“Oh no, you won’t!” said Tess, withdrawing towards the door.
“Nonsense; I don’t want to touch you. See—I’ll stand on this side of the wire-netting, and you can keep on the other; so you may feel quite safe. Now, look here; you screw up your lips too harshly. There ’tis—so.”
He suited the action to the word, and whistled a line of “Take, O take those lips away.” But the allusion was lost upon Tess.
“Now try,” said d’Urberville.
She attempted to look reserved; her face put on a sculptural severity. But he persisted in his demand, and at last, to get rid of him, she did put up her lips as directed for producing a clear note; laughing distressfully, however, and then blushing with vexation that she had laughed.
He encouraged her with “Try again!”
Tess was quite serious, painfully serious by this time; and she tried—ultimately and unexpectedly emitting a real round sound. The momentary pleasure of success got the better of her; her eyes enlarged, and she involuntarily smiled in his face.
“That’s it! Now I have started you—you’ll go on beautifully. There—I said I would not come near you; and, in spite of such temptation as never before fell to mortal man, I’ll keep my word.... Tess, do you think my mother a queer old soul?”
“I don’t know much of her yet, sir.”
“You’ll find her so; she must be, to make you learn to whistle to her bullfinches. I am rather out of her books just now, but you will be quite in favour if you treat her live-stock well. Good morning. If you meet with any difficulties and want help here, don’t go to the bailiff, come to me.”