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| author | Eris Caffee <discordia@eldalin.com> |
|---|---|
| date | Tue, 18 Aug 2015 12:22:22 -0500 |
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1 A Tale of Two Cities
3 Dickens, Charles
7 Published: 1859
8 Type(s): Novels, History
9 Source: Wikisource
13 About Dickens:
15 Charles John Huffam Dickens pen-name "Boz", was the foremost Eng-
16 lish novelist of the Victorian era, as well as a vigorous social campaigner.
17 Considered one of the English language's greatest writers, he was ac-
18 claimed for his rich storytelling and memorable characters, and achieved
19 massive worldwide popularity in his lifetime.
21 Later critics, beginning with George Gissing and G. K. Chesterton,
22 championed his mastery of prose, his endless invention of memorable
23 characters and his powerful social sensibilities. Yet he has also received
24 criticism from writers such as George Henry Lewes, Henry James, and
25 Virginia Woolf, who list sentimentality, implausible occurrence and grot-
26 esque characters as faults in his oeuvre.
28 The popularity of Dickens' novels and short stories has meant that
29 none have ever gone out of print. Dickens wrote serialised novels, which
30 was the usual format for fiction at the time, and each new part of his
31 stories would be eagerly anticipated by the reading public.
33 Source: Wikipedia
35 Also available on Feedbooks for Dickens:
37 * A Christmas Carol (1843)
39 * Great Expectations (1861)
41 * Oliver Twist (1867)
43 * David Copperfield (1850)
45 * Bleak House (1853)
47 * The Haunted House (1859)
49 * The Pickwick Papers (1832)
51 * A Christmas Tree (1850)
53 * Little Dorrit (1857)
55 * Hard Times (1850)
57 Note: This book is brought to you by Feedbooks.
59 http://www.feedbooks.com
61 Strictly for personal use, do not use this file for commercial purposes.
65 Part i
66 Recalled to Life
70 Chapter
74 1
78 The Period
80 It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wis-
81 dom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the
82 epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of
83 Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had
84 everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct
85 to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period
86 was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities in-
87 sisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree
88 of comparison only.
90 There was a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the
91 throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a
92 fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than
93 crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things
94 in general were settled for ever.
96 It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-
97 five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured
98 period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-
99 twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life
100 Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that ar-
101 rangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westmin-
102 ster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of
103 years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last
104 past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere
105 messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English
106 Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America:
107 which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race
108 than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the
109 Cock-lane brood. France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spir-
110 itual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding
111 smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the
115 guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with
116 such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut
117 off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because
118 he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession
119 of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or
120 sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and
121 Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death,
122 already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into
123 boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in
124 it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of
125 some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered
126 from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire,
127 snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer,
128 Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that
129 Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work si-
130 lently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread:
131 the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake,
132 was to be atheistical and traitorous.
134 In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to
135 justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and
136 highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; families
137 were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing their
138 furniture to upholsterers' warehouses for security; the highwayman in
139 the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and
140 challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped in his character of
141 "the Captain," gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the
142 mall was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and
143 then got shot dead himself by the other four, "in consequence of the fail-
144 ure of his ammunition" after which the mall was robbed in peace; that
145 magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand
146 and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the
147 illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London gaols
148 fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law fired blun-
149 derbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; thieves
150 snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at Court
151 drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles's, to search for contra-
152 band goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the musketeers
153 fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences much
154 out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy
155 and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing
159 up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker
160 on Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in
161 the hand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the
162 door of Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murder-
163 er, and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer's boy
164 of sixpence.
166 All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close
167 upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five.
168 Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked un-
169 heeded, those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and
170 the fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights with a
171 high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-
172 five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small creatures - the
173 creatures of this chronicle among the rest - along the roads that lay be-
174 fore them.
178 Chapter
182 2
186 The Mail
188 It was the Dover road that lay, on a Friday night late in November, be-
189 fore the first of the persons with whom this history has business. The
190 Dover road lay, as to him, beyond the Dover mail, as it lumbered up
191 Shooter's Hill. He walked up hill in the mire by the side of the mail, as
192 the rest of the passengers did; not because they had the least relish for
193 walking exercise, under the circumstances, but because the hill, and the
194 harness, and the mud, and the mail, were all so heavy, that the horses
195 had three times already come to a stop, besides once drawing the coach
196 across the road, with the mutinous intent of taking it back to Blackheath.
197 Reins and whip and coachman and guard, however, in combination, had
198 read that article of war which forbade a purpose otherwise strongly in
199 favour of the argument, that some brute animals are endued with
200 Reason; and the team had capitulated and returned to their duty.
202 With drooping heads and tremulous tails, they mashed their way
203 through the thick mud, floundering and stumbling between whiles, as if
204 they were falling to pieces at the larger joints. As often as the driver res-
205 ted them and brought them to a stand, with a wary "Wo-ho! so-ho-
206 then!" the near leader violently shook his head and everything upon
207 it - like an unusually emphatic horse, denying that the coach could be
208 got up the hill. Whenever the leader made this rattle, the passenger star-
209 ted, as a nervous passenger might, and was disturbed in mind.
211 There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its
212 forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none.
213 A clammy and intensely cold mist, it made its slow way through the air
214 in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the
215 waves of an unwholesome sea might do. It was dense enough to shut out
216 everything from the light of the coach-lamps but these its own workings,
217 and a few yards of road; and the reek of the labouring horses steamed in-
218 to it, as if they had made it all.
222 Two other passengers, besides the one, were plodding up the hill by
223 the side of the mail. All three were wrapped to the cheekbones and over
224 the ears, and wore jack-boots. Not one of the three could have said, from
225 anything he saw, what either of the other two was like; and each was
226 hidden under almost as many wrappers from the eyes of the mind, as
227 from the eyes of the body, of his two companions. In those days, travel-
228 lers were very shy of being confidential on a short notice, for anybody on
229 the road might be a robber or in league with robbers. As to the latter,
230 when every posting-house and ale-house could produce somebody in
231 "the Captain's" pay, ranging from the landlord to the lowest stable non-
232 descript, it was the likeliest thing upon the cards. So the guard of the
233 Dover mail thought to himself, that Friday night in November, one thou-
234 sand seven hundred and seventy-five, lumbering up Shooter's Hill, as he
235 stood on his own particular perch behind the mail, beating his feet, and
236 keeping an eye and a hand on the arm-chest before him, where a loaded
237 blunderbuss lay at the top of six or eight loaded horse-pistols, deposited
238 on a substratum of cutlass.
240 The Dover mail was in its usual genial position that the guard suspec-
241 ted the passengers, the passengers suspected one another and the guard,
242 they all suspected everybody else, and the coachman was sure of nothing
243 but the horses; as to which cattle he could with a clear conscience have
244 taken his oath on the two Testaments that they were not fit for the
245 journey.
247 "Wo-ho!" said the coachman. "So, then! One more pull and you're at
248 the top and be damned to you, for I have had trouble enough to get you
249 to it!- Joe!"
251 "Halloa!" the guard replied.
253 "What o'clock do you make it, Joe?"
255 "Ten minutes, good, past eleven."
257 "My blood!" ejaculated the vexed coachman, "and not atop of Shoot-
258 er's yet! Tst! Yah! Get on with you!"
260 The emphatic horse, cut short by the whip in a most decided negative,
261 made a decided scramble for it, and the three other horses followed suit.
262 Once more, the Dover mail struggled on, with the jack-boots of its pas-
263 sengers squashing along by its side. They had stopped when the coach
264 stopped, and they kept close company with it. If any one of the three had
265 had the hardihood to propose to another to walk on a little ahead into
266 the mist and darkness, he would have put himself in a fair way of getting
267 shot instantly as a highwayman.
271 8
275 The last burst carried the mail to the summit of the hill. The horses
276 stopped to breathe again, and the guard got down to skid the wheel for
277 the descent, and open the coach-door to let the passengers in.
279 "Tst! Joe!" cried the coachman in a warning voice, looking down from
280 his box.
282 "What do you say, Tom?"
284 They both listened.
286 "I say a horse at a canter coming up, Joe."
288 "I say a horse at a gallop, Tom," returned the guard, leaving his hold
289 of the door, and mounting nimbly to his place. "Gentlemen! In the kings
290 name, all of you!"
292 With this hurried adjuration, he cocked his blunderbuss, and stood on
293 the offensive.
295 The passenger booked by this history, was on the coach-step, getting
296 in; the two other passengers were close behind him, and about to follow.
297 He remained on the step, half in the coach and half out of; they re-
298 mained in the road below him. They all looked from the coachman to the
299 guard, and from the guard to the coachman, and listened. The coachman
300 looked back and the guard looked back, and even the emphatic leader
301 pricked up his ears and looked back, without contradicting.
303 The stillness consequent on the cessation of the rumbling and labour-
304 ing of the coach, added to the stillness of the night, made it very quiet in-
305 deed. The panting of the horses communicated a tremulous motion to
306 the coach, as if it were in a state of agitation. The hearts of the passengers
307 beat loud enough perhaps to be heard; but at any rate, the quiet pause
308 was audibly expressive of people out of breath, and holding the breath,
309 and having the pulses quickened by expectation.
311 The sound of a horse at a gallop came fast and furiously up the hill.
313 "So-ho!" the guard sang out, as loud as he could roar. "Yo there!
314 Stand! I shall fire!"
316 The pace was suddenly checked, and, with much splashing and
317 floundering, a man's voice called from the mist, "Is that the Dover mail?"
319 "Never you mind what it is!" the guard retorted. "What are you?"
321 "Is that the Dover mail?"
323 "Why do you want to know?"
325 "I want a passenger, if it is."
329 9
333 "What passenger?"
335 "Mr. Jarvis Lorry."
337 Our booked passenger showed in a moment that it was his name. The
338 guard, the coachman, and the two other passengers eyed him
339 distrustfully.
341 "Keep where you are," the guard called to the voice in the mist,
342 "because, if I should make a mistake, it could never be set right in your
343 lifetime. Gentleman of the name of Lorry answer straight."
345 "What is the matter?" asked the passenger, then, with mildly quaver-
346 ing speech. "Who wants me? Is it Jerry?"
348 ("I don't like Jerry's voice, if it is Jerry," growled the guard to himself.
349 "He's hoarser than suits me, is Jerry.")
351 "Yes, Mr. Lorry."
353 "What is the matter?"
355 "A despatch sent after you from over yonder. T. and Co."
357 "I know this messenger, guard," said Mr. Lorry, getting down into the
358 road - assisted from behind more swiftly than politely by the other two
359 passengers, who immediately scrambled into the coach, shut the door,
360 and pulled up the window. "He may come close; there's nothing
361 wrong."
363 "I hope there ain't, but I can't make so 'Nation sure of that," said the
364 guard, in gruff soliloquy. "Hallo you!"
366 "Well! And hallo you!" said Jerry, more hoarsely than before.
368 "Come on at a footpace! d'ye mind me? And if you've got holsters to
369 that saddle o' yourn, don't let me see your hand go nigh 'em. For I'm a
370 devil at a quick mistake, and when I make one it takes the form of Lead.
371 So now let's look at you."
373 The figures of a horse and rider came slowly through the eddying
374 mist, and came to the side of the mail, where the passenger stood. The
375 rider stooped, and, casting up his eyes at the guard, handed the passen-
376 ger a small folded paper. The rider's horse was blown, and both horse
377 and rider were covered with mud, from the hoofs of the horse to the hat
378 of the man.
380 "Guard!" said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence.
382 The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raised blun-
383 derbuss, his left at the barrel, and his eye on the horseman, answered
384 curtly, "Sir."
388 10
392 "There is nothing to apprehend. I belong to Tellson's Bank. You must
393 know Tellson's Bank in London. I am going to Paris on business. A
394 crown to drink. I may read this?"
396 "If so be as you're quick, sir."
398 He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and
399 read - first to himself and then aloud: "'Wait at Dover for Mam'selle.' It's
400 not long, you see, guard. Jerry, say that my answer was, RECALLED TO
401 LIFE."
403 Jerry started in his saddle. "That's a Blazing strange answer, too," said
404 he, at his hoarsest.
406 "Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as
407 well as if I wrote. Make the best of your way. Good night."
409 With those words the passenger opened the coach-door and got in; not
410 at all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted
411 their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general
412 pretence of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape
413 the hazard of originating any other kind of action.
415 The coach lumbered on again, with heavier wreaths of mist closing
416 round it as it began the descent. The guard soon replaced his blunder-
417 buss in his arm-chest, and, having looked to the rest of its contents, and
418 having looked to the supplementary pistols that he wore in his belt,
419 looked to a smaller chest beneath his seat, in which there were a few
420 smith's tools, a couple of torches, and a tinder-box. For he was furnished
421 with that completeness that if the coach-lamps had been blown and
422 stormed out, which did occasionally happen, he had only to shut himself
423 up inside, keep the flint and steel sparks well off the straw, and get a
424 light with tolerable safety and ease (if he were lucky) in five minutes.
426 "Tom!" softly over the coach roof.
428 "Hallo, Joe."
430 "Did you hear the message?"
432 "I did, Joe."
434 "What did you make of it, Tom?"
436 "Nothing at all, Joe."
438 "That's a coincidence, too," the guard mused, "for I made the same of
439 it myself."
441 Jerry, left alone in the mist and darkness, dismounted meanwhile, not
442 only to ease his spent horse, but to wipe the mud from his face, and
446 11
450 shake the wet out of his hat-brim, which might be capable of holding
451 about half a gallon. After standing with the bridle over his heavily-
452 splashed arm, until the wheels of the mail were no longer within hearing
453 and the night was quite still again, he turned to walk down the hill.
455 "After that there gallop from Temple Bar, old lady, I won't trust your
456 fore-legs till I get you on the level," said this hoarse messenger, glancing
457 at his mare. "'Recalled to life.' That's a Blazing strange message. Much of
458 that wouldn't do for you, Jerry! I say, Jerry! You'd be in a Blazing bad
459 way, if recalling to life was to come into fashion, Jerry!"
463 12
467 Chapter
471 3
475 The Night Shadows
477 A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is consti-
478 tuted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn
479 consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those
480 darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every
481 one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hun-
482 dreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret
483 to the heart nearest it! Something of the awfulness, even of Death itself, is
484 referable to this. No more can I turn the leaves of this dear book that I
485 loved, and vainly hope in time to read it all. No more can I look into the
486 depths of this unfathomable water, wherein, as momentary lights
487 glanced into it, I have had glimpses of buried treasure and other things
488 submerged. It was appointed that the book should shut with a spring,
489 for ever and for ever, when I had read but a page. It was appointed that
490 the water should be locked in an eternal frost, when the light was play-
491 ing on its surface, and I stood in ignorance on the shore. My friend is
492 dead, my neighbour is dead, my love, the darling of my soul, is dead; it
493 is the inexorable consolidation and perpetuation of the secret that was al-
494 ways in that individuality, and which I shall carry in mine to my life's
495 end. In any of the burial-places of this city through which I pass, is there
496 a sleeper more inscrutable than its busy inhabitants are, in their inner-
497 most personality, to me, or than I am to them?
499 As to this, his natural and not to be alienated inheritance, the messen-
500 ger on horseback had exactly the same possessions as the King, the first
501 Minister of State, or the richest merchant in London. So with the three
502 passengers shut up in the narrow compass of one lumbering old mail
503 coach; they were mysteries to one another, as complete as if each had
504 been in his own coach and six, or his own coach and sixty, with the
505 breadth of a county between him and the next.
507 The messenger rode back at an easy trot, stopping pretty often at ale-
508 houses by the way to drink, but evincing a tendency to keep his own
512 13
516 counsel, and to keep his hat cocked over his eyes. He had eyes that assor-
517 ted very well with that decoration, being of a surface black, with no
518 depth in the colour or form, and much too near together - as if they were
519 afraid of being found out in something, singly, if they kept too far apart.
520 They had a sinister expression, under an old cocked-hat like a three-
521 cornered spittoon, and over a great muffler for the chin and throat,
522 which descended nearly to the wearer's knees. When he stopped for
523 drink, he moved this muffler with his left hand, only while he poured his
524 liquor in with his right; as soon as that was done, he muffled again.
526 "No, Jerry, no!" said the messenger, harping on one theme as he rode.
527 "It wouldn't do for you, Jerry. Jerry, you honest tradesman, it wouldn't
528 suit your line of business! Recalled - ! Bust me if I don't think he'd been a
529 drinking!"
531 His message perplexed his mind to that degree that he was fain, sever-
532 al times, to take off his hat to scratch his head. Except on the crown,
533 which was raggedly bald, he had stiff, black hair, standing jaggedly all
534 over it, and growing down hill almost to his broad, blunt nose. It was so
535 like Smith's work, so much more like the top of a strongly spiked wall
536 than a head of hair, that the best of players at leap-frog might have de-
537 clined him, as the most dangerous man in the world to go over.
539 While he trotted back with the message he was to deliver to the night
540 watchman in his box at the door of Tellson's Bank, by Temple Bar, who
541 was to deliver it to greater authorities within, the shadows of the night
542 took such shapes to him as arose out of the message, and took such
543 shapes to the mare as arose out of her private topics of uneasiness. They
544 seemed to be numerous, for she shied at every shadow on the road.
546 What time, the mail-coach lumbered, jolted, rattled, and bumped upon
547 its tedious way, with its three fellow-inscrutables inside. To whom, like-
548 wise, the shadows of the night revealed themselves, in the forms their
549 dozing eyes and wandering thoughts suggested.
551 Tellson's Bank had a run upon it in the mail. As the bank passen-
552 ger - with an arm drawn through the leathern strap, which did what lay
553 in it to keep him from pounding against the next passenger, and driving
554 him into his corner, whenever the coach got a special jolt - nodded in his
555 place, with half-shut eyes, the little coach-windows, and the coach-lamp
556 dimly gleaming through them, and the bulky bundle of opposite passen-
557 ger, became the bank, and did a great stroke of business. The rattle of the
558 harness was the chink of money, and more drafts were honoured in five
559 minutes than even Tellson's, with all its foreign and home connexion,
563 14
567 ever paid in thrice the time. Then the strong-rooms underground, at Tell-
568 son's, with such of their valuable stores and secrets as were known to the
569 passenger (and it was not a little that he knew about them), opened be-
570 fore him, and he went in among them with the great keys and the feebly-
571 burning candle, and found them safe, and strong, and sound, and still,
572 just as he had last seen them.
574 But, though the bank was almost always with him, and though the
575 coach (in a confused way, like the presence of pain under an opiate) was
576 always with him, there was another current of impression that never
577 ceased to run, all through the night. He was on his way to dig some one
578 out of a grave.
580 Now, which of the multitude of faces that showed themselves before
581 him was the true face of the buried person, the shadows of the night did
582 not indicate; but they were all the faces of a man of five-and-forty by
583 years, and they differed principally in the passions they expressed, and
584 in the ghastliness of their worn and wasted state. Pride, contempt, defi-
585 ance, stubbornness, submission, lamentation, succeeded one another; so
586 did varieties of sunken cheek, cadaverous colour, emaciated hands and
587 figures. But the face was in the main one face, and every head was pre-
588 maturely white. A hundred times the dozing passenger inquired of this
589 spectre:
591 "Buried how long?"
593 The answer was always the same: "Almost eighteen years."
595 "You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?"
597 "Long ago."
599 "You know that you are recalled to life?"
601 "They tell me so."
603 "I hope you care to live?"
605 "I can't say."
607 "Shall I show her to you? Will you come and see her?"
609 The answers to this question were various and contradictory. Some-
610 times the broken reply was, "Wait! It would kill me if I saw her too
611 soon." Sometimes, it was given in a tender rain of tears, and then it was,
612 "Take me to her." Sometimes it was staring and bewildered, and then it
613 was, "I don't know her. I don't understand."
615 After such imaginary discourse, the passenger in his fancy would dig,
616 and dig, dig - now with a spade, now with a great key, now with his
620 15
624 hands - to dig this wretched creature out. Got out at last, with earth
625 hanging about his face and hair, he would suddenly fan away to dust.
626 The passenger would then start to himself, and lower the window, to get
627 the reality of mist and rain on his cheek.
629 Yet even when his eyes were opened on the mist and rain, on the mov-
630 ing patch of light from the lamps, and the hedge at the roadside retreat-
631 ing by jerks, the night shadows outside the coach would fall into the
632 train of the night shadows within. The real Banking-house by Temple
633 Bar, the real business of the past day, the real strong rooms, the real ex-
634 press sent after him, and the real message returned, would all be there.
635 Out of the midst of them, the ghostly face would rise, and he would ac-
636 cost it again.
638 "Buried how long?"
640 "Almost eighteen years."
642 "I hope you care to live?"
644 "I can't say."
646 Dig - dig - dig - until an impatient movement from one of the two
647 passengers would admonish him to pull up the window, draw his arm
648 securely through the leathern strap, and speculate upon the two slum-
649 bering forms, until his mind lost its hold of them, and they again slid
650 away into the bank and the grave.
652 "Buried how long?"
654 "Almost eighteen years."
656 "You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?"
658 "Long ago."
660 The words were still in his hearing as just spoken - distinctly in his
661 hearing as ever spoken words had been in his life - when the weary pas-
662 senger started to the consciousness of daylight, and found that the shad-
663 ows of the night were gone.
665 He lowered the window, and looked out at the rising sun. There was a
666 ridge of ploughed land, with a plough upon it where it had been left last
667 night when the horses were unyoked; beyond, a quiet coppice-wood, in
668 which many leaves of burning red and golden yellow still remained
669 upon the trees. Though the earth was cold and wet, the sky was clear,
670 and the sun rose bright, placid, and beautiful.
672 "Eighteen years!" said the passenger, looking at the sun. "Gracious
673 Creator of day! To be buried alive for eighteen years!"
677 16
681 Chapter
685 4
689 The Preparation
691 When the mail got successfully to Dover, in the course of the forenoon,
692 the head drawer at the Royal George Hotel opened the coach-door as his
693 custom was. He did it with some flourish of ceremony, for a mail journey
694 from London in winter was an achievement to congratulate an adventur-
695 ous traveller upon.
697 By that time, there was only one adventurous traveller left be congrat-
698 ulated: for the two others had been set down at their respective roadside
699 destinations. The mildewy inside of the coach, with its damp and dirty
700 straw, its disageeable smell, and its obscurity, was rather like a larger
701 dog-kennel. Mr. Lorry, the passenger, shaking himself out of it in chains
702 of straw, a tangle of shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and muddy legs, was
703 rather like a larger sort of dog.
705 'There will be a packet to Calais, tomorrow, drawer?"
707 "Yes, sir, if the weather holds and the wind sets tolerable fair. The tide
708 will serve pretty nicely at about two in the afternoon, sir. Bed, sir?"
710 "I shall not go to bed till night; but I want a bedroom, and a barber."
712 "And then breakfast, sir? Yes, sir. That way, sir, if you please. Show
713 Concord! Gentleman's valise and hot water to Concord. Pull off gentle-
714 man's boots in Concord. (You will find a fine sea-coal fire, sir.) Fetch
715 barber to Concord. Stir about there, now, for Concord!"
717 The Concord bed-chamber being always assigned to a passenger by
718 the mail, and passengers by the mail being always heavily wrapped up
719 from head to foot, the room had the odd interest for the establishment of
720 the Royal George, that although but one kind of man was seen to go into
721 it, all kinds and varieties of men came out of it. Consequently, another
722 drawer, and two porters, and several maids and the landlady, were all
723 loitering by accident at various points of the road between the Concord
724 and the coffee-room, when a gentleman of sixty, formally dressed in a
725 brown suit of clothes, pretty well worn, but very well kept, with large
729 17
733 square cuffs and large flaps to the pockets, passed along on his way to
734 his breakfast.
736 The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, than the gentle-
737 man in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn before the fire, and as he
738 sat, with its light shining on him, waiting for the meal, he sat so still, that
739 he might have been sitting for his portrait.
741 Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on each knee, and
742 a loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under his flapped waist-coat, as
743 though it pitted its gravity and longevity against the levity and evanes-
744 cence of the brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a little vain of it, for
745 his brown stockings fitted sleek and close, and were of a fine texture; his
746 shoes and buckles, too, though plain, were trim. He wore an odd little
747 sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting very close to his head: which wig, it is to
748 be presumed, was made of hair, but which looked far more as though it
749 were spun from filaments of silk or glass. His linen, though not of a fine-
750 ness in accordance with his stockings, was as white as the tops of the
751 waves that broke upon the neighbouring beach, or the specks of sail that
752 glinted in the sunlight far at sea. A face habitually suppressed and
753 quieted, was still lighted up under the quaint wig by a pair of moist
754 bright eyes that it must have cost their owner, in years gone by, some
755 pains to drill to the composed and reserved expression of Tellson's Bank.
756 He had a healthy colour in his cheeks, and his face, though lined, bore
757 few traces of anxiety. But, perhaps the confidential bachelor clerks in
758 Tellson's Bank were principally occupied with the cares of other people;
759 and perhaps second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily
760 off and on.
762 Completing his resemblance to a man who was sitting for his portrait,
763 Mr. Lorry dropped off to sleep. The arrival of his breakfast roused him,
764 and he said to the drawer, as he moved his chair to it:
766 "I wish accommodation prepared for a young lady who may come
767 here at any time to-day. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or she may
768 only ask for a gentleman from Tellson's Bank. Please to let me know."
770 "Yes, sir. Tellson's Bank in London, sir?"
772 "Yes."
774 "Yes, sir. We have oftentimes the honour to entertain your gentlemen
775 in their travelling backwards and forwards betwixt London and Paris,
776 sir. A vast deal of travelling, sir, in Tellson and Company's House."
778 "Yes. We are quite a French House, as well as an English one."
782 18
786 "Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling yourself, I think,
787 sir?"
789 "Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we - since I - came last from
790 France."
792 "Indeed, sir? That was before my time here, sir. Before our people's
793 time here, sir. The George was in other hands at that time, sir."
795 "I believe so."
797 "But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House like Tellson and
798 Company was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not to speak of fifteen years
799 ago?"
801 "You might treble that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet not be far
802 from the truth."
804 "Indeed, sir!"
806 Rounding his mouth and both his eyes, as he stepped backward from
807 the table, the waiter shifted his napkin from his right arm to his left,
808 dropped into a comfortable attitude, and stood surveying the guest
809 while he ate and drank, as from an observatory or watchtower. Accord-
810 ing to the immemorial usage of waiters in all ages.
812 When Mr. Lorry had finished his breakfast, he went out for a stroll on
813 the beach. The little narrow, crooked town of Dover hid itself away from
814 the beach, and ran its head into the chalk cliffs, like a marine ostrich. The
815 beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stones tumbling wildly about,
816 and the sea did what it liked, and what it liked was destruction. It
817 thundered at the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and brought the coast
818 down, madly. The air among the houses was of so strong a piscatory fla-
819 vour that one might have supposed sick fish went up to be dipped in it,
820 as sick people went down to be dipped in the sea. A little fishing was
821 done in the port, and a quantity of strolling about by night, and looking
822 seaward: particularly at those times when the tide made, and was near
823 flood. Small tradesmen, who did no business whatever, sometimes unac-
824 countably realised large fortunes, and it was remarkable that nobody in
825 the neighbourhood could endure a lamplighter.
827 As the day declined into the afternoon, and the air, which had been at
828 intervals clear enough to allow the French coast to be seen, became again
829 charged with mist and vapour, Mr. Lorry's thoughts seemed to cloud
830 too. When it was dark, and he sat before the coffee-room fire, awaiting
831 his dinner as he had awaited his breakfast, his mind was busily digging,
832 digging, digging, in the live red coals.
836 19
840 A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the red coals no
841 harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throw him out of work. Mr.
842 Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just poured out his last glassful
843 of wine with as complete an appearance of satisfaction as is ever to be
844 found in an elderly gentleman of a fresh complexion who has got to the
845 end of a bottle, when a rattling of wheels came up the narrow street, and
846 rumbled into the inn-yard.
848 He set down his glass untouched. "This is Mam'selle!" said he.
850 In a very few minutes the waiter came in to announce that Miss
851 Manette had arrived from London, and would be happy to see the gen-
852 tleman from Tellson's.
854 "So soon?"
