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you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

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you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

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you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

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you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

trying

How many times the word 'trying' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

lots

How many times the word 'lots' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

bring

How many times the word 'bring' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

la

How many times the word 'la' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

converting

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you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

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you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

gave

How many times the word 'gave' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

superficial

How many times the word 'superficial' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

adjutant

How many times the word 'adjutant' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

drama

How many times the word 'drama' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

military

How many times the word 'military' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

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you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

smiled

How many times the word 'smiled' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

terrace

How many times the word 'terrace' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

must

How many times the word 'must' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

replied

How many times the word 'replied' appears in the text?

you ve not been to see me before. Look how lovely it is out on the terrace, she said, turning first to one and then to the other. She spoke very simply and naturally, but too much and too fast. She was the more aware of this from noticing in the inquisitive look Mihail Vassilievitch turned on her that he was, as it were, keeping watch on her. Mihail Vassilievitch promptly went out on the terrace. She sat down beside her husband. You don t look quite well, she said. Yes, he said; the doctor s been with me today and wasted an hour of my time. I feel that someone of our friends must have sent him: my health s so precious, it seems. No; what did he say? She questioned him about his health and what he had been doing, and tried to persuade him to take a rest and come out to her. All this she said brightly, rapidly, and with a peculiar brilliance in her eyes. But Alexey Alexandrovitch did not now attach any special significance to this tone of hers. He heard only her words and gave them only the direct sense they bore. And he answered simply, though jestingly. There was nothing remarkable in all this conversation, but never after could Anna recall this brief scene without an agonizing pang of shame. Seryozha came in preceded by his governess. If Alexey Alexandrovitch had allowed himself to observe he would have noticed the timid and bewildered eyes with which Seryozha glanced first at his father and then at his mother. But he would not see anything, and he did not see it. Ah, the young man! He s grown. Really, he s getting quite a man. How are you, young man? And he gave his hand to the scared child. Seryozha had been shy of his father before, and now, ever since Alexey Alexandrovitch had taken to calling him young man, and since that insoluble question had occurred to him whether Vronsky were a friend or a foe, he avoided his father. He looked round towards his mother as though seeking shelter. It was only with his mother that he was at ease. Meanwhile, Alexey Alexandrovitch was holding his son by the shoulder while he was speaking to the governess, and Seryozha was so miserably uncomfortable that Anna saw he was on the point of tears. Anna, who had flushed a little the instant her son came in, noticing that Seryozha was uncomfortable, got up hurriedly, took Alexey Alexandrovitch s hand from her son s shoulder, and kissing the boy, led him out onto the terrace, and quickly came back. It s time to start, though, said she, glancing at her watch. How is it Betsy doesn t come?... Yes, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, and getting up, he folded his hands and cracked his fingers. I ve come to bring you some money, too, for nightingales, we know, can t live on fairy tales, he said. You want it, I expect? No, I don t ... yes, I do, she said, not looking at him, and crimsoning to the roots of her hair. But you ll come back here after the races, I suppose? Oh, yes! answered Alexey Alexandrovitch. And here s the glory of Peterhof, Princess Tverskaya, he added, looking out of the window at the elegant English carriage with the tiny seats placed extremely high. What elegance! Charming! Well, let us be starting too, then. Princess Tverskaya did not get out of her carriage, but her groom, in high boots, a cape, and black hat, darted out at the entrance. I m going; good-bye! said Anna, and kissing her son, she went up to Alexey Alexandrovitch and held out her hand to him. It was ever so nice of you to come. Alexey Alexandrovitch kissed her hand. Well, _au revoir_, then! You ll come back for some tea; that s delightful! she said, and went out, gay and radiant. But as soon as she no longer saw him, she was aware of the spot on her hand that his lips had touched, and she shuddered with repulsion. Chapter 28 When Alexey Alexandrovitch reached the race-course, Anna was already sitting in the pavilion beside Betsy, in that pavilion where all the highest society had gathered. She caught sight of her husband in the distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were the two centers of her existence, and unaided by her external senses she was aware of their nearness. She was aware of her husband approaching a long way off, and she could not help following him in the surging crowd in the midst of which he was moving. She watched his progress towards the pavilion, saw him now responding condescendingly to an ingratiating bow, now exchanging friendly, nonchalant greetings with his equals, now assiduously trying to catch the eye of some great one of this world, and taking off his big round hat that squeezed the tips of his ears. All these ways of his she knew, and all were hateful to her. Nothing but ambition, nothing but the desire to get on, that s all there is in his soul, she thought; as for these lofty ideals, love of culture, religion, they are only so many tools for getting on. From his glances towards the ladies pavilion (he was staring straight at her, but did not distinguish his wife in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, parasols and flowers) she saw that he was looking for her, but she purposely avoided noticing him. Alexey Alexandrovitch! Princess Betsy called to him; I m sure you don t see your wife: here she is. He smiled his chilly smile. There s so much splendor here that one s eyes are dazzled, he said, and he went into the pavilion. He smiled to his wife as a man should smile on meeting his wife after only just parting from her, and greeted the princess and other acquaintances, giving to each what was due that is to say, jesting with the ladies and dealing out friendly greetings among the men. Below, near the pavilion, was standing an adjutant-general of whom Alexey Alexandrovitch had a high opinion, noted for his intelligence and culture. Alexey Alexandrovitch entered into conversation with him. There was an interval between the races, and so nothing hindered conversation. The adjutant-general expressed his disapproval of races. Alexey Alexandrovitch replied defending them. Anna heard his high, measured tones, not losing one word, and every word struck her as false, and stabbed her ears with pain. When the three-mile steeplechase was beginning, she bent forward and gazed with fixed eyes at Vronsky as he went up to his horse and mounted, and at the same time she heard that loathsome, never-ceasing voice of her husband. She was in an agony of terror for Vronsky, but a still greater agony was the never-ceasing, as it seemed to her, stream of her husband s shrill voice with its familiar intonations. I m a wicked woman, a lost woman, she thought; but I don t like lying, I can t endure falsehood, while as for _him_ (her husband) it s the breath of his life falsehood. He knows all about it, he sees it all; what does he care if he can talk so calmly? If he were to kill me, if he were to kill Vronsky, I might respect him. No, all he wants is falsehood and propriety, Anna said to herself, not considering exactly what it was she wanted of her husband, and how she would have liked to see him behave. She did not understand either that Alexey Alexandrovitch s peculiar loquacity that day, so exasperating to her, was merely the expression of his inward distress and uneasiness. As a child that has been hurt skips about, putting all his muscles into movement to drown the pain, in the same way Alexey Alexandrovitch needed mental exercise to drown the thoughts of his wife that in her presence and in Vronsky s, and with the continual iteration of his name, would force themselves on his attention. And it was as natural for him to talk well and cleverly, as it is natural for a child to skip about. He was saying: Danger in the races of officers, of cavalry men, is an essential element in the race. If England can point to the most brilliant feats of cavalry in military history, it is simply owing to the fact that she has historically developed this force both in beasts and in men. Sport has, in my opinion, a great value, and as is always the case, we see nothing but what is most superficial. It s not superficial, said Princess Tverskaya. One of the officers, they say, has broken two ribs. Alexey Alexandrovitch smiled his smile, which uncovered his teeth, but revealed nothing more. We ll admit, princess, that that s not superficial, he said, but internal. But that s not the point, and he turned again to the general with whom he was talking seriously; we mustn t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development. No, I shan t come another time; it s too upsetting, said Princess Betsy. Isn t it, Anna? It is upsetting, but one can t tear oneself away, said another lady. If I d been a Roman woman I should never have missed a single circus. Anna said nothing, and keeping her opera-glass up, gazed always at the same spot. At that moment a tall general walked through the pavilion. Breaking off what he was saying, Alexey Alexandrovitch got up hurriedly, though with dignity, and bowed low to the general. You re not racing? the officer asked, chaffing him. My race is a harder one, Alexey Alexandrovitch responded deferentially. And though the answer meant nothing, the general looked as though he had heard a witty remark from a witty man, and fully relished _la pointe de la sauce_. There are two aspects, Alexey Alexandrovitch resumed: those who take part and those who look on; and love for such spectacles is an unmistakable proof of a low degree of development in the spectator, I admit, but.... Princess, bets! sounded Stepan Arkadyevitch s voice from below, addressing Betsy. Who s your favorite? Anna and I are for Kuzovlev, replied Betsy. I m for Vronsky. A pair of gloves? Done! But it is a pretty sight, isn t it? Alexey Alexandrovitch paused while there was talking about him, but he began again directly. I admit that manly sports do not.... he was continuing. But at that moment the racers started, and all conversation ceased. Alexey Alexandrovitch too was silent, and everyone stood up and turned towards the stream. Alexey Alexandrovitch took no interest in the race, and so he did not watch the racers, but fell listlessly to scanning the spectators with his weary eyes. His eyes rested upon Anna. Her face was white and set. She was obviously seeing nothing and no one but one man. Her hand had convulsively clutched her fan, and she held her breath. He looked at her and hastily turned away, scrutinizing other faces. But here s this lady too, and others very much moved as well; it s very natural, Alexey Alexandrovitch told himself. He tried not to look at her, but unconsciously his eyes were drawn to her. He examined that face again, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, and against his own will, with horror read on it what he did not want to know. The first fall Kuzovlev s, at the stream agitated everyone, but Alexey Alexandrovitch saw distinctly on Anna s pale, triumphant face that the man she was watching had not fallen. When, after Mahotin and Vronsky had cleared the worst barrier, the next officer had been thrown straight on his head at it and fatally injured, and a shudder of horror passed over the whole public, Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that Anna did not even notice it, and had some difficulty in realizing what they were talking of about her. But more and more often, and with greater persistence, he watched her. Anna, wholly engrossed as she was with the race, became aware of her husband s cold eyes fixed upon her from one side. She glanced round for an instant, looked inquiringly at him, and with a slight frown turned away again. Ah, I don t care! she seemed to say to him, and she did not once glance at him again. The race was an unlucky one, and of the seventeen officers who rode in it more than half were thrown and hurt. Towards the end of the race everyone was in a state of agitation, which was intensified by the fact that the Tsar was displeased. Chapter 29 Everyone was loudly expressing disapprobation, everyone was repeating a phrase someone had uttered The lions and gladiators will be the next thing, and everyone was feeling horrified; so that when Vronsky fell to the ground, and Anna moaned aloud, there was nothing very out of the way in it. But afterwards a change came over Anna s face which really was beyond decorum. She utterly lost her head. She began fluttering like a caged bird, at one moment would have got up and moved away, at the next turned to Betsy. Let us go, let us go! she said. But Betsy did not hear her. She was bending down, talking to a general who had come up to her. Alexey Alexandrovitch went up to Anna and courteously offered her his arm. Let us go, if you like, he said in French, but Anna was listening to the general and did not notice her husband. He s broken his leg too, so they say, the general was saying. This is beyond everything. Without answering her husband, Anna lifted her opera-glass and gazed towards the place where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off, and there was such a crowd of people about it, that she could make out nothing. She laid down the opera-glass, and would have moved away, but at that moment an officer galloped up and made some announcement to the Tsar. Anna craned forward, listening. Stiva! Stiva! she cried to her brother. But her brother did not hear her. Again she would have moved away. Once more I offer you my arm if you want to be going, said Alexey Alexandrovitch, reaching towards her hand. She drew back from him with aversion, and without looking in his face answered: No, no, let me be, I ll stay. She saw now that from the place of Vronsky s accident an officer was running across the course towards the pavilion. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was not killed, but the horse had broken its back. On hearing this Anna sat down hurriedly, and hid her face in her fan. Alexey Alexandrovitch saw that she was weeping, and could not control her tears, nor even the sobs that were shaking her bosom. Alexey Alexandrovitch stood so as to screen her, giving her time to recover herself. For the third time I offer you my arm, he said to her after a little time, turning to her. Anna gazed at him and did not know what to say. Princess Betsy came to her rescue. No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take her home, put in Betsy. Excuse me, princess, he said, smiling courteously but looking her very firmly in the face, but I see that Anna s not very well, and I wish her to come home with me. Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively, and laid her hand on her husband s arm. I ll send to him and find out, and let you know, Betsy whispered to her. As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always, talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on her husband s arm as though in a dream. Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I see him today? she was thinking. She took her seat in her husband s carriage in silence, and in silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to consider his wife s real condition. He merely saw the outward symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could not help saying something utterly different. What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel spectacles, he said. I observe.... Eh? I don t understand, said Anna contemptuously. He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to say. I am obliged to tell you, he began. So now we are to have it out, she thought, and she felt frightened. I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming today, he said to her in French. In what way has my behavior been unbecoming? she said aloud, turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face, not with the bright expression that seemed covering something, but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with difficulty the dismay she was feeling. Mind, he said, pointing to the open window opposite the coachman. He got up and pulled up the window. What did you consider unbecoming? she repeated. The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of the riders. He waited for her to answer, but she was silent, looking straight before her. I have already begged you so to conduct yourself in society that even malicious tongues can find nothing to say against you. There was a time when I spoke of your inward attitude, but I am not speaking of that now. Now I speak only of your external attitude. You have behaved improperly, and I would wish it not to occur again. She did not hear half of what he was saying; she felt panic-stricken before him, and was thinking whether it was true that Vronsky was not killed. Was it of him they were speaking when they said the rider was unhurt, but the horse had broken its back? She merely smiled with a pretense of irony when he finished, and made no reply, because she had not heard what he said. Alexey Alexandrovitch had begun to speak boldly, but as he realized plainly what he was speaking of, the dismay she was feeling infected him too. He saw the smile, and a strange misapprehension came over him. She is smiling at my suspicions. Yes, she will tell me directly what she told me before; that there is no foundation for my suspicions, that it s absurd. At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face, scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception. Possibly I was mistaken, said he. If so, I beg your pardon. No, you were not mistaken, she said deliberately, looking desperately into his cold face. You were not mistaken. I was, and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can t bear you; I m afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to me. And dropping back into the corner of the carriage, she broke into sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Alexey Alexandrovitch did not stir, and kept looking straight before him. But his whole face suddenly bore the solemn rigidity of the dead, and his expression did not change during the whole time of the drive home. On reaching the house he turned his head to her, still with the same expression. Very well! But I expect a strict observance of the external forms of propriety till such time his voice shook as I may take measures to secure my honor and communicate them to you. He got out first and helped her to get out. Before the servants he pressed her hand, took his seat in the carriage, and drove back to Petersburg. Immediately afterwards a footman came from Princess Betsy and brought Anna a note. I sent to Alexey to find out how he is, and he writes me he is quite well and unhurt, but in despair. So _he_ will be here, she thought. What a good thing I told him all! She glanced at her watch. She had still three hours to wait, and the memories of their last meeting set her blood in flame. My God, how light it is! It s dreadful, but I do love to see his face, and I do love this fantastic light.... My husband! Oh! yes.... Well, thank God! everything s over with him. Chapter 30 In the little German watering-place to which the Shtcherbatskys had betaken themselves, as in all places indeed where people are gathered together, the usual process, as it were, of the crystallization of society went on, assigning to each member of that society a definite and unalterable place. Just as the particle of water in frost, definitely and unalterably, takes the special form of the crystal of snow, so each new person that arrived at the springs was at once placed in his special place. _F rst_ Shtcherbatsky, _sammt Gemahlin und Tochter_, by the apartments they took, and from their name and from the friends they made, were immediately crystallized into a definite place marked out for them. There was visiting the watering-place that year a real German F rstin, in consequence of which the crystallizing process went on more vigorously than ever. Princess Shtcherbatskaya wished, above everything, to present her daughter to this German princess, and the day after their arrival she duly performed this rite. Kitty made a low and graceful curtsey in the _very simple_, that is to say, very elegant frock that had been ordered her from Paris. The German princess said, I hope the roses will soon come back to this pretty little face, and for the Shtcherbatskys certain definite lines of existence were at once laid down from which there was no departing. The Shtcherbatskys made the acquaintance too of the family of an English Lady Somebody, and of a German countess and her son, wounded in the last war, and of a learned Swede, and of M. Canut and his sister. But yet inevitably the Shtcherbatskys were thrown most into the society of a Moscow lady, Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishtcheva and her daughter, whom Kitty disliked, because she had fallen ill, like herself, over a love affair, and a Moscow colonel, whom Kitty had known from childhood, and always seen in uniform and epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes and his open neck and flowered cravat, was uncommonly ridiculous and tedious, because there was no getting rid of him. When all this was so firmly established, Kitty began to be very much bored, especially as the prince went away to Carlsbad and she was left alone with her mother. She took no interest in the people she knew, feeling that nothing fresh would come of them. Her chief mental interest in the watering-place consisted in watching and making theories about the people she did not know. It was characteristic of Kitty that she always imagined everything in people in the most favorable light possible, especially so in those she did not know. And now as she made surmises as to who people were, what were their relations to one another, and what they were like, Kitty endowed them with the most marvelous and noble characters, and found confirmation of her idea in her observations. Of these people the one that attracted her most was a Russian girl who had come to the watering-place with an invalid Russian lady, Madame Stahl, as everyone called her. Madame Stahl belonged to the highest society, but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only on exceptionally fine days made her appearance at the springs in an invalid carriage. But it was not so much from ill-health as from pride so Princess Shtcherbatskaya interpreted it that Madame Stahl had not made the acquaintance of anyone among the Russians there. The Russian girl looked after Madame Stahl, and besides that, she was, as Kitty observed, on friendly terms with all the invalids who were seriously ill, and there were many of them at the springs, and looked after them in the most natural way. This Russian girl was not, as Kitty gathered, related to Madame Stahl, nor was she a paid attendant. Madame Stahl called her Varenka, and other people called her Mademoiselle Varenka. Apart from the interest Kitty took in this girl s relations with Madame Stahl and with other unknown persons, Kitty, as often happened, felt an inexplicable attraction to Mademoiselle Varenka, and was aware when their eyes met that she too liked her. Of Mademoiselle Varenka one would not say that she had passed her first youth, but she was, as it were, a creature without youth; she might have been taken for nineteen or for thirty. If her features were criticized separately, she was handsome rather than plain, in spite of the sickly hue of her face. She would have been a good figure, too, if it had not been for her extreme thinness and the size of her head, which was too large for her medium height. But she was not likely to be attractive to men. She was like a fine flower, already past its bloom and without fragrance, though the petals were still unwithered. Moreover, she would have been unattractive to men also from the lack of just what Kitty had too much of of the suppressed fire of vitality, and the consciousness of her own attractiveness. She always seemed absorbed in work about which there could be no doubt, and so it seemed she could not take interest in anything outside it. It was just this contrast with her own position that was for Kitty the great attraction of Mademoiselle Varenka. Kitty felt that in her, in her manner of life, she would find an example of what she was now so painfully seeking: interest in life, a dignity in life apart from the worldly relations of girls with men, which so revolted Kitty, and appeared to her now as a shameful hawking about of goods in search of a purchaser. The more attentively Kitty watched her unknown friend, the more convinced she was this girl was the perfect creature she fancied her, and the more eagerly she wished to make her acquaintance. The two girls used to meet several times a day, and every time they met, Kitty s eyes said: Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness sake don t suppose, her eyes added, that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you. I like you too, and you re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time, answered the eyes of the unknown girl. Kitty saw indeed, that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the springs, or fetching a shawl for a sick lady, and wrapping her up in it, or trying to interest an irritable invalid, or selecting and buying cakes for tea for someone. Soon after the arrival of the Shtcherbatskys there appeared in the morning crowd at the springs two persons who attracted universal and unfavorable attention. These were a tall man with a stooping figure, and huge hands, in an old coat too short for him, with black, simple, and yet terrible eyes, and a pockmarked, kind-looking woman, very badly and tastelessly dressed. Recognizing these persons as Russians, Kitty had already in her imagination begun constructing a delightful and touching romance about them. But the princess, having ascertained from the visitors list that this was Nikolay Levin and Marya Nikolaevna, explained to Kitty what a bad man this Levin was, and all her fancies about these two people vanished. Not so much from what her mother told her, as from the fact that it was Konstantin s brother, this pair suddenly seemed to Kitty intensely unpleasant. This Levin, with his continual twitching of his head, aroused in her now an irrepressible feeling of disgust. It seemed to her that his big, terrible eyes, which persistently pursued her, expressed a feeling of hatred and contempt, and she tried to avoid meeting him. Chapter 31 It was a wet day; it had been raining all the morning, and the invalids, with their parasols, had flocked into the arcades. Kitty was walking there with her mother and the Moscow colonel, smart and jaunty in his European coat, bought

