Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

Reluctant Confession

‘What did you do? Cannot you let me know?’
‘Don’t ask! . . .’Twas midnight, and I’d lost at cards.’
‘Ah. Was it crime – or seemed it to be so?’
‘No – not till afterwards.’
‘But what, then, did you do?’
‘Well – that was the beginning – months ago;
You see, I had lost, and could not pay but – so.
And there flashed from him strange and strong regards
That you only see when scruples smash to shards;
And thus it happened – O it rained and blew! –
But I can’t tell. ’Twas all so lurid in hue!
And what was worst came after, when I knew
What first crossed not my mind,
And he has never divined!’ . . .
‘But he must have, if he proposed it you?’
‘I mean, that – I got rid of what resulted
In a way a woman told me I consulted:
’Tis that he does not know;
Great God, it harrows me so!
I did not mean to. Every night –
In hell-dark dreams
I see an appealing figure in white –
That somehow seems
A newborn child in the clothes I set to make,
But left off, for my own depraved name’s sake!’

1. The Supplanter
2. Afternoon Service at Mellstock
3. At the Word ‘Farewell’
4. Tragedian to Tragedienne
5. The Three Tall Men

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