856 Miss Manette had taken some refreshment on the road, and required
857 none then, and was extremely anxious to see the gentleman from Tell-
858 son's immediately, if it suited his pleasure and convenience.
860 The gentleman from Tellson's had nothing left for it but to empty his
861 glass with an air of stolid desperation, settle his odd little flaxen wig at
862 the ears, and follow the waiter to Miss Manette's apartment. It was a
863 large, dark room, furnished in a funereal manner with black horsehair,
864 and loaded with heavy dark tables. These had been oiled and oiled, until
865 the two tall candles on the table in the middle of the room were gloomily
866 reflected on every leaf; as if they were buried, in deep graves of black
867 mahogany, and no light to speak of could be expected from them until
868 they were dug out.
870 The obscurity was so difficult to penetrate that Mr. Lorry, picking his
871 way over the well-worn Turkey carpet, supposed Miss Manette to be, for
872 the moment, in some adjacent room, until, having got past the two tall
873 candles, he saw standing to receive him by the table between them and
874 the fire, a young lady of not more than seventeen, in a riding-cloak, and
875 still holding her straw travelling-hat by its ribbon in her hand. As his
876 eyes rested on a short, slight, pretty figure, a quantity of golden hair, a
877 pair of blue eyes that met his own with an inquiring look, and a forehead
878 with a singular capacity (remembering how young and smooth it was),
879 of rifting and knitting itself into an expression that was not quite one of
880 perplexity, or wonder, or alarm, or merely of a bright fixed attention,
881 though it included all the four expressions - as his eyes rested on these
882 things, a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, of a child whom he
883 had held in his arms on the passage across that very Channel, one cold
884 time, when the hail drifted heavily and the sea ran high. The likeness
888 20
892 passed away, like a breath along the surface of the gaunt pier-glass be-
893 hind her, on the frame of which, a hospital procession of negro cupids,
894 several headless and all cripples, were offering black baskets of Dead Sea
895 fruit to black divinities of the feminine gender - and he made his formal
896 bow to Miss Manette.
898 "Pray take a seat, sir." In a very clear and pleasant young voice; a little
899 foreign in its accent, but a very little indeed.
901 "I kiss your hand, miss," said Mr. Lorry, with the manners of an earli-
902 er date, as he made his formal bow again, and took his seat.
904 "I received a letter from the Bank, sir, yesterday, informing me that
905 some intelligence - or discovery - "
907 "The word is not material, miss; either word will do."
909 " - respecting the small property of my poor father, whom I never
910 saw - so long dead - "
912 Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards the
913 hospital procession of negro cupids. As if they had any help for anybody
914 in their absurd baskets!
916 " - rendered it necessary that I should go to Paris, there to communic-
917 ate with a gentleman of the Bank, so good as to be despatched to Paris
918 for the purpose."
920 "Myself."
922 "As I was prepared to hear, sir."
924 She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in those days), with
925 a pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older and wiser
926 he was than she. He made her another bow.
928 "I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, by those
929 who know, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should go to
930 France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could go
931 with me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to place my-
932 self, during the journey, under that worthy gentleman's protection. The
933 gentleman had left London, but I think a messenger was sent after him to
934 beg the favour of his waiting for me here."
936 "I was happy," said Mr. Lorry, "to be entrusted with the charge. I shall
937 be more happy to execute it."
939 "Sir, I thank you indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It was told me by
940 the Bank that the gentleman would explain to me the details of the busi-
941 ness, and that I must prepare myself to find them of a surprising nature.
945 21
949 I have done my best to prepare myself, and I naturally have a strong and
950 eager interest to know what they are."
952 "Naturally," said Mr. Lorry. "Yes- I-"
954 After a pause, he added, again settling the crisp flaxen wig at the ears,
955 "It is very difficult to begin."
957 He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. The young
958 forehead lifted itself into that singular expression - but it was pretty and
959 characteristic, besides being singular - and she raised her hand, as if with
960 an involuntary action she caught at, or stayed some passing shadow.
962 "Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?"
964 "Am I not?" Mr. Lorry opened his hands, and extended them out-
965 wards with an argumentative smile.
967 Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose, the line of
968 which was as delicate and fine as it was possible to be, the expression
969 deepened itself as she took her seat thoughtfully in the chair by which
970 she had hitherto remained standing. He watched her as she mused, and
971 the moment she raised her eyes again, went on:
973 "In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better than address
974 you as a young English lady, Miss Manette?"
976 "If you please, sir."
978 "Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a business charge to ac-
979 quit myself of. In your reception of it, don't heed me any more than if I
980 was a speaking machine-truly, I am not much else. I will, with your
981 leave, relate to you, miss, the story of one of our customers."
983 "Story!"
985 He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, when he
986 added, in a hurry, "Yes, customers; in the banking business we usually
987 call our connexion our customers. He was a French gentleman; a scientif-
988 ic gentleman; a man of great acquirements - a Doctor."
990 "Not of Beauvais?"
992 "Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the gen-
993 tleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the gentle-
994 man was of repute in Paris. I had the honour of knowing him there. Our
995 relations were business relations, but confidential. I was at that time in
996 our French House, and had been - oh! twenty years."
998 "At that time - I may ask, at what time, sir?"
1002 22
1006 "I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He married - an English
1007 lady - and I was one of the trustees. His affairs, like the affairs of many
1008 other French gentlemen and French families, were entirely in Tellson's
1009 hands. In a similar way I am, or I have been, trustee of one kind or other
1010 for scores of our customers. These are mere business relations, miss;
1011 there is no friendship in them, no particular interest, nothing like senti-
1012 ment. I have passed from one to another, in the course of my business
1013 life, just as I pass from one of our customers to another in the course of
1014 my business day; in short, I have no feelings; I am a mere machine. To go
1015 on-"
1017 "But this is my father's story, sir; and I begin to think" - the curiously
1018 roughened forehead was very intent upon him - "that when I was left an
1019 orphan through my mother's surviving my father only two years, it was
1020 you who brought me to England. I am almost sure it was you."
1022 Mr. Lorry took the hesitating little hand that confidingly advanced to
1023 take his, and he put it with some ceremony to his lips. He then conduc-
1024 ted the young lady straightway to her chair again, and, holding the
1025 chair-back with his left hand, and using his right by turns to rub his chin,
1026 pull his wig at the ears, or point what he said, stood looking down into
1027 her face while she sat looking up into his.
1029 "Miss Manette, it WAS I. And you will see how truly I spoke of myself
1030 just now, in saying I had no feelings, and that all the relations I hold with
1031 my fellow-creatures are mere business relations, when you reflect that I
1032 have never seen you since. No; you have been the ward of Tellson's
1033 House since, and I have been busy with the other business of Tellson's
1034 House since. Feelings! I have no time for them, no chance of them. I pass
1035 my whole life, miss, in turning an immense pecuniary Mangle."
1037 After this odd description of his daily routine of employment, Mr.
1038 Lorry flattened his flaxen wig upon his head with both hands (which
1039 was most unnecessary, for nothing could be flatter than its shining sur-
1040 face was before), and resumed his former attitude.
1042 "So far, miss (as you have remarked), this is the story of your regretted
1043 father. Now comes the difference. If your father had not died when he
1044 did - Don't be frightened! How you start!"
1046 She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands.
1048 "Pray," said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing his left hand from
1049 the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatory fingers that clasped him
1050 in so violent a tremble: "pray control your agitation - a matter of busi-
1051 ness. As I was saying - "
1055 23
1059 Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered, and began
1060 anew:
1062 "As I was saying; if Monsieur Manette had not died; if he had sud-
1063 denly and silently disappeared; if he had been spirited away; if it had not
1064 been difficult to guess to what dreadful place, though no art could trace
1065 him; if he had an enemy in some compatriot who could exercise a priv-
1066 ilege that I in my own time have known the boldest people afraid to
1067 speak of in a whisper, across the water there; for instance, the privilege
1068 of filling up blank forms for the consignment of any one to the oblivion
1069 of a prison for any length of time; if his wife had implored the king, the
1070 queen, the court, the clergy, for any tidings of him, and all quite in
1071 vain; - then the history of your father would have been the history of this
1072 unfortunate gentleman, the Doctor of Beauvais."
1074 "I entreat you to tell me more, sir."
1076 "I will. I am going to. You can bear it?"
1078 "I can bear anything but the uncertainty you leave me in at this
1079 moment."
1081 "You speak collectedly, and you - are collected. That's good!" (Though
1082 his manner was less satisfied than his words.) "A matter of business.
1083 Regard it as a matter of business-business that must be done. Now if this
1084 doctor's wife, though a lady of great courage and spirit, had suffered so
1085 intensely from this cause before her little child was born - "
1087 "The little child was a daughter, sir."
1089 "A daughter. A-a-matter of business - don't be distressed. Miss, if the
1090 poor lady had suffered so intensely before her little child was born, that
1091 she came to the determination of sparing the poor child the inheritance
1092 of any part of the agony she had known the pains of, by rearing her in
1093 the belief that her father was dead - No, don't kneel! In Heaven's name
1094 why should you kneel to me!"
1096 "For the truth. O dear, good, compassionate sir, for the truth!"
1098 "A-a matter of business. You confuse me, and how can I transact busi-
1099 ness if I am confused? Let us be clear-headed. If you could kindly men-
1100 tion now, for instance, what nine times ninepence are, or how many shil-
1101 lings in twenty guineas, it would be so encouraging. I should be so much
1102 more at my ease about your state of mind."
1104 Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had
1105 very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp his
1109 24:
1113 wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she commu-
1114 nicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry.
1116 "That's right, that's right. Courage! Business! You have business be-
1117 fore you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course
1118 with you. And when she died - I believe broken-hearted - having never
1119 slackened her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two
1120 years old, to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the
1121 dark cloud upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon
1122 wore his heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering
1123 years."
1125 As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the
1126 flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might have been
1127 already tinged with grey.
1129 "You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what
1130 they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new
1131 discovery, of money, or of any other property; but - "
1133 He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the
1134 forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was
1135 now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror.
1137 "But he has been - been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too
1138 probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope the best.
1139 Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant in
1140 Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to restore
1141 him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort."
1143 A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a
1144 low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream,
1146 "I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost - not him!"
1148 Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. "There, there,
1149 there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now.
1150 You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a
1151 fair sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear
1152 side."
1154 She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, "I have been free, I
1155 have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!"
1157 "Only one thing more," said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a
1158 wholesome means of enforcing her attention: "he has been found under
1159 another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be
1160 worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to
1164 25
1168 know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly
1169 held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries,
1170 because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, any-
1171 where or in any way, and to remove him - for a while at all events - out
1172 of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson's, important
1173 as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of the matter. I carry about
1174 me, not a scrap of writing openly referring to it. This is a secret service
1175 altogether. My credentials, entries, and memoranda, are all comprehen-
1176 ded in the one line, 'Recalled to Life;' which may mean anything. But
1177 what is the matter! She doesn't notice a word! Miss Manette!"
1179 Perfectly still and silent, and not even fallen back in her chair, she sat
1180 under his hand, utterly insensible; with her eyes open and fixed upon
1181 him, and with that last expression looking as if it were carved or branded
1182 into her forehead. So close was her hold upon his arm, that he feared to
1183 detach himself lest he should hurt her; therefore he called out loudly for
1184 assistance without moving.
1186 A wild-looking woman, whom even in his agitation, Mr. Lorry ob-
1187 served to be all of a red colour, and to have red hair, and to be dressed in
1188 some extraordinary tight-fitting fashion, and to have on her head a most
1189 wonderful bonnet like a Grenadier wooden measure, and good measure
1190 too, or a great Stilton cheese, came running into the room in advance of
1191 the inn servants, and soon settled the question of his detachment from
1192 the poor young lady, by laying a brawny hand upon his chest, and send-
1193 ing him flying back against the nearest wall.
1195 ("I really think this must be a man!" was Mr. Lorry's breathless reflex-
1196 ion, simultaneously with his coming against the wall.)
1198 "Why, look at you all!" bawled this figure, addressing the inn ser-
1199 vants. "Why don't you go and fetch things, instead of standing there
1200 staring at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Why don't you go and
1201 fetch things? I'll let you know, if you don't bring smelling-salts, cold wa-
1202 ter, and vinegar, quick, I will."
1204 There was an immediate dispersal for these restoratives, and she softly
1205 laid the patient on a sofa, and tended her with great skill and gentleness:
1206 calling her "my precious!" and "my bird!" and spreading her golden hair
1207 aside over her shoulders with great pride and care.
1209 "And you in brown!" she said, indignantly turning to Mr. Lorry;
1210 "couldn't you tell her what you had to tell her, without frightening her to
1211 death? Look at her, with her pretty pale face and her cold hands. Do you
1212 call that being a Banker?"
1216 26
1220 Mr. Lorry was so exceedingly disconcerted by a question so hard to
1221 answer, that he could only look on, at a distance, with much feebler sym-
1222 pathy and humility, while the strong woman, having banished the inn
1223 servants under the mysterious penalty of "letting them know"
1224 something not mentioned if they stayed there, staring, recovered her
1225 charge by a regular series of gradations, and coaxed her to lay her droop-
1226 ing head upon her shoulder.
1228 "I hope she will do well now," said Mr. Lorry.
1230 "No thanks to you in brown, if she does. My darling pretty!"
1232 "I hope," said Mr. Lorry, after another pause of feeble sympathy and
1233 humility, "that you accompany Miss Manette to France?"
1235 "A likely thing, too!" replied the strong woman. "If it was ever inten-
1236 ded that I should go across salt water, do you suppose Providence
1237 would have cast my lot in an island?"
1239 This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry with-
1240 drew to consider it.
1244 27
1248 Chapter
1252 5
1256 The Wine-shop
1258 A large cask of wine had been dropped and broken, in the street. The
1259 accident had happened in getting it out of a cart; the cask had tumbled
1260 out with a run, the hoops had burst, and it lay on the stones just outside
1261 the door of the wine-shop, shattered like a walnut-shell.
1263 All the people within reach had suspended their business, or their
1264 idleness, to run to the spot and drink the wine. The rough, irregular
1265 stones of the street, pointing every way, and designed, one might have
1266 thought, expressly to lame all living creatures that approached them, had
1267 dammed it into little pools; these were surrounded, each by its own jost-
1268 ling group or crowd, according to its size. Some men kneeled down,
1269 made scoops of their two hands joined, and sipped, or tried to help wo-
1270 men, who bent over their shoulders, to sip, before the wine had all run
1271 out between their fingers. Others, men and women, dipped in the
1272 puddles with little mugs of mutilated earthenware, or even with
1273 handkerchiefs from women's heads, which were squeezed dry into in-
1274 fants' mouths; others made small mud-embankments, to stem the wine
1275 as it ran; others, directed by lookers-on up at high windows, darted here
1276 and there, to cut off little streams of wine that started away in new direc-
1277 tions; others devoted themselves to the sodden and lee-dyed pieces of
1278 the cask, licking, and even champing the moister wine-rotted fragments
1279 with eager relish. There was no drainage to carry off the wine, and not
1280 only did it all get taken up, but so much mud got taken up along with it,
1281 that there might have been a scavenger in the street, if anybody acquain-
1282 ted with it could have believed in such a miraculous presence.
1284 A shrill sound of laughter and of amused voices - voices of men, wo-
1285 men, and children - resounded in the street while this wine game lasted.
1286 There was little roughness in the sport, and much playfulness. There was
1287 a special companionship in it, an observable inclination on the part of
1288 every one to join some other one, which led, especially among the luckier
1289 or lighter-hearted, to frolicsome embraces, drinking of healths, shaking
1293 28
1297 of hands, and even joining of hands and dancing, a dozen together.
1298 When the wine was gone, and the places where it had been most abund-
1299 ant were raked into a gridiron-pattern by fingers, these demonstrations
1300 ceased, as suddenly as they had broken out. The man who had left his
1301 saw sticking in the firewood he was cutting, set it in motion again; the
1302 women who had left on a door-step the little pot of hot ashes, at which
1303 she had been trying to soften the pain in her own starved fingers and
1304 toes, or in those of her child, returned to it; men with bare arms, matted
1305 locks, and cadaverous faces, who had emerged into the winter light from
1306 cellars, moved away, to descend again; and a gloom gathered on the
1307 scene that appeared more natural to it than sunshine.
1309 The wine was red wine, and had stained the ground of the narrow
1310 street in the suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, where it was spilled. It had
1311 stained many hands, too, and many faces, and many naked feet, and
1312 many wooden shoes. The hands of the man who sawed the wood, left
1313 red marks on the billets; and the forehead of the woman who nursed her
1314 baby, was stained with the stain of the old rag she wound about her
1315 head again. Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had
1316 acquired a tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so be-
1317 smirched, his head more out of a long squalid bag of a nightcap than in
1318 it, scrawled upon a wall with his finger dipped in muddy wine-
1319 lees- BLOOD.
1321 The time was to come, when that wine too would be spilled on the
1322 street-stones, and when the stain of it would be red upon many there.
1324 And now that the cloud settled on Saint Antoine, which a momentary
1325 gleam had driven from his sacred countenance, the darkness of it was
1326 heavy-cold, dirt, sickness, ignorance, and want, were the lords in waiting
1327 on the saintly presence-nobles of great power all of them; but, most espe-
1328 cially the last. Samples of a people that had undergone a terrible grind-
1329 ing and regrinding in the mill, and certainly not in the fabulous mill
1330 which ground old people young, shivered at every corner, passed in and
1331 out at every doorway, looked from every window, fluttered in every
1332 vestige of a garment that the wind shook. The mill which had worked
1333 them down, was the mill that grinds young people old; the children had
1334 ancient faces and grave voices; and upon them, and upon the grown
1335 faces, and ploughed into every furrow of age and coming up afresh, was
1336 the sigh, Hunger. It was prevalent everywhere. Hunger was pushed out
1337 of the tall houses, in the wretched clothing that hung upon poles and
1338 lines; Hunger was patched into them with straw and rag and wood and
1339 paper; Hunger was repeated in every fragment of the small modicum of
1343 29
1347 firewood that the man sawed off; Hunger stared down from the smoke-
1348 less chimneys, and started up from the filthy street that had no offal,
1349 among its refuse, of anything to eat. Hunger was the inscription on the
1350 baker's shelves, written in every small loaf of his scanty stock of bad
1351 bread; at the sausage-shop, in every dead-dog preparation that was
1352 offered for sale. Hunger rattled its dry bones among the roasting chest-
1353 nuts in the turned cylinder; Hunger was shred into atomics in every
1354 farthing porringer of husky chips of potato, fried with some reluctant
1355 drops of oil.
1357 Its abiding place was in all things fitted to it. A narrow winding street,
1358 full of offence and stench, with other narrow winding streets diverging,
1359 all peopled by rags and nightcaps, and all smelling of rags and night-
1360 caps, and all visible things with a brooding look upon them that looked
1361 ill. In the hunted air of the people there was yet some wild-beast thought
1362 of the possibility of turning at bay. Depressed and slinking though they
1363 were, eyes of fire were not wanting among them; nor compressed lips,
1364 white with what they suppressed; nor foreheads knitted into the likeness
1365 of the gallows-rope they mused about enduring, or inflicting. The trade
1366 signs (and they were almost as many as the shops) were, all, grim illus-
1367 trations of Want. The butcher and the porkman painted up, only the
1368 leanest scrags of meat; the baker, the coarsest of meagre loaves. The
1369 people rudely pictured as drinking in the wine-shops, croaked over their
1370 scanty measures of thin wine and beer, and were gloweringly confiden-
1371 tial together. Nothing was represented in a flourishing condition, save
1372 tools and weapons; but, the cutler's knives and axes were sharp and
1373 bright, the smith's hammers were heavy, and the gunmaker's stock was
1374 murderous. The crippling stones of the pavement, with their many little
1375 reservoirs of mud and water, had no footways, but broke off abruptly at
1376 the doors. The kennel, to make amends, ran down the middle of the
1377 street - when it ran at all: which was only after heavy rains, and then it
1378 ran, by many eccentric fits, into the houses. Across the streets, at wide in-
1379 tervals, one clumsy lamp was slung by a rope and pulley; at night, when
1380 the lamplighter had let these down, and lighted, and hoisted them again,
1381 a feeble grove of dim wicks swung in a sickly manner overhead, as if
1382 they were at sea. Indeed they were at sea, and the ship and crew were in
1383 peril of tempest.
1385 For, the time was to come, when the gaunt scarecrows of that region
1386 should have watched the lamplighter, in their idleness and hunger, so
1387 long, as to conceive the idea of improving on his method, and hauling up
1388 men by those ropes and pulleys, to flare upon the darkness of their
1392 30
1396 condition. But, the time was not come yet; and every wind that blew
1397 over France shook the rags of the scarecrows in vain, for the birds, fine of
1398 song and feather, took no warning.
1400 The wine-shop was a corner shop, better than most others in its ap-
1401 pearance and degree, and the master of the wine-shop had stood outside
1402 it, in a yellow waistcoat and green breeches, looking on at the struggle
1403 for the lost wine. "It's not my affair," said he, with a final shrug of the
1404 shoulders. "The people from the market did it. Let them bring another."
1406 There, his eyes happening to catch the tall joker writing up his joke, he
1407 called to him across the way:
1409 "Say, then, my Gaspard, what do you do there?"
1411 The fellow pointed to his joke with immense significance, as is often
1412 the way with his tribe. It missed its mark, and completely failed, as is of-
1413 ten the way with his tribe too.
1415 "What now? Are you a subject for the mad hospital?" said the wine-
1416 shop keeper, crossing the road, and obliterating the jest with a handful of
1417 mud, picked up for the purpose, and smeared over it. "Why do you
1418 write in the public streets? Is there - tell me thou - is there no other place
1419 to write such words in?"
1421 In his expostulation he dropped his cleaner hand (perhaps accident-
1422 ally, perhaps not) upon the joker's heart. The joker rapped it with his
1423 own, took a nimble spring upward, and came down in a fantastic dan-
1424 cing attitude, with one of his stained shoes jerked off his foot into his
1425 hand, and held out. A joker of an extremely, not to say wolfishly practic-
1426 al character, he looked, under those circumstances.
1428 "Put it on, put it on," said the other. "Call wine, wine; and finish
1429 there." With that advice, he wiped his soiled hand upon the joker's dress,
1430 such as it was - quite deliberately, as having dirtied the hand on his ac-
1431 count; and then recrossed the road and entered the wine-shop.
1433 This wine-shop keeper was a bull-necked, martial-looking man of
1434 thirty, and he should have been of a hot temperament, for, although it
1435 was a bitter day, he wore no coat, but carried one slung over his
1436 shoulder. His shirt-sleeves were rolled up, too, and his brown arms were
1437 bare to the elbows. Neither did he wear anything more on his head than
1438 his own crisply-curling short dark hair. He was a dark man altogether,
1439 with good eyes and a good bold breadth between them. Good-humoured
1440 looking on the whole, but implacable-looking, too; evidently a man of a
1441 strong resolution and a set purpose; a man not desirable to be met,
1445 31
1449 rushing down a narrow pass with a gulf on either side, for nothing
1450 would turn the man.
1452 Madame Defarge, his wife, sat in the shop behind the counter as he
1453 came in. Madame Defarge was a stout woman of about his own age,
1454 with a watchful eye that seldom seemed to look at anything, a large hand
1455 heavily ringed, a steady face, strong features, and great composure of
1456 manner. There was a character about Madame Defarge, from which one
1457 might have predicated that she did not often make mistakes against her-
1458 self in any of the reckonings over which she presided. Madame Defarge
1459 being sensitive to cold, was wrapped in fur, and had a quantity of bright
1460 shawl twined about her head, though not to the concealment of her large
1461 earrings. Her knitting was before her, but she had laid it down to pick
1462 her teeth with a toothpick. Thus engaged, with her right elbow suppor-
1463 ted by her left hand, Madame Defarge said nothing when her lord came
1464 in, but coughed just one grain of cough. This, in combination with the
1465 lifting of her darkly defined eyebrows over her toothpick by the breadth
1466 of a line, suggested to her husband that he would do well to look round
1467 the shop among the customers, for any new customer who had dropped
1468 in while he stepped over the way.
1470 The wine-shop keeper accordingly rolled his eyes about, until they res-
1471 ted upon an elderly gentleman and a young lady, who were seated in a
1472 corner. Other company were there: two playing cards, two playing dom-
1473 inoes, three standing by the counter lengthening out a short supply of
1474 wine. As he passed behind the counter, he took notice that the elderly
1475 gentleman said in a look to the young lady, "This is our man."
1477 "What the devil do YOU do in that galley there?" said Monsieur De-
1478 farge to himself; "I don't know you."
1480 But, he feigned not to notice the two strangers, and fell into discourse
1481 with the triumvirate of customers who were drinking at the counter.
1483 "How goes it, Jacques?" said one of these three to Monsieur Defarge.
1484 "Is all the spilt wine swallowed?"
1486 "Every drop, Jacques," answered Monsieur Defarge.
1488 When this interchange of Christian name was effected, Madame De-
1489 farge, picking her teeth with her toothpick, coughed another grain of
1490 cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.
1492 "It is not often," said the second of the three, addressing Monsieur De-
1493 farge, "that many of these miserable beasts know the taste of wine, or of
1494 anything but black bread and death. Is it not so, Jacques?"
1498 32
1502 "It is so, Jacques/' Monsieur Defarge returned.
1504 At this second interchange of the Christian name, Madame Defarge,
1505 still using her toothpick with profound composure, coughed another
1506 grain of cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.
1508 The last of the three now said his say, as he put down his empty drink-
1509 ing vessel and smacked his lips.
1511 "Ah! So much the worse! A bitter taste it is that such poor cattle al-
1512 ways have in their mouths, and hard lives they live, Jacques. Am I right,
1513 Jacques?"
1515 "You are right, Jacques," was the response of Monsieur Defarge.
1517 This third interchange of the Christian name was completed at the mo-
1518 ment when Madame Defarge put her toothpick by, kept her eyebrows
1519 up, and slightly rustled in her seat.
1521 "Hold then! True!" muttered her husband. "Gentlemen - my wife!"
1523 The three customers pulled off their hats to Madame Defarge, with
1524 three flourishes. She acknowledged their homage by bending her head,
1525 and giving them a quick look. Then she glanced in a casual manner
1526 round the wine-shop, took up her knitting with great apparent calmness
1527 and repose of spirit, and became absorbed in it.
1529 "Gentlemen," said her husband, who had kept his bright eye observ-
1530 antly upon her, "good day. The chamber, furnished bachelor-fashion,
1531 that you wished to see, and were inquiring for when I stepped out, is on
1532 the fifth floor. The doorway of the staircase gives on the little courtyard
1533 close to the left here," pointing with his hand, "near to the window of
1534 my establishment. But, now that I remember, one of you has already
1535 been there, and can show the way. Gentlemen, adieu!"
1537 They paid for their wine, and left the place. The eyes of Monsieur De-
1538 farge were studying his wife at her knitting when the elderly gentleman
1539 advanced from his corner, and begged the favour of a word.
1541 "Willingly, sir," said Monsieur Defarge, and quietly stepped with him
1542 to the door.
1544 Their conference was very short, but very decided. Almost at the first
1545 word, Monsieur Defarge started and became deeply attentive. It had not
1546 lasted a minute, when he nodded and went out. The gentleman then
1547 beckoned to the young lady, and they, too, went out. Madame Defarge
1548 knitted with nimble fingers and steady eyebrows, and saw nothing.
1552 33
1556 Mr. Jarvis Lorry and Miss Manette, emerging from the wine-shop thus,
1557 joined Monsieur Defarge in the doorway to which he had directed his
1558 own company just before. It opened from a stinking little black court-
1559 yard, and was the general public entrance to a great pile of houses, in-
1560 habited by a great number of people. In the gloomy tile-paved entry to
1561 the gloomy tile-paved staircase, Monsieur Defarge bent down on one
1562 knee to the child of his old master, and put her hand to his lips. It was a
1563 gentle action, but not at all gently done; a very remarkable transforma-
1564 tion had come over him in a few seconds. He had no good-humour in his
1565 face, nor any openness of aspect left, but had become a secret, angry,
1566 dangerous man.
1568 "It is very high; it is a little difficult. Better to begin slowly." Thus,
1569 Monsieur Defarge, in a stern voice, to Mr. Lorry, as they began ascend-
1570 ing the stairs.