shuddered

How many times the word 'shuddered' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

emotion

How many times the word 'emotion' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

supposed

How many times the word 'supposed' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

scratching

How many times the word 'scratching' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

years

How many times the word 'years' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

sexier

How many times the word 'sexier' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

dad

How many times the word 'dad' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

where

How many times the word 'where' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

scientific

How many times the word 'scientific' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

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you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

mom

How many times the word 'mom' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

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you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

confused

How many times the word 'confused' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

tug

How many times the word 'tug' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

yet

How many times the word 'yet' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

disappears

How many times the word 'disappears' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

expected

How many times the word 'expected' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

worry

How many times the word 'worry' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

took

How many times the word 'took' appears in the text?

you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

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you. INT. LIVING ROOM Jerry enters, as Dorothy rounds the corner. DOROTHY Hey you. JERRY Hi. The lights are low and his glasses are very dark. JERRY (continuing) Thanks for inviting me over. Where's the little guy? DOROTHY He's asleep. Watch out for that lamp. JERRY I'm glad you're home. That "alone" thing is... not my specialty... He ducks the lamp, barely. Laurel exits through his shot, miming "drinking" behind his back. Jerry takes off his glasses, revealing a welt and a cut below his eye. 72. DOROTHY Oh my God. JERRY Yeah. That too. I broke up with Avery. Dorothy's entire body chemistry changes in ways she doesn't quite understand. DOROTHY Too bad. JERRY Better now than later. We'll still be friends. I'm dying here. DOROTHY Jesus, it's a real gash, isn't it? JERRY And just think if I got her the ring she really wanted. Dorothy laughs. He looks at her strangely. Suddenly she feels very nervous, as he sets down his bags. DOROTHY Sorry. Uh, let me see, have a seat. I'll get you some aloe vera for that cut too. JERRY Do you have something to drink? DOROTHY Sure -- She moves to the kitchen door. She is about to exit, when Jerry begins to unburden. JERRY My brother works for the White House. He pretends he's an intellectual. He pretends he's from the east coast. She turns, not quite sure what his point is. She waits politely for Jerry to finish before exiting into the kitchen. JERRY (continuing) I was supposed to be the successful one. (more) 73. JERRY (cont'd) But I don't want to talk about it. And yet! My family. I grew up with repression as a... a religion --you don't bitch. No moaning! Head down. Do it, whatever "it" may be. My dad... he worked for the United Way for 38 years! You know what he said when he retired? He said, "I wish I'd had a more comfortable chair." 38 years he sat in it! Do you know what I'm saying, Dorothy? Repression as a religion. I'm almost as old as his chair. He rubs his face. She looks at him, and the situation slightly overwhems her. Here he is, wide-open, ripe for the taking. DOROTHY Beer okay? JERRY Yeah, thanks. INT. KITCHEN Laurel smokes a cigarette and blows it out the window. Dorothy goes for the refrigerator, finds a couple beers. LAUREL I heard. DOROTHY No kidding. I looked over and saw the shadow of two curious shoes in the doorway of the kitchen. LAUREL This guy would go home with a gardening tool right now if it showed interest. (off Dorothy's look) Wait. Use the frosted glasses. DOROTHY (surprised) Thank you. LAUREL Look, here's some of that chicken with salsa too, I warmed it up -- 74. DOROTHY That's the girl I love. LAUREL But you just gotta hear me out on one thing. You're very responsible with Ray and you know it's not right for a little boy to hear some strange man's voice in the house. DOROTHY As opposed to twenty angry women? Dorothy turns quickly and the beer, sisters and chicken collide in the small kitchen. Dorothy deftly catches the food in her t-shirt, and dumps it back onto the plate. But her shirt is now stained. She starts to quietly implode, and Laurel takes command. They know each other well. LAUREL Come on, let's get you another top -- They exit to nearby laundry room. EXT. HOUSE/WINDOW OUTSIDE LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT Now camera starts to move around the house, from this window showing the two sisters in the laundry room, to the living room where Jerry sits alone. We see Ray wander into the room and stare at Jerry. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry, who is playing with a kaleidoscope on the table, looks up to see Ray. RAY Hi. JERRY Hi Ray. INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- SAME TIME LAUREL All I'm saying. You don't have the luxury of falling for some drowning man. Be practical. Now. Which top? She holds up two tops. One is sexier with a dipped down front. The other is striped, cute, functional. 75. DOROTHY Okay, you want to talk about practical? Let's talk about my wonderful life. Do you know what most other women my age are doing right now? They are partying in clubs, trying to act stupid, trying to get a man, trying to keep a man... not me. I'm trying to RAISE a man. She grabs the sexier top, and puts it on. DOROTHY (continuing) I've got a 24 hour a day reminder of Roger, for the rest of my life. I have had three lovers in four years, all boring, all achingly self-sufficient all friends of yours I might add, and all of them running a distant second to a warm bath. Look at me, Laurel, look at me. I'm the oldest 26 year old in the world! How do I look? LAUREL Good. DOROTHY Thanks. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a piece of rope. RAY And then my dad died and my mom took me to the zoo and I love the zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you love the zoo? JERRY Wait. I want to tell you more about my dad. RAY Let's go the zoo. JERRY Okay. I've been hogging it. You're right. (more) 76. JERRY (cont'd) All my life I've been trying to talk, really talk, and no one wants to listen. You know that feeling? Ray nods vigorously. RAY Let's go right now. Let's go to the zoo. JERRY Aw, the fucking thing... I mean, the zoo is closed. RAY You said "fuck". JERRY Yeah I know. I did. Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee. RAY I won't tell. JERRY We'll go to the zoo sometime. Okay? I think I might have some time on my hands. Ray looks at Jerry's hands. RAY I don't see any. JERRY (points respectfully) Funny. RAY Funny... (imitates him) (hears mom approaching) I better go to bed. Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy attitude, and a tray. 77. DOROTHY Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you a cab. JERRY (slightly confused) Good idea. Thank you. And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little boy asleep. JERRY (continuing) Right. Of course. Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it, inelegantly. DOROTHY So. Our company. She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a little. Then stands. JERRY Okay. Lil' speech before I go. He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully: JERRY (continuing) Do. Not. Worry. About. Your. Job. (beat) Our company is in good shape. You and your son... we... are just fine. You still have a job. I want you to feel confident! In. Me. And I have a problem with people who talk about themselves in the third person, but let me tell you something about Jerry Maguire. His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent. JERRY (continuing) Come after me and you will lose I am a survivor! Do not underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've got wits! (more) 78. JERRY (cont'd) I've got the instincts of a panther! (joust) I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side! DOROTHY Don't worry about me. I can get jobs -- JERRY We will be fine! DOROTHY -- especially one like this. JERRY And I am... He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual stranger's small-but-comfortable living room. JERRY (continuing) I am drunk. He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head. Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet tip of the aloe vera plant. DOROTHY Truth? JERRY Sure. Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She gets closer. DOROTHY Sure, I care about the job. Of course. But mostly... (very honest) ... I want to be inspired. There is something inspiring about the way she says the word "inspiring." JERRY Me too. DOROTHY What you wrote inspired me. 79. He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together. DOROTHY (continuing) I'm working with you because of that memo... JERRY Mission... statement... They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on her breast. DOROTHY Well. JERRY Sorry about this hand. (he rises unsteadily) You know that feeling -- you're not completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpe tomorrow's embarrassment? DOROTHY Don't worry about it, boss. JERRY Oh shit. You said "boss." DOROTHY Yeah, I did. JERRY Now I feel like Clarence Thomas. DOROTHY No. No don't feel like Clarence Thomas. JERRY No, I do. I feel like Clarence Thomas. (the worst day ever) I'm like... harrassing you... right now. DOROTHY I may not sue. He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry rubs his face. And then: 80. JERRY Well, good evening. DOROTHY Good evening. He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits. Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the front porch, he recovers with style. JERRY We'll be okay. And I'm going to take my... one client and we're gonna go all the way. He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a little. He is a mess, and he knows it. JERRY (continuing; loving the dark humor) Hey. I'm back. She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her conflicted, slightly lovesick sister. INT. CAB -- NIGHT Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking back at the warm house he's just left. Something is scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from his view. FADE TO EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass. He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield. He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a look. Maguire forges ahead anyway. JERRY We gotta talk about his contract, Dennis. WILBURN Your timing is impeccable, Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how you ever lost Cush... 81. Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly. INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up signs like: Injuries happen first in the mind. JERRY I started talking with Dennis Wilburn about your renegotation. Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed. TIDWELL Did you tell him about the "ten million for four years?" JERRY Uh, not today, but -- TIDWELL John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre Rison. I SMOKE all these fools, and yet they're making the big sweet dollars. They're making the money, and I got an agent that ain't even put the number on the table. JERRY I understand your anxiety. TIDWELL Maybe you don't. Because it's not just the money I deserve. It's not just the "coin." It's the... He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk. TIDWELL (continuing) -- the kwan. JERRY That's your word? TIDWELL Yeah, man, it means love, respect, community... and the dollars too. The package. The kwan. JERRY (impressed) But how did you get "kwan?" 82. TIDWELL (irritated) I got there from "coin," dude. Coin, coin... kwaaaan. JERRY Great word. Towel? TIDWELL No, I air-dry. JERRY Rod, I say this with great respect, but those players you mentioned are marquee players and -- A portable phone beeps. TIDWELL Is that your porty or mine? JERRY You. Tidwell rummages in his bag. Finds one of two porties and answers the one with a Polaroid of Marcee taped to it. TIDWELL Hi baby. Yeah, I'm just breakin' in the new agent. He says I'm not marquee. I know... I know... Tidwell holds up the phone so Jerry can hear the sound of Marcee going off. TIDWELL (continuing) My wife is upset with you. INT. LOCKER ROOM MIRROR -- DAY The conversation continues as Tidwell fixes hair in the mirror. Jerry speaks to the reflection, taking him on, gesturing passionately. Tidwell, still naked, may or may not be listening. JERRY Here's what I'm saying. This is a renegotiation. We want more from them, so let's show them more from us. Let's show them your pure joy of the game, let's bury the Attitude a little, let's show them -- 83. TIDWELL (irritated) You're telling me to dance. JERRY No, I'm saying to be -- He mimes a dainty little showboat-touchdown dance. TIDWELL (little voice) "Love me love me love me... put me on t.v." (pissed) That's the iconography of rascism, man! JERRY Rod, I'm not a rascist. I'm telling you to be the best version of you, to get back to the guy who first started playing this game. Way back when you were a kid. It wasn't just about the money, was it? Tidwell gives him a look. Money was always a factor. TIDWELL Do your job, man, don't tell me to dance. JERRY Fine. He begins gathering his things. TIDWELL I'm an athlete, not an entertainer. These are the ABC's of ME. Get it? I don't dance. Jerry rubs face. TIDWELL (continuing) What's wrong. JERRY Forget it. Forget it. TIDWELL No tell me. 84. JERRY I'm out here for you! You don't know what it's like to be me out here for you. It is an up-at-dawn pride-swallowing seige that I will never fully tell you about! Okay?! Help me help you help me help you. TIDWELL You're hanging by a very thin thread, dude. And I dig that about you. Jerry has had enough for one day. JERRY (loopy, punch-drunk, arms flailing) Hey. I'm happy to entertain you! I'll see you in L.A.! Tidwell watches his agent lurch off, muttering and swaying. TIDWELL See, man, that's the difference. between us. You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking! INT. LAX AIRPORT -- DAY Jerry moves slowly through crowded airport, preoccupied with thought. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry enters, carrying bags, weary. Dorothy greets him. They are stuck in his small condo, and the scent of their previous encounter is still in the air. She hands him a list of his calls. DOROTHY Dennis Wilburn called from Arizona to say he's faxing in the new Tidwell offer on Thursday morning, and you'll be happy. JERRY (jolted into happiness) Happy. He said "happy?" DOROTHY Actually he said "glad." 85. JERRY Good. Good. Glad is good. DOROTHY Plus, you could use that commission. She hands him a financial report she's done. He takes a quick look, seeing the thorough work she's already done. JERRY I sunk most of what I had into this condo, which devalued, and -- DOROTHY You don't have to explain. JERRY Look, the other night, I want to apologize. DOROTHY (can't read her) Yeah, what happened there. JERRY We're two people working together and we can't have an atmosphere. DOROTHY I'm relieved you said that. JERRY I mean, the other night was... I felt like you understood something I could barely even say, something way down deep in the murk -- (beat) -- but we have a company here to think about. I won't ever take advantage of you in that way again. DOROTHY (evenly) Oh good. JERRY You walked out on a job for me, and I won't ruin that. DOROTHY Exactly because I know this is a time when you need to be alone with your thoughts. (more) 86. DOROTHY (cont'd) Think about everything that's gone wrong, how to fix them, and just be... alone, alone, alone. Dorothy in the background of the shot, watching his reaction. JERRY You want to go out to dinner? INT. DOROTHY'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY Dorothy looks for a jacket as Laurel helms the Divorced Women's group in the living room. Jan speaks through her whistly braces, gesturing with a too-full glass of red wine. JAN I broke up with the Cowboy. And now he's stalking me... ALICE What's the current definition of stalking? WOMAN # 1 Coming over uninvited. JAN (thoughtful) So Romeo under the trellis... was a stalker. Meaningful sounds of revelation, as Dorothy finds the jacket. INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT Dorothy stops in the hallway to see that Jerry Maguire has arrived at the back-kitchen door. She watches unseen as Maguire shakes hands with Chad the Nanny and is hit suddenly by a flying hug from Ray. He gives the kid an athletic bag, which is filled with state-of-the-art promotional athletic wear, etc. ("Brought you some swag.") Ray continues hugging Jerry. INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT Jerry is a little embarrassed by the affections of the kid. Dorothy enters. Expertly breezy. DOROTHY Hey, looks like you've got a fan. 87. JERRY (outdressed) Wow. That's more than a dress. That's an Audrey Hepburn movie. DOROTHY Yeah -- guess I got revved up at the idea of an evening among adults -- no offense buster. (then) You meet Chad the nanny? JERRY Yeah, I did -- am I dressed okay? I guess I didn't realize we were... He doesn't finish the words "going out on a date." The cacaphony of the Boyd home swirls around Maguire. It's a new sensation for this bachelor. DOROTHY Don't let him stay up too late. CHAD (grandly) Hey, man, tonight I'm going to teach Ray about jazz. DOROTHY Good, that'll put him to sleep early. No offense. She twirls toward the door, grabbing her purse. CHAD You know, you people have a jazz problem in this house. Laurel enters, adding to the chaos, adlibbing hellos. RAY I wanna go too. Laurel gives Ray a look. Ray backs down, as Jerry hears snatches of the Women's group going full blast in the living room. DOROTHY We'll see you soon, honey. Bye. JERRY Bye you guys. 88. Ray extends his arms, he wants a hug. Jerry bends down awkwardly to give him one, and Ray plants a kiss on Jerry's cheek. All are surprised, especially Jerry. Dorothy is struck and moved. Shot falls on Ray who watches Jerry exit with wonder. Even at his age, he knows a prize when he sees one. INT. KITCHEN-- NIGHT Laurel looks out the window, watches her sister exiting. She is equal parts jealous and protective. She spots keys on counter. She grabs them and runs out to catch her sister on the lawn. "All Shook Down." Replacements. EXT. DOROTHY'S HOUSE -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy exit through the many cars which we now see are parked on the street and the front lawn. The sound of the Women's group is heard in the warmly glowing house behind them. LAUREL Hey! As Jerry moves ahead to the car, Dorothy retreats so she can have privacy with her sister. LAUREL (continuing) Forgot your keys -- DOROTHY (privately) That's the first time I ever saw him kiss a man, like a dad, wasn't that just... thrilling? (eyes tear up) I mean, he must have been needing that. Women's group laughter in the distance as Laurel attempts to glue her emotional sister back together. She holds her arm. LAUREL No no. Don't cry at the beginning of the date. DOROTHY (laughing, wiping tear) Oh, knock it off! 89. LAUREL (can't help it) And don't be a shoulder for him to cry on either. We stay with Laurel as she watches her sister exit. Music continues. Lit by streetlight, Dorothy runs like a young girl, across the lawns of this car-filled neighborhood, slapping away the leaves of a tree, running to Jerry down the street. INT. ANTONIO'S RESTAURANT -- NIGHT Jerry and Dorothy sit at the table of this Mexican restaurant. In the background, Mariachis play. JERRY It was laziness1 my whole breakup with Avery. You know that thing you say, "it's nobody's fault." It's one of the great lies, right? Someone is always to blame -- if you go for it, go for it like you do a job, work at it -- DOROTHY Maybe love shouldn't be such hard work. I know, but -- Mariachis approach the table. HEAD MARIACHI A song for the lovers? JERRY/DOROTHY (too quickly) No. No thanks. DOROTHY We work together. Jerry slips the guy a few bucks to go away. They do so, reluctantly. JERRY See, you choose. If you fall for someone, if you make a commitment, you should make it work. It's only when "options" entered the picture that things got bad. I'm speaking historically now. It's a modern day concept, nueroticism -- how do I feeeeeel? -- I think the only good thing to (more) 90. JERRY (cont'd) come from this period in history is probably the movie "Annie Hall." DOROTHY (evenly) Maybe you should call her. JERRY No no no. I just underestimated her... (touches wound) her temper, I guess. Why are we even talking about this? A FLOWER GIRL approaches the table with an armful of roses. FLOWER GIRL A rose for the lady. JERRY You want a -- DOROTHY ( (scoffs) No. No way. Jerry gives her few bucks, she exits. DOROTHY (continuing) Yeah. It wasn't like my marriage to Roger was so great, even before -- (stops herself) Jerry? JERRY What? DOROTHY (simply) Let's not tell our sad stories. Jerry laughs to himself. He admires her directness. DOROTHY (continuing) I'll be right back. Quit thinking those murky thoughts, okay? We're young, we're semi-successful. Life is good. She exits and we hang on him for a moment. 91. INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT -- MINUTES LATER Dorothy on the phone outside the bathroom. DOROTHY No, now... come on... let Chad catch the bee in a glass. He won't hurt it. Aw, buddy, you got such a good heart. I love you, I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you. EXT. BATHROOM Sbe exits the bathroom and stops at the sight of what is happening at the table. Jerry, hand on face, is embarrassingly being serenaded by the Mariachis, who now play a mournful "Tears in Heaven." She smiles at the image, in fact the poetry charms her. Dorothy moves forward, grinning, fishes some bucks out of her pocket, and sends the Mariachis in another direction. DOROTHY Come on, let's take a walk. INT. DOROTHY'S PORCH -- NIGHT Music feathers into sounds of night. A bug buzzing from the nearby light, Jerry swats it away. JERRY Well -- this would be goodnight. DOROTHY Good night. They don't kiss. They take great care not to touch too much. JERRY I'll see you tomorrow. They don't move. On impulse, she grabs him and pulls him close. Kisses him. It's a good one. DOROTHY Good night. But they don't move. He pulls her closer by her straps. They break. She holds them up, nervous now. His lips travel down. He kisses her upper chest. She sighs deeply, she's missed this feeling. Jerry rises to kiss her lips again, tying her straps back on. Her expression says there is a decision to make. She concentrates on the styrofoam container she's brought back from the restaurant. 92. DOROTHY (continuing; breath) I think you should not come in, or come in depending on how you feel. JERRY Same to you. DOROTHY No. I have to go in. I live here. JERRY Right. I'll come in. DOROTHY Okay. Wait here a second. (beat, then) Do we really want to do this? JERRY (half-unsure) Oh hell yes. She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment when you've crossed the line. He takes a breath. INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT Dorothy enters to find Chad watching t.v. The house is now quiet, the remains of the Divorced Women's group is still in evidence. DOROTHY He's asleep, right? CHAD Yeah, how'd it go with Sportboy? DOROTHY Still going. Chad raises his eyebrows. DOROTHY (continuing) Shhh. EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT Jerry on the porch, as Chad exits. Chad now fully plays the part of friend with seniority. Looks the taller Jerry up and down. CHAD Treat her right, man. She's... 93. JERRY (self-conscious) Yeah... well... CHAD She's great. And I know this is a little awkward, but I want you to use this. Chad ruumages in bag for a moment. Jerry is somewhat horrified at what Chad might be giving him. Out comes a cassette tape. CHAD (continuing; intense) This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American artform -- JAZZ. Jerry takes the tape, as the front door squeaks open. Dorothy shoos Chad away, quietly leads Jerry inside. INT. BEDROOM-- NIGHT Fierce, driving jazz. Dorothy and Jerry making out on bed. Getting hotter. The music gets wilder. Finally it is impossible to ignore, and Jerry collapses backwards on the bed laughing. She is left frozen, her arms open but he is gone. DOROTHY What is this MUSIC? They both crack up, and she kisses him as the music plays. He looks at her. She turns away, then back again, he's still looking at her. It's a powerful moment for her. Laughter continues, the music is ridiculous. (Their sex is a big difference from the let's-be-intense sex with Avery.) INT. KITCHEN -- NIGHT -- SAME TIME Laurel just home from work in nurse uniform, has a late-night joint and carefully blows the smoke out the window. Laughter from the next room. She pops open the styrofoam appetizers her sister brought back from dinner. DISSOLVE TO: 94. INT. DOROTHY'S BEDROOM -- MORNING Radio clicks on. It's still dark. Only the glow of the digital lamp. Jerry alone in bed. He gets up, coughs, pulls on some pants. Manuevers through a strange bedroom, steps on toys. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING Dorothy and Laurel in the kitchen, waiting far the first possible drops of coffee. DOROTHY I'm getting him up, don't worry.' Ray will never see his mother's raging physical needs. She starts to exit, but Laurel pulls her back far a second. LAUREL First you gotta tell me something. DOROTHY No-- INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING Jerry moving dawn the hallway, hears voices. INT. KITCHEN -- MORNING LAUREL Because I'm worried that you're putting your faith in this guy who, because of the way things are going, may not have an emotional marble in his head. DOROTHY Please, if I start talking -- LAUREL Guys are just different people when they're hanging onto the bottom rung. ON JERRY listening. Pinned to the wall, listening to the kind of honesty an agent rarely hears. DOROTHY ... so what am I, for taking the opportunity, Laurel? (more) 95. DOROTHY (cont'd) Maybe I am taking advantage. Am I a bad person? All I know is that I found someone who was charming and popular and not-so-nice to me -- and he died. Okay? So why should I let this guy go, when everything in my body says This One is The One. LAUREL Easy, hon, I was just looking for fun details -- DOROTHY Oh, well, why didn't you say so? And oh, I don't know if you're interested in this detail, but I was just about to tell you that I love him. I love him, and I don't care what you think. I love him for the guy he wants to be, and I love him for the guy he almost is. I love him. They look at each other. The cat is way, way out of the bag. ON JERRY rubbing his face. RAY Hi Jerry! Dorothy leans into the hallway now, sees Jerry standing there, well within earshot. As Ray pounds down the hallway in his new over-sized shirt, brought by Jerry, Dorothy begins to crumble. The lack of control in her life is overwhelming her. DOROTHY Oh God. JERRY Easy, easy -- Jerry enters the kitchen, stands near Laurel. JERRY (continuing) I could pretend I didn't hear, but I won't, I heard everything. (to Laurel) Thank you for your honesty, as always. 96. LAUREL (frozen polite) Coffee, Jerry? JERRY Oh, no thanks. We bottom-feeders prefer cereal first -- RAY Let's have Apple Jacks! Apple Jacks it is. Dorothy, good morning, darling. He kisses her on the cheek, in full view of Ray. Dorothy, still embarrassed, not sure what is going on, reaches for cereal. Jerry sits down for breakfast. They are an odd, but fairly complete-looking family. RAY (continuing) What's going on, Jerry? JERRY A lot. We got a big fax today... we need this commission, buddy. The sisters look at each other. Ray looks around, he feels happy, but there is something else in the room. He shrugs and continues to feel happy. INT. JERRY'S HOME OFFICE -- LATER DAY Jerry and Dorothy prepare for the Tidwells, cleaning up the cramped office, unstacking chairs and making room. DOROTHY That was great of you this morning. The Tidwells honk, arriving in the driveway. JERRY (friendly, dismissive) Look, let's just root for a big offer so we can move out of this room to a real office. She feels slightly slapped down, but covers. She opens a window quickly, and busies herself with the clutter at hand. ON FAX Connecting. 97. FOUR FACES waiting for the results. Everybody has

been

How many times the word 'been' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

homewards

How many times the word 'homewards' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

jehoshaphat

How many times the word 'jehoshaphat' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

minutes

How many times the word 'minutes' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

being

How many times the word 'being' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

deep

How many times the word 'deep' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

voice

How many times the word 'voice' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

i

How many times the word 'i' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

upbraided

How many times the word 'upbraided' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

step

How many times the word 'step' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

stage

How many times the word 'stage' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

