no matter, it is gone, and the woman not gained. Shame upon him—shame!"
His unreasonable anger terrified her, and she glided from him, without obviously moving, as she said, "I am only a girl—do not speak to me so!"
"All the time you knew—how very well you knew—that your new freak was my misery. Dazzled by brass and scarlet—Oh Bathsheba—this is woman's folly indeed!"
She fired up at once. "You are taking too much upon yourself!" she said, vehemently."Everybody is upon me—everybody. It is unmanly to attack a woman so! I have nobody in the world to fight my battles for me; but no mercy is shown. Yet if a thousand of you sneer and say things against me, I will not be put down!"
"You'll chatter with him doubtless about me. Say to him, 'Boldwood would have died for me.' Yes, and you have given way to him, knowing him to be not the man for you. He has kissed you—claimed you as his. Do you hear—he has kissed you. Deny it!"
The most tragic woman is cowed by a tragic man, and although Boldwood was, in vehemence and glow, nearly her own self rendered into another sex, Bathsheba's cheek quivered. She gasped,"Leave me, sir—leave me! I am nothing to you. Let me go on!"
