waiting in the evening sun. Nobody passed by for a long time, and he could just hear the faint music in the distance.
The village of Marlott lies in the beautiful Vale of Blackmoor. Although this valley is only four hours away from London, it has not yet been discovered by tourists and artists. The best view of the vale is from the hills surrounding it; it looks like a map spread out. It is a quiet, sheltered part of the countryside, where the fields are always green and the rivers never dry up. To the south lies the great dividing line of hills. From here to the coast the hills are open, the sun pours down on the huge dry fields, the atmosphere is colourless. But here in the valley lies a completely different countryside, smaller and more delicate. The fields are tiny, the air makes you sleepy, the sky is of the deepest blue. Everywhere you can see a rich greenery of grass and trees, covering smaller hills and valleys. This is the Vale of Blackmoor.
And in the village of Marlott, following ancient custom, the young women gathered to dance every holiday. For this May-Day dance, all wore white dresses. There was a fine, handsome girl among them, with a red ribbon in her hair. As they danced, they noticed a carriage go by. Durbeyfield lay back in it, singing, ‘I’m-Sir-John-and-I’ve-got-a-spoon-and-seal-and-my-family-lies-at-Kingsbere!’ The girl with the ribbon, who was called Tess, turned red and said quickly to her friends, ‘Father’s tired, that’s all.’ The other girls just laughed but stopped when Tess looked unhappy. The dancing went on.
In the evening the men of the village came to watch and later to join the dancers. Three young strangers, who were passing by, also stopped to look. They explained they were brothers on a walking tour. The older two continued their walk, but the youngest seemed more interested in the girls than his brothers were, and stayed to dance with several of them. As he left the dance, he noticed Tess, who seemed a little sad that he had not chosen her. He looked back from the road, and could still see her in her white dress, standing modestly apart from the dancers. He wished he had danced with her. He wished he had asked her name. But it was too late. He hurried on to join his brothers.
The young stranger had made an impression on Tess. But soon, worried by her father’s strange appearance that afternoon, she decided to walk home. After the excitement of the dance, her parents’ small cottage was a depressing sight. It was dark inside, as they had only one candle. The furniture was old and worn. There were six children crowded into the tiny space. Their mother was doing the washing at the same time as putting the baby to sleep. Looking after so many children had aged Joan Durbeyfield, but she still showed some of her early prettiness, which Tess had inherited.
‘Let me help with the washing, mother,’ said Tess gently.
‘Oh Tess, I’m glad you’ve come,’ said her mother. ‘There’s something I must tell you.’
‘Is it anything to do with father making such a fool of himself this afternoon?’ asked Tess, frowning.
‘That’s all part of the excitement! They’ve discovered we’re the oldest family in the whole county, going back a long way! And our real name is d’Urberville! Doesn’t that make you proud! That’s why your father rode home in the carriage, not because he’d been drinking, as people thought.’
‘I’m glad of that. Will it do us any good, mother?’
‘Oh yes! Great things may come of it. No doubt our noble relations will be arriving in their carriages as soon as they find out.’
‘Where is father now?’ asked Tess suddenly.
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