1572 "Is he alone?" the latter whispered.
1574 "Alone! God help him, who should be with him!" said the other, in the
1575 same low voice.
1577 "Is he always alone, then?"
1579 "Yes."
1581 "Of his own desire?"
1583 "Of his own necessity. As he was, when I first saw him after they
1584 found me and demanded to know if I would take him, and, at my peril
1585 be discreet - as he was then, so he is now."
1587 "He is greatly changed?"
1589 "Changed!"
1591 The keeper of the wine-shop stopped to strike the wall with his hand,
1592 and mutter a tremendous curse. No direct answer could have been half
1593 so forcible. Mr. Lorry's spirits grew heavier and heavier, as he and his
1594 two companions ascended higher and higher.
1596 Such a staircase, with its accessories, in the older and more crowded
1597 parts of Paris, would be bad enough now; but, at that time, it was vile in-
1598 deed to unaccustomed and unhardened senses. Every little habitation
1599 within the great foul nest of one high building - that is to say, the room
1600 or rooms within every door that opened on the general staircase - left its
1601 own heap of refuse on its own landing, besides flinging other refuse
1602 from its own windows. The uncontrollable and hopeless mass of decom-
1603 position so engendered, would have polluted the air, even if poverty and
1604 deprivation had not loaded it with their intangible impurities; the two
1608 34
1612 bad sources combined made it almost insupportable. Through such an
1613 atmosphere, by a steep dark shaft of dirt and poison, the way lay. Yield-
1614 ing to his own disturbance of mind, and to his young companion's agita-
1615 tion, which became greater every instant, Mr. Jarvis Lorry twice stopped
1616 to rest. Each of these stoppages was made at a doleful grating, by which
1617 any languishing good airs that were left uncorrupted, seemed to escape,
1618 and all spoilt and sickly vapours seemed to crawl in. Through the rusted
1619 bars, tastes, rather than glimpses, were caught of the jumbled neighbour-
1620 hood; and nothing within range, nearer or lower than the summits of the
1621 two great towers of Notre-Dame, had any promise on it of healthy life or
1622 wholesome aspirations.
1624 At last, the top of the staircase was gained, and they stopped for the
1625 third time. There was yet an upper staircase, of a steeper inclination and
1626 of contracted dimensions, to be ascended, before the garret story was
1627 reached. The keeper of the wine-shop, always going a little in advance,
1628 and always going on the side which Mr. Lorry took, as though he
1629 dreaded to be asked any question by the young lady, turned himself
1630 about here, and, carefully feeling in the pockets of the coat he carried
1631 over his shoulder, took out a key.
1633 "The door is locked then, my friend?" said Mr. Lorry, surprised.
1635 "Ay. Yes," was the grim reply of Monsieur Defarge.
1637 "You think it necessary to keep the unfortunate gentleman so retired?"
1639 "I think it necessary to turn the key." Monsieur Defarge whispered it
1640 closer in his ear, and frowned heavily.
1642 "Why?"
1644 "Why! Because he has lived so long, locked up, that he would be
1645 frightened - rave - tear himself to pieces - d-ie-come to I know not what
1646 harm - if his door was left open."
1648 "Is it possible!" exclaimed Mr. Lorry.
1650 "Is it possible!" repeated Defarge, bitterly. "Yes. And a beautiful world
1651 we live in, when it IS possible, and when many other such things are
1652 possible, and not only possible, but done - done, see you! - under that
1653 sky there, every day. Long live the Devil. Let us go on."
1655 This dialogue had been held in so very low a whisper, that not a word
1656 of it had reached the young lady's ears. But, by this time she trembled
1657 under such strong emotion, and her face expressed such deep anxiety,
1658 and, above all, such dread and terror, that Mr. Lorry felt it incumbent on
1659 him to speak a word or two of reassurance.
1663 35
1667 "Courage, dear miss! Courage! Business! The worst will be over in a
1668 moment; it is but passing the room-door, and the worst is over. Then, all
1669 the good you bring to him, all the relief, all the happiness you bring to
1670 him, begin. Let our good friend here, assist you on that side. That's well,
1671 friend Defarge. Come, now. Business, business!"
1673 They went up slowly and softly. The staircase was short, and they
1674 were soon at the top. There, as it had an abrupt turn in it, they came all at
1675 once in sight of three men, whose heads were bent down close together
1676 at the side of a door, and who were intently looking into the room to
1677 which the door belonged, through some chinks or holes in the wall. On
1678 hearing footsteps close at hand, these three turned, and rose, and
1679 showed themselves to be the three of one name who had been drinking
1680 in the wine-shop.
1682 "I forgot them in the surprise of your visit," explained Monsieur De-
1683 farge. "Leave us, good boys; we have business here."
1685 The three glided by, and went silently down.
1687 There appearing to be no other door on that floor, and the keeper of
1688 the wine-shop going straight to this one when they were left alone, Mr.
1689 Lorry asked him in a whisper, with a little anger:
1691 "Do you make a show of Monsieur Manette?"
1693 "I show him, in the way you have seen, to a chosen few."
1695 "Is that well?"
1697 "I think it is well."
1699 "Who are the few? How do you choose them?"
1701 "I choose them as real men, of my name - Jacques is my name - to
1702 whom the sight is likely to do good. Enough; you are English; that is an-
1703 other thing. Stay there, if you please, a little moment."
1705 With an admonitory gesture to keep them back, he stooped, and
1706 looked in through the crevice in the wall. Soon raising his head again, he
1707 struck twice or thrice upon the door - evidently with no other object than
1708 to make a noise there. With the same intention, he drew the key across it,
1709 three or four times, before he put it clumsily into the lock, and turned it
1710 as heavily as he could.
1712 The door slowly opened inward under his hand, and he looked into
1713 the room and said something. A faint voice answered something. Little
1714 more than a single syllable could have been spoken on either side.
1718 36
1722 He looked back over his shoulder, and beckoned them to enter. Mr.
1723 Lorry got his arm securely round the daughter's waist, and held her; for
1724 he felt that she was sinking.
1726 "A - a - a - business, business!" he urged, with a moisture that was
1727 not of business shining on his cheek. "Come in, come in!"
1729 "I am afraid of it," she answered, shuddering.
1731 "Of it? What?"
1733 "I mean of him. Of my father."
1735 Rendered in a manner desperate, by her state and by the beckoning of
1736 their conductor, he drew over his neck the arm that shook upon his
1737 shoulder, lifted her a little, and hurried her into the room. He sat her
1738 down just within the door, and held her, clinging to him.
1740 Defarge drew out the key, closed the door, locked it on the inside, took
1741 out the key again, and held it in his hand. All this he did, methodically,
1742 and with as loud and harsh an accompaniment of noise as he could
1743 make. Finally, he walked across the room with a measured tread to
1744 where the window was. He stopped there, and faced round.
1746 The garret, built to be a depository for firewood and the like, was dim
1747 and dark: for, the window of dormer shape, was in truth a door in the
1748 roof, with a little crane over it for the hoisting up of stores from the
1749 street: unglazed, and closing up the middle in two pieces, like any other
1750 door of French construction. To exclude the cold, one half of this door
1751 was fast closed, and the other was opened but a very little way. Such a
1752 scanty portion of light was admitted through these means, that it was
1753 difficult, on first coming in, to see anything; and long habit alone could
1754 have slowly formed in any one, the ability to do any work requiring
1755 nicety in such obscurity. Yet, work of that kind was being done in the
1756 garret; for, with his back towards the door, and his face towards the win-
1757 dow where the keeper of the wine-shop stood looking at him, a white-
1758 haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making
1759 shoes.
1763 37
1767 Chapter
1771 6
1775 The Shoemaker
1777 "Good day!" said Monsieur Defarge, looking down at the white head
1778 that bent low over the shoemaking.
1780 It was raised for a moment, and a very faint voice responded to the sa-
1781 lutation, as if it were at a distance:
1783 "Good day!"
1785 "You are still hard at work, I see?"
1787 After a long silence, the head was lifted for another moment, and the
1788 voice replied, "Yes - I am working." This time, a pair of haggard eyes
1789 had looked at the questioner, before the face had dropped again.
1791 The faintness of the voice was pitiable and dreadful. It was not the
1792 faintness of physical weakness, though confinement and hard fare no
1793 doubt had their part in it. Its deplorable peculiarity was, that it was the
1794 faintness of solitude and disuse. It was like the last feeble echo of a
1795 sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost the life and reson-
1796 ance of the human voice, that it affected the senses like a once beautiful
1797 colour faded away into a poor weak stain. So sunken and suppressed it
1798 was, that it was like a voice underground. So expressive it was, of a
1799 hopeless and lost creature, that a famished traveller, wearied out by
1800 lonely wandering in a wilderness, would have remembered home and
1801 friends in such a tone before lying down to die.
1803 Some minutes of silent work had passed: and the haggard eyes had
1804 looked up again: not with any interest or curiosity, but with a dull mech-
1805 anical perception, beforehand, that the spot where the only visitor they
1806 were aware of had stood, was not yet empty.
1808 "I want," said Defarge, who had not removed his gaze from the shoe-
1809 maker, "to let in a little more light here. You can bear a little more?"
1813 38
1817 The shoemaker stopped his work; looked with a vacant air of listening,
1818 at the floor on one side of him; then similarly, at the floor on the other
1819 side of him; then, upward at the speaker.
1821 "What did you say?"
1823 "You can bear a little more light?"
1825 "I must bear it, if you let it in." (Laying the palest shadow of a stress
1826 upon the second word.)
1828 The opened half-door was opened a little further, and secured at that
1829 angle for the time. A broad ray of light fell into the garret, and showed
1830 the workman with an unfinished shoe upon his lap, pausing in his la-
1831 bour. His few common tools and various scraps of leather were at his
1832 feet and on his bench. He had a white beard, raggedly cut, but not very
1833 long, a hollow face, and exceedingly bright eyes. The hollo wness and
1834 thinness of his face would have caused them to look large, under his yet
1835 dark eyebrows and his confused white hair, though they had been really
1836 otherwise; but, they were naturally large, and looked unnaturally so. His
1837 yellow rags of shirt lay open at the throat, and showed his body to be
1838 withered and worn. He, and his old canvas frock, and his loose stock-
1839 ings, and all his poor tatters of clothes, had, in a long seclusion from dir-
1840 ect light and air, faded down to such a dull uniformity of parchment-yel-
1841 low, that it would have been hard to say which was which.
1843 He had put up a hand between his eyes and the light, and the very
1844 bones of it seemed transparent. So he sat, with a steadfastly vacant gaze,
1845 pausing in his work. He never looked at the figure before him, without
1846 first looking down on this side of himself, then on that, as if he had lost
1847 the habit of associating place with sound; he never spoke, without first
1848 wandering in this manner, and forgetting to speak.
1850 "Are you going to finish that pair of shoes to-day?" asked Defarge,
1851 motioning to Mr. Lorry to come forward.
1853 "What did you say?"
1855 "Do you mean to finish that pair of shoes to-day?"
1857 "I can't say that I mean to. I suppose so. I don't know."
1859 But, the question reminded him of his work, and he bent over it again.
1861 Mr. Lorry came silently forward, leaving the daughter by the door.
1862 When he had stood, for a minute or two, by the side of Defarge, the shoe-
1863 maker looked up. He showed no surprise at seeing another figure, but
1864 the unsteady fingers of one of his hands strayed to his lips as he looked
1865 at it (his lips and his nails were of the same pale lead- colour), and then
1869 39
1873 the hand dropped to his work, and he once more bent over the shoe. The
1874 look and the action had occupied but an instant.
1876 "You have a visitor, you see," said Monsieur Defarge.
1878 "What did you say?"
1880 "Here is a visitor."
1882 The shoemaker looked up as before, but without removing a hand
1883 from his work.
1885 "Come!" said Defarge. "Here is monsieur, who knows a well-made
1886 shoe when he sees one. Show him that shoe you are working at. Take it,
1887 monsieur."
1889 Mr. Lorry took it in his hand.
1891 "Tell monsieur what kind of shoe it is, and the maker's name."
1893 There was a longer pause than usual, before the shoemaker replied:
1895 "I forget what it was you asked me. What did you say?"
1897 "I said, couldn't you describe the kind of shoe, for monsieur's
1898 information?"
1900 "It is a lady's shoe. It is a young lady's walking-shoe. It is in the
1901 present mode. I never saw the mode. I have had a pattern in my hand."
1902 He glanced at the shoe with some little passing touch of pride.
1904 "And the maker's name?" said Defarge.
1906 Now that he had no work to hold, he laid the knuckles of the right
1907 hand in the hollow of the left, and then the knuckles of the left hand in
1908 the hollow of the right, and then passed a hand across his bearded chin,
1909 and so on in regular changes, without a moment's intermission. The task
1910 of recalling him from the vagrancy into which he always sank when he
1911 had spoken, was like recalling some very weak person from a swoon, or
1912 endeavouring, in the hope of some disclosure, to stay the spirit of a fast-
1913 dying man.
1915 "Did you ask me for my name?"
1917 "Assuredly I did."
1919 "One Hundred and Five, North Tower."
1921 "Is that all?"
1923 "One Hundred and Five, North Tower."
1925 With a weary sound that was not a sigh, nor a groan, he bent to work
1926 again, until the silence was again broken.
1930 40
1934 "You are not a shoemaker by trade?" said Mr. Lorry, looking stead-
1935 fastly at him.
1937 His haggard eyes turned to Defarge as if he would have transferred
1938 the question to him: but as no help came from that quarter, they turned
1939 back on the questioner when they had sought the ground.
1941 "I am not a shoemaker by trade? No, I was not a shoemaker by trade.
1942 I-I learnt it here. I taught myself. I asked leave to - "
1944 He lapsed away, even for minutes, ringing those measured changes on
1945 his hands the whole time. His eyes came slowly back, at last, to the face
1946 from which they had wandered; when they rested on it, he started, and
1947 resumed, in the manner of a sleeper that moment awake, reverting to a
1948 subject of last night.
1950 "I asked leave to teach myself, and I got it with much difficulty after a
1951 long while, and I have made shoes ever since."
1953 As he held out his hand for the shoe that had been taken from him,
1954 Mr. Lorry said, still looking steadfastly in his face:
1956 "Monsieur Manette, do you remember nothing of me?"
1958 The shoe dropped to the ground, and he sat looking fixedly at the
1959 questioner.
1961 "Monsieur Manette"; Mr. Lorry laid his hand upon Defarge's arm; "do
1962 you remember nothing of this man? Look at him. Look at me. Is there no
1963 old banker, no old business, no old servant, no old time, rising in your
1964 mind, Monsieur Manette?"
1966 As the captive of many years sat looking fixedly, by turns, at Mr. Lorry
1967 and at Defarge, some long obliterated marks of an actively intent intelli-
1968 gence in the middle of the forehead, gradually forced themselves
1969 through the black mist that had fallen on him. They were overclouded
1970 again, they were fainter, they were gone; but they had been there. And
1971 so exactly was the expression repeated on the fair young face of her who
1972 had crept along the wall to a point where she could see him, and where
1973 she now stood looking at him, with hands which at first had been only
1974 raised in frightened compassion, if not even to keep him off and shut out
1975 the sight of him, but which were now extending towards him, trembling
1976 with eagerness to lay the spectral face upon her warm young breast, and
1977 love it back to life and hope - so exactly was the expression repeated
1978 (though in stronger characters) on her fair young face, that it looked as
1979 though it had passed like a moving light, from him to her.
1983 41
1987 Darkness had fallen on him in its place. He looked at the two, less and
1988 less attentively, and his eyes in gloomy abstraction sought the ground
1989 and looked about him in the old way. Finally, with a deep long sigh, he
1990 took the shoe up, and resumed his work.
1992 "Have you recognised him, monsieur?" asked Defarge in a whisper.
1994 "Yes; for a moment. At first I thought it quite hopeless, but I have un-
1995 questionably seen, for a single moment, the face that I once knew so well.
1996 Hush! Let us draw further back. Hush!"
1998 She had moved from the wall of the garret, very near to the bench on
1999 which he sat. There was something awful in his unconsciousness of the
2000 figure that could have put out its hand and touched him as he stooped
2001 over his labour.
2003 Not a word was spoken, not a sound was made. She stood, like a spir-
2004 it, beside him, and he bent over his work.
2006 It happened, at length, that he had occasion to change the instrument
2007 in his hand, for his shoemaker's knife. It lay on that side of him which
2008 was not the side on which she stood. He had taken it up, and was stoop-
2009 ing to work again, when his eyes caught the skirt of her dress. He raised
2010 them, and saw her face. The two spectators started forward, but she
2011 stayed them with a motion of her hand. She had no fear of his striking at
2012 her with the knife, though they had.
2014 He stared at her with a fearful look, and after a while his lips began to
2015 form some words, though no sound proceeded from them. By degrees,
2016 in the pauses of his quick and laboured breathing, he was heard to say:
2018 "What is this?"
2020 With the tears streaming down her face, she put her two hands to her
2021 lips, and kissed them to him; then clasped them on her breast, as if she
2022 laid his ruined head there.
2024 "You are not the gaoler's daughter?"
2026 She sighed "No."
2028 "Who are you?"
2030 Not yet trusting the tones of her voice, she sat down on the bench be-
2031 side him. He recoiled, but she laid her hand upon his arm. A strange
2032 thrill struck him when she did so, and visibly passed over his frame; he
2033 laid the knife down' softly, as he sat staring at her.
2035 Her golden hair, which she wore in long curls, had been hurriedly
2036 pushed aside, and fell down over her neck. Advancing his hand by little
2040 42
2044 and little, he took it up and looked at it. In the midst of the action he
2045 went astray, and, with another deep sigh, fell to work at his shoemaking.
2047 But not for long. Releasing his arm, she laid her hand upon his
2048 shoulder. After looking doubtfully at it, two or three times, as if to be
2049 sure that it was really there, he laid down his work, put his hand to his
2050 neck, and took off a blackened string with a scrap of folded rag attached
2051 to it. He opened this, carefully, on his knee, and it contained a very little
2052 quantity of hair: not more than one or two long golden hairs, which he
2053 had, in some old day, wound off upon his finger.
2055 He took her hair into his hand again, and looked closely at it. "It is the
2056 same. How can it be! When was it! How was it!"
2058 As the concentrated expression returned to his forehead, he seemed to
2059 become conscious that it was in hers too. He turned her full to the light,
2060 and looked at her.
2062 "She had laid her head upon my shoulder, that night when I was
2063 summoned out - she had a fear of my going, though I had none - and
2064 when I was brought to the North Tower they found these upon my
2065 sleeve. 'You will leave me them? They can never help me to escape in the
2066 body, though they may in the spirit.' Those were the words I said. I re-
2067 member them very well."
2069 He formed this speech with his lips many times before he could utter
2070 it. But when he did find spoken words for it, they came to him coher-
2071 ently, though slowly.
2073 "How was this? - Was it you?"
2075 Once more, the two spectators started, as he turned upon her with a
2076 frightful suddenness. But she sat perfectly still in his grasp, and only
2077 said, in a low voice, "I entreat you, good gentlemen, do not come near
2078 us, do not speak, do not move!"
2080 "Hark!" he exclaimed. "Whose voice was that?"
2082 His hands released her as he uttered this cry, and went up to his white
2083 hair, which they tore in a frenzy. It died out, as everything but his shoe-
2084 making did die out of him, and he refolded his little packet and tried to
2085 secure it in his breast; but he still looked at her, and gloomily shook his
2086 head.
2088 "No, no, no; you are too young, too blooming. It can't be. See what the
2089 prisoner is. These are not the hands she knew, this is not the face she
2090 knew, this is not a voice she ever heard. No, no. She was - and He
2094 43
2098 was - before the slow years of the North Tower - ages ago. What is your
2099 name, my gentle angel?"
2101 Hailing his softened tone and manner, his daughter fell upon her
2102 knees before him, with her appealing hands upon his breast.
2104 "O, sir, at another time you shall know my name, and who my mother
2105 was, and who my father, and how I never knew their hard, hard history.
2106 But I cannot tell you at this time, and I cannot tell you here. All that I
2107 may tell you, here and now, is, that I pray to you to touch me and to
2108 bless me. Kiss me, kiss me! O my dear, my dear!"
2110 His cold white head mingled with her radiant hair, which warmed
2111 and lighted it as though it were the light of Freedom shining on him.
2113 "If you hear in my voice - I don't know that it is so, but I hope it is - if
2114 you hear in my voice any resemblance to a voice that once was sweet
2115 music in your ears, weep for it, weep for it! If you touch, in touching my
2116 hair, anything that recalls a beloved head that lay on your breast when
2117 you were young and free, weep for it, weep for it! If, when I hint to you
2118 of a Home that is before us, where I will be true to you with all my duty
2119 and with all my faithful service, I bring back the remembrance of a
2120 Home long desolate, while your poor heart pined away, weep for it,
2121 weep for it!"
2123 She held him closer round the neck, and rocked him on her breast like
2124 a child.
2126 "If, when I tell you, dearest dear, that your agony is over, and that I
2127 have come here to take you from it, and that we go to England to be at
2128 peace and at rest, I cause you to think of your useful life laid waste, and
2129 of our native France so wicked to you, weep for it, weep for it! And if,
2130 when I shall tell you of my name, and of my father who is living, and of
2131 my mother who is dead, you learn that I have to kneel to my honoured
2132 father, and implore his pardon for having never for his sake striven all
2133 day and lain awake and wept all night, because the love of my poor
2134 mother hid his torture from me, weep for it, weep for it! Weep for her,
2135 then, and for me! Good gentlemen, thank God! I feel his sacred tears
2136 upon my face, and his sobs strike against my heart. O, see! Thank God
2137 for us, thank God!"
2139 He had sunk in her arms, and his face dropped on her breast: a sight
2140 so touching, yet so terrible in the tremendous wrong and suffering which
2141 had gone before it, that the two beholders covered their faces.
2145 44
2149 When the quiet of the garret had been long undisturbed, and his heav-
2150 ing breast and shaken form had long yielded to the calm that must fol-
2151 low all storms - emblem to humanity, of the rest and silence into which
2152 the storm called Life must hush at last - they came forward to raise the
2153 father and daughter from the ground. He had gradually dropped to the
2154 floor, and lay there in a lethargy, worn out. She had nestled down with
2155 him, that his head might lie upon her arm; and her hair drooping over
2156 him curtained him from the light.
2158 "If, without disturbing him," she said, raising her hand to Mr. Lorry as
2159 he stooped over them, after repeated blowings of his nose, "all could be
2160 arranged for our leaving Paris at once, so that, from the, very door, he
2161 could be taken away - "
2163 "But, consider. Is he fit for the journey?" asked Mr. Lorry.
2165 "More fit for that, I think, than to remain in this city, so dreadful to
2166 him."
2168 "It is true," said Defarge, who was kneeling to look on and hear.
2169 "More than that; Monsieur Manette is, for all reasons, best out of France.
2170 Say, shall I hire a carriage and post-horses?"
2172 "That's business," said Mr. Lorry, resuming on the shortest notice his
2173 methodical manners; "and if business is to be done, I had better do it."
2175 "Then be so kind," urged Miss Manette, "as to leave us here. You see
2176 how composed he has become, and you cannot be afraid to leave him
2177 with me now. Why should you be? If you will lock the door to secure us
2178 from interruption, I do not doubt that you will find him, when you come
2179 back, as quiet as you leave him. In any case, I will take care of him until
2180 you return, and then we will remove him straight."
2182 Both Mr. Lorry and Defarge were rather disinclined to this course, and
2183 in favour of one of them remaining. But, as there were not only carriage
2184 and horses to be seen to, but travelling papers; and as time pressed, for
2185 the day was drawing to an end, it came at last to their hastily dividing
2186 the business that was necessary to be done, and hurrying away to do it.
2188 Then, as the darkness closed in, the daughter laid her head down on
2189 the hard ground close at the father's side, and watched him. The dark-
2190 ness deepened and deepened, and they both lay quiet, until a light
2191 gleamed through the chinks in the wall.
2193 Mr. Lorry and Monsieur Defarge had made all ready for the journey,
2194 and had brought with them, besides travelling cloaks and wrappers,
2195 bread and meat, wine, and hot coffee. Monsieur Defarge put this
2199 45
2203 provender, and the lamp he carried, on the shoemaker's bench (there
2204 was nothing else in the garret but a pallet bed), and he and Mr. Lorry
2205 roused the captive, and assisted him to his feet.
2207 No human intelligence could have read the mysteries of his mind, in
2208 the scared blank wonder of his face. Whether he knew what had
2209 happened, whether he recollected what they had said to him, whether he
2210 knew that he was free, were questions which no sagacity could have
2211 solved. They tried speaking to him; but, he was so confused, and so very
2212 slow to answer, that they took fright at his bewilderment, and agreed for
2213 the time to tamper with him no more. He had a wild, lost manner of oc-
2214 casionally clasping his head in his hands, that had not been seen in him
2215 before; yet, he had some pleasure in the mere sound of his daughter's
2216 voice, and invariably turned to it when she spoke.
2218 In the submissive way of one long accustomed to obey under coercion,
2219 he ate and drank what they gave him to eat and drink, and put on the
2220 cloak and other wrappings, that they gave him to wear. He readily re-
2221 sponded to his daughter's drawing her arm through his, and took - and
2222 kept - her hand in both his own.
2224 They began to descend; Monsieur Defarge going first with the lamp,
2225 Mr. Lorry closing the little procession. They had not traversed many
2226 steps of the long main staircase when he stopped, and stared at the roof
2227 and round at the wails.
2229 "You remember the place, my father? You remember coming up
2230 here?"
2232 "What did you say?"
2234 But, before she could repeat the question, he murmured an answer as
2235 if she had repeated it.
2237 "Remember? No, I don't remember. It was so very long ago."
2239 That he had no recollection whatever of his having been brought from
2240 his prison to that house, was apparent to them. They heard him mutter,
2241 "One Hundred and Five, North Tower;" and when he looked about him,
2242 it evidently was for the strong fortress-walls which had long encom-
2243 passed him. On their reaching the courtyard he instinctively altered his
2244 tread, as being in expectation of a drawbridge; and when there was no
2245 drawbridge, and he saw the carriage waiting in the open street, he
2246 dropped his daughter's hand and clasped his head again.
2248 No crowd was about the door; no people were discernible at any of the
2249 many windows; not even a chance passerby was in the street. An
2253 46
2257 unnatural silence and desertion reigned there. Only one soul was to be
2258 seen, and that was Madame Defarge - who leaned against the door-post,
2259 knitting, and saw nothing.
2261 The prisoner had got into a coach, and his daughter had followed him,
2262 when Mr. Lorry's feet were arrested on the step by his asking, miserably,
2263 for his shoemaking tools and the unfinished shoes. Madame Defarge im-
2264 mediately called to her husband that she would get them, and went,
2265 knitting, out of the lamplight, through the courtyard. She quickly
2266 brought them down and handed them in; - and immediately afterwards
2267 leaned against the door-post, knitting, and saw nothing.
2269 Defarge got upon the box, and gave the word "To the Barrier!" The
2270 postilion cracked his whip, and they clattered away under the feeble
2271 over-swinging lamps.
2273 Under the over-swinging lamps - swinging ever brighter in the better
2274 streets, and ever dimmer in the worse - and by lighted shops, gay
2275 crowds, illuminated coffee-houses, and theatre-doors, to one of the city
2276 gates. Soldiers with lanterns, at the guard-house there. "Your papers,
2277 travellers!" "See here then, Monsieur the Officer," said Defarge, getting
2278 down, and taking him gravely apart, "these are the papers of monsieur
2279 inside, with the white head. They were consigned to me, with him, at
2280 the - " He dropped his voice, there was a flutter among the military lan-
2281 terns, and one of them being handed into the coach by an arm in uni-
2282 form, the eyes connected with the arm looked, not an every day or an
2283 every night look, at monsieur with the white head. "It is well. Forward!"
2284 from the uniform. "Adieu!" from Defarge. And so, under a short grove
2285 of feebler and feebler over-swinging lamps, out under the great grove of
2286 stars.