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your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

played

How many times the word 'played' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

taught

How many times the word 'taught' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

connexion

How many times the word 'connexion' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

moment

How many times the word 'moment' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

middle

How many times the word 'middle' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

seriously

How many times the word 'seriously' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

moved

How many times the word 'moved' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

arithmetic

How many times the word 'arithmetic' appears in the text?

your cousin would do, personally; but she has had no experience. Oh--she has, has she? Does she really think of adopting teaching as a profession?" Jude said she was disposed to do so, he thought, and his ingenious arguments on her natural fitness for assisting Mr. Phillotson, of which Jude knew nothing whatever, so influenced the schoolmaster that he said he would engage her, assuring Jude as a friend that unless his cousin really meant to follow on in the same course, and regarded this step as the first stage of an apprenticeship, of which her training in a normal school would be the second stage, her time would be wasted quite, the salary being merely nominal. The day after this visit Phillotson received a letter from Jude, containing the information that he had again consulted his cousin, who took more and more warmly to the idea of tuition; and that she had agreed to come. It did not occur for a moment to the schoolmaster and recluse that Jude's ardour in promoting the arrangement arose from any other feelings towards Sue than the instinct of co-operation common among members of the same family. V The schoolmaster sat in his homely dwelling attached to the school, both being modern erections; and he looked across the way at the old house in which his teacher Sue had a lodging. The arrangement had been concluded very quickly. A pupil-teacher who was to have been transferred to Mr. Phillotson's school had failed him, and Sue had been taken as stop-gap. All such provisional arrangements as these could only last till the next annual visit of H.M. Inspector, whose approval was necessary to make them permanent. Having taught for some two years in London, though she had abandoned that vocation of late, Miss Bridehead was not exactly a novice, and Phillotson thought there would be no difficulty in retaining her services, which he already wished to do, though she had only been with him three or four weeks. He had found her quite as bright as Jude had described her; and what master-tradesman does not wish to keep an apprentice who saves him half his labour? It was a little over half-past eight o'clock in the morning and he was waiting to see her cross the road to the school, when he would follow. At twenty minutes to nine she did cross, a light hat tossed on her head; and he watched her as a curiosity. A new emanation, which had nothing to do with her skill as a teacher, seemed to surround her this morning. He went to the school also, and Sue remained governing her class at the other end of the room, all day under his eye. She certainly was an excellent teacher. It was part of his duty to give her private lessons in the evening, and some article in the Code made it necessary that a respectable, elderly woman should be present at these lessons when the teacher and the taught were of different sexes. Richard Phillotson thought of the absurdity of the regulation in this case, when he was old enough to be the girl's father; but he faithfully acted up to it; and sat down with her in a room where Mrs. Hawes, the widow at whose house Sue lodged, occupied herself with sewing. The regulation was, indeed, not easy to evade, for there was no other sitting-room in the dwelling. Sometimes as she figured--it was arithmetic that they were working at--she would involuntarily glance up with a little inquiring smile at him, as if she assumed that, being the master, he must perceive all that was passing in her brain, as right or wrong. Phillotson was not really thinking of the arithmetic at all, but of her, in a novel way which somehow seemed strange to him as preceptor. Perhaps she knew that he was thinking of her thus. For a few weeks their work had gone on with a monotony which in itself was a delight to him. Then it happened that the children were to be taken to Christminster to see an itinerant exhibition, in the shape of a model of Jerusalem, to which schools were admitted at a penny a head in the interests of education. They marched along the road two and two, she beside her class with her simple cotton sunshade, her little thumb cocked up against its stem; and Phillotson behind in his long dangling coat, handling his walking-stick genteelly, in the musing mood which had come over him since her arrival. The afternoon was one of sun and dust, and when they entered the exhibition room few people were present but themselves. The model of the ancient city stood in the middle of the apartment, and the proprietor, with a fine religious philanthropy written on his features, walked round it with a pointer in his hand, showing the young people the various quarters and places known to them by name from reading their Bibles; Mount Moriah, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the City of Zion, the walls and the gates, outside one of which there was a large mound like a tumulus, and on the mound a little white cross. The spot, he said, was Calvary. "I think," said Sue to the schoolmaster, as she stood with him a little in the background, "that this model, elaborate as it is, is a very imaginary production. How does anybody know that Jerusalem was like this in the time of Christ? I am sure this man doesn't." "It is made after the best conjectural maps, based on actual visits to the city as it now exists." "I fancy we have had enough of Jerusalem," she said, "considering we are not descended from the Jews. There was nothing first-rate about the place, or people, after all--as there was about Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and other old cities." "But my dear girl, consider what it is to us!" She was silent, for she was easily repressed; and then perceived behind the group of children clustered round the model a young man in a white flannel jacket, his form being bent so low in his intent inspection of the Valley of Jehoshaphat that his face was almost hidden from view by the Mount of Olives. "Look at your cousin Jude," continued the schoolmaster. "He doesn't think we have had enough of Jerusalem!" "Ah--I didn't see him!" she cried in her quick, light voice. "Jude--how seriously you are going into it!" Jude started up from his reverie, and saw her. "Oh--Sue!" he said, with a glad flush of embarrassment. "These are your school-children, of course! I saw that schools were admitted in the afternoons, and thought you might come; but I got so deeply interested that I didn't remember where I was. How it carries one back, doesn't it! I could examine it for hours, but I have only a few minutes, unfortunately; for I am in the middle of a job out here." "Your cousin is so terribly clever that she criticizes it unmercifully," said Phillotson, with good-humoured satire. "She is quite sceptical as to its correctness." "No, Mr. Phillotson, I am not--altogether! I hate to be what is called a clever girl--there are too many of that sort now!" answered Sue sensitively. "I only meant--I don't know what I meant--except that it was what you don't understand!" "_I_ know your meaning," said Jude ardently (although he did not). "And I think you are quite right." "That's a good Jude--I know YOU believe in me!" She impulsively seized his hand, and leaving a reproachful look on the schoolmaster turned away to Jude, her voice revealing a tremor which she herself felt to be absurdly uncalled for by sarcasm so gentle. She had not the least conception how the hearts of the twain went out to her at this momentary revelation of feeling, and what a complication she was building up thereby in the futures of both. The model wore too much of an educational aspect for the children not to tire of it soon, and a little later in the afternoon they were all marched back to Lumsdon, Jude returning to his work. He watched the juvenile flock in their clean frocks and pinafores, filing down the street towards the country beside Phillotson and Sue, and a sad, dissatisfied sense of being out of the scheme of the latters' lives had possession of him. Phillotson had invited him to walk out and see them on Friday evening, when there would be no lessons to give to Sue, and Jude had eagerly promised to avail himself of the opportunity. Meanwhile the scholars and teachers moved homewards, and the next day, on looking on the blackboard in Sue's class, Phillotson was surprised to find upon it, skilfully drawn in chalk, a perspective view of Jerusalem, with every building shown in its place. "I thought you took no interest in the model, and hardly looked at it?" he said. "I hardly did," said she, "but I remembered that much of it." "It is more than I had remembered myself." Her Majesty's school-inspector was at that time paying "surprise-visits" in this neighbourhood to test the teaching unawares; and two days later, in the middle of the morning lessons, the latch of the door was softly lifted, and in walked my gentleman, the king of terrors--to pupil-teachers. To Mr. Phillotson the surprise was not great; like the lady in the story, he had been played that trick too many times to be unprepared. But Sue's class was at the further end of the room, and her back was towards the entrance; the inspector therefore came and stood behind her and watched her teaching some half-minute before she became aware of his presence. She turned, and realized that an oft-dreaded moment had come. The effect upon her timidity was such that she uttered a cry of fright. Phillotson, with a strange instinct of solicitude quite beyond his control, was at her side just in time to prevent her falling from faintness. She soon recovered herself, and laughed; but when the inspector had gone there was a reaction, and she was so white that Phillotson took her into his room, and gave her some brandy to bring her round. She found him holding her hand. "You ought to have told me," she gasped petulantly, "that one of the inspector's surprise-visits was imminent! Oh, what shall I do! Now he'll write and tell the managers that I am no good, and I shall be disgraced for ever!" "He won't do that, my dear little girl. You are the best teacher ever I had!" He looked so gently at her that she was moved, and regretted that she had upbraided him. When she was better she went home. Jude in the meantime had been waiting impatiently for Friday. On both Wednesday and Thursday he had been so much under the influence of his desire to see her that he walked after dark some distance along the road in the direction of the village, and, on returning to his room to read, found himself quite unable to concentrate his mind on the page. On Friday, as soon as he had got himself up as he thought Sue would like to see him, and made a hasty tea, he set out, notwithstanding that the evening was wet. The trees overhead deepened the gloom of the hour, and they dripped sadly upon him, impressing him with forebodings--illogical forebodings; for though he knew that he loved her he also knew that he could not be more to her than he was. On turning the corner and entering the village the first sight that greeted his eyes was that of two figures under one umbrella coming out of the vicarage gate. He was too far back for them to notice him, but he knew in a moment that they were Sue and Phillotson. The latter was holding the umbrella over her head, and they had evidently been paying a visit to the vicar--probably on some business connected with the school work. And as they walked along the wet and deserted lane Jude saw Phillotson place his arm round the girl's waist; whereupon she gently removed it; but he replaced it; and she let it remain, looking quickly round her with an air of misgiving. She did not look absolutely behind her, and therefore did not see Jude, who sank into the hedge like one struck with a blight. There he remained hidden till they had reached Sue's cottage and she had passed in, Phillotson going on to the school hard by. "Oh, he's too old for her--too old!" cried Jude in all the terrible sickness of hopeless, handicapped love. He could not interfere. Was he not Arabella's? He was unable to go on further, and retraced his steps towards Christminster. Every tread of his feet seemed to say to him that he must on no account stand in the schoolmaster's way with Sue. Phillotson was perhaps twenty years her senior, but many a happy marriage had been made in such conditions of age. The ironical clinch to his sorrow was given by the thought that the intimacy between his cousin and the schoolmaster had been brought about entirely by himself. VI Jude's old and embittered aunt lay unwell at Marygreen, and on the following Sunday he went to see her--a visit which was the result of a victorious struggle against his inclination to turn aside to the village of Lumsdon and obtain a miserable interview with his cousin, in which the word nearest his heart could not be spoken, and the sight which had tortured him could not be revealed. His aunt was now unable to leave her bed, and a great part of Jude's short day was occupied in making arrangements for her comfort. The little bakery business had been sold to a neighbour, and with the proceeds of this and her savings she was comfortably supplied with necessaries and more, a widow of the same village living with her and ministering to her wants. It was not till the time had nearly come for him to leave that he obtained a quiet talk with her, and his words tended insensibly towards his cousin. "Was Sue born here?" "She was--in this room. They were living here at that time. What made 'ee ask that?" "Oh--I wanted to know." "Now you've been seeing her!" said the harsh old woman. "And what did I tell 'ee?" "Well--that I was not to see her." "Have you gossiped with her?" "Yes." "Then don't keep it up. She was brought up by her father to hate her mother's family; and she'll look with no favour upon a working chap like you--a townish girl as she's become by now. I never cared much about her. A pert little thing, that's what she was too often, with her tight-strained nerves. Many's the time I've smacked her for her impertinence. Why, one day when she was walking into the pond with her shoes and stockings off, and her petticoats pulled above her knees, afore I could cry out for shame, she said: 'Move on, Aunty! This is no sight for modest eyes!'" "She was a little child then." "She was twelve if a day." "Well--of course. But now she's older she's of a thoughtful, quivering, tender nature, and as sensitive as--" "Jude!" cried his aunt, springing up in bed. "Don't you be a fool about her!" "No, no, of course not." "Your marrying that woman Arabella was about as bad a thing as a man could possibly do for himself by trying hard. But she's gone to the other side of the world, and med never trouble you again. And there'll be a worse thing if you, tied and bound as you be, should have a fancy for Sue. If your cousin is civil to you, take her civility for what it is worth. But anything more than a relation's good wishes it is stark madness for 'ee to give her. If she's townish and wanton it med bring 'ee to ruin." "Don't say anything against her, Aunt! Don't, please!" A relief was afforded to him by the entry of the companion and nurse of his aunt, who must have been listening to the conversation, for she began a commentary on past years, introducing Sue Bridehead as a character in her recollections. She described what an odd little maid Sue had been when a pupil at the village school across the green opposite, before her father went to London--how, when the vicar arranged readings and recitations, she appeared on the platform, the smallest of them all, "in her little white frock, and shoes, and pink sash"; how she recited "Excelsior," "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "The Raven"; how during the delivery she would knit her little brows and glare round tragically, and say to the empty air, as if some real creature stood there-- "Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" "She'd bring up the nasty carrion bird that clear," corroborated the sick woman reluctantly, "as she stood there in her little sash and things, that you could see un a'most before your very eyes. You too, Jude, had the same trick as a child of seeming to see things in the air." The neighbour told also of Sue's accomplishments in other kinds: "She was not exactly a tomboy, you know; but she could do things that only boys do, as a rule. I've seen her hit in and steer down the long slide on yonder pond, with her little curls blowing, one of a file of twenty moving along against the sky like shapes painted on glass, and up the back slide without stopping. All boys except herself; and then they'd cheer her, and then she'd say, 'Don't be saucy, boys,' and suddenly run indoors. They'd try to coax her out again. But 'a wouldn't come." These retrospective visions of Sue only made Jude the more miserable that he was unable to woo her, and he left the cottage of his aunt that day with a heavy heart. He would fain have glanced into the school to see the room in which Sue's little figure had so glorified itself; but he checked his desire and went on. It being Sunday evening some villagers who had known him during his residence here were standing in a group in their best clothes. Jude was startled by a salute from one of them: "Ye've got there right enough, then!" Jude showed that he did not understand. "Why, to the seat of l'arning--the 'City of Light' you used to talk to us about as a little boy! Is it all you expected of it?" "Yes; more!" cried Jude. "When I was there once for an hour I didn't see much in it for my part; auld crumbling buildings, half church, half almshouse, and not much going on at that." "You are wrong, John; there is more going on than meets the eye of a man walking through the streets. It is a unique centre of thought and religion--the intellectual and spiritual granary of this country. All that silence and absence of goings-on is the stillness of infinite motion--the sleep of the spinning-top, to borrow the simile of a well-known writer." "Oh, well, it med be all that, or it med not. As I say, I didn't see nothing of it the hour or two I was there; so I went in and had a pot o' beer, and a penny loaf, and a ha'porth o' cheese, and waited till it was time to come along home. You've j'ined a college by this time, I suppose?" "Ah, no!" said Jude. "I am almost as far off that as ever." "How so?" Jude slapped his pocket. "Just what we thought! Such places be not for such as you--only for them with plenty o' money." "There you are wrong," said Jude, with some bitterness. "They are for such ones!" Still, the remark was sufficient to withdraw Jude's attention from the imaginative world he had lately inhabited, in which an abstract figure, more or less himself, was steeping his mind in a sublimation of the arts and sciences, and making his calling and election sure to a seat in the paradise of the learned. He was set regarding his prospects in a cold northern light. He had lately felt that he could not quite satisfy himself in his Greek--in the Greek of the dramatists particularly. So fatigued was he sometimes after his day's work that he could not maintain the critical attention necessary for thorough application. He felt that he wanted a coach--a friend at his elbow to tell him in a moment what sometimes would occupy him a weary month in extracting from unanticipative, clumsy books. It was decidedly necessary to consider facts a little more closely than he had done of late. What was the good, after all, of using up his spare hours in a vague labour called "private study" without giving an outlook on practicabilities? "I ought to have thought of this before," he said, as he journeyed back. "It would have been better never to have embarked in the scheme at all than to do it without seeing clearly where I am going, or what I am aiming at... This hovering outside the walls of the colleges, as if expecting some arm to be stretched out from them to lift me inside, won't do! I must get special information." The next week accordingly he sought it. What at first seemed an opportunity occurred one afternoon when he saw an elderly gentleman, who had been pointed out as the head of a particular college, walking in the public path of a parklike enclosure near the spot at which Jude chanced to be sitting. The gentleman came nearer, and Jude looked anxiously at his face. It seemed benign, considerate, yet rather reserved. On second thoughts Jude felt that he could not go up and address him; but he was sufficiently influenced by the incident to think what a wise thing it would be for him to state his difficulties by letter to some of the best and most judicious of these old masters, and obtain their advice. During the next week or two he accordingly placed himself in such positions about the city as would afford him glimpses of several of the most distinguished among the provosts, wardens, and other heads of houses; and from those he ultimately selected five whose physiognomies seemed to say to him that they were appreciative and far-seeing men. To these five he addressed letters, briefly stating his difficulties, and asking their opinion on his stranded situation. When the letters were posted Jude mentally began to criticize them; he wished they had not been sent. "It is just one of those intrusive, vulgar, pushing, applications which are so common in these days," he thought. "Why couldn't I know better than address utter strangers in such a way? I may be an impostor, an idle scamp, a man with a bad character, for all that they know to the contrary... Perhaps that's what I am!" Nevertheless, he found himself clinging to the hope of some reply as to his one last chance of redemption. He waited day after day, saying that it was perfectly absurd to expect, yet expecting. While he waited he was suddenly stirred by news about Phillotson. Phillotson was giving up the school near Christminster, for a larger one further south, in Mid-Wessex. What this meant; how it would affect his cousin; whether, as seemed possible, it was a practical move of the schoolmaster's towards a larger income, in view of a provision for two instead of one, he would not allow himself to say. And the tender relations between Phillotson and the young girl of whom Jude was passionately enamoured effectually made it repugnant to Jude's tastes to apply to Phillotson for advice on his own scheme. Meanwhile the academic dignitaries to whom Jude had written vouchsafed no answer, and the young man was thus thrown back entirely on himself, as formerly, with the added gloom of a weakened hope. By indirect inquiries he soon perceived clearly what he had long uneasily suspected, that to qualify himself for certain open scholarships and exhibitions was the only brilliant course. But to do this a good deal of coaching would be necessary, and much natural ability. It was next to impossible that a man reading on his own system, however widely and thoroughly, even over the prolonged period of ten years, should be able to compete with those who had passed their lives under trained teachers and had worked to ordained lines. The other course, that of buying himself in, so to speak, seemed the only one really open to men like him, the difficulty being simply of a material kind. With the help of his information he began to reckon the extent of this material obstacle, and ascertained, to his dismay, that, at the rate at which, with the best of fortune, he would be able to save money, fifteen years must elapse before he could be in a position to forward testimonials to the head of a college and advance to a matriculation examination. The undertaking was hopeless. He saw what a curious and cunning glamour the neighbourhood of the place had exercised over him. To get there and live there, to move among the churches and halls and become imbued with the _genius loci_, had seemed to his dreaming youth, as the spot shaped its charms to him from its halo on the horizon, the obvious and ideal thing to do. "Let me only get there," he had said with the fatuousness of Crusoe over his big boat, "and the rest is but a matter of time and energy." It would have been far better for him in every way if he had never come within sight and sound of the delusive precincts, had gone to some busy commercial town with the sole object of making money by his wits, and thence surveyed his plan in true perspective. Well, all that was clear to him amounted to this, that the whole scheme had burst up, like an iridescent soap-bubble, under the touch of a reasoned inquiry. He looked back at himself along the vista of his past years, and his thought was akin to Heine's: Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes I see the motley mocking fool's-cap rise! Fortunately he had not been allowed to bring his disappointment into his dear Sue's life by involving her in this collapse. And the painful details of his awakening to a sense of his limitations should now be spared her as far as possible. After all, she had only known a little part of the miserable struggle in which he had been engaged thus unequipped, poor, and unforeseeing. He always remembered the appearance of the afternoon on which he awoke from his dream. Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he went up to an octagonal chamber in the lantern of a singularly built theatre that was set amidst this quaint and singular city. It had windows all round, from which an outlook over the whole town and its edifices could be gained. Jude's eyes swept all the views in succession, meditatively, mournfully, yet sturdily. Those buildings and their associations and privileges were not for him. From the looming roof of the great library, into which he hardly ever had time to enter, his gaze travelled on to the varied spires, halls, gables, streets, chapels, gardens, quadrangles, which composed the ensemble of this unrivalled panorama. He saw that his destiny lay not with these, but among the manual toilers in the shabby purlieu which he himself occupied, unrecognized as part of the city at all by its visitors and panegyrists, yet without whose denizens the hard readers could not read nor the high thinkers live. He looked over the town into the country beyond, to the trees which screened her whose presence had at first been the support of his heart, and whose loss was now a maddening torture. But for this blow he might have borne with his fate. With Sue as companion he could have renounced his ambitions with a smile. Without her it was inevitable that the reaction from the long strain to which he had subjected himself should affect him disastrously. Phillotson had no doubt passed through a similar intellectual disappointment to that which now enveloped him. But the schoolmaster had been since blest with the consolation of sweet Sue, while for him there was no consoler. Descending to the streets, he went listlessly along till he arrived at an inn, and entered it. Here he drank several glasses of beer in rapid succession, and when he came out it was night. By the light of the flickering lamps he rambled home to supper, and had not long been sitting at table when his landlady brought up a letter that had just arrived for him. She laid it down as if impressed with a sense of its possible importance, and on looking at it Jude perceived that it bore the embossed stamp of one of the colleges whose heads he had addressed. "ONE--at last!" cried Jude. The communication was brief, and not exactly what he had expected; though it really was from the master in person. It ran thus: BIBLIOLL COLLEGE. SIR,--I have read your letter with interest; and, judging from your description of yourself as a working-man, I venture to think that you will have a much better chance of success in life by remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade than by adopting any other

