to a shed, where he selected a short piece of rope from several pieces that were lying about; hitching one end of this to a nail, he took the other in his right hand and turned himself bodily round, while keeping his arm against his side; by this contrivance he pinioned the arm effectively. He now went up the ladders to the top floor of the corn-stores.

It was empty, except of a few sacks, and at the further end was the door often mentioned, opening under the cathead and chain that hoisted the sacks. He fixed the door open, and looked over the sill. There was a depth of thirty or forty feet to the ground; here was the spot on which he had been standing with Farfrae when Elizabeth-Jane had seen him lift his arm, with many misgivings as to what the movement portended.

He retired a few steps into the loft and waited. From this elevated perch his eyes could sweep the roofs round about, the upper parts of the luxurious chestnut trees, now delicate in leaves of a week’s age, and the drooping boughs of the lines; Farfrae’s garden and the green door leading therefrom. In course of time⁠—he could not say how long⁠—that green door opened and Farfrae came through. He was dressed as if for a journey. The low light of the nearing evening caught his head and face when he emerged from the shadow of the wall, warming them to a complexion of flame-colour. Henchard watched him with his mouth firmly set, the squareness of his jaw and the