2288 Beneath that arch of unmoved and eternal lights; some, so remote from
2289 this little earth that the learned tell us it is doubtful whether their rays
2290 have even yet discovered it, as a point in space where anything is
2291 suffered or done: the shadows of the night were broad and black. All
2292 through the cold and restless interval, until dawn, they once more
2293 whispered in the ears of Mr. Jarvis Lorry - sitting opposite the buried
2294 man who had been dug out, and wondering what subtle powers were
2295 for ever lost to him, and what were capable of restoration - the old
2296 inquiry:
2298 "I hope you care to be recalled to life?"
2300 And the old answer:
2302 "I can't say."
2306 47
2310 Part 2
2311 The Golden Thread
2315 48
2319 Chapter
2323 1
2327 Five Years Later
2329 Tellson's Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place, even in the
2330 year one thousand seven hundred and eighty. It was very small, very
2331 dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It was an old-fashioned place,
2332 moreover, in the moral attribute that the partners in the House were
2333 proud of its smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness,
2334 proud of its incommodiousness. They were even boastful of its eminence
2335 in those particulars, and were fired by an express conviction that, if it
2336 were less objectionable, it would be less respectable. This was no passive
2337 belief, but an active weapon which they flashed at more convenient
2338 places of business. Tellson's (they said) wanted no elbow-room, Tellson's
2339 wanted no light, Tellson's wanted no embellishment. Noakes and Co.'s
2340 might, or Snooks Brothers' might; but Tellson's, thank Heaven! -
2342 Any one of these partners would have disinherited his son on the
2343 question of rebuilding Tellson's. In this respect the House was much on a
2344 par with the Country; which did very often disinherit its sons for sug-
2345 gesting improvements in laws and customs that had long been highly
2346 objectionable, but were only the more respectable.
2348 Thus it had come to pass, that Tellson's was the triumphant perfection
2349 of inconvenience. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a
2350 weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson's down two steps, and came
2351 to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters, where
2352 the oldest of men made your cheque shake as if the wind rustled it, while
2353 they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which were al-
2354 ways under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and which were
2355 made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the heavy shadow
2356 of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing "the House,"
2357 you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, where you
2358 meditated on a misspent life, until the House came with its hands in its
2359 pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight. Your
2360 money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles
2364 49
2368 of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were
2369 opened and shut. Your bank-notes had a musty odour, as if they were
2370 fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among
2371 the neighbouring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good
2372 polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporised strong-rooms
2373 made of kitchens and sculleries, and fretted all the fat out of their parch-
2374 ments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family papers
2375 went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great dining-
2376 table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year one thou-
2377 sand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you by your
2378 old love, or by your little children, were but newly released from the hor-
2379 ror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on
2380 Temple Bar with an insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia
2381 or Ashantee.
2383 But indeed, at that time, putting to death was a recipe much in vogue
2384 with all trades and professions, and not least of all with Tellson's. Death
2385 is Nature's remedy for all things, and why not Legislation's? Accord-
2386 ingly, the forger was put to Death; the utterer of a bad note was put to
2387 Death; the unlawful opener of a letter was put to Death; the purloiner of
2388 forty shillings and sixpence was put to Death; the holder of a horse at
2389 Tellson's door, who made off with it, was put to Death; the coiner of a
2390 bad shilling was put to Death; the sounders of three-fourths of the notes
2391 in the whole gamut of Crime, were put to Death. Not that it did the least
2392 good in the way of prevention - it might almost have been worth re-
2393 marking that the fact was exactly the reverse - but, it cleared off (as to
2394 this world) the trouble of each particular case, and left nothing else con-
2395 nected with it to be looked after. Thus, Tellson's, in its day, like greater
2396 places of business, its contemporaries, had taken so many lives, that, if
2397 the heads laid low before it had been ranged on Temple Bar instead of
2398 being privately disposed of, they would probably have excluded what
2399 little light the ground floor had, in a rather significant manner.
2401 Cramped in all kinds of dun cupboards and hutches at Tellson's, the
2402 oldest of men carried on the business gravely. When they took a young
2403 man into Tellson's London house, they hid him somewhere till he was
2404 old. They kept him in a dark place, like a cheese, until he had the full
2405 Tellson flavour and blue-mould upon him. Then only was he permitted
2406 to be seen, spectacularly poring over large books, and casting his
2407 breeches and gaiters into the general weight of the establishment.
2409 Outside Tellson's - never by any means in it, unless called in - was an
2410 odd-job-man, an occasional porter and messenger, who served as the live
2414 50
2418 sign of the house. He was never absent during business hours, unless
2419 upon an errand, and then he was represented by his son: a grisly urchin
2420 of twelve, who was his express image. People understood that Tellson's,
2421 in a stately way, tolerated the odd-job-man. The house had always toler-
2422 ated some person in that capacity, and time and tide had drifted this per-
2423 son to the post. His surname was Cruncher, and on the youthful occasion
2424 of his renouncing by proxy the works of darkness, in the easterly parish
2425 church of Hounsditch, he had received the added appellation of Jerry.
2427 The scene was Mr. Cruncher's private lodging in Hanging-sword-al-
2428 ley, Whitefriars: the time, half-past seven of the clock on a windy March
2429 morning, Anno Domini seventeen hundred and eighty. (Mr. Cruncher
2430 himself always spoke of the year of our Lord as Anna Dominoes: appar-
2431 ently under the impression that the Christian era dated from the inven-
2432 tion of a popular game, by a lady who had bestowed her name upon it.)
2434 Mr. Cruncher's apartments were not in a savoury neighbourhood, and
2435 were but two in number, even if a closet with a single pane of glass in it
2436 might be counted as one. But they were very decently kept. Early as it
2437 was, on the windy March morning, the room in which he lay abed was
2438 already scrubbed throughout; and between the cups and saucers ar-
2439 ranged for breakfast, and the lumbering deal table, a very clean white
2440 cloth was spread.
2442 Mr. Cruncher reposed under a patchwork counterpane, like a Harle-
2443 quin at home. At fast, he slept heavily, but, by degrees, began to roll and
2444 surge in bed, until he rose above the surface, with his spiky hair looking
2445 as if it must tear the sheets to ribbons. At which juncture, he exclaimed,
2446 in a voice of dire exasperation:
2448 "Bust me, if she ain't at it agin!"
2450 A woman of orderly and industrious appearance rose from her knees
2451 in a corner, with sufficient haste and trepidation to show that she was
2452 the person referred to.
2454 "What!" said Mr. Cruncher, looking out of bed for a boot. "You're at it
2455 agin, are you?"
2457 After hailing the mom with this second salutation, he threw a boot at
2458 the woman as a third. It was a very muddy boot, and may introduce the
2459 odd circumstance connected with Mr. Cruncher's domestic economy,
2460 that, whereas he often came home after banking hours with clean boots,
2461 he often got up next morning to find the same boots covered with clay.
2465 51
2469 "What," said Mr. Cruncher, varying his apostrophe after missing his
2470 mark - "what are you up to, Aggerawayter?"
2472 "I was only saying my prayers."
2474 "Saying your prayers! You're a nice woman! What do you mean by
2475 flopping yourself down and praying agin me?"
2477 "I was not praying against you; I was praying for you."
2479 "You weren't. And if you were, I won't be took the liberty with. Here!
2480 your mother's a nice woman, young Jerry, going a praying agin your
2481 father's prosperity. You've got a dutiful mother, you have, my son.
2482 You've got a religious mother, you have, my boy: going and flopping
2483 herself down, and praying that the bread-and-butter may be snatched
2484 out of the mouth of her only child."
2486 Master Cruncher (who was in his shirt) took this very ill, and, turning
2487 to his mother, strongly deprecated any praying away of his personal
2488 board.
2490 "And what do you suppose, you conceited female," said Mr. Crunch-
2491 er, with unconscious inconsistency, "that the worth of your prayers may
2492 be? Name the price that you put your prayers at!"
2494 "They only come from the heart, Jerry. They are worth no more than
2495 that."
2497 "Worth no more than that," repeated Mr. Cruncher. "They ain't worth
2498 much, then. Whether or no, I won't be prayed agin, I tell you. I can't af-
2499 ford it. I'm not a going to be made unlucky by your sneaking. If you
2500 must go flopping yourself down, flop in favour of your husband and
2501 child, and not in opposition to 'em. If I had had any but a unnat'ral wife,
2502 and this poor boy had had any but a unnat'ral mother, I might have
2503 made some money last week instead of being counter-prayed and coun-
2504 termined and religiously circumwented into the worst of luck. B-u-u-ust
2505 me!" said Mr. Cruncher, who all this time had been putting on his
2506 clothes, "if I ain't, what with piety and one blowed thing and another,
2507 been choused this last week into as bad luck as ever a poor devil of a
2508 honest tradesman met with! Young Jerry, dress yourself, my boy, and
2509 while I clean my boots keep a eye upon your mother now and then, and
2510 if you see any signs of more flopping, give me a call. For, I tell you," here
2511 he addressed his wife once more, "I won't be gone agin, in this manner. I
2512 am as rickety as a hackney-coach, I'm as sleepy as laudanum, my lines is
2513 strained to that degree that I shouldn't know, if it wasn't for the pain in
2514 'em, which was me and which somebody else, yet I'm none the better for
2518 52
2522 it in pocket; and it's my suspicion that you've been at it from morning to
2523 night to prevent me from being the better for it in pocket, and I won't
2524 put up with it, Aggerawayter, and what do you say now!"
2526 Growling, in addition, such phrases as "Ah! yes! You're religious, too.
2527 You wouldn't put yourself in opposition to the interests of your husband
2528 and child, would you? Not you!" and throwing off other sarcastic sparks
2529 from the whirling grindstone of his indignation, Mr. Cruncher betook
2530 himself to his boot-cleaning and his general preparation for business. In
2531 the meantime, his son, whose head was garnished with tenderer spikes,
2532 and whose young eyes stood close by one another, as his father's did,
2533 kept the required watch upon his mother. He greatly disturbed that poor
2534 woman at intervals, by darting out of his sleeping closet, where he made
2535 his toilet, with a suppressed cry of "You are going to flop, moth-
2536 er. - Halloa, father!" and, after raising this fictitious alarm, darting in
2537 again with an undutiful grin.
2539 Mr. Cruncher's temper was not at all improved when he came to his
2540 breakfast. He resented Mrs. Cruncher's saying grace with particular
2541 animosity.
2543 "Now, Aggerawayter! What are you up to? At it again?"
2545 His wife explained that she had merely "asked a blessing."
2547 "Don't do it!" said Mr. Crunches looking about, as if he rather expec-
2548 ted to see the loaf disappear under the efficacy of his wife's petitions. "I
2549 ain't a going to be blest out of house and home. I won't have my wittles
2550 blest off my table. Keep still!"
2552 Exceedingly red-eyed and grim, as if he had been up all night at a
2553 party which had taken anything but a convivial turn, Jerry Cruncher
2554 worried his breakfast rather than ate it, growling over it like any four-
2555 footed inmate of a menagerie. Towards nine o'clock he smoothed his
2556 ruffled aspect, and, presenting as respectable and business-like an exteri-
2557 or as he could overlay his natural self with, issued forth to the occupa-
2558 tion of the day.
2560 It could scarcely be called a trade, in spite of his favourite description
2561 of himself as "a honest tradesman." His stock consisted of a wooden
2562 stool, made out of a broken-backed chair cut down, which stool, young
2563 Jerry, walking at his father's side, carried every morning to beneath the
2564 banking-house window that was nearest Temple Bar: where, with the
2565 addition of the first handful of straw that could be gleaned from any
2566 passing vehicle to keep the cold and wet from the odd-job-man's feet, it
2567 formed the encampment for the day. On this post of his, Mr. Cruncher
2571 53
2575 was as well known to Fleet-street and the Temple, as the Bar itself, - and
2576 was almost as in-looking.
2578 Encamped at a quarter before nine, in good time to touch his three-
2579 cornered hat to the oldest of men as they passed in to Tellson's, Jerry
2580 took up his station on this windy March morning, with young Jerry
2581 standing by him, when not engaged in making forays through the Bar, to
2582 inflict bodily and mental injuries of an acute description on passing boys
2583 who were small enough for his amiable purpose. Father and son, ex-
2584 tremely like each other, looking silently on at the morning traffic in Fleet-
2585 street, with their two heads as near to one another as the two eyes of
2586 each were, bore a considerable resemblance to a pair of monkeys. The re-
2587 semblance was not lessened by the accidental circumstance, that the ma-
2588 ture Jerry bit and spat out straw, while the twinkling eyes of the youthful
2589 Jerry were as restlessly watchful of him as of everything else in Fleet-
2590 street.
2592 The head of one of the regular indoor messengers attached to Tellson's
2593 establishment was put through the door, and the word was given:
2595 "Porter wanted!"
2597 "Hooray, father! Here's an early job to begin with!"
2599 Having thus given his parent God speed, young Jerry seated himself
2600 on the stool, entered on his reversionary interest in the straw his father
2601 had been chewing, and cogitated.
2603 "Al-ways rusty! His fingers is al-ways rusty!" muttered young Jerry.
2604 "Where does my father get all that iron rust from? He don't get no iron
2605 rust here!"
2609 54
2613 Chapter
2617 2
2621 A Sight
2623 "You know the Old Bailey, well, no doubt?" said one of the oldest of
2624 clerks to Jerry the messenger.
2626 "Ye-es, sir," returned Jerry, in something of a dogged manner. "I do
2627 know the Bailey."
2629 "Just so. And you know Mr. Lorry."
2631 "I know Mr. Lorry, sir, much better than I know the Bailey. Much bet-
2632 ter," said Jerry, not unlike a reluctant witness at the establishment in
2633 question, "than I, as a honest tradesman, wish to know the Bailey."
2635 "Very well. Find the door where the witnesses go in, and show the
2636 door-keeper this note for Mr. Lorry. He will then let you in."
2638 "Into the court, sir?"
2640 "Into the court."
2642 Mr. Cruncher's eyes seemed to get a little closer to one another, and to
2643 interchange the inquiry, "What do you think of this?"
2645 "Am I to wait in the court, sir?" he asked, as the result of that
2646 conference.
2648 "I am going to tell you. The door-keeper will pass the note to Mr.
2649 Lorry, and do you make any gesture that will attract Mr. Lorry's atten-
2650 tion, and show him where you stand. Then what you have to do, is, to
2651 remain there until he wants you."
2653 "Is that all, sir?"
2655 "That's all. He wishes to have a messenger at hand. This is to tell him
2656 you are there."
2658 As the ancient clerk deliberately folded and superscribed the note, Mr.
2659 Cruncher, after surveying him in silence until he came to the blotting-pa-
2660 per stage, remarked:
2662 "I suppose they'll be trying Forgeries this morning?"
2666 55
2670 "Treason!"
2672 "That's quartering," said Jerry. "Barbarous!"
2674 "It is the law," remarked the ancient clerk, turning his surprised spec-
2675 tacles upon him. "It is the law."
2677 "It's hard in the law to spile a man, I think. Ifs hard enough to kill him,
2678 but it's wery hard to spile him, sir."
2680 "Not at all," retained the ancient clerk. "Speak well of the law. Take
2681 care of your chest and voice, my good friend, and leave the law to take
2682 care of itself. I give you that advice."
2684 "It's the damp, sir, what settles on my chest and voice," said Jerry. "I
2685 leave you to judge what a damp way of earning a living mine is."
2687 "Well, well," said the old clerk; "we all have our various ways of gain-
2688 ing a livelihood. Some of us have damp ways, and some of us have dry
2689 ways. Here is the letter. Go along."
2691 Jerry took the letter, and, remarking to himself with less internal defer-
2692 ence than he made an outward show of, "You are a lean old one, too,"
2693 made his bow, informed his son, in passing, of his destination, and went
2694 his way.
2696 They hanged at Tyburn, in those days, so the street outside Newgate
2697 had not obtained one infamous notoriety that has since attached to it.
2698 But, the gaol was a vile place, in which most kinds of debauchery and
2699 villainy were practised, and where dire diseases were bred, that came in-
2700 to court with the prisoners, and sometimes rushed straight from the dock
2701 at my Lord Chief Justice himself, and pulled him off the bench. It had
2702 more than once happened, that the Judge in the black cap pronounced
2703 his own doom as certainly as the prisoner's, and even died before him.
2704 For the rest, the Old Bailey was famous as a kind of deadly inn-yard,
2705 from which pale travellers set out continually, in carts and coaches, on a
2706 violent passage into the other world: traversing some two miles and a
2707 half of public street and road, and shaming few good citizens, if any. So
2708 powerful is use, and so desirable to be good use in the beginning. It was
2709 famous, too, for the pillory, a wise old institution, that inflicted a punish-
2710 ment of which no one could foresee the extent; also, for the whipping-
2711 post, another dear old institution, very humanising and softening to be-
2712 hold in action; also, for extensive transactions in blood-money, another
2713 fragment of ancestral wisdom, systematically leading to the most fright-
2714 ful mercenary crimes that could be committed under Heaven. Altogeth-
2715 er, the Old Bailey, at that date, was a choice illustration of the precept,
2719 56
2723 that "Whatever is is right;" an aphorism that would be as final as it is
2724 lazy, did it not include the troublesome consequence, that nothing that
2725 ever was, was wrong.
2727 Making his way through the tainted crowd, dispersed up and down
2728 this hideous scene of action, with the skill of a man accustomed to make
2729 his way quietly, the messenger found out the door he sought, and
2730 handed in his letter through a trap in it. For, people then paid to see the
2731 play at the Old Bailey, just as they paid to see the play in Bedlam - only
2732 the former entertainment was much the dearer. Therefore, all the Old
2733 Bailey doors were well guarded - except, indeed, the social doors by
2734 which the criminals got there, and those were always left wide open.
2736 After some delay and demur, the door grudgingly turned on its hinges
2737 a very little way, and allowed Mr. Jerry Cruncher to squeeze himself into
2738 court.
2740 "What's on?" he asked, in a whisper, of the man he found himself next
2741 to.
2743 "Nothing yet."
2745 "What's coming on?"
2747 "The Treason case."
2749 "The quartering one, eh?"
2751 "Ah!" returned the man, with a relish; "he'll be drawn on a hurdle to
2752 be half hanged, and then he'll be taken down and sliced before his own
2753 face, and then his inside will be taken out and burnt while he looks on,
2754 and then his head will be chopped off, and he'll be cut into quarters.
2755 That's the sentence."
2757 "If he's found Guilty, you mean to say?" Jerry added, by way of
2758 proviso.
2760 "Oh! they'll find him guilty," said the other. "Don't you be afraid of
2761 that."
2763 Mr. Cruncher's attention was here diverted to the door-keeper, whom
2764 he saw making his way to Mr. Lorry, with the note in his hand. Mr.
2765 Lorry sat at a table, among the gentlemen in wigs: not far from a wigged
2766 gentleman, the prisoner's counsel, who had a great bundle of papers be-
2767 fore him: and nearly opposite another wigged gentleman with his hands
2768 in his pockets, whose whole attention, when Mr. Cruncher looked at him
2769 then or afterwards, seemed to be concentrated on the ceiling of the court.
2770 After some gruff coughing and rubbing of his chin and signing with his
2774 57
2778 hand, Jerry attracted the notice of Mr. Lorry, who had stood up to look
2779 for him, and who quietly nodded and sat down again.
2781 "What's he got to do with the case?" asked the man he had spoken
2782 with.
2784 "Blest if I know," said Jerry.
2786 "What have you got to do with it, then, if a person may inquire?"
2788 "Blest if I know that either," said Jerry.
2790 The entrance of the Judge, and a consequent great stir and settling
2791 down in the court, stopped the dialogue. Presently, the dock became the
2792 central point of interest. Two gaolers, who had been standing there,
2793 wont out, and the prisoner was brought in, and put to the bar.
2795 Everybody present, except the one wigged gentleman who looked at
2796 the ceiling, stared at him. All the human breath in the place, rolled at
2797 him, like a sea, or a wind, or a fire. Eager faces strained round pillars and
2798 corners, to get a sight of him; spectators in back rows stood up, not to
2799 miss a hair of him; people on the floor of the court, laid their hands on
2800 the shoulders of the people before them, to help themselves, at any-
2801 body's cost, to a view of him - stood a-tiptoe, got upon ledges, stood
2802 upon next to nothing, to see every inch of him. Conspicuous among
2803 these latter, like an animated bit of the spiked wall of Newgate, Jerry
2804 stood: aiming at the prisoner the beery breath of a whet he had taken as
2805 he came along, and discharging it to mingle with the waves of other
2806 beer, and gin, and tea, and coffee, and what not, that flowed at him, and
2807 already broke upon the great windows behind him in an impure mist
2808 and rain.
2810 The object of all this staring and blaring, was a young man of about
2811 five-and-twenty, well-grown and well-looking, with a sunburnt cheek
2812 and a dark eye. His condition was that of a young gentleman. He was
2813 plainly dressed in black, or very dark grey, and his hair, which was long
2814 and dark, was gathered in a ribbon at the back of his neck; more to be
2815 out of his way than for ornament. As an emotion of the mind will ex-
2816 press itself through any covering of the body, so the paleness which his
2817 situation engendered came through the brown upon his cheek, showing
2818 the soul to be stronger than the sun. He was otherwise quite self-pos-
2819 sessed, bowed to the Judge, and stood quiet.
2821 The sort of interest with which this man was stared and breathed at,
2822 was not a sort that elevated humanity. Had he stood in peril of a less
2823 horrible sentence - had there been a chance of any one of its savage
2827 58
2831 details being spared - by just so much would he have lost in his fascina-
2832 tion. The form that was to be doomed to be so shamefully mangled, was
2833 the sight; the immortal creature that was to be so butchered and torn
2834 asunder, yielded the sensation. Whatever gloss the various spectators
2835 put upon the interest, according to their several arts and powers of self-
2836 deceit, the interest was, at the root of it, Ogreish.
2838 Silence in the court! Charles Darnay had yesterday pleaded Not Guilty
2839 to an indictment denouncing him (with infinite jingle and jangle) for that
2840 he was a false traitor to our serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth,
2841 prince, our Lord the King, by reason of his having, on divers occasions,
2842 and by divers means and ways, assisted Lewis, the French King, in his
2843 wars against our said serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth; that was
2844 to say, by coming and going, between the dominions of our said serene,
2845 illustrious, excellent, and so forth, and those of the said French Lewis,
2846 and wickedly, falsely, traitorously, and otherwise evil-adverbiously, re-
2847 vealing to the said French Lewis what forces our said serene, illustrious,
2848 excellent, and so forth, had in preparation to send to Canada and North
2849 America. This much, Jerry, with his head becoming more and more
2850 spiky as the law terms bristled it, made out with huge satisfaction, and
2851 so arrived circuitously at the understanding that the aforesaid, and over
2852 and over again aforesaid, Charles Darnay, stood there before him upon
2853 his trial; that the jury were swearing in; and that Mr. Attorney-General
2854 was making ready to speak.
2856 The accused, who was (and who knew he was) being mentally
2857 hanged, beheaded, and quartered, by everybody there, neither flinched
2858 from the situation, nor assumed any theatrical air in it. He was quiet and
2859 attentive; watched the opening proceedings with a grave interest; and
2860 stood with his hands resting on the slab of wood before him, so com-
2861 posedly, that they had not displaced a leaf of the herbs with which it was
2862 strewn. The court was all bestrewn with herbs and sprinkled with vineg-
2863 ar, as a precaution against gaol air and gaol fever.
2865 Over the prisoner's head there was a mirror, to throw the light down
2866 upon him. Crowds of the wicked and the wretched had been reflected in
2867 it, and had passed from its surface and this earth's together. Haunted in
2868 a most ghastly manner that abominable place would have been, if the
2869 glass could ever have rendered back its reflexions, as the ocean is one
2870 day to give up its dead. Some passing thought of the infamy and dis-
2871 grace for which it had been reserved, may have struck the prisoner's
2872 mind. Be that as it may, a change in his position making him conscious
2876 59
2880 of a bar of light across his face, he looked up; and when he saw the glass
2881 his face flushed, and his right hand pushed the herbs away.
2883 It happened, that the action turned his face to that side of the court
2884 which was on his left. About on a level with his eyes, there sat, in that
2885 corner of the Judge's bench, two persons upon whom his look immedi-
2886 ately rested; so immediately, and so much to the changing of his aspect,
2887 that all the eyes that were tamed upon him, turned to them.
2889 The spectators saw in the two figures, a young lady of little more than
2890 twenty, and a gentleman who was evidently her father; a man of a very
2891 remarkable appearance in respect of the absolute whiteness of his hair,
2892 and a certain indescribable intensity of face: not of an active kind, but
2893 pondering and self-communing. When this expression was upon him, he
2894 looked as if he were old; but when it was stirred and broken up - as it
2895 was now, in a moment, on his speaking to his daughter - he became a
2896 handsome man, not past the prime of life.
2898 His daughter had one of her hands drawn through his arm, as she sat
2899 by him, and the other pressed upon it. She had drawn close to him, in
2900 her dread of the scene, and in her pity for the prisoner. Her forehead had
2901 been strikingly expressive of an engrossing terror and compassion that
2902 saw nothing but the peril of the accused. This had been so very notice-
2903 able, so very powerfully and naturally shown, that starers who had had
2904 no pity for him were touched by her; and the whisper went about, "Who
2905 are they?"
2907 Jerry, the messenger, who had made his own observations, in his own
2908 manner, and who had been sucking the rust off his fingers in his absorp-
2909 tion, stretched his neck to hear who they were. The crowd about him had
2910 pressed and passed the inquiry on to the nearest attendant, and from
2911 him it had been more slowly pressed and passed back; at last it got to
2912 Jerry:
2914 "Witnesses."
2916 "For which side?"
2918 "Against."
2920 "Against what side?"
2922 "The prisoner's."
2924 The Judge, whose eyes had gone in the general direction, recalled
2925 them, leaned back in his seat, and looked steadily at the man whose life
2926 was in his hand, as Mr. Attorney-General rose to spin the rope, grind the
2927 axe, and hammer the nails into the scaffold.
2931 60
2935 Chapter
2939 3
2943 A Disappointment
2945 Mr. Attorney-General had to inform the jury, that the prisoner before
2946 them, though young in years, was old in the treasonable practices which
2947 claimed the forfeit of his life. That this correspondence with the public
2948 enemy was not a correspondence of to-day, or of yesterday, or even of
2949 last year, or of the year before. That, it was certain the prisoner had, for
2950 longer than that, been in the habit of passing and repassing between
2951 France and England, on secret business of which he could give no honest
2952 account. That, if it were in the nature of traitorous ways to thrive (which
2953 happily it never was), the real wickedness and guilt of his business
2954 might have remained undiscovered. That Providence, however, had put
2955 it into the heart of a person who was beyond fear and beyond reproach,
2956 to ferret out the nature of the prisoner's schemes, and, struck with hor-
2957 ror, to disclose them to his Majesty's Chief Secretary of State and most
2958 honourable Privy Council. That, this patriot would be produced before
2959 them. That, his position and attitude were, on the whole, sublime. That,
2960 he had been the prisoner's friend, but, at once in an auspicious and an
2961 evil hour detecting his infamy, had resolved to immolate the traitor he
2962 could no longer cherish in his bosom, on the sacred altar of his country.
2963 That, if statues were decreed in Britain, as in ancient Greece and Rome,
2964 to public benefactors, this shining citizen would assuredly have had one.
2965 That, as they were not so decreed, he probably would not have one. That,
2966 Virtue, as had been observed by the poets (in many passages which he
2967 well knew the jury would have, word for word, at the tips of their
2968 tongues; whereat the jury's countenances displayed a guilty conscious-
2969 ness that they knew nothing about the passages), was in a manner conta-
2970 gious; more especially the bright virtue known as patriotism, or love of
2971 country. That, the lofty example of this immaculate and unimpeachable
2972 witness for the Crown, to refer to whom however unworthily was an
2973 honour, had communicated itself to the prisoner's servant, and had en-
2974 gendered in him a holy determination to examine his master's table-
2978 Si
2982 drawers and pockets, and secrete his papers. That, he (Mr. Attorney-
2983 General) was prepared to hear some disparagement attempted of this
2984 admirable servant; but that, in a general way, he preferred him to his
2985 (Mr. Attorney-General's) brothers and sisters, and honoured him more
2986 than his (Mr. Attorney-General's) father and mother. That, he called with
2987 confidence on the jury to come and do likewise. That, the evidence of
2988 these two witnesses, coupled with the documents of their discovering
2989 that would be produced, would show the prisoner to have been fur-
2990 nished with lists of his Majesty's forces, and of their disposition and pre-
2991 paration, both by sea and land, and would leave no doubt that he had
2992 habitually conveyed such information to a hostile power. That, these lists
2993 could not be proved to be in the prisoner's handwriting; but that it was
2994 all the same; that, indeed, it was rather the better for the prosecution, as
2995 showing the prisoner to be artful in his precautions. That, the proof
2996 would go back five years, and would show the prisoner already engaged
2997 in these pernicious missions, within a few weeks before the date of the
2998 very first action fought between the British troops and the Americans.