leaders

How many times the word 'leaders' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

limb

How many times the word 'limb' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

rollin

How many times the word 'rollin' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

kozelle

How many times the word 'kozelle' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

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your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

who

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your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

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your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

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your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

enslaved

How many times the word 'enslaved' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

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your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

depressed

How many times the word 'depressed' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

him--

How many times the word 'him--' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

town

How many times the word 'town' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

v.o.

How many times the word 'v.o.' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

us

How many times the word 'us' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

p.

How many times the word 'p.' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

rumor

How many times the word 'rumor' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

hallway

How many times the word 'hallway' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

pubic

How many times the word 'pubic' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

had

How many times the word 'had' appears in the text?

your whole body feels like it's on vibrate. NEEDY Yeah. JENNIFER It's that good. Jennifer gazes at her arm, transfixed. She wipes the blood away-- the wound has magically DISAPPEARED. (CONTINUED) 49. CONTINUED: NEEDY Lucky you. See, I'm still kind of depressed about, you know, the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town? JENNIFER Move-on dot org, Needy! It's over. Life's too short to mope over some white-trash pig roast. She flicks a Zippo lighter and touches the FLAME to her tongue-- first tentatively, then confidently. NEEDY That's really nice. JENNIFER I tell it like it is. Besides, you should be happy for me. I'm having the best day since, like Jesus invented the calendar. NEEDY Jesus didn't invent the calendar. Jennifer giggles maniacally and sighs with happiness. Needy's call-waiting beeps. NEEDY (CONT'D) That's my other line. JENNIFER So blow it off. She casually lights her HAIR on fire. The flames leap up, then die down, leaving her entirely untouched. NEEDY It'll just be a second. JENNIFER Pooh. I'm crossing you out. She draws a mini-X in the air. Needy clicks over. It's CHIP. We get a nice trifold pie- chart illustrating the intersecting calls. CHIP is panicked and sweaty in his living room. In the background, Chip's little sister CAMILLE bangs on a piano. Red police lights flash outside the picture window. (CONTINUED) 50. CONTINUED: (2) CHIP I need to see you right now. NEEDY I can barely hear you. CHIP Camille is playing piano. Knock it off, Camille! CAMILLE You knock it off! CHIP Can you meet me at McCullum in ten? CAMILLE You knock it off, Chip! You're penis cheese! NEEDY Fifteen. Back on JENNIFER: Jennifer is impatiently dragging a razor down her arm. Blood drips onto the rug. She smiles, in awe of herself. Needy clicks back over. NEEDY (CONT'D) I have to go. JENNIFER What could possibly be more important than me and my godlike powers? NEEDY I have to meet Chip at McCullum Park. JENNIFER Chip is looking cute to me lately. So tell me, is he packing some serious pubic inches? What's the story down there? NEEDY (QUICKLY) I gotta go. (CONTINUED) 51. CONTINUED: (3) Needy hangs up the phone abruptly and grabs one of her many cardigan sweaters, heading for the door. EXT. MC CULLUM PARK - FOURTEEN MINUTES LATER The park is dark and tree-lined and appears to be a popular clandestine meeting spot for the youth of Devil's Kettle. The abandoned sand volleyball pits are full of couples making out. Needy runs past them skittishly. As she ascends a grassy hill, CHIP is revealed, silhouetted against a backdrop of twirling police lights. Needy squints at the lights, sees CHIP's house in the distance. NEEDY Why are the cops at your house? CHIP They're not. They're at Jonas Kozelle's house. He got murdered. NEEDY What?! Like, he was shot by gangbangers? CHIP (EXASPERATED) No, Needy! Do you see anyone rollin' on dubs around here? (BEAT) Someone ripped Jonas limb from limb in the woods behind the school. Ate parts of him. They found teethmarks on him-- on the body. His voice cracks. We see a brief, terrifying FLASH of Jonas's mutilated body and pain-stricken face. Needy doesn't want to believe it. NEEDY Some animals must've got to him. CHIP Human teethmarks. NEEDY Who would do that? (CONTINUED) 52. CONTINUED: CHIP I don't know. It just happened after school. No one's supposed to know yet, but my dad went over there and talked to the cops. Jonas's mom is catatonic. She's just staring out the front window like a zombie mannequin robot statue. NEEDY This can't be a coincidence. CHIP What do you mean, Needy? NEEDY A fiery death trap last night, and now a cannibal eats our starting tight-end? Come on! CHIP Don't get spooky on me, babe. NEEDY Seriously Chip. Most small towns only have something gruesome happen like, once every decade maybe. Devil's Kettle gets two nightmares in 24 hours? It's freaktarded. It's not right. CHIP What, do you think it's, like supernatural? NEEDY I don't know. I'm extremely intelligent but I obviously don't know everything. CHIP Well, the bad luck's gotta be over now, right? It can't get any worse, right? Obviously it can't. It can't. I mean, you agree, right? There won't be another victim. NEEDY You're shaking. CHIP I'm cold. It's very cold out here. (CONTINUED) 53. CONTINUED: (2) NEEDY Want my sweater? CHIP It's pink. NEEDY Pink is cool. Rap guys wear pink. She's shaking now, too. Chip leans forward and kisses her. She closes her eyes. In the chaste space between CHIP and Needy's bodies, the volleyball-pit couple fuck like rabbits. DISSOLVE TO: A SERIES OF NEWSPAPER HEADLINES The familiar Soft Shoulder ballad plays as we see a dreamy montage of headlines. The headline of the Devil's Kettle Sun-Post simply reads: "WHY?" The headline of the Minneapolis Star Tribune reads: "'BUTCHERED': Devil's Kettle youth brutally murdered in wake of devastating fire." A smaller headline on the front page of the New York Times reads: "Minnesota town rocked by grisly murder, blaze." NEEDY V.O. We were famous. We were saints. Our town's only bar had burned to the ground and our star quarterback was somebody's Quarter Pounder. The whole country got a huge tragedy boner for Devil's Kettle. And the press-- God, they couldn't get enough of our little world of shit. We see Devil's Kettle citizens holding a tearful candlelight vigil by the former Carousel site. They softly sing along with the Soft Shoulder song. MOURNERS (SINGING) Through the trees, I will find you... (CONTINUED) 54. CONTINUED: We see weeping students shoving flowers through the slats of Jonas' abandoned locker. The hallway floor is covered with teddy bears and bouquets. We see the PASSING OF TIME as the bouquets wilt and the blooms droop. The pile of discarded scratch-off tickets next to Needy's mother's bed grows steadily as the days go by. Another Star Tribune headline. This one reads: "Two weeks later, cannibal killer still at large." A smaller subhead reads "ARTS: Local band Soft Shoulder sign to major." NEEDY V.O. The days marched on as usual, but most of us were too numb to enjoy ourselves. Most of us. We see Jennifer cheerfully skipping down the school hallway in a sleazy Technicolor outfit. The rest of the kids look grey, ashen and depressed, but Jennifer pops like a Roman candle. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) Still, we were healing. Like CHIP, we figured things could only get better. We had faith. We see clusters of cautiously optimistic kids in the school courtyard. They smile, then laugh, as if they're re-learning how to be happy. NEEDY V.O. (CONT'D) We were fucking idiots. EXT. KETTLE HIGH CAMPUS - TO ESTABLISH It's late September. Leaves are beginning to drift off trees. The surrounding woods are still blocked off with yellow police tape. INT. KETTLE HIGH - MORNING Mr. Wroblewski stands solemnly in front of the class, his mechanical hand tensing and releasing nervously. Needy and the rest of the class fidget. MR. WROBLEWSKI Before the period ends, I have an announcement. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 55. CONTINUED: MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, this is the one month anniversary of the Carousel fire and also the murder of Jonas Kozelle... JENNIFER Bo-ring! We see Jennifer. She looks haggard, thin, and cranky. NEEDY (WHISPERING) Are you okay? JENNIFER No. I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out. My hair is dull and lifeless. God, it's like I'm one of the normal girls! Needy smooths her own hair self-consciously. NEEDY Are you PMS-ing or something? JENNIFER PMS isn't real, Needy. It was invented by the boy-run media to make us seem crazy. NEEDY Oh. Mr. Wroblewski clears his throat, annoyed by their talking. MR. WROBLEWSKI ...As I was saying, Needy and Jennifer, I finally have some good news to share with all of you. The members of the rock group Soft Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. A ripple of excitement in the room. A girl seated in the front row is wearing a Soft Shoulder T-SHIRT. MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) As you know, their song "Through the Trees" has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing. So, they've decided to release it as a benefit single. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 56. CONTINUED: (2) MR. WROBLEWSKI (CONT'D) 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss. The class is happily abuzz-- except Needy, who looks appalled. NEEDY What about the other 97%? MR. WROBLEWSKI Excuse me? NEEDY The other 97%. I mean, that's just crass. Right? She looks around for support, finding none. NEEDY (CONT'D) Crass. It means scummy. Greedy. Am I the only one who actually does the vocab drills? CHASTITY, the girl in the Soft Shoulder T-shirt, turns to face Needy angrily. CHASTITY Soft Shoulder are American heroes. NEEDY No, they're not. I was there, Chastity. They didn't actually help anyone escape the fire. I don't even know how that rumor got started. CHASTITY Rumor?! RUMOR? It's true! It's on their Wikipedia page! NEEDY Oh, that's crap... MR. WROBLEWSKI GIRLS-- NEEDY They've milked our pain-- our loss- - to get a stupid record deal! No one would even know who they were if they hadn't been playing here that night. They used us. (CONTINUED) 57. CONTINUED: (3) CHASTITY (growling, almost POSSESSED) You take that back, Needy Lesnicki! We need them now more then ever! MR. WROBLEWSKI That's enough. The BELL rings. Students get up and gather their books for the next period. INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - SAME Needy and Jennifer slowly head toward their respective lockers. NEEDY I'm already sick of that song. JENNIFER Yeah. It's poorly produced. Could the bass be any lower in the mix? NEEDY No offense, but you look kind of drained. Is everything all right? JENNIFER I'm fine. It's just, like, wearing off or something. NEEDY What's wearing off? (ALARMED) Are you on pot? JENNIFER No, dick ridge! Just forget I said anything. COLIN GRAY, the punk/goth boy we met earlier, approaches Jennifer nervously as she exits the classroom. Needy drops behind them, eavesdropping. COLIN (to Needy) Hi. (to Jennifer, more NERVOUSLY) Hi, Jennifer. (CONTINUED) 58. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Oh, hey Colin. Listen, can I copy your bio lab again? I never got around to dissecting that kitten fetus. COLIN Sure. Actually, I sort of wanted to ask you something. JENNIFER Oh. You want to know if I'll go out with you. COLIN No! Well-- yeah. (BEAT) How did you know? JENNIFER Just go ahead with the pitch. Colin fidgets awkwardly. COLIN Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I just thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. There's a midnight showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend... JENNIFER I don't like boxing movies. COLIN It's not...fuck it. Never mind. He turns to walk down the hallway, dejected. Jennifer watches him leave. JENNIFER Wait! Colin turns around. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD. It's about this girl who's like, half-sushi. I guess she has sex through her blowhole or something. (CONTINUED) 59. CONTINUED: (2) COLIN Oh. Great! Okay. JENNIFER I'll text you my address. Colin walks away, grinning triumphantly. NEEDY That was random. JENNIFER I'm used to guys asking me out. NEEDY Colin's a really nice guy. JENNIFER He's into maggot-rock. He wears nail polish. Chip appears behind Needy and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Needy jumps, startled. CHIP Hi. JENNIFER (FLIRTATIOUS) Hi Chip. Needy puts her arm around Chip protectively. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I gotta go parlez French. Slam you later. Jennifer walks away. CHIP (to Needy) Talking to your good pal Colin Gray again? NEEDY No. He was just asking Jennifer out on a date. Chip looks relieved. CHIP Can I come over tonight? (CONTINUED) 60. CONTINUED: (3) NEEDY Sure. I'd like that. CHIP I went to Super Target and bought more condoms. NEEDY Thanks. CHIP Not that that has anything to do with my coming over. NEEDY I didn't assume that. CHIP Well, I'll see you tonight. Needy waves as Chip walks away. EXT. CAMERFORD STREET - NIGHT Colin Gray drives down the street in a big old boat of a classic car. He's blasting punk music on an iPod that's been rigged to the ancient AM radio. Colin holds up his CELL PHONE to re-read the directions Jennifer texted him. The street is extremely dark and silent, occupied only by a new townhouse development. The identical units still appear to be under construction. There aren't even any streetlights. The plastic sheeting over the windows flaps eerily in the breeze. Colin's brow furrows in confusion-- it doesn't even look like anyone lives here yet. He checks the phone display again. CLOSE ON PHONE: The TEXT MESSAGE reads: "trn lft on camerford and your there. first house on rt. 1004 camerford. C-ya! xoxo jen" Sure enough, the house number is 1004. Colin throws the car into park and walks up to the porch. He looks up and notices a glow coming from an upstairs window, (CONTINUED) 61. CONTINUED: Colin presses the doorbell. Nothing happens-- the house isn't wired for electricity yet. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy and CHIP are kissing on Chip's water bed. Chip fumbles for one of those "fragrance plug-ins" and PLUGS it into the wall. Needy looks over. CHIP For ambiance. It's Jammin' Jasmine. NEEDY Mmm. CHIP My mom has Holiday Scents too, if you're interested. NEEDY No, this is nice. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin enters the house tentatively. It's dark, vacant, and very creepy. There's a very faint glow and soft music coming from upstairs. COLIN Yo? He stumbles over a stray 2 x 4. There are piles of sawdust and building materials everywhere-- the house is definitely still under construction. Colin looks confused. A MOUSE skitters over his sneakers. COLIN (CONT'D) Jennifer? Anyone there? The music upstairs grows slightly louder in response. Colin squares his shoulders and heads slowly up the creaking stairs. 62. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Needy has eased off her top to reveal an endearingly plain white bra, complete with center bow. CHIP, also shirtless, cops a feel. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fluorescent orange CONDOM. Needy looks at the wrapper. NEEDY (READING) "Sensual Swirl?" CHIP It's supposed to make it feel good for the girl. NEEDY Oh. Cool. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - CONTINUOUS Colin follows the music into an empty bedroom. The dark room is filled with blazing candles melting and pooling into bizarre shapes. A single BLANKET is spread out on the floor. Colin shivers. Behind him, in the doorway, Jennifer appears, her smiling face hellishly aglow. JENNIFER You made it. COLIN What's going on? This isn't really your house, is it? JENNIFER No baby. This is our house, just for you and me. We can play Mommy and Daddy. Colin is totally dumbstruck. COLIN Do you even know my last name? JENNIFER Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell? You give me such a wettie. (CONTINUED) 63. CONTINUED: She starts KISSING Colin on the neck. We can see confusion-- and fear-- in his eyes. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - SAME Chip fumbles below his waist, obviously struggling with the condom. Needy leans forward for a closer look. NEEDY Oh. It's got little bumps on it. I can hardly wait. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Jennifer grips Colin's face in her hands and forcibly kisses him on the mouth. Colin succumbs, but stiffly. We hear a SCRATCHING noise. Colin pulls away instinctively and sees MICE and ROACHES emerging from the walls, skittering over surfaces. COLIN Jennifer... Jennifer looks over her shoulder and giggles. JENNIFER You scared? I thought boys like you were into vermin. She unbuttons his jeans. They fall noisily to the floor-- they're the baggy Hot Topic kind with chains and buckles galore. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Nice hardware, Ace. Colin into Jennifer's eyes. There's something horrible about her face...like she's become almost corpselike. COLIN (FAINTLY) No way... JENNIFER Oh, don't you dare pass out! I need you to be conscious. COLIN I gotta go... (CONTINUED) 64. CONTINUED: JENNIFER I need you frightened. Colin tries to jerk away, but Jennifer easily disengages his arm from its socket. A sickeningly moist SNAP. Colin cries out in pain. JENNIFER (CONT'D) I need you hopeless. She slams him to the ground and mounts him. Her jaw unhinges, opening her mouth to a horrifying, inhuman degree. Her teeth are razor-sharp and grotesquely crowded, like they belong to some horribly deformed dog. She descends on him, feeding ravenously. We see their shadows against the wall: Jennifer lunging hungrily, blood spraying up from Colin's jugular. We can hear him screaming and gargling on his own blood. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS CHIP is doggedly pumping away on top of Needy, his eyes closed in concentration. Needy's vacant eyes are suddenly brimming with tears. NEEDY (SOFTLY) Hopeless..hopeless... CHIP opens his eyes. CHIP What? Am I hurting you? Needy starts weeping. CHIP (CONT'D) Am I too big? Tears roll down Needy's cheeks. She begins moaning, then SCREAMING at that top of her lungs. She hallucinates liquid seeping through the walls, blood and lymph oozing in at the corners and windows. Then the infamous spiny black bile... Pixelated nightmares emerge from the darkness. Skulls, jesters, demons, death. It's the worst acid trip imaginable. Needy rubs her eyes frantically and continues to scream. (CONTINUED) 65. CONTINUED: CHIP immediately rolls off Needy, concerned. He grabs her and tries to shake some sense into her. CHIP (CONT'D) Needy! What's wrong? Needy continues to shriek hysterically, her voice growing ragged. INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME We can still hear Colin making inhuman sounds of pain. We can only see the carnage in shadow, but it's clearly unspeakable. INT. CHIP'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Needy clutches her throat, hyperventilating. She stands up and struggles to get dressed. Her breath rasps. Chip is freaking out. CHIP Is it something I did? NEEDY (GAGGING) It's her. CHIP Do you need more foreplay? INT. 1004 CAMERFORD - SAME Colin's thrashing limbs finally go limp. Jennifer is hunched over his remains like a jackal scooping blood into her mouth with cupped hands. We see his eyes, flecked with blood, pupils dilated. A white MOUSE crawls over his face. INT. CHIP'S HOUSE - SAME Needy races toward the door with Chip in pursuit. CHIP Needy! (CONTINUED) 66. CONTINUED: NEEDY I have to go. I'm sorry. I just... feel like something...something terrible... CHIP You feel-- What does that even mean? I'm worried about you. NEEDY I'm so sorry, Chip. I'm so sorry. Everything is just wrong. She bolts out the room, leaving Chip naked and alone. He pulls his knees up to his chest, vulnerable. EXT. CHIP'S STREET - SAME Needy runs toward her mom's CAR, a beat-up Kia parked on the curb. She climbs into the car and starts the ignition, trembling and crying. She pulls out onto the street and guns it. She swings a hard left. The streets are all almost identical, lined by working-class homes. She turns on the radio. The song is, of course, "Through the Trees" by Soft Shoulder. She pounds the dashboard, hysterical. NEEDY Fudge! Fudge! Maple fudge! Needy seizes the wheel drives recklessly down a dark, tree-lined street. Then, she sees something bright emerge from the shadows. Her eyes widen... It's JENNIFER, creeping toward the curb like an animal. She's pale in the moonlight. The entire lower half of her face is covered in blood, like a ghoulish beard of gore. She flashes a huge, deranged, toothy SMILE at Needy. Needy screams and SWERVES. The car fishtails out of control and slides into a ditch. Needy slams her foot onto the accelerator, trying to get out of the trench. She glances desperately out the side window. Jennifer is gone. Panting, Needy tries to accelerate again. (CONTINUED) 67. CONTINUED: Suddenly, Jennifer appears from out of nowhere and SLAMS her body against the windshield, her long limbs splayed like an insect's. The windshield SHATTERS. Jennifer grins at Needy through the cracking glass. Needy screams again, puts the pedal to the floor, and manages to rear up out of the ditch. Jennifer's body tumbles off the car as Needy goes roaring down the street. RADIO DJ That was, of course, Soft Shoulder. They're going to be playing a benefit concert in Devil's Kettle next month. Talk about giving back to the community! Generous guys, I tell ya... EXT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER Needy throws the car into park and races up the front walk. She unlocks the door, shaking and fumbling. She bursts into the darkened house. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS NEEDY Mommy! Mommy? Please be home! No reply. Needy braces herself against the kitchen counter and bawls. She falls to her knees and curls up on the floor, exhausted. Her eyes drift shut. NEEDY V.O. I've always been able to feel what she feels. Just not like this. EXT. SUNNY SUBURBAN YARD - FLASHBACK - DAY Little Needy and Little Jennifer are playing Barbies in a sandbox. Needy holds a brand new, immaculate Barbie doll. LITTLE JENNIFER I'll be Perfect Prom Barbie and you be her. She tosses Needy a naked brunette doll with its hair chopped off and an arm missing. (CONTINUED) 68. CONTINUED: LITTLE NEEDY Why do I have to be Ugly Ashley? LITTLE JENNIFER You can be Ugly Ashley or Ken. Choose. She puts her hand down in the sand emphatically and suddenly HOWLS in pain. LITTLE NEEDY What's wrong, Jennifer? Jennifer lifts her hand. There's a TACK stuck in her palm and it's bleeding. LITTLE JENNIFER OWWWWWW! (trying to swear like a grown-up) Damn! Ass! Needy grabs Jennifer's hand, pulls out the tack and wipes away the blood. It's still bleeding. Panicking, she leans forward and instinctively puts her mouth to the wound. Jennifer watches quietly. Needy pulls away. LITTLE NEEDY Better. We should get a Band-Aid though. LITTLE JENNIFER We're sisters now, you know. Needy nods. LITTLE JENNIFER (CONT'D) Don't tell my mom about this. She'll make me get a shot. NEEDY I never tell on you. INT. KITCHEN - (BACK TO REALITY) Needy WAKES UP in a cold sweat, gasping. She's still on the kitchen floor. She peels herself up off the floor, disoriented. 69. INT. NEEDY'S HOUSE (BEDROOM) - CONTINUOUS Needy trudges into her dark bedroom. She strips off her clothes and stumbles into bed. JENNIFER'S VOICE What's up, Monistat? Needy flicks on her bedside lamp, petrified. Jennifer is curled up in bed beside her, reclining casually. She's freshly showered and wearing one of Needy's dorky T- shirts. Needy screams at the top of her lungs and leaps out of bed, pulling the covers with her. JENNIFER God, enough screaming already. You're such a cliche. NEEDY Get out! JENNIFER But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties. She winks conspiratorially at Needy. NEEDY What the fuck is happening? JENNIFER Whoa. I have never heard you drop the F-bomb before. What's buggin'? NEEDY I saw you! I saw you! The car...the...I... JENNIFER (MIMICKING) Buh-buh-buh. Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped. NEEDY I'm calling the police. JENNIFER Go ahead, narc me out. I've got the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember? (CONTINUED) 70. CONTINUED: NEEDY What do you want? JENNIFER I want to explain some things to you. You've already seen too much and besides-- best friends don't keep secrets. Right? Needy nods, terrified. JENNIFER (CONT'D) Remember the night of the fire? NEEDY Yeah, it rings a bell. JENNIFER Well, I got pretty messed up. I almost died. You know those guys in Soft Shoulder? Totally evil. They're basically agents of Satan with awesome haircuts. I figured that out as soon as I got into their molester van. INT. SOFT SHOULDER'S VAN (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT Jennifer is crouched in the back of the van. None of the band members are speaking. Nikolai Wolf drives down a gravel road, away from the fire site and deep into the woods. JENNIFER Guys? Where are we going? NIKOLAI Shut your mouth, object. DIRK (NERVOUSLY) Nikolai... Jennifer looks around the van, wide-eyed. There's glow-in- the-dark Satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. She sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations," "Summoning the Beast," and a copy of the Black Mass. Jennifer springs to her feet and tries to escape out the side door. MICK, the drummer, grabs her ankles, taking her down. (CONTINUED) 71. CONTINUED: JENNIFER Are you guys rapists?! NIKOLAI You wish. Jennifer struggles again, but Mick holds her down. MICK (to band members) Hey guys? Do we even know if she's a virgin? A GLINT OF HOPE in Jennifer's eyes. Maybe if she lies she can save herself. JENNIFER Yes...yes! Of course I'm a virgin! I've never done sex ever. I don't even know how. So maybe you should find some other girl who does. Know how. NIKOLAI Told you, Dirk. You owe me a beer. DIRK (PREOCCUPIED) Sure, man. EXT. FOREST CLEARING (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The van rumbles down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods. They arrive at the real Devil's Kettle-- roaring, ominous waterfalls. There's a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - NIGHT Needy is still cowering on her bedroom floor, captivated by the tale in progress. Jennifer is reclining in the bed with a relaxed, supernatural glow. NEEDY What did they do to you? JENNIFER Just let me finish. So they drove all the way out to the falls. I tried to figure out an escape, but it was so dark out there... 72. EXT. THE FALLS (FLASHBACK) - NIGHT The door of the van slides open. Nikolai pulls Jennifer out of the van and hustles her into the clearing. He looks up into the sky. NIKOLAI We got a waxing moon. Perfection. MICK You're the man, Wolf. The four band members surround Jennifer, looking statuesque in their sexy rock n' roll ensembles. Without warning, Nikolai hauls off and KICKS Jennifer. She yelps and falls onto her back on the dirt. Dirk looks apprehensive. DIRK I don't know if we should go through with this. NIKOLAI (ANGRILY) Do you want to be rich and famous like the guy from Maroon 5? Or do you want to be a huge suicidal loser? DIRK (SADLY) Maroon 5. NIKOLAI Then grow a pair and fetch me the ritual! God. Dirk obediently heads over to the van. He pushes the intimidating-looking magical books aside and retrieves a single folded piece of computer paper. MICK That's it? NIKOLAI What? I found it on Google. He unfolds the piece of paper and clears his throat. (CONTINUED) 73. CONTINUED: The guys have dragged Jennifer onto the makeshift altar and are holding her down. She struggles and screams, but Dirk slaps her again. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of... He tries to remember Jennifer's name and fails. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) ...this chick from Devil's Kettle. JENNIFER (WHISPERING) My name is Jennifer. NIKOLAI That's fascinating. Dirk and Mick exchange nervous glances. JENNIFER Please let me go. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Nikolai examines her with an appraising eye. NIKOLAI I only hump nines and tens. You're a seven at best, even with the chicken cutlets. He reaches into Jennifer's bra and casually pulls out a GEL BREAST ENHANCER, tossing it aside. Jennifer rears up and SPITS in his artfully rumpled hair. Nikolai smooths his `do, enraged. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) I'm gonna carve you like a pumpkin, bitch. Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? He wiggles his menacingly pointy fingers in her face. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) We've spent months making offerings to the "man downstairs," and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. (MORE) (CONTINUED) 74. CONTINUED: (2) NIKOLAI (CONT'D) But that's not enough, Jenny. We want designer drugs. We want groupies that have their own groupies. We want speedballs and stadium tours and Skittles sorted by color. In short, we want more. And to get more, we have to butcher you. And bleed you. JENNIFER (DESPERATE) Maybe you could just hire a publicist. Make some T-shirts or something. Hey, I could be on your street team! NIKOLAI Sorry, darling. JENNIFER Please... NIKOLAI (LOUDLY) Start chanting, boys. The group begins chanting jibberish in unison. Jennifer struggles, watching as their eyes go hollow and black. NIKOLAI (CONT'D) With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. He unsheathes a huge, gleaming knife and raises it Psycho- style, admiring his reflection in the blade. DIRK Dude, that is a hot murder weapon! NIKOLAI It's a bowie knife. DIRK Bowie. Nice. Snickering, Nikolai begins to sing "Starman" by David Bowie. The group joins in merrily. NIKOLAI "There's a starman waiting in the sky..." BAND "He'd really like to meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds..." (CONTINUED) 75. CONTINUED: (3) As the group sings, Nikolai brings the knife down with a grin. We hear Jennifer SCREAMING, sounds of violence and clothes ripping as Nikolai relentlessly beats her and stabs her, his face contorting demonically. The band continues to sing, their voices carrying over the trees. Nikolai walks over to where the "devil side" of the falls rushes into a black hole. He drops the murder weapon into the churning water, smiling. INT. NEEDY'S BEDROOM (PRESENT DAY) - CONTINUOUS Needy's expression is both incredulous and horrified. Jennifer is totally matter-of-fact. She picks at her nails with a wooden cuticle stick from Needy's night stand. JENNIFER Being tortured would make most girls black out or something. But I'm so hard core, I was with them the whole time. I could feel them gutting me Under my

