Against these far stretches of country rose, in front of the other
city edifices, a large red-brick building, with level gray roofs,
and rows of short barred windows bespeaking captivity, the whole
contrasting greatly by its formalism with the quaint irregularities
of the Gothic erections. It was somewhat disguised from the road in
passing it by yews and evergreen oaks, but it was visible enough up
here. The wicket from which the pair had lately emerged was in the
wall of this structure. From the middle of the building an ugly
flat-topped octagonal tower ascended against the east horizon, and
viewed from this spot, on its shady side and against the light, it
seemed the one blot on the city's beauty. Yet it was with this blot,
and not with the beauty, that the two gazers were concerned.
Upon the cornice of the tower a tall staff was fixed. Their eyes
were riveted on it. A few minutes after the hour had struck
something moved slowly up the staff, and extended itself upon the
breeze. It was a black flag.
"Justice" was done, and the President of the Immortals, in Aeschylean
phrase, had ended his sport with Tess. And the d'Urberville knights
and dames slept on in their tombs unknowing.
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