2999 That, for these reasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew they
3000 were), and being a responsible jury (as they knew they were), must pos-
3001 itively find the prisoner Guilty, and make an end of him, whether they
3002 liked it or not. That, they never could lay their heads upon their pillows;
3003 that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying their heads
3004 upon their pillows; that, they never could endure the notion of their chil-
3005 dren laying their heads upon their pillows; in short, that there never
3006 more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads upon pillows at
3007 all, unless the prisoner's head was taken off. That head Mr. Attorney-
3008 General concluded by demanding of them, in the name of everything he
3009 could think of with a round turn in it, and on the faith of his solemn as-
3010 severation that he already considered the prisoner as good as dead and
3011 gone.
3013 When the Attorney-General ceased, a buzz arose in the court as if a
3014 cloud of great blue-flies were swarming about the prisoner, in anticipa-
3015 tion of what he was soon to become. When toned down again, the unim-
3016 peachable patriot appeared in the witness-box.
3018 Mr. Solicitor-General then, following his leader's lead, examined the
3019 patriot: John Barsad, gentleman, by name. The story of his pure soul was
3020 exactly what Mr. Attorney-General had described it to be - perhaps, if it
3021 had a fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosom of its
3022 burden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that the
3023 wigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr.
3027 62
3031 Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sitting
3032 opposite, still looking at the ceiling of the court.
3034 Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation.
3035 What did he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He
3036 didn't precisely remember where it was. What was it? No business of
3037 anybody's. Had he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant rela-
3038 tion. Very distant? Rather. Ever been in prison? Certainly not. Never in a
3039 debtors' prison? Didn't see what that had to do with it. Never in a debt-
3040 ors' prison? - Come, once again. Never? Yes. How many times? Two or
3041 three times. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman.
3042 Ever been kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked down-
3043 stairs? Decidedly not; once received a kick on the top of a staircase, and
3044 fell downstairs of his own accord. Kicked on that occasion for cheating at
3045 dice? Something to that effect was said by the intoxicated liar who com-
3046 mitted the assault, but it was not true. Swear it was not true? Positively.
3047 Ever live by cheating at play? Never. Ever live by play? Not more than
3048 other gentlemen do. Ever borrow money of the prisoner? Yes. Ever pay
3049 him? No. Was not this intimacy with the prisoner, in reality a very slight
3050 one, forced upon the prisoner in coaches, inns, and packets? No. Sure he
3051 saw the prisoner with these lists? Certain. Knew no more about the lists?
3052 No. Had not procured them himself, for instance? No. Expect to get any-
3053 thing by this evidence? No. Not in regular government pay and employ-
3054 ment, to lay traps? Oh dear no. Or to do anything? Oh dear no. Swear
3055 that? Over and over again. No motives but motives of sheer patriotism?
3056 None whatever.
3058 The virtuous servant, Roger Cly, swore his way through the case at a
3059 great rate. He had taken service with the prisoner, in good faith and sim-
3060 plicity, four years ago. He had asked the prisoner, aboard the Calais
3061 packet, if he wanted a handy fellow, and the prisoner had engaged him.
3062 He had not asked the prisoner to take the handy fellow as an act of char-
3063 ity - never thought of such a thing. He began to have suspicions of the
3064 prisoner, and to keep an eye upon him, soon afterwards. In arranging his
3065 clothes, while travelling, he had seen similar lists to these in the prison-
3066 er's pockets, over and over again. He had taken these lists from the
3067 drawer of the prisoner's desk. He had not put them there first. He had
3068 seen the prisoner show these identical lists to French gentlemen at Cal-
3069 ais, and similar lists to French gentlemen, both at Calais and Boulogne.
3070 He loved his country, and couldn't bear it, and had given information.
3071 He had never been suspected of stealing a silver tea-pot; he had been
3072 maligned respecting a mustard-pot, but it turned out to be only a plated
3076 63
3080 one. He had known the last witness seven or eight years; that was merely
3081 a coincidence. He didn't call it a particularly curious coincidence; most
3082 coincidences were curious. Neither did he call it a curious coincidence
3083 that true patriotism was HIS only motive too. He was a true Briton, and
3084 hoped there were many like him.
3086 The blue-flies buzzed again, and Mr. Attorney-General called Mr. Jar-
3087 vis Lorry.
3089 "Mr. Jarvis Lorry, are you a clerk in Tellson's bank?"
3091 "I am."
3093 "On a certain Friday night in November one thousand seven hundred
3094 and seventy-five, did business occasion you to travel between London
3095 and Dover by the mail?"
3097 "It did."
3099 "Were there any other passengers in the mail?"
3101 "Two."
3103 "Did they alight on the road in the course of the night?"
3105 "They did."
3107 "Mr. Lorry, look upon the prisoner. Was he one of those two
3108 passengers?"
3110 "I cannot undertake to say that he was."
3112 "Does he resemble either of these two passengers?"
3114 "Both were so wrapped up, and the night was so dark, and we were
3115 all so reserved, that I cannot undertake to say even that."
3117 "Mr. Lorry, look again upon the prisoner. Supposing him wrapped up
3118 as those two passengers were, is there anything in his bulk and stature to
3119 render it unlikely that he was one of them?"
3121 "No."
3123 "You will not swear, Mr. Lorry, that he was not one of them?"
3125 "No."
3127 "So at least you say he may have been one of them?"
3129 "Yes. Except that I remember them both to have been - like myself -
3130 timorous of highwaymen, and the prisoner has not a timorous air."
3132 "Did you ever see a counterfeit of timidity, Mr. Lorry?"
3134 "I certainly have seen that."
3138 64
3142 "Mr. Lorry, look once more upon the prisoner. Have you seen him, to
3143 your certain knowledge, before?"
3145 "I have."
3147 "When?"
3149 "I was returning from France a few days afterwards, and, at Calais, the
3150 prisoner came on board the packet-ship in which I returned, and made
3151 the voyage with me."
3153 "At what hour did he come on board?"
3155 "At a little after midnight."
3157 "In the dead of the night. Was he the only passenger who came on
3158 board at that untimely hour?"
3160 "He happened to be the only one."
3162 "Never mind about 'happening/ Mr. Lorry. He was the only passen-
3163 ger who came on board in the dead of the night?"
3165 "He was."
3167 "Were you travelling alone, Mr. Lorry, or with any companion?"
3169 "With two companions. A gentleman and lady. They are here."
3171 "They are here. Had you any conversation with the prisoner?"
3173 "Hardly any. The weather was stormy, and the passage long and
3174 rough, and I lay on a sofa, almost from shore to shore."
3176 "Miss Manette!"
3178 The young lady, to whom all eyes had been turned before, and were
3179 now turned again, stood up where she had sat. Her father rose with her,
3180 and kept her hand drawn through his arm.
3182 "Miss Manette, look upon the prisoner."
3184 To be confronted with such pity, and such earnest youth and beauty,
3185 was far more trying to the accused than to be confronted with all the
3186 crowd. Standing, as it were, apart with her on the edge of his grave, not
3187 all the staring curiosity that looked on, could, for the moment, nerve him
3188 to remain quite still. His hurried right hand parcelled out the herbs be-
3189 fore him into imaginary beds of flowers in a garden; and his efforts to
3190 control and steady his breathing shook the lips from which the colour
3191 rushed to his heart. The buzz of the great flies was loud again.
3193 "Miss Manette, have you seen the prisoner before?"
3195 "Yes, sir."
3199 65
3203 'Where?"
3205 'On board of the packet-ship just now referred to, sir, and on the same
3209 occasion."
3213 "You are the young lady just now referred to?"
3215 "O! most unhappily, I am!"
3217 The plaintive tone of her compassion merged into the less musical
3218 voice of the Judge, as he said something fiercely: "Answer the questions
3219 put to you, and make no remark upon them."
3221 "Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on that
3222 passage across the Channel?"
3224 "Yes, sir."
3226 "Recall it."
3228 In the midst of a profound stillness, she faintly began: "When the gen-
3229 tleman came on board - "
3231 "Do you mean the prisoner?" inquired the Judge, knitting his brows.
3233 "Yes, my Lord."
3235 "Then say the prisoner."
3237 "When the prisoner came on board, he noticed that my father," turn-
3238 ing her eyes lovingly to him as he stood beside her, "was much fatigued
3239 and in a very weak state of health. My father was so reduced that I was
3240 afraid to take him out of the air, and I had made a bed for him on the
3241 deck near the cabin steps, and I sat on the deck at his side to take care of
3242 him. There were no other passengers that night, but we four. The prison-
3243 er was so good as to beg permission to advise me how I could shelter my
3244 father from the wind and weather, better than I had done. I had not
3245 known how to do it well, not understanding how the wind would set
3246 when we were out of the harbour. He did it for me. He expressed great
3247 gentleness and kindness for my father's state, and I am sure he felt it.
3248 That was the manner of our beginning to speak together."
3250 "Let me interrupt you for a moment. Had he come on board alone?"
3252 "No."
3254 "How many were with him?"
3256 "Two French gentlemen."
3258 "Had they conferred together?"
3260 "They had conferred together until the last moment, when it was ne-
3261 cessary for the French gentlemen to be landed in their boat."
3265 66
3269 "Had any papers been handed about among them, similar to these
3270 lists?"
3272 "Some papers had been handed about among them, but I don't know
3273 what papers."
3275 "Like these in shape and size?"
3277 "Possibly, but indeed I don't know, although they stood whispering
3278 very near to me: because they stood at the top of the cabin steps to have
3279 the light of the lamp that was hanging there; it was a dull lamp, and they
3280 spoke very low, and I did not hear what they said, and saw only that
3281 they looked at papers."
3283 "Now, to the prisoner's conversation, Miss Manette."
3285 "The prisoner was as open in his confidence with me - which arose
3286 out of my helpless situation - as he was kind, and good, and useful to
3287 my father. I hope," bursting into tears, "I may not repay him by doing
3288 him harm to-day."
3290 Buzzing from the blue-flies.
3292 "Miss Manette, if the prisoner does not perfectly understand that you
3293 give the evidence which it is your duty to give - which you must give -
3294 and which you cannot escape from giving - with great unwillingness, he
3295 is the only person present in that condition. Please to go on."
3297 "He told me that he was travelling on business of a delicate and diffi-
3298 cult nature, which might get people into trouble, and that he was there-
3299 fore travelling under an assumed name. He said that this business had,
3300 within a few days, taken him to France, and might, at intervals, take him
3301 backwards and forwards between France and England for a long time to
3302 come."
3304 "Did he say anything about America, Miss Manette? Be particular."
3306 "He tried to explain to me how that quarrel had arisen, and he said
3307 that, so far as he could judge, it was a wrong and foolish one on Eng-
3308 land's part. He added, in a jesting way, that perhaps George Washington
3309 might gain almost as great a name in history as George the Third. But
3310 there was no harm in his way of saying this: it was said laughingly, and
3311 to beguile the time."
3313 Any strongly marked expression of face on the part of a chief actor in a
3314 scene of great interest to whom many eyes are directed, will be uncon-
3315 sciously imitated by the spectators. Her forehead was painfully anxious
3316 and intent as she gave this evidence, and, in the pauses when she
3317 stopped for the Judge to write it down, watched its effect upon the
3321 67
3325 counsel for and against. Among the lookers-on there was the same ex-
3326 pression in all quarters of the court; insomuch, that a great majority of
3327 the foreheads there, might have been mirrors reflecting the witness,
3328 when the Judge looked up from his notes to glare at that tremendous
3329 heresy about George Washington.
3331 Mr. Attorney-General now signified to my Lord, that he deemed it ne-
3332 cessary, as a matter of precaution and form, to call the young lady's fath-
3333 er, Doctor Manette. Who was called accordingly.
3335 "Doctor Manette, look upon the prisoner. Have you ever seen him
3336 before?"
3338 "Once. When he caged at my lodgings in London. Some three years, or
3339 three years and a half ago."
3341 "Can you identify him as your fellow-passenger on board the packet,
3342 or speak to his conversation with your daughter?"
3344 "Sir, I can do neither."
3346 "Is there any particular and special reason for your being unable to do
3347 either?"
3349 He answered, in a low voice, "There is."
3351 "Has it been your misfortune to undergo a long imprisonment,
3352 without trial, or even accusation, in your native country, Doctor
3353 Manette?"
3355 He answered, in a tone that went to every heart, "A long
3356 imprisonment."
3358 "Were you newly released on the occasion in question?"
3360 "They tell me so."
3362 "Have you no remembrance of the occasion?"
3364 "None. My mind is a blank, from some time - I cannot even say what
3365 time - when I employed myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to the
3366 time when I found myself living in London with my dear daughter here.
3367 She had become familiar to me, when a gracious God restored my fac-
3368 ulties; but, I am quite unable even to say how she had become familiar. I
3369 have no remembrance of the process."
3371 Mr. Attorney-General sat down, and the father and daughter sat down
3372 together.
3374 A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand be-
3375 ing to show that the prisoner went down, with some fellow-plotter un-
3376 tracked, in the Dover mail on that Friday night in November five years
3380 68
3384 ago, and got out of the mail in the night, as a blind, at a place where he
3385 did not remain, but from which he travelled back some dozen miles or
3386 more, to a garrison and dockyard, and there collected information; a wit-
3387 ness was called to identify him as having been at the precise time re-
3388 quired, in the coffee-room of an hotel in that garrison-and-dockyard
3389 town, waiting for another person. The prisoner's counsel was cross-ex-
3390 amining this witness with no result, except that he had never seen the
3391 prisoner on any other occasion, when the wigged gentleman who had all
3392 this time been looking at the ceiling of the court, wrote a word or two on
3393 a little piece of paper, screwed it up, and tossed it to him. Opening this
3394 piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel looked with great attention
3395 and curiosity at the prisoner.
3397 "You say again you are quite sure that it was the prisoner?"
3399 The witness was quite sure.
3401 "Did you ever see anybody very like the prisoner?"
3403 Not so like (the witness said) as that he could be mistaken.
3405 "Look well upon that gentleman, my learned friend there," pointing to
3406 him who had tossed the paper over, "and then look well upon the pris-
3407 oner. How say you? Are they very like each other?"
3409 Allowing for my learned friend's appearance being careless and slov-
3410 enly if not debauched, they were sufficiently like each other to surprise,
3411 not only the witness, but everybody present, when they were thus
3412 brought into comparison. My Lord being prayed to bid my learned
3413 friend lay aside his wig, and giving no very gracious consent, the like-
3414 ness became much more remarkable. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver
3415 (the prisoner's counsel), whether they were next to try Mr. Carton (name
3416 of my learned friend) for treason? But, Mr. Stryver replied to my Lord,
3417 no; but he would ask the witness to tell him whether what happened
3418 once, might happen twice; whether he would have been so confident if
3419 he had seen this illustration of his rashness sooner, whether he would be
3420 so confident, having seen it; and more. The upshot of which, was, to
3421 smash this witness like a crockery vessel, and shiver his part of the case
3422 to useless lumber.
3424 Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off his fin-
3425 gers in his following of the evidence. He had now to attend while Mr.
3426 Stryver fitted the prisoner's case on the jury, like a compact suit of
3427 clothes; showing them how the patriot, Barsad, was a hired spy and trait-
3428 or, an unblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatest scoundrels
3429 upon earth since accursed Judas - which he certainly did look rather like.
3433 69
3437 How the virtuous servant, Cly, was his friend and partner, and was
3438 worthy to be; how the watchful eyes of those forgers and false swearers
3439 had rested on the prisoner as a victim, because some family affairs in
3440 France, he being of French extraction, did require his making those pas-
3441 sages across the Channel - though what those affairs were, a considera-
3442 tion for others who were near and dear to him, forbade him, even for his
3443 life, to disclose. How the evidence that had been warped and wrested
3444 from the young lady, whose anguish in giving it they had witnessed,
3445 came to nothing, involving the mere little innocent gallantries and polite-
3446 nesses likely to pass between any young gentleman and young lady so
3447 thrown together; - with the exception of that reference to George Wash-
3448 ington, which was altogether too extravagant and impossible to be re-
3449 garded in any other light than as a monstrous joke. How it would be a
3450 weakness in the government to break down in this attempt to practise
3451 for popularity on the lowest national antipathies and fears, and therefore
3452 Mr. Attorney-General had made the most of it; how, nevertheless, it res-
3453 ted upon nothing, save that vile and infamous character of evidence too
3454 often disfiguring such cases, and of which the State Trials of this country
3455 were full. But, there my Lord interposed (with as grave a face as if it had
3456 not been true), saying that he could not sit upon that Bench and suffer
3457 those allusions.
3459 Mr. Stryver then called his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next
3460 to attend while Mr. Attorney-General turned the whole suit of clothes
3461 Mr. Stryver had fitted on the jury, inside out; showing how Barsad and
3462 Cly were even a hundred times better than he had thought them, and the
3463 prisoner a hundred times worse. Lastly, came my Lord himself, turning
3464 the suit of clothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on the whole de-
3465 cidedly trimming and shaping them into grave-clothes for the prisoner.
3467 And now, the jury turned to consider, and the great flies swarmed
3468 again.
3470 Mr. Carton, who had so long sat looking at the ceiling of the court,
3471 changed neither his place nor his attitude, even in this excitement. While
3472 his teamed friend, Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him,
3473 whispered with those who sat near, and from time to time glanced
3474 anxiously at the jury; while all the spectators moved more or less, and
3475 grouped themselves anew; while even my Lord himself arose from his
3476 seat, and slowly paced up and down his platform, not unattended by a
3477 suspicion in the minds of the audience that his state was feverish; this
3478 one man sat leaning back, with his torn gown half off him, his untidy
3479 wig put on just as it had happened to fight on his head after its removal,
3483 70
3487 his hands in his pockets, and his eyes on the ceiling as they had been all
3488 day. Something especially reckless in his demeanour, not only gave him
3489 a disreputable look, but so diminished the strong resemblance he un-
3490 doubtedly bore to the prisoner (which his momentary earnestness, when
3491 they were compared together, had strengthened), that many of the
3492 lookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one another they would
3493 hardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made the ob-
3494 servation to his next neighbour, and added, "I'd hold half a guinea that
3495 he don't get no law-work to do. Don't look like the sort of one to get any,
3496 do he?"
3498 Yet, this Mr. Carton took in more of the details of the scene than he ap-
3499 peared to take in; for now, when Miss Manette's head dropped upon her
3500 father's breast, he was the first to see it, and to say audibly: "Officer! look
3501 to that young lady. Help the gentleman to take her out. Don't you see
3502 she will fall!"
3504 There was much commiseration for her as she was removed, and
3505 much sympathy with her father. It had evidently been a great distress to
3506 him, to have the days of his imprisonment recalled. He had shown
3507 strong internal agitation when he was questioned, and that pondering or
3508 brooding look which made him old, had been upon him, like a heavy
3509 cloud, ever since. As he passed out, the jury, who had turned back and
3510 paused a moment, spoke, through their foreman.
3512 They were not agreed, and wished to retire. My Lord (perhaps with
3513 George Washington on his mind) showed some surprise that they were
3514 not agreed, but signified his pleasure that they should retire under watch
3515 and ward, and retired himself. The trial had lasted all day, and the lamps
3516 in the court were now being lighted. It began to be rumoured that the
3517 jury would be out a long while. The spectators dropped off to get re-
3518 freshment, and the prisoner withdrew to the back of the dock, and sat
3519 down.
3521 Mr. Lorry, who had gone out when the young lady and her father
3522 went out, now reappeared, and beckoned to Jerry: who, in the slackened
3523 interest, could easily get near him.
3525 "Jerry, if you wish to take something to eat, you can. But, keep in the
3526 way. You will be sure to hear when the jury come in. Don't be a moment
3527 behind them, for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You are
3528 the quickest messenger I know, and will get to Temple Bar long before I
3529 can."
3533 71
3537 Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled it in ac-
3538 knowedgment of this communication and a shilling. Mr. Carton came up
3539 at the moment, and touched Mr. Lorry on the arm.
3541 "How is the young lady?"
3543 "She is greatly distressed; but her father is comforting her, and she
3544 feels the better for being out of court."
3546 "I'll tell the prisoner so. It won't do for a respectable bank gentleman
3547 like you, to be seen speaking to him publicly, you know."
3549 Mr. Lorry reddened as if he were conscious of having debated the
3550 point in his mind, and Mr. Carton made his way to the outside of the bar.
3551 The way out of court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, all
3552 eyes, ears, and spikes.
3554 "Mr. Darnay!"
3556 The prisoner came forward directly.
3558 "You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness, Miss Manette.
3559 She will do very well. You have seen the worst of her agitation."
3561 "I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of it. Could you tell her so
3562 for me, with my fervent acknowledgments?"
3564 "Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it."
3566 Mr. Carton's manner was so careless as to be almost insolent. He
3567 stood, half turned from the prisoner, lounging with his elbow against the
3568 bar.
3570 "I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks."
3572 "What," said Carton, still only half turned towards him, "do you ex-
3573 pect, Mr. Darnay?"
3575 "The worst."
3577 "It's the wisest thing to expect, and the likeliest. But I think their with-
3578 drawing is in your favour."
3580 Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed, Jerry heard no
3581 more: but left them - so like each other in feature, so unlike each other in
3582 manner - standing side by side, both reflected in the glass above them.
3584 An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal
3585 crowded passages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and
3586 ale. The hoarse messenger, uncomfortably seated on a form after taking
3587 that refection, had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a
3591 72
3595 rapid tide of people setting up the stairs that led to the court, carried him
3596 along with them.
3598 "Jerry! Jerry!" Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got
3599 there.
3601 "Here, sir! It's a fight to get back again. Here I am, sir!"
3603 Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the throng. "Quick! Have you
3604 got it?"
3606 "Yes, sir."
3608 Hastily written on the paper was the word "AQUITTED."
3610 "If you had sent the message, 'Recalled to Life,' again," muttered Jerry,
3611 as he turned, "I should have known what you meant, this time."
3613 He had no opportunity of saying, or so much as thinking, anything
3614 else, until he was clear of the Old Bailey; for, the crowd came pouring
3615 out with a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzz
3616 swept into the street as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing in search
3617 of other carrion.Mr. Attorney-General had to inform the jury, that the
3618 prisoner before them, though young in years, was old in the treasonable
3619 practices which claimed the forfeit of his life. That this correspondence
3620 with the public enemy was not a correspondence of to-day, or of yester-
3621 day, or even of last year, or of the year before. That, it was certain the
3622 prisoner had, for longer than that, been in the habit of passing and re-
3623 passing between France and England, on secret business of which he
3624 could give no honest account. That, if it were in the nature of traitorous
3625 ways to thrive (which happily it never was), the real wickedness and
3626 guilt of his business might have remained undiscovered. That Provid-
3627 ence, however, had put it into the heart of a person who was beyond fear
3628 and beyond reproach, to ferret out the nature of the prisoner's schemes,
3629 and, struck with horror, to disclose them to his Majesty's Chief Secretary
3630 of State and most honourable Privy Council. That, this patriot would be
3631 produced before them. That, his position and attitude were, on the
3632 whole, sublime. That, he had been the prisoner's friend, but, at once in
3633 an auspicious and an evil hour detecting his infamy, had resolved to im-
3634 molate the traitor he could no longer cherish in his bosom, on the sacred
3635 altar of his country. That, if statues were decreed in Britain, as in ancient
3636 Greece and Rome, to public benefactors, this shining citizen would as-
3637 suredly have had one. That, as they were not so decreed, he probably
3638 would not have one. That, Virtue, as had been observed by the poets (in
3639 many passages which he well knew the jury would have, word for word,
3640 at the tips of their tongues; whereat the jury's countenances displayed a
3644 73
3648 guilty consciousness that they knew nothing about the passages), was in
3649 a manner contagious; more especially the bright virtue known as patriot-
3650 ism, or love of country. That, the lofty example of this immaculate and
3651 unimpeachable witness for the Crown, to refer to whom however un-
3652 worthily was an honour, had communicated itself to the prisoner's ser-
3653 vant, and had engendered in him a holy determination to examine his
3654 master's table-drawers and pockets, and secrete his papers. That, he (Mr.
3655 Attorney-General) was prepared to hear some disparagement attempted
3656 of this admirable servant; but that, in a general way, he preferred him to
3657 his (Mr. Attorney-General's) brothers and sisters, and honoured him
3658 more than his (Mr. Attorney-General's) father and mother. That, he
3659 called with confidence on the jury to come and do likewise. That, the
3660 evidence of these two witnesses, coupled with the documents of their
3661 discovering that would be produced, would show the prisoner to have
3662 been furnished with lists of his Majesty's forces, and of their disposition
3663 and preparation, both by sea and land, and would leave no doubt that he
3664 had habitually conveyed such information to a hostile power. That, these
3665 lists could not be proved to be in the prisoner's handwriting; but that it
3666 was all the same; that, indeed, it was rather the better for the prosecu-
3667 tion, as showing the prisoner to be artful in his precautions. That, the
3668 proof would go back five years, and would show the prisoner already
3669 engaged in these pernicious missions, within a few weeks before the date
3670 of the very first action fought between the British troops and the Americ-
3671 ans. That, for these reasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew they
3672 were), and being a responsible jury (as they knew they were), must pos-
3673 itively find the prisoner Guilty, and make an end of him, whether they
3674 liked it or not. That, they never could lay their heads upon their pillows;
3675 that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying their heads
3676 upon their pillows; that, they never could endure the notion of their chil-
3677 dren laying their heads upon their pillows; in short, that there never
3678 more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads upon pillows at
3679 all, unless the prisoner's head was taken off. That head Mr. Attorney-
3680 General concluded by demanding of them, in the name of everything he
3681 could think of with a round turn in it, and on the faith of his solemn as-
3682 severation that he already considered the prisoner as good as dead and
3683 gone.
3685 When the Attorney-General ceased, a buzz arose in the court as if a
3686 cloud of great blue-flies were swarming about the prisoner, in anticipa-
3687 tion of what he was soon to become. When toned down again, the unim-
3688 peachable patriot appeared in the witness-box.
3692 74:
3696 Mr. Solicitor-General then, following his leader's lead, examined the
3697 patriot: John Barsad, gentleman, by name. The story of his pure soul was
3698 exactly what Mr. Attorney-General had described it to be - perhaps, if it
3699 had a fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosom of its
3700 burden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that the
3701 wigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr.
3702 Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sitting
3703 opposite, still looking at the ceiling of the court.
3705 Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation.
3706 What did he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He
3707 didn't precisely remember where it was. What was it? No business of
3708 anybody's. Had he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant rela-
3709 tion. Very distant? Rather. Ever been in prison? Certainly not. Never in a
3710 debtors' prison? Didn't see what that had to do with it. Never in a debt-
3711 ors' prison? - Come, once again. Never? Yes. How many times? Two or
3712 three times. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman.
3713 Ever been kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked down-
3714 stairs? Decidedly not; once received a kick on the top of a staircase, and
3715 fell downstairs of his own accord. Kicked on that occasion for cheating at
3716 dice? Something to that effect was said by the intoxicated liar who com-
3717 mitted the assault, but it was not true. Swear it was not true? Positively.
3718 Ever live by cheating at play? Never. Ever live by play? Not more than
3719 other gentlemen do. Ever borrow money of the prisoner? Yes. Ever pay
3720 him? No. Was not this intimacy with the prisoner, in reality a very slight
3721 one, forced upon the prisoner in coaches, inns, and packets? No. Sure he
3722 saw the prisoner with these lists? Certain. Knew no more about the lists?
3723 No. Had not procured them himself, for instance? No. Expect to get any-
3724 thing by this evidence? No. Not in regular government pay and employ-
3725 ment, to lay traps? Oh dear no. Or to do anything? Oh dear no. Swear
3726 that? Over and over again. No motives but motives of sheer patriotism?