possess

How many times the word 'possess' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

delight

How many times the word 'delight' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

carrots

How many times the word 'carrots' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

lips

How many times the word 'lips' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

pictures

How many times the word 'pictures' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

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your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

children

How many times the word 'children' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

prophets

How many times the word 'prophets' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

whom

How many times the word 'whom' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

let

How many times the word 'let' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

sends

How many times the word 'sends' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

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How many times the word 'middle' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

qualities

How many times the word 'qualities' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

many

How many times the word 'many' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

deeds

How many times the word 'deeds' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

should

How many times the word 'should' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

age

How many times the word 'age' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

pulpit

How many times the word 'pulpit' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

existence

How many times the word 'existence' appears in the text?

your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

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your words well, and you will find that even when you have no motive to be false, it is a very hard thing to say the exact truth, even about your own immediate feelings--much harder than to say something fine about them which is NOT the exact truth. It is for this rare, precious quality of truthfulness that I delight in many Dutch paintings, which lofty-minded people despise. I find a source of delicious sympathy in these faithful pictures of a monotonous homely existence, which has been the fate of so many more among my fellow-mortals than a life of pomp or of absolute indigence, of tragic suffering or of world-stirring actions. I turn, without shrinking, from cloud-borne angels, from prophets, sibyls, and heroic warriors, to an old woman bending over her flower-pot, or eating her solitary dinner, while the noonday light, softened perhaps by a screen of leaves, falls on her mob-cap, and just touches the rim of her spinning-wheel, and her stone jug, and all those cheap common things which are the precious necessaries of life to her--or I turn to that village wedding, kept between four brown walls, where an awkward bridegroom opens the dance with a high-shouldered, broad-faced bride, while elderly and middle-aged friends look on, with very irregular noses and lips, and probably with quart-pots in their hands, but with an expression of unmistakable contentment and goodwill. "Foh!" says my idealistic friend, "what vulgar details! What good is there in taking all these pains to give an exact likeness of old women and clowns? What a low phase of life! What clumsy, ugly people!" But bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope? I am not at all sure that the majority of the human race have not been ugly, and even among those "lords of their kind," the British, squat figures, ill-shapen nostrils, and dingy complexions are not startling exceptions. Yet there is a great deal of family love amongst us. I have a friend or two whose class of features is such that the Apollo curl on the summit of their brows would be decidedly trying; yet to my certain knowledge tender hearts have beaten for them, and their miniatures--flattering, but still not lovely--are kissed in secret by motherly lips. I have seen many an excellent matron, who could have never in her best days have been handsome, and yet she had a packet of yellow love-letters in a private drawer, and sweet children showered kisses on her sallow cheeks. And I believe there have been plenty of young heroes, of middle stature and feeble beards, who have felt quite sure they could never love anything more insignificant than a Diana, and yet have found themselves in middle life happily settled with a wife who waddles. Yes! Thank God; human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty--it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it. All honour and reverence to the divine beauty of form! Let us cultivate it to the utmost in men, women, and children--in our gardens and in our houses. But let us love that other beauty too, which lies in no secret of proportion, but in the secret of deep human sympathy. Paint us an angel, if you can, with a floating violet robe, and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us yet oftener a Madonna, turning her mild face upward and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory; but do not impose on us any aesthetic rules which shall banish from the region of Art those old women scraping carrots with their work-worn hands, those heavy clowns taking holiday in a dingy pot-house, those rounded backs and stupid weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world--those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs, and their clusters of onions. In this world there are so many of these common coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes. Therefore, let Art always remind us of them; therefore let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of a life to the faithful representing of commonplace things--men who see beauty in these commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them. There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities: I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellow-men, especially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy. Neither are picturesque lazzaroni or romantic criminals half so frequent as your common labourer, who gets his own bread and eats it vulgarly but creditably with his own pocket-knife. It is more needful that I should have a fibre of sympathy connecting me with that vulgar citizen who weighs out my sugar in a vilely assorted cravat and waistcoat, than with the handsomest rascal in red scarf and green feathers--more needful that my heart should swell with loving admiration at some trait of gentle goodness in the faulty people who sit at the same hearth with me, or in the clergyman of my own parish, who is perhaps rather too corpulent and in other respects is not an Oberlin or a Tillotson, than at the deeds of heroes whom I shall never know except by hearsay, or at the sublimest abstract of all clerical graces that was ever conceived by an able novelist. And so I come back to Mr. Irwine, with whom I desire you to be in perfect charity, far as he may be from satisfying your demands on the clerical character. Perhaps you think he was not--as he ought to have been--a living demonstration of the benefits attached to a national church? But I am not sure of that; at least I know that the people in Broxton and Hayslope would have been very sorry to part with their clergyman, and that most faces brightened at his approach; and until it can be proved that hatred is a better thing for the soul than love, I must believe that Mr. Irwine's influence in his parish was a more wholesome one than that of the zealous Mr. Ryde, who came there twenty years afterwards, when Mr. Irwine had been gathered to his fathers. It is true, Mr. Ryde insisted strongly on the doctrines of the Reformation, visited his flock a great deal in their own homes, and was severe in rebuking the aberrations of the flesh--put a stop, indeed, to the Christmas rounds of the church singers, as promoting drunkenness and too light a handling of sacred things. But I gathered from Adam Bede, to whom I talked of these matters in his old age, that few clergymen could be less successful in winning the hearts of their parishioners than Mr. Ryde. They learned a great many notions about doctrine from him, so that almost every church-goer under fifty began to distinguish as well between the genuine gospel and what did not come precisely up to that standard, as if he had been born and bred a Dissenter; and for some time after his arrival there seemed to be quite a religious movement in that quiet rural district. "But," said Adam, "I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides notions. It isn't notions sets people doing the right thing--it's feelings. It's the same with the notions in religion as it is with math'matics--a man may be able to work problems straight off in's head as he sits by the fire and smokes his pipe, but if he has to make a machine or a building, he must have a will and a resolution and love something else better than his own ease. Somehow, the congregation began to fall off, and people began to speak light o' Mr. Ryde. I believe he meant right at bottom; but, you see, he was sourish-tempered, and was for beating down prices with the people as worked for him; and his preaching wouldn't go down well with that sauce. And he wanted to be like my lord judge i' the parish, punishing folks for doing wrong; and he scolded 'em from the pulpit as if he'd been a Ranter, and yet he couldn't abide the Dissenters, and was a deal more set against 'em than Mr. Irwine was. And then he didn't keep within his income, for he seemed to think at first go-off that six hundred a-year was to make him as big a man as Mr. Donnithorne. That's a sore mischief I've often seen with the poor curates jumping into a bit of a living all of a sudden. Mr. Ryde was a deal thought on at a distance, I believe, and he wrote books, but as for math'matics and the natur o' things, he was as ignorant as a woman. He was very knowing about doctrines, and used to call 'em the bulwarks of the Reformation; but I've always mistrusted that sort o' learning as leaves folks foolish and unreasonable about business. Now Mester Irwine was as different as could be: as quick!--he understood what you meant in a minute, and he knew all about building, and could see when you'd made a good job. And he behaved as much like a gentleman to the farmers, and th' old women, and the labourers, as he did to the gentry. You never saw HIM interfering and scolding, and trying to play th' emperor. Ah, he was a fine man as ever you set eyes on; and so kind to's mother and sisters. That poor sickly Miss Anne--he seemed to think more of her than of anybody else in the world. There wasn't a soul in the parish had a word to say against him; and his servants stayed with him till they were so old and pottering, he had to hire other folks to do their work." "Well," I said, "that was an excellent way of preaching in the weekdays; but I daresay, if your old friend Mr. Irwine were to come to life again, and get into the pulpit next Sunday, you would be rather ashamed that he didn't preach better after all your praise of him." "Nay, nay," said Adam, broadening his chest and throwing himself back in his chair, as if he were ready to meet all inferences, "nobody has ever heard me say Mr. Irwine was much of a preacher. He didn't go into deep speritial experience; and I know there s a deal in a man's inward life as you can't measure by the square, and say, 'Do this and that 'll follow,' and, 'Do that and this 'll follow.' There's things go on in the soul, and times when feelings come into you like a rushing mighty wind, as the Scripture says, and part your life in two a'most, so you look back on yourself as if you was somebody else. Those are things as you can't bottle up in a 'do this' and 'do that'; and I'll go so far with the strongest Methodist ever you'll find. That shows me there's deep speritial things in religion. You can't make much out wi' talking about it, but you feel it. Mr. Irwine didn't go into those things--he preached short moral sermons, and that was all. But then he acted pretty much up to what he said; he didn't set up for being so different from other folks one day, and then be as like 'em as two peas the next. And he made folks love him and respect him, and that was better nor stirring up their gall wi' being overbusy. Mrs. Poyser used to say--you know she would have her word about everything--she said, Mr. Irwine was like a good meal o' victual, you were the better for him without thinking on it, and Mr. Ryde was like a dose o' physic, he gripped you and worreted you, and after all he left you much the same." "But didn't Mr. Ryde preach a great deal more about that spiritual part of religion that you talk of, Adam? Couldn't you get more out of his sermons than out of Mr. Irwine's?" "Eh, I knowna. He preached a deal about doctrines. But I've seen pretty clear, ever since I was a young un, as religion's something else besides doctrines and notions. I look at it as if the doctrines was like finding names for your feelings, so as you can talk of 'em when you've never known 'em, just as a man may talk o' tools when he knows their names, though he's never so much as seen 'em, still less handled 'em. I've heard a deal o' doctrine i' my time, for I used to go after the Dissenting preachers along wi' Seth, when I was a lad o' seventeen, and got puzzling myself a deal about th' Arminians and the Calvinists. The Wesleyans, you know, are strong Arminians; and Seth, who could never abide anything harsh and was always for hoping the best, held fast by the Wesleyans from the very first; but I thought I could pick a hole or two in their notions, and I got disputing wi' one o' the class leaders down at Treddles'on, and harassed him so, first o' this side and then o' that, till at last he said, 'Young man, it's the devil making use o' your pride and conceit as a weapon to war against the simplicity o' the truth.' I couldn't help laughing then, but as I was going home, I thought the man wasn't far wrong. I began to see as all this weighing and sifting what this text means and that text