| Quote #4 On these lonely hills and dales her quiescent glide was of a piece with the element she moved in. Her flexuous and stealthy figure became an integral part of the scene. (13.14) |
Once again, the narrator associates Tess with nature. Here, she actually seems to become one with nature. She becomes "an integral part" of the landscape, and is "of a piece" with nature. It's more of the earth goddess thing again, although it sounds pretty hippy.
| Quote #5 Walking among the sleeping birds in the hedges, watching the skipping rabbits on a moonlit warren, or standing under a pheasant-laden bough, she looked upon herself as a figure of Guilt intruding into the haunts of Innocence. But all the while she was making a distinction where there was no difference. Feeling herself in antagonism she was quite in accord. She had been made to break a necessary social law, but no law known to the environment in which she fancied herself such an anomaly. (13.15) |
Tess thinks that she's broken a universal law – something natural and fundamental. But really, the only law that she's broken is a social law – one that humans invented. It's a "necessary" social law, the narrator adds (he doesn't go so far as to say that the taboo against pre-marital sex is a bad one), but it's not a natural law. And notice also that he says that she was "made to break" that law – in other words, she isn't at fault, and the sin isn't hers.
| Quote #6 So passed away Sorrow the Undesired – that intrusive creature, that bastard gift of shameless Nature who respects not the civil law. (14.58) |
It's another juxtaposition of nature and civilization – Sorrow was a "natural" child in that he (or she?) was born according to "natural" laws, as opposed within the socially sanctioned bonds of marriage.