3727 None whatever.
3729 The virtuous servant, Roger Cly, swore his way through the case at a
3730 great rate. He had taken service with the prisoner, in good faith and sim-
3731 plicity, four years ago. He had asked the prisoner, aboard the Calais
3732 packet, if he wanted a handy fellow, and the prisoner had engaged him.
3733 He had not asked the prisoner to take the handy fellow as an act of char-
3734 ity - never thought of such a thing. He began to have suspicions of the
3735 prisoner, and to keep an eye upon him, soon afterwards. In arranging his
3736 clothes, while travelling, he had seen similar lists to these in the prison-
3737 er's pockets, over and over again. He had taken these lists from the
3741 75
3745 drawer of the prisoner's desk. He had not put them there first. He had
3746 seen the prisoner show these identical lists to French gentlemen at Cal-
3747 ais, and similar lists to French gentlemen, both at Calais and Boulogne.
3748 He loved his country, and couldn't bear it, and had given information.
3749 He had never been suspected of stealing a silver tea-pot; he had been
3750 maligned respecting a mustard-pot, but it turned out to be only a plated
3751 one. He had known the last witness seven or eight years; that was merely
3752 a coincidence. He didn't call it a particularly curious coincidence; most
3753 coincidences were curious. Neither did he call it a curious coincidence
3754 that true patriotism was HIS only motive too. He was a true Briton, and
3755 hoped there were many like him.
3757 The blue-flies buzzed again, and Mr. Attorney-General called Mr. Jar-
3758 vis Lorry.
3760 "Mr. Jarvis Lorry, are you a clerk in Tellson's bank?"
3762 "I am."
3764 "On a certain Friday night in November one thousand seven hundred
3765 and seventy-five, did business occasion you to travel between London
3766 and Dover by the mail?"
3768 "It did."
3770 "Were there any other passengers in the mail?"
3772 "Two."
3774 "Did they alight on the road in the course of the night?"
3776 "They did."
3778 "Mr. Lorry, look upon the prisoner. Was he one of those two
3779 passengers?"
3781 "I cannot undertake to say that he was."
3783 "Does he resemble either of these two passengers?"
3785 "Both were so wrapped up, and the night was so dark, and we were
3786 all so reserved, that I cannot undertake to say even that."
3788 "Mr. Lorry, look again upon the prisoner. Supposing him wrapped up
3789 as those two passengers were, is there anything in his bulk and stature to
3790 render it unlikely that he was one of them?"
3792 "No."
3794 "You will not swear, Mr. Lorry, that he was not one of them?"
3796 "No."
3798 "So at least you say he may have been one of them?"
3802 76
3806 "Yes. Except that I remember them both to have been - like myself -
3807 timorous of highwaymen, and the prisoner has not a timorous air."
3809 "Did you ever see a counterfeit of timidity, Mr. Lorry?"
3811 "I certainly have seen that."
3813 "Mr. Lorry, look once more upon the prisoner. Have you seen him, to
3814 your certain knowledge, before?"
3816 "I have."
3818 "When?"
3820 "I was returning from France a few days afterwards, and, at Calais, the
3821 prisoner came on board the packet-ship in which I returned, and made
3822 the voyage with me."
3824 "At what hour did he come on board?"
3826 "At a little after midnight."
3828 "In the dead of the night. Was he the only passenger who came on
3829 board at that untimely hour?"
3831 "He happened to be the only one."
3833 "Never mind about 'happening/ Mr. Lorry. He was the only passen-
3834 ger who came on board in the dead of the night?"
3836 "He was."
3838 "Were you travelling alone, Mr. Lorry, or with any companion?"
3840 "With two companions. A gentleman and lady. They are here."
3842 "They are here. Had you any conversation with the prisoner?"
3844 "Hardly any. The weather was stormy, and the passage long and
3845 rough, and I lay on a sofa, almost from shore to shore."
3847 "Miss Manette!"
3849 The young lady, to whom all eyes had been turned before, and were
3850 now turned again, stood up where she had sat. Her father rose with her,
3851 and kept her hand drawn through his arm.
3853 "Miss Manette, look upon the prisoner."
3855 To be confronted with such pity, and such earnest youth and beauty,
3856 was far more trying to the accused than to be confronted with all the
3857 crowd. Standing, as it were, apart with her on the edge of his grave, not
3858 all the staring curiosity that looked on, could, for the moment, nerve him
3859 to remain quite still. His hurried right hand parcelled out the herbs be-
3860 fore him into imaginary beds of flowers in a garden; and his efforts to
3864 77
3868 control and steady his breathing shook the lips from which the colour
3869 rushed to his heart. The buzz of the great flies was loud again.
3871 "Miss Manette, have you seen the prisoner before?"
3873 "Yes, sir."
3875 "Where?"
3877 "On board of the packet-ship just now referred to, sir, and on the same
3878 occasion."
3880 "You are the young lady just now referred to?"
3882 "O! most unhappily, I am!"
3884 The plaintive tone of her compassion merged into the less musical
3885 voice of the Judge, as he said something fiercely: "Answer the questions
3886 put to you, and make no remark upon them."
3888 "Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on that
3889 passage across the Channel?"
3891 "Yes, sir."
3893 "Recall it."
3895 In the midst of a profound stillness, she faintly began: "When the gen-
3896 tleman came on board - "
3898 "Do you mean the prisoner?" inquired the Judge, knitting his brows.
3900 "Yes, my Lord."
3902 "Then say the prisoner."
3904 "When the prisoner came on board, he noticed that my father," turn-
3905 ing her eyes lovingly to him as he stood beside her, "was much fatigued
3906 and in a very weak state of health. My father was so reduced that I was
3907 afraid to take him out of the air, and I had made a bed for him on the
3908 deck near the cabin steps, and I sat on the deck at his side to take care of
3909 him. There were no other passengers that night, but we four. The prison-
3910 er was so good as to beg permission to advise me how I could shelter my
3911 father from the wind and weather, better than I had done. I had not
3912 known how to do it well, not understanding how the wind would set
3913 when we were out of the harbour. He did it for me. He expressed great
3914 gentleness and kindness for my father's state, and I am sure he felt it.
3915 That was the manner of our beginning to speak together."
3917 "Let me interrupt you for a moment. Had he come on board alone?"
3919 "No."
3921 "How many were with him?"
3925 78
3929 "Two French gentlemen."
3931 "Had they conferred together?"
3933 "They had conferred together until the last moment, when it was ne-
3934 cessary for the French gentlemen to be landed in their boat."
3936 "Had any papers been handed about among them, similar to these
3937 lists?"
3939 "Some papers had been handed about among them, but I don't know
3940 what papers."
3942 "Like these in shape and size?"
3944 "Possibly, but indeed I don't know, although they stood whispering
3945 very near to me: because they stood at the top of the cabin steps to have
3946 the light of the lamp that was hanging there; it was a dull lamp, and they
3947 spoke very low, and I did not hear what they said, and saw only that
3948 they looked at papers."
3950 "Now, to the prisoner's conversation, Miss Manette."
3952 "The prisoner was as open in his confidence with me - which arose
3953 out of my helpless situation - as he was kind, and good, and useful to
3954 my father. I hope," bursting into tears, "I may not repay him by doing
3955 him harm to-day."
3957 Buzzing from the blue-flies.
3959 "Miss Manette, if the prisoner does not perfectly understand that you
3960 give the evidence which it is your duty to give - which you must give -
3961 and which you cannot escape from giving - with great unwillingness, he
3962 is the only person present in that condition. Please to go on."
3964 "He told me that he was travelling on business of a delicate and diffi-
3965 cult nature, which might get people into trouble, and that he was there-
3966 fore travelling under an assumed name. He said that this business had,
3967 within a few days, taken him to France, and might, at intervals, take him
3968 backwards and forwards between France and England for a long time to
3969 come."
3971 "Did he say anything about America, Miss Manette? Be particular."
3973 "He tried to explain to me how that quarrel had arisen, and he said
3974 that, so far as he could judge, it was a wrong and foolish one on Eng-
3975 land's part. He added, in a jesting way, that perhaps George Washington
3976 might gain almost as great a name in history as George the Third. But
3977 there was no harm in his way of saying this: it was said laughingly, and
3978 to beguile the time."
3982 79
3986 Any strongly marked expression of face on the part of a chief actor in a
3987 scene of great interest to whom many eyes are directed, will be uncon-
3988 sciously imitated by the spectators. Her forehead was painfully anxious
3989 and intent as she gave this evidence, and, in the pauses when she
3990 stopped for the Judge to write it down, watched its effect upon the coun-
3991 sel for and against. Among the lookers-on there was the same expression
3992 in all quarters of the court; insomuch, that a great majority of the fore-
3993 heads there, might have been mirrors reflecting the witness, when the
3994 Judge looked up from his notes to glare at that tremendous heresy about
3995 George Washington.
3997 Mr. Attorney-General now signified to my Lord, that he deemed it ne-
3998 cessary, as a matter of precaution and form, to call the young lady's fath-
3999 er, Doctor Manette. Who was called accordingly.
4001 "Doctor Manette, look upon the prisoner. Have you ever seen him
4002 before?"
4004 "Once. When he caged at my lodgings in London. Some three years, or
4005 three years and a half ago."
4007 "Can you identify him as your fellow-passenger on board the packet,
4008 or speak to his conversation with your daughter?"
4010 "Sir, I can do neither."
4012 "Is there any particular and special reason for your being unable to do
4013 either?"
4015 He answered, in a low voice, "There is."
4017 "Has it been your misfortune to undergo a long imprisonment,
4018 without trial, or even accusation, in your native country, Doctor
4019 Manette?"
4021 He answered, in a tone that went to every heart, "A long
4022 imprisonment. "
4024 "Were you newly released on the occasion in question?"
4026 "They tell me so."
4028 "Have you no remembrance of the occasion?"
4030 "None. My mind is a blank, from some time - I cannot even say what
4031 time - when I employed myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to the
4032 time when I found myself living in London with my dear daughter here.
4033 She had become familiar to me, when a gracious God restored my fac-
4034 ulties; but, I am quite unable even to say how she had become familiar. I
4035 have no remembrance of the process."
4039 80
4043 Mr. Attorney-General sat down, and the father and daughter sat down
4044 together.
4046 A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand be-
4047 ing to show that the prisoner went down, with some fellow-plotter un-
4048 tracked, in the Dover mail on that Friday night in November five years
4049 ago, and got out of the mail in the night, as a blind, at a place where he
4050 did not remain, but from which he travelled back some dozen miles or
4051 more, to a garrison and dockyard, and there collected information; a wit-
4052 ness was called to identify him as having been at the precise time re-
4053 quired, in the coffee-room of an hotel in that garrison-and-dockyard
4054 town, waiting for another person. The prisoner's counsel was cross-ex-
4055 amining this witness with no result, except that he had never seen the
4056 prisoner on any other occasion, when the wigged gentleman who had all
4057 this time been looking at the ceiling of the court, wrote a word or two on
4058 a little piece of paper, screwed it up, and tossed it to him. Opening this
4059 piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel looked with great attention
4060 and curiosity at the prisoner.
4062 "You say again you are quite sure that it was the prisoner?"
4064 The witness was quite sure.
4066 "Did you ever see anybody very like the prisoner?"
4068 Not so like (the witness said) as that he could be mistaken.
4070 "Look well upon that gentleman, my learned friend there," pointing to
4071 him who had tossed the paper over, "and then look well upon the pris-
4072 oner. How say you? Are they very like each other?"
4074 Allowing for my learned friend's appearance being careless and slov-
4075 enly if not debauched, they were sufficiently like each other to surprise,
4076 not only the witness, but everybody present, when they were thus
4077 brought into comparison. My Lord being prayed to bid my learned
4078 friend lay aside his wig, and giving no very gracious consent, the like-
4079 ness became much more remarkable. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver
4080 (the prisoner's counsel), whether they were next to try Mr. Carton (name
4081 of my learned friend) for treason? But, Mr. Stryver replied to my Lord,
4082 no; but he would ask the witness to tell him whether what happened
4083 once, might happen twice; whether he would have been so confident if
4084 he had seen this illustration of his rashness sooner, whether he would be
4085 so confident, having seen it; and more. The upshot of which, was, to
4086 smash this witness like a crockery vessel, and shiver his part of the case
4087 to useless lumber.
4091 81
4095 Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off his fin-
4096 gers in his following of the evidence. He had now to attend while Mr.
4097 Stryver fitted the prisoner's case on the jury, like a compact suit of
4098 clothes; showing them how the patriot, Barsad, was a hired spy and trait-
4099 or, an unblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatest scoundrels
4100 upon earth since accursed Judas - which he certainly did look rather like.
4101 How the virtuous servant, Cly, was his friend and partner, and was
4102 worthy to be; how the watchful eyes of those forgers and false swearers
4103 had rested on the prisoner as a victim, because some family affairs in
4104 France, he being of French extraction, did require his making those pas-
4105 sages across the Channel - though what those affairs were, a considera-
4106 tion for others who were near and dear to him, forbade him, even for his
4107 life, to disclose. How the evidence that had been warped and wrested
4108 from the young lady, whose anguish in giving it they had witnessed,
4109 came to nothing, involving the mere little innocent gallantries and polite-
4110 nesses likely to pass between any young gentleman and young lady so
4111 thrown together; - with the exception of that reference to George Wash-
4112 ington, which was altogether too extravagant and impossible to be re-
4113 garded in any other light than as a monstrous joke. How it would be a
4114 weakness in the government to break down in this attempt to practise
4115 for popularity on the lowest national antipathies and fears, and therefore
4116 Mr. Attorney-General had made the most of it; how, nevertheless, it res-
4117 ted upon nothing, save that vile and infamous character of evidence too
4118 often disfiguring such cases, and of which the State Trials of this country
4119 were full. But, there my Lord interposed (with as grave a face as if it had
4120 not been true), saying that he could not sit upon that Bench and suffer
4121 those allusions.
4123 Mr. Stryver then called his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next
4124 to attend while Mr. Attorney-General turned the whole suit of clothes
4125 Mr. Stryver had fitted on the jury, inside out; showing how Barsad and
4126 Cly were even a hundred times better than he had thought them, and the
4127 prisoner a hundred times worse. Lastly, came my Lord himself, turning
4128 the suit of clothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on the whole de-
4129 cidedly trimming and shaping them into grave-clothes for the prisoner.
4131 And now, the jury turned to consider, and the great flies swarmed
4132 again.
4134 Mr. Carton, who had so long sat looking at the ceiling of the court,
4135 changed neither his place nor his attitude, even in this excitement. While
4136 his teamed friend, Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him,
4137 whispered with those who sat near, and from time to time glanced
4141 82
4145 anxiously at the jury; while all the spectators moved more or less, and
4146 grouped themselves anew; while even my Lord himself arose from his
4147 seat, and slowly paced up and down his platform, not unattended by a
4148 suspicion in the minds of the audience that his state was feverish; this
4149 one man sat leaning back, with his torn gown half off him, his untidy
4150 wig put on just as it had happened to fight on his head after its removal,
4151 his hands in his pockets, and his eyes on the ceiling as they had been all
4152 day. Something especially reckless in his demeanour, not only gave him
4153 a disreputable look, but so diminished the strong resemblance he un-
4154 doubtedly bore to the prisoner (which his momentary earnestness, when
4155 they were compared together, had strengthened), that many of the
4156 lookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one another they would
4157 hardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made the ob-
4158 servation to his next neighbour, and added, "I'd hold half a guinea that
4159 he don't get no law-work to do. Don't look like the sort of one to get any,
4160 do he?" "
4162 Yet, this Mr. Carton took in more of the details of the scene than he ap-
4163 peared to take in; for now, when Miss Manette's head dropped upon her
4164 father's breast, he was the first to see it, and to say audibly: "Officer! look
4165 to that young lady. Help the gentleman to take her out. Don't you see
4166 she will fall!"
4168 There was much commiseration for her as she was removed, and
4169 much sympathy with her father. It had evidently been a great distress to
4170 him, to have the days of his imprisonment recalled. He had shown
4171 strong internal agitation when he was questioned, and that pondering or
4172 brooding look which made him old, had been upon him, like a heavy
4173 cloud, ever since. As he passed out, the jury, who had turned back and
4174 paused a moment, spoke, through their foreman.
4176 They were not agreed, and wished to retire. My Lord (perhaps with
4177 George Washington on his mind) showed some surprise that they were
4178 not agreed, but signified his pleasure that they should retire under watch
4179 and ward, and retired himself. The trial had lasted all day, and the lamps
4180 in the court were now being lighted. It began to be rumoured that the
4181 jury would be out a long while. The spectators dropped off to get re-
4182 freshment, and the prisoner withdrew to the back of the dock, and sat
4183 down.
4185 Mr. Lorry, who had gone out when the young lady and her father
4186 went out, now reappeared, and beckoned to Jerry: who, in the slackened
4187 interest, could easily get near him.
4191 83
4195 "Jerry, if you wish to take something to eat, you can. But, keep in the
4196 way. You will be sure to hear when the jury come in. Don't be a moment
4197 behind them, for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You are
4198 the quickest messenger I know, and will get to Temple Bar long before I
4199 can."
4201 Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled it in ac-
4202 knowedgment of this communication and a shilling. Mr. Carton came up
4203 at the moment, and touched Mr. Lorry on the arm.
4205 "How is the young lady?"
4207 "She is greatly distressed; but her father is comforting her, and she
4208 feels the better for being out of court."
4210 "I'll tell the prisoner so. It won't do for a respectable bank gentleman
4211 like you, to be seen speaking to him publicly, you know."
4213 Mr. Lorry reddened as if he were conscious of having debated the
4214 point in his mind, and Mr. Carton made his way to the outside of the bar.
4215 The way out of court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, all
4216 eyes, ears, and spikes.
4218 "Mr. Darnay!"
4220 The prisoner came forward directly.
4222 "You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness, Miss Manette.
4223 She will do very well. You have seen the worst of her agitation."
4225 "I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of it. Could you tell her so
4226 for me, with my fervent acknowledgments?"
4228 "Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it."
4230 Mr. Carton's manner was so careless as to be almost insolent. He
4231 stood, half turned from the prisoner, lounging with his elbow against the
4232 bar.
4234 "I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks."
4236 "What," said Carton, still only half turned towards him, "do you ex-
4237 pect, Mr. Darnay?"
4239 "The worst."
4241 "It's the wisest thing to expect, and the likeliest. But I think their with-
4242 drawing is in your favour."
4244 Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed, Jerry heard no
4245 more: but left them - so like each other in feature, so unlike each other in
4246 manner - standing side by side, both reflected in the glass above them.
4250 84
4254 An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal
4255 crowded passages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and
4256 ale. The hoarse messenger, uncomfortably seated on a form after taking
4257 that refection, had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a rap-
4258 id tide of people setting up the stairs that led to the court, carried him
4259 along with them.
4261 "Jerry! Jerry!" Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got
4262 there.
4264 "Here, sir! It's a fight to get back again. Here I am, sir!"
4266 Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the throng. "Quick! Have you
4267 got it?"
4269 "Yes, sir."
4271 Hastily written on the paper was the word "AQUITTED."
4273 "If you had sent the message, 'Recalled to Life,' again," muttered Jerry,
4274 as he turned, "I should have known what you meant, this time."
4276 He had no opportunity of saying, or so much as thinking, anything
4277 else, until he was clear of the Old Bailey; for, the crowd came pouring
4278 out with a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzz
4279 swept into the street as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing in search
4280 of other carrion.
4284 85
4288 Chapter
4292 4
4296 Congratulatory
4298 From the dimly-lighted passages of the court, the last sediment of the
4299 human stew that had been boiling there all day, was straining off, when
4300 Doctor Manette, Lucie Manette, his daughter, Mr. Lorry, the solicitor for
4301 the defence, and its counsel, Mr. Stryver, stood gathered round Mr.
4302 Charles Darnay - just released - congratulating him on his escape from
4303 death.
4305 It would have been difficult by a far brighter light, to recognise in Doc-
4306 tor Manette, intellectual of face and upright of bearing, the shoemaker of
4307 the garret in Paris. Yet, no one could have looked at him twice, without
4308 looking again: even though the opportunity of observation had not ex-
4309 tended to the mournful cadence of his low grave voice, and to the ab-
4310 straction that overclouded him fitfully, without any apparent reason.
4311 While one external cause, and that a reference to his long lingering
4312 agony, would always - as on the trial - evoke this condition from the
4313 depths of his soul, it was also in its nature to arise of itself, and to draw a
4314 gloom over him, as incomprehensible to those unacquainted with his
4315 story as if they had seen the shadow of the actual Bastille thrown upon
4316 him by a summer sun, when the substance was three hundred miles
4317 away.
4319 Only his daughter had the power of charming this black brooding
4320 from his mind. She was the golden thread that united him to a Past bey-
4321 ond his misery, and to a Present beyond his misery: and the sound of her
4322 voice, the light of her face, the touch of her hand, had a strong beneficial
4323 influence with him almost always. Not absolutely always, for she could
4324 recall some occasions on which her power had failed; but they were few
4325 and slight, and she believed them over.
4327 Mr. Darnay had kissed her hand fervently and gratefully, and had
4328 turned to Mr. Stryver, whom he warmly thanked. Mr. Stryver, a man of
4329 little more than thirty, but looking twenty years older than he was, stout,
4330 loud, red, bluff, and free from any drawback of delicacy, had a pushing
4334 86
4338 way of shouldering himself (morally and physically) into companies and
4339 conversations, that argued well for his shouldering his way up in life.
4341 He still had his wig and gown on, and he said, squaring himself at his
4342 late client to that degree that he squeezed the innocent Mr. Lorry clean
4343 out of the group: "I am glad to have brought you off with honour, Mr.
4344 Darnay. It was an infamous prosecution, grossly infamous; but not the
4345 less likely to succeed on that account."
4347 "You have laid me under an obligation to you for life - in two senses,"
4348 said his late client, taking his hand.
4350 "I have done my best for you, Mr. Darnay; and my best is as good as
4351 another man's, I believe."
4353 It clearly being incumbent on some one to say, "Much better," Mr.
4354 Lorry said it; perhaps not quite disinterestedly, but with the interested
4355 object of squeezing himself back again.
4357 "You think so?" said Mr. Stryver. "Well! you have been present all
4358 day, and you ought to know. You are a man of business, too."
4360 "And as such," quoth Mr. Lorry, whom the counsel learned in the law
4361 had now shouldered back into the group, just as he had previously
4362 shouldered him out of it - "as such I will appeal to Doctor Manette, to
4363 break up this conference and order us all to our homes. Miss Lucie looks
4364 ill, Mr. Darnay has had a terrible day, we are worn out."
4366 "Speak for yourself, Mr. Lorry," said Stryver; "I have a night's work to
4367 do yet. Speak for yourself."
4369 "I speak for myself," answered Mr. Lorry, "and for Mr. Darnay, and
4370 for Miss Lucie, and - Miss Lucie, do you not think I may speak for us
4371 all?" He asked her the question pointedly, and with a glance at her
4372 father.
4374 His face had become frozen, as it were, in a very curious look at
4375 Darnay: an intent look, deepening into a frown of dislike and distrust,
4376 not even unmixed with fear. With this strange expression on him his
4377 thoughts had wandered away.
4379 "My father," said Lucie, softly laying her hand on his.
4381 He slowly shook the shadow off, and turned to her.
4383 "Shall we go home, my father?"
4385 With a long breath, he answered "Yes."
4387 The friends of the acquitted prisoner had dispersed, under the impres-
4388 sion - which he himself had originated - that he would not be released
4392 87
4396 that night. The lights were nearly all extinguished in the passages, the
4397 iron gates were being closed with a jar and a rattle, and the dismal place
4398 was deserted until to-morrow morning's interest of gallows, pillory,
4399 whipping-post, and branding-iron, should repeople it. Walking between
4400 her father and Mr. Darnay, Lucie Manette passed into the open air. A
4401 hackney-coach was called, and the father and daughter departed in it.
4403 Mr. Stryver had left them in the passages, to shoulder his way back to
4404 the robing-room. Another person, who had not joined the group, or in-
4405 terchanged a word with any one of them, but who had been leaning
4406 against the wall where its shadow was darkest, had silently strolled out
4407 after the rest, and had looked on until the coach drove away. He now
4408 stepped up to where Mr. Lorry and Mr. Darnay stood upon the
4409 pavement.
4411 "So, Mr. Lorry! Men of business may speak to Mr. Darnay now?"
4413 Nobody had made any acknowledgment of Mr. Carton's part in the
4414 day's proceedings; nobody had known of it. He was unrobed, and was
4415 none the better for it in appearance.
4417 "If you knew what a conflict goes on in the business mind, when the
4418 business mind is divided between good-natured impulse and business
4419 appearances, you would be amused, Mr. Darnay."
4421 Mr. Lorry reddened, and said, warmly, "You have mentioned that be-
4422 fore, sir. We men of business, who serve a House, are not our own mas-
4423 ters. We have to think of the House more than ourselves."
4425 "I know, I know," rejoined Mr. Carton, carelessly. "Don't be nettled,
4426 Mr. Lorry. You are as good as another, I have no doubt: better, I dare
4427 say."
4429 "And indeed, sir," pursued Mr. Lorry, not minding him, "I really don't
4430 know what you have to do with the matter. If you'll excuse me, as very
4431 much your elder, for saying so, I really don't know that it is your
4432 business."
4434 "Business! Bless you, I have no business," said Mr. Carton.
4436 "It is a pity you have not, sir."
4438 "I think so, too."
4440 "If you had," pursued Mr. Lorry, "perhaps you would attend to it."
4442 "Lord love you, no! - I shouldn't," said Mr. Carton.
4444 "Well, sir!" cried Mr. Lorry, thoroughly heated by his indifference,
4445 "business is a very good thing, and a very respectable thing. And, sir, if
4449 88
4453 business imposes its restraints and its silences and impediments, Mr.
4454 Darnay as a young gentleman of generosity knows how to make allow-
4455 ance for that circumstance. Mr. Darnay, good night, God bless you, sir! I
4456 hope you have been this day preserved for a prosperous and happy
4457 life. - Chair there!"
4459 Perhaps a little angry with himself, as well as with the barrister, Mr.
4460 Lorry bustled into the chair, and was carried off to Tellson's. Carton,
4461 who smelt of port wine, and did not appear to be quite sober, laughed
4462 then, and turned to Darnay:
4464 "This is a strange chance that throws you and me together. This must
4465 be a strange night to you, standing alone here with your counterpart on
4466 these street stones?"
4468 "I hardly seem yet," returned Charles Darnay, "to belong to this world
4469 again."
4471 "I don't wonder at it; it's not so long since you were pretty far ad-
4472 vanced on your way to another. You speak faintly."
4474 "I begin to think I am faint."
4476 "Then why the devil don't you dine? I dined, myself, while those
4477 numskulls were deliberating which world you should belong to - this, or
4478 some other. Let me show you the nearest tavern to dine well at."
4480 Drawing his arm through his own, he took him down Ludgate-hill to
4481 Fleet-street, and so, up a covered way, into a tavern. Here, they were
4482 shown into a little room, where Charles Darnay was soon recruiting his
4483 strength with a good plain dinner and good wine: while Carton sat op-
4484 posite to him at the same table, with his separate bottle of port before
4485 him, and his fully half-insolent manner upon him.
4487 "Do you feel, yet, that you belong to this terrestrial scheme again, Mr.
4488 Darnay?"
4490 "I am frightfully confused regarding time and place; but I am so far
4491 mended as to feel that."
4493 "It must be an immense satisfaction!"
4495 He said it bitterly, and filled up his glass again: which was a large one.
4497 "As to me, the greatest desire I have, is to forget that I belong to it. It
4498 has no good in it for me - except wine like this - nor I for it. So we are
4499 not much alike in that particular. Indeed, I begin to think we are not
4500 much alike in any particular, you and I."
4504 89
4508 Confused by the emotion of the day, and feeling his being there with
4509 this Double of coarse deportment, to be like a dream, Charles Darnay
4510 was at a loss how to answer; finally, answered not at all.
4512 "Now your dinner is done," Carton presently said, "why don't you
4513 call a health, Mr. Darnay; why don't you give your toast?"
4515 "What health? What toast?"