means, and whether folks are saved all by God's grace, or whether there goes an ounce o' their own will to't, was no part o' real religion at all. You may talk o' these things for hours on end, and you'll only be all the more coxy and conceited for't. So I took to going nowhere but to church, and hearing nobody but Mr. Irwine, for he said nothing but what was good and what you'd be the wiser for remembering. And I found it better for my soul to be humble before the mysteries o' God's dealings, and not be making a clatter about what I could never understand. And they're poor foolish questions after all; for what have we got either inside or outside of us but what comes from God? If we've got a resolution to do right, He gave it us, I reckon, first or last; but I see plain enough we shall never do it without a resolution, and that's enough for me." Adam, you perceive, was a warm admirer, perhaps a partial judge, of Mr. Irwine, as, happily, some of us still are of the people we have known familiarly. Doubtless it will be despised as a weakness by that lofty order of minds who pant after the ideal, and are oppressed by a general sense that their emotions are of too exquisite a character to find fit objects among their everyday fellowmen. I have often been favoured with the confidence of these select natures, and find them to concur in the experience that great men are overestimated and small men are insupportable; that if you would love a woman without ever looking back on your love as a folly, she must die while you are courting her; and if you would maintain the slightest belief in human heroism, you must never make a pilgrimage to see the hero. I confess I have often meanly shrunk from confessing to these accomplished and acute gentlemen what my own experience has been. I am afraid I have often smiled with hypocritical assent, and gratified them with an epigram on the fleeting nature of our illusions, which any one moderately acquainted with French literature can command at a moment's notice. Human converse, I think some wise man has remarked, is not rigidly sincere. But I herewith discharge my conscience, and declare that I have had quite enthusiastic movements of admiration towards old gentlemen who spoke the worst English, who were occasionally fretful in their temper, and who had never moved in a higher sphere of influence than that of parish overseer; and that the way in which I have come to the conclusion that human nature is lovable--the way I have learnt something of its deep pathos, its sublime mysteries--has been by living a great deal among people more or less commonplace and vulgar, of whom you would perhaps hear nothing very surprising if you were to inquire about them in the neighbourhoods where they dwelt. Ten to one most of the small shopkeepers in their vicinity saw nothing at all in them. For I have observed this remarkable coincidence, that the select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest. For example, I have often heard Mr. Gedge, the landlord of the Royal Oak, who used to turn a bloodshot eye on his neighbours in the village of Shepperton, sum up his opinion of the people in his own parish--and they were all the people he knew--in these emphatic words: "Aye, sir, I've said it often, and I'll say it again, they're a poor lot i' this parish--a poor lot, sir, big and little." I think he had a dim idea that if he could migrate to a distant parish, he might find neighbours worthy of him; and indeed he did subsequently transfer himself to the Saracen's Head, which was doing a thriving business in the back street of a neighbouring market-town. But, oddly enough, he has found the people up that back street of precisely the same stamp as the inhabitants of Shepperton--"a poor lot, sir, big and little, and them as comes for a go o' gin are no better than them as comes for a pint o' twopenny--a poor lot." Chapter XVIII Church "HETTY, Hetty, don't you know church begins at two, and it's gone half after one a'ready? Have you got nothing better to think on this good Sunday as poor old Thias Bede's to be put into the ground, and him drownded i' th' dead o' the night, as it's enough to make one's back run cold, but you must be 'dizening yourself as if there was a wedding i'stid of a funeral?" "Well, Aunt," said Hetty, "I can't be ready so soon as everybody else, when I've got Totty's things to put on. And I'd ever such work to make her stand still." Hetty was coming downstairs, and Mrs. Poyser, in her plain bonnet and shawl, was standing below. If ever a girl looked as if she had been made of roses, that girl was Hetty in her Sunday hat and frock. For her hat was trimmed with pink, and her frock had pink spots, sprinkled on a white ground. There was nothing but pink and white about her, except in her dark hair and eyes and her little buckled shoes. Mrs. Poyser was provoked at herself, for she could hardly keep from smiling, as any mortal is inclined to do at the sight of pretty round things. So she turned without speaking, and joined the group outside the house door, followed by Hetty, whose heart was fluttering so at the thought of some one she expected to see at church that she hardly felt the ground she trod on. And now the little procession set off. Mr. Poyser was in his Sunday suit of drab, with a red-and-green waistcoat and a green watch-ribbon having a large cornelian seal attached, pendant like a plumb-line from that promontory where his watch-pocket was situated; a silk handkerchief of a yellow tone round his neck; and excellent grey ribbed stockings, knitted by Mrs. Poyser's own hand, setting off the proportions of his leg. Mr. Poyser had no reason to be ashamed of his leg, and suspected that the growing abuse of top-boots and other fashions tending to disguise the nether limbs had their origin in a pitiable degeneracy of the human calf. Still less had he reason to be ashamed of his round jolly face, which was good humour itself as he said, "Come, Hetty--come, little uns!" and giving his arm to his wife, led the way through the causeway gate into the yard. The "little uns" addressed were Marty and Tommy, boys of nine and seven, in little fustian tailed coats and knee-breeches, relieved by rosy cheeks and black eyes, looking as much like their father as a very small elephant is like a very large one. Hetty walked between them, and behind came patient Molly, whose task it was to carry Totty through the yard and over all the wet places on the road; for Totty, having speedily recovered from her threatened fever, had insisted on going to church to-day, and especially on wearing her red-and-black necklace outside her tippet. And there were many wet places for her to be carried over this afternoon, for there had been heavy showers in the morning, though now the clouds had rolled off and lay in towering silvery masses on the horizon. You might have known it was Sunday if you had only waked up in the farmyard. The cocks and hens seemed to know it, and made only crooning subdued noises; the very bull-dog looked less savage, as if he would have been satisfied with a smaller bite than usual. The sunshine seemed to call all things to rest and not to labour. It was asleep itself on the moss-grown cow-shed; on the group of white ducks nestling together with their bills tucked under their wings; on the old black sow stretched languidly on the straw, while her largest young one found an excellent spring-bed on his mother's fat ribs; on Alick, the shepherd, in his new smock-frock, taking an uneasy siesta, half-sitting, half-standing on the granary steps. Alick was of opinion that church, like other luxuries, was not to be indulged in often by a foreman who had the weather and the ewes on his mind. "Church! Nay--I'n gotten summat else to think on," was an answer which he often uttered in a tone of bitter significance that silenced further question. I feel sure Alick meant no irreverence; indeed, I know that his mind was not of a speculative, negative cast, and he would on no account have missed going to church on Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, and "Whissuntide." But he had a general impression that public worship and religious ceremonies, like other non-productive employments, were intended for people who had leisure. "There's Father a-standing at the yard-gate," said Martin Poyser. "I reckon he wants to watch us down the field. It's wonderful what sight he has, and him turned seventy-five." "Ah, I often think it's wi' th' old folks as it is wi' the babbies," said Mrs. Poyser; "they're satisfied wi' looking, no matter what they're looking at. It's God A'mighty's way o' quietening 'em, I reckon, afore they go to sleep." Old Martin opened the gate as he saw the family procession approaching, and held it wide open, leaning on his stick--pleased to do this bit of work; for, like all old men whose life has been spent in labour, he liked to feel that he was still useful--that there was a better crop of onions in the garden because he was by at the sowing--and that the cows would be milked the better if he stayed at home on a Sunday afternoon to look on. He always went to church on Sacrament Sundays, but not very regularly at other times; on wet Sundays, or whenever he had a touch of rheumatism, he used to read the three first chapters of Genesis instead. "They'll ha' putten Thias Bede i' the ground afore ye get to the churchyard," he said, as his son came up. "It 'ud ha' been better luck if they'd ha' buried him i' the forenoon when the rain was fallin'; there's no likelihoods of a drop now; an' the moon lies like a boat there, dost see? That's a sure sign o' fair weather--there's a many as is false but that's sure." "Aye, aye," said the son, "I'm in hopes it'll hold up now." "Mind what the parson says, mind what the parson says, my lads," said Grandfather to the black-eyed youngsters in knee-breeches, conscious of a marble or two in their pockets which they looked forward to handling, a little, secretly, during the sermon. "Dood-bye, Dandad," said Totty. "Me doin' to church. Me dot my neklace on. Dive me a peppermint." Grandad, shaking with laughter at this "deep little wench," slowly transferred his stick to his left hand, which held the gate open, and slowly thrust his finger into the waistcoat pocket on which Totty had fixed her eyes with a confident look of expectation. And when they were all gone, the old man leaned on the gate again, watching them across the lane along the Home Close, and through the far gate, till they disappeared behind a bend in the hedge. For the hedgerows in those days shut out one's view, even on the better-managed farms; and this afternoon, the dog-roses were tossing out their pink wreaths, the nightshade was in its yellow and purple glory, the pale honeysuckle grew out of reach, peeping high up out of a holly bush, and over all an ash or a sycamore every now and then threw its shadow across the path. There were acquaintances at other gates who had to move aside and let them pass: at the gate of the Home Close there was half the dairy of cows standing one behind the other, extremely slow to understand that their large bodies might be in the way; at the far gate there was the mare holding her head over the bars, and beside her the liver-coloured foal with its head towards its mother's flank, apparently still much embarrassed by its own straddling existence. The way lay entirely through Mr. Poyser's own fields till they reached the main road leading to the village, and he turned a keen eye on the stock and the crops as they went along, while Mrs. Poyser was ready to supply a running commentary on them all. The woman who manages a dairy has a large share in making the rent, so she may well be allowed to have her opinion on stock and their "keep"--an exercise which strengthens her understanding so much that she finds herself able to give her husband advice on most other subjects. "There's that shorthorned Sally," she said, as they entered the Home Close, and she caught sight of the meek beast that lay chewing the cud and looking at her with a sleepy eye. "I begin to hate the sight o' the cow; and I say now what I said three weeks ago, the sooner we get rid of her the better, for there's that little yallow cow as doesn't give half the milk, and yet I've twice as much butter from her." "Why, thee't not like the women in general," said Mr. Poyser; "they like the shorthorns, as give such a lot o' milk. There's Chowne's wife wants him to buy no other sort." "What's it sinnify what Chowne's wife likes? A poor soft thing, wi' no more head-piece nor a sparrow. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi', and then wonder as the scratchin's run through. I've seen enough of her to know as I'll niver take a servant from her house again--all hugger-mugger--and you'd niver know, when you went in, whether it was Monday or Friday, the wash draggin' on to th' end o' the week; and as for her cheese, I know well enough it rose like a loaf in a tin last year. And then she talks o' the weather bein' i' fault, as there's folks 'ud stand on their heads and then say the fault was i' their boots." "Well, Chowne's been wanting to buy Sally, so we can get rid of her if thee lik'st," said Mr. Poyser, secretly proud of his wife's superior power of putting two and two together; indeed, on recent market-days he had more than once boasted of her discernment in this very matter of shorthorns. "Aye, them as choose a soft for a wife may's well buy up the shorthorns, for if you get your head stuck in a bog, your legs may's well go after it. Eh! Talk o' legs, there's legs for you," Mrs. Poyser continued, as Totty, who had been set down now the road was dry, toddled on in front of her father and mother. "There's shapes! An' she's got such a long foot, she'll be her father's own child." "Aye, she'll be welly such a one as Hetty i' ten years' time, on'y she's got THY coloured eyes. I niver remember a blue eye i' my family; my mother had eyes as black as sloes, just like Hetty's." "The child 'ull be none the worse for having summat as isn't like Hetty. An' I'm none for having her so overpretty. Though for the matter o' that, there's people wi' light hair an' blue eyes as pretty as them wi' black. If Dinah had got a bit o' colour

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