4517 "Why, it's on the tip of your tongue. It ought to be, it must be, I'll
4518 swear it's there."
4520 "Miss Manette, then!"
4522 "Miss Manette, then!"
4524 Looking his companion full in the face while he drank the toast, Car-
4525 ton flung his glass over his shoulder against the wall, where it shivered
4526 to pieces; then, rang the bell, and ordered in another.
4528 "That's a fair young lady to hand to a coach in the dark, Mr. Darnay!"
4529 he said, ruing his new goblet.
4531 A slight frown and a laconic "Yes," were the answer.
4533 "That's a fair young lady to be pitied by and wept for by! How does it
4534 feel? Is it worth being tried for one's life, to be the object of such sym-
4535 pathy and compassion, Mr. Darnay?"
4537 Again Darnay answered not a word.
4539 "She was mightily pleased to have your message, when I gave it her.
4540 Not that she showed she was pleased, but I suppose she was."
4542 The allusion served as a timely reminder to Darnay that this disagree-
4543 able companion had, of his own free will, assisted him in the strait of the
4544 day. He turned the dialogue to that point, and thanked him for it.
4546 "I neither want any thanks, nor merit any," was the careless rejoinder.
4547 "It was nothing to do, in the first place; and I don't know why I did it, in
4548 the second. Mr. Darnay, let me ask you a question."
4550 "Willingly, and a small return for your good offices."
4552 "Do you think I particularly like you?"
4554 "Really, Mr. Carton," returned the other, oddly disconcerted, "I have
4555 not asked myself the question."
4557 "But ask yourself the question now."
4559 "You have acted as if you do; but I don't think you do."
4561 "I don't think I do," said Carton. "I begin to have a very good opinion
4562 of your understanding."
4566 90
4570 "Nevertheless," pursued Darnay, rising to ring the bell, "there is noth-
4571 ing in that, I hope, to prevent my calling the reckoning, and our parting
4572 without ill-blood on either side."
4574 Carton rejoining, "Nothing in life!" Darnay rang. "Do you call the
4575 whole reckoning?" said Carton. On his answering in the affirmative,
4576 "Then bring me another pint of this same wine, drawer, and come and
4577 wake me at ten."
4579 The bill being paid, Charles Darnay rose and wished him good night.
4580 Without returning the wish, Carton rose too, with something of a threat
4581 of defiance in his manner, and said, "A last word, Mr. Darnay: you think
4582 I am drunk?"
4584 "I think you have been drinking, Mr. Carton."
4586 "Think? You know I have been drinking."
4588 "Since I must say so, I know it."
4590 "Then you shall likewise know why. I am a disappointed drudge, sir. I
4591 care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me."
4593 "Much to be regretted. You might have used your talents better."
4595 "May be so, Mr. Darnay; may be not. Don't let your sober face elate
4596 you, however; you don't know what it may come to. Good night!"
4598 When he was left alone, this strange being took up a candle, went to a
4599 glass that hung against the wall, and surveyed himself minutely in it.
4601 "Do you particularly like the man?" he muttered, at his own image;
4602 "why should you particularly like a man who resembles you? There is
4603 nothing in you to like; you know that. Ah, confound you! What a change
4604 you have made in yourself! A good reason for taking to a man, that he
4605 shows you what you have fallen away from, and what you might have
4606 been! Change places with him, and would you have been looked at by
4607 those blue eyes as he was, and commiserated by that agitated face as he
4608 was? Come on, and have it out in plain words! You hate the fellow."
4610 He resorted to his pint of wine for consolation, drank it all in a few
4611 minutes, and fell asleep on his arms, with his hair straggling over the
4612 table, and a long winding-sheet in the candle dripping down upon him.
4616 91
4620 Chapter
4624 5
4628 The Jackal
4630 Those were drinking days, and most men drank hard. So very great is
4631 the improvement Time has brought about in such habits, that a moderate
4632 statement of the quantity of wine and punch which one man would
4633 swallow in the course of a night, without any detriment to his reputation
4634 as a perfect gentleman, would seem, in these days, a ridiculous exaggera-
4635 tion. The learned profession of the law was certainly not behind any oth-
4636 er learned profession in its Bacchanalian propensities; neither was Mr.
4637 Stryver, already fast shouldering his way to a large and lucrative prac-
4638 tice, behind his compeers in this particular, any more than in the drier
4639 parts of the legal race.
4641 A favourite at the Old Bailey, and eke at the Sessions, Mr. Stryver had
4642 begun cautiously to hew away the lower staves of the ladder on which
4643 he mounted. Sessions and Old Bailey had now to summon their favour-
4644 ite, specially, to their longing arms; and shouldering itself towards the
4645 visage of the Lord Chief Justice in the Court of King's Bench, the florid
4646 countenance of Mr. Stryver might be daily seen, bursting out of the bed
4647 of wigs, like a great sunflower pushing its way at the sun from among a
4648 rank garden-full of flaring companions.
4650 It had once been noted at the Bar, that while Mr. Stryver was a glib
4651 man, and an unscrupulous, and a ready, and a bold, he had not that fac-
4652 ulty of extracting the essence from a heap of statements, which is among
4653 the most striking and necessary of the advocate's accomplishments. But,
4654 a remarkable improvement came upon him as to this. The more business
4655 he got, the greater his power seemed to grow of getting at its pith and
4656 marrow; and however late at night he sat carousing with Sydney Carton,
4657 he always had his points at his fingers' ends in the morning.
4659 Sydney Carton, idlest and most unpromising of men, was Stryver's
4660 great ally. What the two drank together, between Hilary Term and Mi-
4661 chaelmas, might have floated a king's ship. Stryver never had a case in
4662 hand, anywhere, but Carton was there, with his hands in his pockets,
4666 92
4670 staring at the ceiling of the court; they went the same Circuit, and even
4671 there they prolonged their usual orgies late into the night, and Carton
4672 was rumoured to be seen at broad day, going home stealthily and un-
4673 steadily to his lodgings, like a dissipated cat. At last, it began to get
4674 about, among such as were interested in the matter, that although
4675 Sydney Carton would never be a lion, he was an amazingly good jackal,
4676 and that he rendered suit and service to Stryver in that humble capacity.
4678 "Ten o'clock, sir," said the man at the tavern, whom he had charged to
4679 wake him - "ten o'clock, sir."
4681 "What's the matter?"
4683 "Ten o'clock, sir."
4685 "What do you mean? Ten o'clock at night?"
4687 "Yes, sir. Your honour told me to call you."
4689 "Oh! I remember. Very well, very well."
4691 After a few dull efforts to get to sleep again, which the man dexter-
4692 ously combated by stirring the fire continuously for five minutes, he got
4693 up, tossed his hat on, and walked out. He turned into the Temple, and,
4694 having revived himself by twice pacing the pavements of King's Bench-
4695 walk and Paper-buildings, turned into the Stryver chambers.
4697 The Stryver clerk, who never assisted at these conferences, had gone
4698 home, and the Stryver principal opened the door. He had his slippers on,
4699 and a loose bed-gown, and his throat was bare for his greater ease. He
4700 had that rather wild, strained, seared marking about the eyes, which
4701 may be observed in all free livers of his class, from the portrait of Jeffries
4702 downward, and which can be traced, under various disguises of Art,
4703 through the portraits of every Drinking Age.
4705 "You are a little late, Memory," said Stryver.
4707 "About the usual time; it may be a quarter of an hour later."
4709 They went into a dingy room lined with books and littered with pa-
4710 pers, where there was a blazing fire. A kettle steamed upon the hob, and
4711 in the midst of the wreck of papers a table shone, with plenty of wine
4712 upon it, and brandy, and rum, and sugar, and lemons.
4714 "You have had your bottle, I perceive, Sydney."
4716 "Two to-night, I think. I have been dining with the day's client; or see-
4717 ing him dine - it's all one!"
4719 "That was a rare point, Sydney, that you brought to bear upon the
4720 identification. How did you come by it? When did it strike you?"
4724 93
4728 "I thought he was rather a handsome fellow, and I thought I should
4729 have been much the same sort of fellow, if I had had any luck."
4731 Mr. Stryver laughed till he shook his precocious paunch.
4733 "You and your luck, Sydney! Get to work, get to work."
4735 Sullenly enough, the jackal loosened his dress, went into an adjoining
4736 room, and came back with a large jug of cold water, a basin, and a towel
4737 or two. Steeping the towels in the water, and partially wringing them
4738 out, he folded them on his head in a manner hideous to behold, sat down
4739 at the table, and said, "Now I am ready!"
4741 "Not much boiling down to be done to-night, Memory," said Mr.
4742 Stryver, gaily, as he looked among his papers.
4744 "How much?"
4746 "Only two sets of them."
4748 "Give me the worst first."
4750 "There they are, Sydney. Fire away!"
4752 The lion then composed himself on his back on a sofa on one side of
4753 the drinking-table, while the jackal sat at his own paper-bestrewn table
4754 proper, on the other side of it, with the bottles and glasses ready to his
4755 hand. Both resorted to the drinking-table without stint, but each in a dif-
4756 ferent way; the lion for the most part reclining with his hands in his
4757 waistband, looking at the fire, or occasionally flirting with some lighter
4758 document; the jackal, with knitted brows and intent face, so deep in his
4759 task, that his eyes did not even follow the hand he stretched out for his
4760 glass - which often groped about, for a minute or more, before it found
4761 the glass for his lips. Two or three times, the matter in hand became so
4762 knotty, that the jackal found it imperative on him to get up, and steep his
4763 towels anew. From these pilgrimages to the jug and basin, he returned
4764 with such eccentricities of damp headgear as no words can describe;
4765 which were made the more ludicrous by his anxious gravity.
4767 At length the jackal had got together a compact repast for the lion, and
4768 proceeded to offer it to him. The lion took it with care and caution, made
4769 his selections from it, and his remarks upon it, and the jackal assisted
4770 both. When the repast was fully discussed, the lion put his hands in his
4771 waistband again, and lay down to mediate. The jackal then invigorated
4772 himself with a bum for his throttle, and a fresh application to his head,
4773 and applied himself to the collection of a second meal; this was admin-
4774 istered to the lion in the same manner, and was not disposed of until the
4775 clocks struck three in the morning.
4779 94
4783 "And now we have done, Sydney, fill a bumper of punch," said Mr.
4784 Stryver.
4786 The jackal removed the towels from his head, which had been steam-
4787 ing again, shook himself, yawned, shivered, and complied.
4789 "You were very sound, Sydney, in the matter of those crown witnesses
4790 to-day. Every question told."
4792 "I always am sound; am I not?"
4794 "I don't gainsay it. What has roughened your temper? Put some punch
4795 to it and smooth it again."
4797 With a deprecatory grunt, the jackal again complied.
4799 "The old Sydney Carton of old Shrewsbury School," said Stryver, nod-
4800 ding his head over him as he reviewed him in the present and the past,
4801 "the old seesaw Sydney. Up one minute and down the next; now in spir-
4802 its and now in despondency!"
4804 "Ah!" returned the other, sighing: "yes! The same Sydney, with the
4805 same luck. Even then, I did exercises for other boys, and seldom did my
4806 own.
4808 "And why not?"
4810 "God knows. It was my way, I suppose."
4812 He sat, with his hands in his pockets and his legs stretched out before
4813 him, looking at the fire.
4815 "Carton," said his friend, squaring himself at him with a bullying air,
4816 as if the fire-grate had been the furnace in which sustained endeavour
4817 was forged, and the one delicate thing to be done for the old Sydney Car-
4818 ton of old Shrewsbury School was to shoulder him into it, "your way is,
4819 and always was, a lame way. You summon no energy and purpose. Look
4820 at me."
4822 "Oh, botheration!" returned Sydney, with a lighter and more good-
4823 humoured laugh, "don't you be moral!"
4825 "How have I done what I have done?" said Stryver; "how do I do
4826 what I do?"
4828 "Partly through paying me to help you, I suppose. But it's not worth
4829 your while to apostrophise me, or the air, about it; what you want to do,
4830 you do. You were always in the front rank, and I was always behind."
4832 "I had to get into the front rank; I was not born there, was I?"
4836 95
4840 "I was not present at the ceremony; but my opinion is you were," said
4841 Carton. At this, he laughed again, and they both laughed.
4843 "Before Shrewsbury, and at Shrewsbury, and ever since Shrewsbury,"
4844 pursued Carton, "you have fallen into your rank, and I have fallen into
4845 mine. Even when we were fellow-students in the Student-Quarter of Par-
4846 is, picking up French, and French law, and other French crumbs that we
4847 didn't get much good of, you were always somewhere, and I was always
4848 nowhere."
4850 "And whose fault was that?"
4852 "Upon my soul, I am not sure that it was not yours. You were always
4853 driving and riving and shouldering and passing, to that restless degree
4854 that I had no chance for my life but in rust and repose. It's a gloomy
4855 thing, however, to talk about one's own past, with the day breaking.
4856 Turn me in some other direction before I go."
4858 "Well then! Pledge me to the pretty witness," said Stryver, holding up
4859 his glass. "Are you turned in a pleasant direction?"
4861 Apparently not, for he became gloomy again.
4863 "Pretty witness," he muttered, looking down into his glass. "I have
4864 had enough of witnesses to-day and to-night; who's your pretty
4865 witness?"
4867 "The picturesque doctor's daughter, Miss Manette."
4869 "She pretty?"
4871 "Is she not?"
4873 "No."
4875 "Why, man alive, she was the admiration of the whole Court!"
4877 "Rot the admiration of the whole Court! Who made the Old Bailey a
4878 judge of beauty? She was a golden-haired doll!"
4880 "Do you know, Sydney," said Mr. Stryver, looking at him with sharp
4881 eyes, and slowly drawing a hand across his florid face: "do you know, I
4882 rather thought, at the time, that you sympathised with the golden-haired
4883 doll, and were quick to see what happened to the golden-haired doll?"
4885 "Quick to see what happened! If a girl, doll or no doll, swoons within
4886 a yard or two of a man's nose, he can see it without a perspective-glass. I
4887 pledge you, but I deny the beauty. And now I'll have no more drink; I'll
4888 get to bed."
4890 When his host followed him out on the staircase with a candle, to light
4891 him down the stairs, the day was coldly looking in through its grimy
4895 96
4899 windows. When he got out of the house, the air was cold and sad, the
4900 dull sky overcast, the river dark and dim, the whole scene like a lifeless
4901 desert. And wreaths of dust were spinning round and round before the
4902 morning blast, as if the desert-sand had risen far away, and the first
4903 spray of it in its advance had begun to overwhelm the city.
4905 Waste forces within him, and a desert all around, this man stood still
4906 on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the
4907 wilderness before him, a mirage of honourable ambition, self-denial, and
4908 perseverance. In the fair city of this vision, there were airy galleries from
4909 which the loves and graces looked upon him, gardens in which the fruits
4910 of life hung ripening, waters of Hope that sparkled in his sight. A mo-
4911 ment, and it was gone. Climbing to a high chamber in a well of houses,
4912 he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglected bed, and its pillow
4913 was wet with wasted tears.
4915 Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of
4916 good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, in-
4917 capable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on
4918 him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away.
4922 97
4926 Chapter
4930 6
4934 Hundreds of People
4936 The quiet lodgings of Doctor Manette were in a quiet street-corner not
4937 far from Soho-square. On the afternoon of a certain fine Sunday when
4938 the waves of four months had roiled over the trial for treason, and car-
4939 ried it, as to the public interest and memory, far out to sea, Mr. Jarvis
4940 Lorry walked along the sunny streets from Clerkenwell where he lived,
4941 on his way to dine with the Doctor. After several relapses into business-
4942 absorption, Mr. Lorry had become the Doctor's friend, and the quiet
4943 street-corner was the sunny part of his life.
4945 On this certain fine Sunday, Mr. Lorry walked towards Soho, early in
4946 the afternoon, for three reasons of habit. Firstly, because, on fine
4947 Sundays, he often walked out, before dinner, with the Doctor and Lucie;
4948 secondly, because, on unfavourable Sundays, he was accustomed to be
4949 with them as the family friend, talking, reading, looking out of window,
4950 and generally getting through the day; thirdly, because he happened to
4951 have his own little shrewd doubts to solve, and knew how the ways of
4952 the Doctor's household pointed to that time as a likely time for solving
4953 them.
4955 A quainter corner than the corner where the Doctor lived, was not to
4956 be found in London. There was no way through it, and the front win-
4957 dows of the Doctor's lodgings commanded a pleasant little vista of street
4958 that had a congenial air of retirement on it. There were few buildings
4959 then, north of the Oxford-road, and forest-trees flourished, and wild
4960 flowers grew, and the hawthorn blossomed, in the now vanished fields.
4961 As a consequence, country airs circulated in Soho with vigorous free-
4962 dom, instead of languishing into the parish like stray paupers without a
4963 settlement; and there was many a good south wall, not far off, on which
4964 the peaches ripened in their season.
4966 The summer light struck into the corner brilliantly in the earlier part of
4967 the day; but, when the streets grew hot, the corner was in shadow,
4968 though not in shadow so remote but that you could see beyond it into a
4972 98
4976 glare of brightness. It was a cool spot, staid but cheerful, a wonderful
4977 place for echoes, and a very harbour from the raging streets.
4979 There ought to have been a tranquil bark in such an anchorage, and
4980 there was. The Doctor occupied two floors of a large stiff house, where
4981 several callings purported to be pursued by day, but whereof little was
4982 audible any day, and which was shunned by all of them at night. In a
4983 building at the back, attainable by a courtyard where a plane-tree rustled
4984 its green leaves, church-organs claimed to be made, and silver to be
4985 chased, and likewise gold to be beaten by some mysterious giant who
4986 had a golden arm starting out of the wall of the front hall - as if he had
4987 beaten himself precious, and menaced a similar conversion of all visitors.
4988 Very little of these trades, or of a lonely lodger rumoured to live up-
4989 stairs, or of a dim coach-trimming maker asserted to have a counting-
4990 house below, was ever heard or seen. Occasionally, a stray workman
4991 putting his coat on, traversed the hall, or a stranger peered about there,
4992 or a distant clink was heard across the courtyard, or a thump from the
4993 golden giant. These, however, were only the exceptions required to
4994 prove the rule that the sparrows in the plane-tree behind the house, and
4995 the echoes in the corner before it, had their own way from Sunday morn-
4996 ing unto Saturday night.
4998 Doctor Manette received such patients here as his old reputation, and
4999 its revival in the floating whispers of his story, brought him. His scientif-
5000 ic knowledge, and his vigilance and skill in conducting ingenious experi-
5001 ments, brought him otherwise into moderate request, and he earned as
5002 much as he wanted.
5004 These things were within Mr. Jarvis Lorry's knowledge, thoughts, and
5005 notice, when he rang the door-bell of the tranquil house in the corner, on
5006 the fine Sunday afternoon.
5008 "Doctor Manette at home?"
5010 Expected home.
5012 "Miss Lucie at home?"
5014 Expected home.
5016 "Miss Pross at home?"
5018 Possibly at home, but of a certainty impossible for handmaid to anti-
5019 cipate intentions of Miss Pross, as to admission or denial of the fact.
5021 "As I am at home myself," said Mr. Lorry, "I'll go upstairs."
5023 Although the Doctor's daughter had known nothing of the country of
5024 her birth, she appeared to have innately derived from it that ability to
5028 99
5032 make much of little means, which is one of its most useful and most
5033 agreeable characteristics. Simple as the furniture was, it was set off by so
5034 many little adornments, of no value but for their taste and fancy, that its
5035 effect was delightful. The disposition of everything in the rooms, from
5036 the largest object to the least; the arrangement of colours, the elegant
5037 variety and contrast obtained by thrift in trifles, by delicate hands, clear
5038 eyes, and good sense; were at once so pleasant in themselves, and so ex-
5039 pressive of their originator, that, as Mr. Lorry stood looking about him,
5040 the very chairs and tables seemed to ask him, with something of that pe-
5041 culiar expression which he knew so well by this time, whether he
5042 approved?
5044 There were three rooms on a floor, and, the doors by which they com-
5045 municated being put open that the air might pass freely through them
5046 all, Mr. Lorry, smilingly observant of that fanciful resemblance which he
5047 detected all around him, walked from one to another. The first was the
5048 best room, and in it were Lucie's birds, and flowers, and books, and
5049 desk, and work-table, and box of water-colours; the second was the Doc-
5050 tor's consulting-room, used also as the dining-room; the third, chan-
5051 gingly speckled by the rustle of the plane-tree in the yard, was the Doc-
5052 tor's bedroom, and there, in a corner, stood the disused shoemaker's
5053 bench and tray of tools, much as it had stood on the fifth floor of the dis-
5054 mal house by the wine-shop, in the suburb of Saint Antoine in Paris.
5056 "I wonder," said Mr. Lorry, pausing in his looking about, "that he
5057 keeps that reminder of his sufferings about him!"
5059 "And why wonder at that?" was the abrupt inquiry that made him
5060 start.
5062 It proceeded from Miss Pross, the wild red woman, strong of hand,
5063 whose acquaintance he had first made at the Royal George Hotel at
5064 Dover, and had since improved.
5066 "I should have thought - " Mr. Lorry began.
5068 "Pooh! You'd have thought!" said Miss Pross; and Mr. Lorry left off.
5070 "How do you do?" inquired that lady then - sharply, and yet as if to
5071 express that she bore him no malice.
5073 "I am pretty well, I thank you," answered Mr. Lorry, with meekness;
5074 "how are you?"
5076 "Nothing to boast of," said Miss Pross.
5078 "Indeed?"
5082 100
5086 "Ah! indeed!" said Miss Pross. "I am very much put out about my
5087 Ladybird."
5089 "Indeed?"
5091 "For gracious sake say something else besides 'indeed/ or you'll fidget
5092 me to death," said Miss Pross: whose character (dissociated from stature)
5093 was shortness.
5095 "Really, then?" said Mr. Lorry, as an amendment.
5097 "Really, is bad enough," returned Miss Pross, "but better. Yes, I am
5098 very much put out."
5100 "May I ask the cause?"
5102 "I don't want dozens of people who are not at all worthy of Ladybird,
5103 to come here looking after her," said Miss Pross.
5105 "DO dozens come for that purpose?"
5107 "Hundreds," said Miss Pross.
5109 It was characteristic of this lady (as of some other people before her
5110 time and since) that whenever her original proposition was questioned,
5111 she exaggerated it.
5113 "Dear me!" said Mr. Lorry, as the safest remark he could think of.
5115 "I have lived with the darling - or the darling has lived with me, and
5116 paid me for it; which she certainly should never have done, you may
5117 take your affidavit, if I could have afforded to keep either myself or her
5118 for nothing - since she was ten years old. And it's really very hard," said
5119 Miss Pross.
5121 Not seeing with precision what was very hard, Mr. Lorry shook his
5122 head; using that important part of himself as a sort of fairy cloak that
5123 would fit anything.
5125 "All sorts of people who are not in the least degree worthy of the pet,
5126 are always turning up," said Miss Pross. "When you began it - "
5128 "I began it, Miss Pross?"
5130 "Didn't you? Who brought her father to life?"
5132 "Oh! If that was beginning it - " said Mr. Lorry.
5134 "It wasn't ending it, I suppose? I say, when you began it, it was hard
5135 enough; not that I have any fault to find with Doctor Manette, except
5136 that he is not worthy of such a daughter, which is no imputation on him,
5137 for it was not to be expected that anybody should be, under any circum-
5138 stances. But it ready is doubly and trebly hard to have crowds and
5142 101
5146 multitudes of people turning up after him (I could have forgiven him), to
5147 take Ladybird's affections away from me."
5149 Mr. Lorry knew Miss Pross to be very jealous, but he also knew her by
5150 this time to be, beneath the service of her eccentricity, one of those un-
5151 selfish creatures - found only among women - who will, for pure love
5152 and admiration, bind themselves willing slaves, to youth when they
5153 have lost it, to beauty that they never had, to accomplishments that they
5154 were never fortunate enough to gain, to bright hopes that never shone
5155 upon their own sombre lives. He knew enough of the world to know that
5156 there is nothing in it better than the faithful service of the heart; so
5157 rendered and so free from any mercenary taint, he had such an exalted
5158 respect for it, that in the retributive arrangements made by his own
5159 mind - we all make such arrangements, more or less - he stationed Miss
5160 Pross much nearer to the lower Angels than many ladies immeasurably
5161 better got up both by Nature and Art, who had balances at Tellson's.
5163 "There never was, nor will be, but one man worthy of Ladybird," said
5164 Miss Pross; "and that was my brother Solomon, if he hadn't made a mis-
5165 take in life."
5167 Here again Mr. Lorry's inquiries into Miss Pross's personal history had
5168 established the fact that her brother Solomon was a heartless scoundrel
5169 who had stripped her of everything she possessed, as a stake to specu-
5170 late with, and had abandoned her in her poverty for evermore, with no
5171 touch of compunction. Miss Pross's fidelity of belief in Solomon
5172 (deducting a mere trifle for this slight mistake) was quite a serious mat-
5173 ter with Mr. Lorry, and had its weight in his good opinion of her. "As we
5174 happen to be alone for the moment, and are both people of business," he
5175 said, when they had got back to the drawing-room and had sat down
5176 there in friendly relations, "let me ask you - does the Doctor, in talking
5177 with Lucie, never refer to the shoemaking time, yet?"
5179 "Never."
5181 "And yet keeps that bench and those tools beside him?"
5183 "Ah!" returned Miss Pross, shaking her head. "But I don't say he don't
5184 refer to it within himself."
5186 "Do you believe that he thinks of it much?"
5188 "I do," said Miss Pross.
5190 "Do you imagine - " Mr. Lorry had begun, when Miss Pross took him
5191 up short with:
5193 "Never imagine anything. Have no imagination at all."
5197 102
5201 "I stand corrected; do you suppose - you go so far as to suppose,
5202 sometimes?"
5204 "Now and then," said Miss Pross.
5206 "Do you suppose," Mr. Lorry went on, with a laughing twinkle in his
5207 bright eye, as it looked kindly at her, "that Doctor Manette has any the-
5208 ory of his own, preserved through all those years, relative to the cause of
5209 his being so oppressed; perhaps, even to the name of his oppressor?"
5211 "I don't suppose anything about it but what Ladybird tells me."
5213 "And that is-?"
5215 "That she thinks he has."
5217 "Now don't be angry at my asking all these questions; because I am a
5218 mere dull man of business, and you are a woman of business."
5220 "Dull?" Miss Pross inquired, with placidity.
5222 Rather wishing his modest adjective away, Mr. Lorry replied, "No, no,
5223 no. Surely not. To return to business: - Is it not remarkable that Doctor
5224 Manette, unquestionably innocent of any crane as we are all well assured
5225 he is, should never touch upon that question? I will not say with me,
5226 though he had business relations with me many years ago, and we are
5227 now intimate; I will say with the fair daughter to whom he is so de-
5228 votedly attached, and who is so devotedly attached to him? Believe me,
5229 Miss Pross, I don't approach the topic with you, out of curiosity, but out
5230 of zealous interest."
5232 "Well! To the best of my understanding, and bad's the best, you'll tell
5233 me," said Miss Pross, softened by the tone of the apology, "he is afraid of
5234 the whole subject."
5236 "Afraid?"
5238 "It's plain enough, I should think, why he may be. It's a dreadful re-
5239 membrance. Besides that, his loss of himself grew out of it. Not knowing
5240 how he lost himself, or how he recovered himself, he may never feel cer-
5241 tain of not losing himself again. That alone wouldn't make the subject
5242 pleasant, I should think."
5244 It was a profounder remark than Mr. Lorry had looked for. "True,"
5245 said he, "and fearful to reflect upon. Yet, a doubt lurks in my mind, Miss
5246 Pross, whether it is good for Doctor Manette to have that suppression al-
5247 ways shut up within him. Indeed, it is this doubt and the uneasiness it
5248 sometimes causes me that has led me to our present confidence."
5252 103
5256 "Can't be helped," said Miss Pross, shaking her head. "Touch that
5257 string, and he instantly changes for the worse. Better leave it alone. In
5258 short, must leave it alone, like or no like. Sometimes, he gets up in the
5259 dead of the night, and will be heard, by us overhead there, walking up
5260 and down, walking up and down, in his room. Ladybird has learnt to
5261 know then that his mind is walking up and down, walking up and
5262 down, in his old prison. She hurries to him, and they go on together,
5263 walking up and down, walking up and down, until he is composed. But
5264 he never says a word of the true reason of his restlessness, to her, and
5265 she finds it best not to hint at it to him. In silence they go walking up and
5266 down together, walking up and down together, till her love and com-
5267 pany have brought him to himself."
5269 Notwithstanding Miss Pross's denial of her own imagination, there
5270 was a perception of the pain of being monotonously haunted by one sad
5271 idea, in her repetition of the phrase, walking up and down, which testi-
5272 fied to her possessing such a thing.
5274 The corner has been mentioned as a wonderful corner for echoes; it
5275 had begun to echo so resoundingly to the tread of coming feet, that it
5276 seemed as though the very mention of that weary pacing to and fro had
5277 set it going.
5279 "Here they are!" said Miss Pross, rising to break up the conference;
5280 "and now we shall have hundreds of people pretty soon!"
5282 It was such a curious corner in its acoustical properties, such a peculiar
5283 Ear of a place, that as Mr. Lorry stood at the open window, looking for
5284 the father and daughter whose steps he heard, he fancied they would
5285 never approach. Not only would the echoes die away, as though the
5286 steps had gone; but, echoes of other steps that never came would be
5287 heard in their stead, and would die away for good when they seemed
5288 close at hand. However, father and daughter did at last appear, and Miss
5289 Pross was ready at the street door to receive them.
5291 Miss Pross was a pleasant sight, albeit wild, and red, and grim, taking
5292 off her darling's bonnet when she came up-stairs, and touching it up
5293 with the ends of her handkerchief, and blowing the dust off it, and fold-
5294 ing her mantle ready for laying by, and smoothing her rich hair with as
5295 much pride as she could possibly have taken in her own hair if she had
5296 been the vainest and handsomest of women. Her darling was a pleasant
5297 sight too, embracing her and thanking her, and protesting against her
5298 taking so much trouble for her - which last she only dared to do play-
5299 fully, or Miss Pross, sorely hurt, would have retired to her own chamber
5303 104
5307 and cried. The Doctor was a pleasant sight too, looking on at them, and
5308 telling Miss Pross how she spoilt Lucie, in accents and with eyes that had
5309 as much spoiling in them as Miss Pross had, and would have had more if
5310 it were possible. Mr. Lorry was a pleasant sight too, beaming at all this in
5311 his little wig, and thanking his bachelor stars for having lighted him in
5312 his declining years to a Home. But, no Hundreds of people came to see
5313 the sights, and Mr. Lorry looked in vain for the fulfilment of Miss Pross's
5314 prediction.
5316 Dinner-time, and still no Hundreds of people. In the arrangements of
5317 the little household, Miss Pross took charge of the lower regions, and al-
5318 ways acquitted herself marvellously. Her dinners, of a very modest qual-
5319 ity, were so well cooked and so well served, and so neat in their contriv-
5320 ances, half English and half French, that nothing could be better. Miss
5321 Pross's friendship being of the thoroughly practical kind, she had rav-
5322 aged Soho and the adjacent provinces, in search of impoverished French,
5323 who, tempted by shillings and half- crowns, would impart culinary mys-
5324 teries to her. From these decayed sons and daughters of Gaul, she had
5325 acquired such wonderful arts, that the woman and girl who formed the
5326 staff of domestics regarded her as quite a Sorceress, or Cinderella's God-
5327 mother: who would send out for a fowl, a rabbit, a vegetable or two from
5328 the garden, and change them into anything she pleased.
5330 On Sundays, Miss Pross dined at the Doctor's table, but on other days
5331 persisted in taking her meals at unknown periods, either in the lower re-
5332 gions, or in her own room on the second floor - a blue chamber, to which
5333 no one but her Ladybird ever gained admittance. On this occasion, Miss
5334 Pross, responding to Ladybird's pleasant face and pleasant efforts to
5335 please her, unbent exceedingly; so the dinner was very pleasant, too.
5337 It was an oppressive day, and, after dinner, Lucie proposed that the
5338 wine should be carried out under the plane-tree, and they should sit
5339 there in the air. As everything turned upon her, and revolved about her,
5340 they went out under the plane-tree, and she carried the wine down for
5341 the special benefit of Mr. Lorry. She had installed herself, some time be-
5342 fore, as Mr. Lorry's cup-bearer; and while they sat under the plane-tree,
5343 talking, she kept his glass replenished. Mysterious backs and ends of
5344 houses peeped at them as they talked, and the plane-tree whispered to
5345 them in its own way above their heads.
5347 Still, the Hundreds of people did not present themselves. Mr. Darnay
5348 presented himself while they were sitting under the plane-tree, but he
5349 was only One.
5353 105
5357 Doctor Manette received him kindly, and so did Lucie. But, Miss Pross
5358 suddenly became afflicted with a twitching in the head and body, and
5359 retired into the house. She was not unfrequently the victim of this dis-
5360 order, and she called it, in familiar conversation, "a fit of the jerks."
5362 The Doctor was in his best condition, and looked specially young. The
5363 resemblance between him and Lucie was very strong at such times, and
5364 as they sat side by side, she leaning on his shoulder, and he resting his
5365 arm on the back of her chair, it was very agreeable to trace the likeness.
5367 He had been talking all day, on many subjects, and with unusual viva-
5368 city. "Pray, Doctor Manette," said Mr. Darnay, as they sat under the
5369 plane-tree - and he said it in the natural pursuit of the topic in hand,
5370 which happened to be the old buildings of London - "have you seen
5371 much of the Tower?"
5373 "Lucie and I have been there; but only casually. We have seen enough
5374 of it, to know that it teems with interest; little more."
5376 "I have been there, as you remember," said Darnay, with a smile,
5377 though reddening a little angrily, "in another character, and not in a
5378 character that gives facilities for seeing much of it. They told me a curi-
5379 ous thing when I was there."
5381 "What was that?" Lucie asked.
5383 "In making some alterations, the workmen came upon an old dun-
5384 geon, which had been, for many years, built up and forgotten. Every
5385 stone of its inner wall was covered by inscriptions which had been
5386 carved by prisoners - dates, names, complaints, and prayers. Upon a
5387 corner stone in an angle of the wall, one prisoner, who seemed to have
5388 gone to execution, had cut as his last work, three letters. They were done
5389 with some very poor instrument, and hurriedly, with an unsteady hand.
5390 At first, they were read as D. I. C; but, on being more carefully ex-
5391 amined, the last letter was found to be G. There was no record or legend
5392 of any prisoner with those initials, and many fruitless guesses were
5393 made what the name could have been. At length, it was suggested that
5394 the letters were not initials, but the complete word, DiG. The floor was
5395 examined very carefully under the inscription, and, in the earth beneath
5396 a stone, or tile, or some fragment of paving, were found the ashes of a
5397 paper, mingled with the ashes of a small leathern case or bag. What the
5398 unknown prisoner had written will never be read, but he had written
5399 something, and hidden it away to keep it from the gaoler."
5401 "My father," exclaimed Lucie, "you are ill!"
5405 106
5409 He had suddenly started up, with his hand to his head. His manner
5410 and his look quite terrified them all.
5412 "No, my dear, not ill. There are large drops of rain falling, and they
5413 made me start. We had better go in."
5415 He recovered himself almost instantly. Rain was really falling in large
5416 drops, and he showed the back of his hand with rain-drops on it. But, he
5417 said not a single word in reference to the discovery that had been told of,
5418 and, as they went into the house, the business eye of Mr. Lorry either de-
5419 tected, or fancied it detected, on his face, as it turned towards Charles
5420 Darnay, the same singular look that had been upon it when it turned to-
5421 wards him in the passages of the Court House.
5423 He recovered himself so quickly, however, that Mr. Lorry had doubts
5424 of his business eye. The arm of the golden giant in the hall was not more
5425 steady than he was, when he stopped under it to remark to them that he
5426 was not yet proof against slight surprises (if he ever would be), and that
5427 the rain had startled him.
5429 Tea-time, and Miss Pross making tea, with another fit of the jerks upon
5430 her, and yet no Hundreds of people. Mr. Carton had lounged in, but he
5431 made only Two.
5433 The night was so very sultry, that although they sat with doors and
5434 windows open, they were overpowered by heat. When the tea-table was
5435 done with, they all moved to one of the windows, and looked out into
5436 the heavy twilight. Lucie sat by her father; Darnay sat beside her; Carton
5437 leaned against a window. The curtains were long and white, and some of
5438 the thunder-gusts that whirled into the corner, caught them up to the
5439 ceiling, and waved them like spectral wings.
5441 "The rain-drops are still falling, large, heavy, and few," said Doctor
5442 Manette. "It comes slowly."
5444 "It comes surely," said Carton.
5446 They spoke low, as people watching and waiting mostly do; as people
5447 in a dark room, watching and waiting for Lightning, always do.
5449 There was a great hurry in the streets of people speeding away to get
5450 shelter before the storm broke; the wonderful corner for echoes resoun-
5451 ded with the echoes of footsteps coming and going, yet not a footstep
5452 was there.
5454 "A multitude of people, and yet a solitude!" said Darnay, when they
5455 had listened for a while.
5459 107
5463 "Is it not impressive, Mr. Darnay?" asked Lucie. "Sometimes, I have
5464 sat here of an evening, until I have fancied - but even the shade of a fool-
5465 ish fancy makes me shudder to-night, when all is so black and
5466 solemn - "
5468 "Let us shudder too. We may know what it is."
5470 "It will seem nothing to you. Such whims are only impressive as we
5471 originate them, I think; they are not to be communicated. I have some-
5472 times sat alone here of an evening, listening, until I have made the
5473 echoes out to be the echoes of all the footsteps that are coming by-and-
5474 bye into our lives."
5476 "There is a great crowd coming one day into our lives, if that be so,"
5477 Sydney Carton struck in, in his moody way.
5479 The footsteps were incessant, and the hurry of them became more and
5480 more rapid. The corner echoed and re-echoed with the tread of feet;
5481 some, as it seemed, under the windows; some, as it seemed, in the room;
5482 some coming, some going, some breaking off, some stopping altogether;
5483 all in the distant streets, and not one within sight.
5485 "Are all these footsteps destined to come to all of us, Miss Manette, or
5486 are we to divide them among us?"
5488 "I don't know, Mr. Darnay; I told you it was a foolish fancy, but you
5489 asked for it. When I have yielded myself to it, I have been alone, and
5490 then I have imagined them the footsteps of the people who are to come
5491 into my life, and my father's."
5493 "I take them into mine!" said Carton. "I ask no questions and make no
5494 stipulations. There is a great crowd bearing down upon us, Miss
5495 Manette, and I see them - by the Lightning." He added the last words,
5496 after there had been a vivid flash which had shown him lounging in the
5497 window.
5499 "And I hear them!" he added again, after a peal of thunder. "Here they
5500 come, fast, fierce, and furious!"
5502 It was the rush and roar of rain that he typified, and it stopped him,
5503 for no voice could be heard in it. A memorable storm of thunder and
5504 lightning broke with that sweep of water, and there was not a moment's
5505 interval in crash, and fire, and rain, until after the moon rose at
5506 midnight.
5508 The great bell of Saint Paul's was striking one in the cleared air, when
5509 Mr. Lorry, escorted by Jerry, high-booted and bearing a lantern, set forth
5510 on his return-passage to Clerkenwell. There were solitary patches of road
5514 108
5518 on the way between Soho and Clerkenwell, and Mr. Lorry, mindful of
5519 foot-pads, always retained Jerry for this service: though it was usually
5520 performed a good two hours earlier.
5522 "What a night it has been! Almost a night, Jerry," said Mr. Lorry, "to
5523 bring the dead out of their graves."
5525 "I never see the night myself, master - nor yet I don't expect to - what
5526 would do that," answered Jerry.
5528 "Good night, Mr. Carton," said the man of business. "Good night, Mr.
5529 Darnay. Shall we ever see such a night again, together!"
5531 Perhaps. Perhaps, see the great crowd of people with its rush and roar,
5532 bearing down upon them, too.
5536 109
5540 Chapter
5544 7
5548 Monseigneur in Town
5550 Monseigneur, one of the great lords in power at the Court, held his
5551 fortnightly reception in his grand hotel in Paris. Monseigneur was in his
5552 inner room, his sanctuary of sanctuaries, the Holiest of Holiests to the
5553 crowd of worshippers in the suite of rooms without. Monseigneur was
5554 about to take his chocolate. Monseigneur could swallow a great many
5555 things with ease, and was by some few sullen minds supposed to be
5556 rather rapidly swallowing France; but, his morning's chocolate could not
5557 so much as get into the throat of Monseigneur, without the aid of four
5558 strong men besides the Cook.
5560 Yes. It took four men, all four ablaze with gorgeous decoration, and
5561 the Chief of them unable to exist with fewer than two gold watches in his
5562 pocket, emulative of the noble and chaste fashion set by Monseigneur, to
5563 conduct the happy chocolate to Monseigneur's lips. One lacquey carried
5564 the chocolate-pot into the sacred presence; a second, milled and frothed
5565 the chocolate with the little instrument he bore for that function; a third,
5566 presented the favoured napkin; a fourth (he of the two gold watches),
5567 poured the chocolate out. It was impossible for Monseigneur to dispense
5568 with one of these attendants on the chocolate and hold his high place un-
5569 der the admiring Heavens. Deep would have been the blot upon his es-
5570 cutcheon if his chocolate had been ignobly waited on by only three men;
5571 he must have died of two.
5573 Monseigneur had been out at a little supper last night, where the Com-
5574 edy and the Grand Opera were charmingly represented. Monseigneur
5575 was out at a little supper most nights, with fascinating company. So po-
5576 lite and so impressible was Monseigneur, that the Comedy and the
5577 Grand Opera had far more influence with him in the tiresome articles of
5578 state affairs and state secrets, than the needs of all France. A happy cir-
5579 cumstance for France, as the like always is for all countries similarly fa-
5580 voured!- always was for England (by way of example), in the regretted
5581 days of the merry Stuart who sold it.
5585 110
5589 Monseigneur had one truly noble idea of general public business,
5590 which was, to let everything go on in its own way; of particular public
5591 business, Monseigneur had the other truly noble idea that it must all go
5592 his way- tend to his own power and pocket. Of his pleasures, general
5593 and particular, Monseigneur had the other truly noble idea, that the
5594 world was made for them. The text of his order (altered from the original
5595 by only a pronoun, which is not much) ran: "The earth and the fulness
5596 thereof are mine, saith Monseigneur."
5598 Yet, Monseigneur had slowly found that vulgar embarrassments crept
5599 into his affairs, both private and public; and he had, as to both classes of
5600 affairs, allied himself perforce with a Farmer-General. As to finances
5601 public, because Monseigneur could not make anything at all of them,
5602 and must consequently let them out to somebody who could; as to fin-
5603 ances private, because Farmer-Generals were rich, and Monseigneur,
5604 after generations of great luxury and expense, was growing poor. Hence
5605 Monseigneur had taken his sister from a convent, while there was yet
5606 time to ward off the impending veil, the cheapest garment she could
5607 wear, and had bestowed her as a prize upon a very rich Farmer-General,
5608 poor in family. Which Farmer-General, carrying an appropriate cane
5609 with a golden apple on the top of it, was now among the company in the
5610 outer rooms, much prostrated before by mankind- always excepting su-
5611 perior mankind of the blood of Monseigneur, who, his own wife in-
5612 cluded, looked down upon him with the loftiest contempt.
5614 A sumptuous man was the Farmer-General. Thirty horses stood in his
5615 stables, twenty-four male domestics sat in his halls, six body-women
5616 waited on his wife. As one who pretended to do nothing but plunder
5617 and forage where he could, the Farmer-General- howsoever his matrimo-
5618 nial relations conduced to social morality- was at least the greatest reality
5619 among the personages who attended at the hotel of Monseigneur that
5620 day.
5622 For, the rooms, though a beautiful scene to look at, and adorned with
5623 every device of decoration that the taste and skin of the time could
5624 achieve, were, in truth, not a sound business; considered with any refer-
5625 ence to the scarecrows in the rags and nightcaps elsewhere (and not so
5626 far off, either, but that the watching towers of Notre Dame, almost
5627 equidistant from the two extremes, could see them both), they would
5628 have been an exceedingly uncomfortable business- if that could have
5629 been anybody's business, at the house of Monseigneur. Military officers
5630 destitute of military knowledge; naval officers with no idea of a ship;
5631 civil officers without a notion of affairs; brazen ecclesiastics, of the worst
5635 111
5639 world worldly, with sensual eyes, loose tongues, and looser lives; all
5640 totally unfit for their several callings all lying horribly in pretending to
5641 belong to them, but all nearly or remotely of the order of Monseigneur,
5642 and therefore foisted on all public employments from which anything
5643 was to be got; these were to be told off by the score and the score. People
5644 not immediately connected with Monseigneur or the State, yet equally
5645 unconnected with anything that was real, or with lives passed in travel-
5646 ling by any straight road to any true earthly end, were no less abundant.
5647 Doctors who made great fortunes out of dainty remedies for imaginary
5648 disorders that never existed, smiled upon their courtly patients in the
5649 ante-chambers of Monseigneur. Projectors who had discovered every
5650 kind of remedy for the little evils with which the State was touched, ex-
5651 cept the remedy of setting to work in earnest to root out a single sin,
5652 poured their distracting babble into any ears they could lay hold of, at
5653 the reception of Monseigneur. Unbelieving Philosophers who were re-
5654 modelling the world with words, and making card-towers of Babel to
5655 scale the skies with, talked with Unbelieving Chemists who had an eye
5656 on the transmutation of metals, at this wonderful gathering accumulated
5657 by Monseigneur. Exquisite gentlemen of the finest breeding, which was
5658 at that remarkable time- and has been since- to be known by its fruits of
5659 indifference to every natural subject of human interest, were in the most
5660 exemplary state of exhaustion, at the hotel of Monseigneur. Such homes
5661 had these various notabilities left behind them in the fine world of Paris,
5662 that the spies among the assembled devotees of Monseigneur- forming a
5663 goodly half of the polite company- would have found it hard to discover
5664 among the angels of that sphere one solitary wife, who, in her manners
5665 and appearance, owned to being a Mother. Indeed, except for the mere
5666 act of bringing a troublesome creature into this world- which does not go
5667 far towards the realisation of the name of mother- there was no such
5668 thing known to the fashion. Peasant women kept the unfashionable ba-
5669 bies close, and brought them up, and charming grandmammas of sixty
5670 dressed and supped as at twenty.
5672 The leprosy of unreality disfigured every human creature in attend-
5673 ance upon Monseigneur. In the outermost room were half a dozen excep-
5674 tional people who had had, for a few years, some vague misgiving in
5675 them that things in general were going rather wrong. As a promising
5676 way of setting them right, half of the half-dozen had become members of
5677 a fantastic sect of Convulsionists, and were even then considering within
5678 themselves whether they should foam, rage, roar, and turn cataleptic on
5679 the spot- thereby setting up a highly intelligible finger-post to the Future,
5683 112
5687 for Monseigneur's guidance. Besides these Dervishes, were other three
5688 who had rushed into another sect, which mended matters with a jargon
5689 about "the Centre of Truth:" holding that Man had got out of the Centre
5690 of Truth- which did not need much demonstration- but had not got out
5691 of the Circumference, and that he was to be kept from flying out of the
5692 Circumference, and was even to be shoved back into the Centre, by fast-
5693 ing and seeing of spirits. Among these, accordingly, much discoursing
5694 with spirits went on- and it did a world of good which never became
5695 manifest.
5697 But, the comfort was, that all the company at the grand hotel of Mon-
5698 seigneur were perfectly dressed. If the Day of Judgment had only been
5699 ascertained to be a dress day, everybody there would have been etern-
5700 ally correct. Such frizzling and powdering and sticking up of hair, such
5701 delicate complexions artificially preserved and mended, such gallant
5702 swords to look at, and such delicate honour to the sense of smell, would
5703 surely keep anything going, for ever and ever. The exquisite gentlemen
5704 of the finest breeding wore little pendent trinkets that chinked as they
5705 languidly moved; these golden fetters rang like precious little bells; and
5706 what with that ringing, and with the rustle of silk and brocade and fine
5707 linen, there was a flutter in the air that fanned Saint Antoine and his de-
5708 vouring hunger far away.
5710 Dress was the one unfailing talisman and charm used for keeping all
5711 things in their places. Everybody was dressed for a Fancy Ball that was
5712 never to leave off. From the Palace of the Tuileries, through Monseigneur
5713 and the whole Court, through the Chambers, the Tribunals of Justice,
5714 and all society (except the scarecrows), the Fancy Ball descended to the
5715 Common Executioner: who, in pursuance of the charm, was required to
5716 officiate "frizzled, powdered, in a gold-laced coat, pumps, and white silk
5717 stockings." At the gallows and the wheel-the axe was a rarity- Monsieur
5718 Paris, as it was the episcopal mode among his brother Professors of the
5719 provinces, Monsieur Orleans, and the rest, to call him, presided in this
5720 dainty dress. And who among the company at Monseigneur's reception
5721 in that seventeen hundred and eightieth year of our Lord, could possibly
5722 doubt, that a system rooted in a frizzled hangman, powdered, gold-
5723 laced, pumped, and white-silk stockinged, would see the very stars out!
5725 Monseigneur having eased his four men of their burdens and taken his
5726 chocolate, caused the doors of the Holiest of Holiests to be thrown open,
5727 and issued forth. Then, what submission, what cringing and fawning,
5728 what servility, what abject humiliation! As to bowing down in body and
5729 spirit, nothing in that way was left for Heaven- which may have been
5733 113
5737 one among other reasons why the worshippers of Monseigneur never
5738 troubled it.
5740 Bestowing a word of promise here and a smile there, a whisper on one
5741 happy slave and a wave of the hand on another, Monseigneur affably
5742 passed through his rooms to the remote region of the Circumference of
5743 Truth. There, Monseigneur turned, and came back again, and so in due
5744 course of time got himself shut up in his sanctuary by the chocolate
5745 sprites, and was seen no more.
5747 The show being over, the flutter in the air became quite a little storm,
5748 and the precious little bells went ringing down-stairs. There was soon
5749 but one person left of all the crowd, and he, with his hat under his arm
5750 and his snuff-box in his hand, slowly passed among the mirrors on his
5751 way out.
5753 "I devote you," said this person, stopping at the last door on his way,
5754 and turning in the direction of the sanctuary, "to the Devil!"
5756 With that, he shook the snuff from his fingers as if he had shaken the
5757 dust from his feet, and quietly walked down-stairs.
5759 He was a man of about sixty, handsomely dressed, haughty in man-
5760 ner, and with a face like a fine mask. A face of a transparent paleness;
5761 every feature in it clearly defined; one set expression on it. The nose,
5762 beautifully formed otherwise, was very slightly pinched at the top of
5763 each nostril. In those two compressions, or dints, the only little change
5764 that the face ever showed, resided. They persisted in changing colour
5765 sometimes, and they would be occasionally dilated and contracted by
5766 something like a faint pulsation; then, they gave a look of treachery, and
5767 cruelty, to the whole countenance. Examined with attention, its capacity
5768 of helping such a look was to be found in the line of the mouth, and the
5769 lines of the orbits of the eyes, being much too horizontal and thin; still, in
5770 the effect of the face made, it was a handsome face, and a remarkable
5771 one.
5773 Its owner went down-stairs into the courtyard, got into his carriage,
5774 and drove away. Not many people had talked with him at the reception;
5775 he had stood in a little space apart, and Monseigneur might have been
5776 warmer in his manner. It appeared, under the circumstances, rather
5777 agreeable to him to see the common people dispersed before his horses,
5778 and often barely escaping from being run down. His man drove as if he
5779 were charging an enemy, and the furious recklessness of the man
5780 brought no check into the face, or to the lips, of the master. The com-
5781 plaint had sometimes made itself audible, even in that deaf city and
5785 114
5789 dumb age, that, in the narrow streets without footways, the fierce patri-
5790 cian custom of hard driving endangered and maimed the mere vulgar in
5791 a barbarous manner. But, few cared enough for that to think of it a
5792 second time, and, in this matter, as in all others, the common wretches
5793 were left to get out of their difficulties as they could.
5795 With a wild rattle and clatter, and an inhuman abandonment of con-
5796 sideration not easy to be understood in these days, the carriage dashed
5797 through streets and swept round corners, with women screaming before
5798 it, and men clutching each other and clutching children out of its way. At
5799 last, swooping at a street corner by a fountain, one of its wheels came to
5800 a sickening little jolt, and there was a loud cry from a number of voices,
5801 and the horses reared and plunged.
5803 But for the latter inconvenience, the carriage probably would not have
5804 stopped; carriages were often known to drive on, and leave their
5805 wounded behind, and why not? But the frightened valet had got down
5806 in a hurry, and there were twenty hands at the horses' bridles.
5808 "What has gone wrong?" said Monsieur, calmly looking out.
5810 A tall man in a nightcap had caught up a bundle from among the feet
5811 of the horses, and had laid it on the basement of the fountain, and was
5812 down in the mud and wet, howling over it like a wild animal.
5814 "Pardon, Monsieur the Marquis!" said a ragged and submissive man,
5815 "it is a child."
5817 "Why does he make that abominable noise? Is it his child?"
5819 "Excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis- it is a pity- yes."
5821 The fountain was a little removed; for the street opened, where it was,
5822 into a space some ten or twelve yards square. As the tall man suddenly
5823 got up from the ground, and came running at the carriage, Monsieur the
5824 Marquis clapped his hand for an instant on his sword-hilt.
5826 "Killed!" shrieked the man, in wild desperation, extending both arms
5827 at their length above his head, and staring at him. "Dead!"
5829 The people closed round, and looked at Monsieur the Marquis. There
5830 was nothing revealed by the many eyes that looked at him but watchful-
5831 ness and eagerness; there was no visible menacing or anger. Neither did
5832 the people say anything; after the first cry, they had been silent, and they
5833 remained so. The voice of the submissive man who had spoken, was flat
5834 and tame in its extreme submission. Monsieur the Marquis ran his eyes
5835 over them all, as if they had been mere rats come out of their holes.
5837 He took out his purse.
5841 115
5845 "It is extraordinary to me/' said he, "that you people cannot take care
5846 of yourselves and your children. One or the other of you is for ever in the
5847 way. How do I know what injury you have done my horses. See! Give
5848 him that."
5850 He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pick up, and all the heads
5851 craned forward that all the eyes might look down at it as it fell. The tall
5852 man called out again with a most unearthly cry, "Dead!"
5854 He was arrested by the quick arrival of another man, for whom the
5855 rest made way. On seeing him, the miserable creature fell upon his
5856 shoulder, sobbing and crying, and pointing to the fountain, where some
5857 women were stooping over the motionless bundle, and moving gently
5858 about it. They were as silent, however, as the men.
5860 "I know all, I know all," said the last comer. "Be a brave man, my Gas-
5861 pard! It is better for the poor little plaything to die so, than to live. It has
5862 died in a moment without pain. Could it have lived an hour as happily?"
5864 "You are a philosopher, you there," said the Marquis, smiling. "How
5865 do they call you?"
5867 "They call me Defarge."
5869 "Of what trade?"
5871 "Monsieur the Marquis, vendor of wine."
5873 "Pick up that, philosopher and vendor of wine," said the Marquis,
5874 throwing him another gold coin, "and spend it as you will. The horses
5875 there; are they right?"
5877 Without deigning to look at the assemblage a second time, Monsieur
5878 the Marquis leaned back in his seat, and was just being driven away with
5879 the air of a gentleman who had accidentally broke some common thing,
5880 and had paid for it, and could afford to pay for it; when his ease was
5881 suddenly disturbed by a coin flying into his carriage, and ringing on its
5882 floor.
5884 "Hold!" said Monsieur the Marquis. "Hold the horses! Who threw
5885 that?"
5887 He looked to the spot where Defarge the vendor of wine had stood, a
5888 moment before; but the wretched father was grovelling on his face on the
5889 pavement in that spot, and the figure that stood beside him was the fig-
5890 ure of a dark stout woman, knitting.
5892 "You dogs!" said the Marquis, but smoothly, and with an unchanged
5893 front, except as to the spots on his nose: "I would ride over any of you
5897 116
5901 very willingly, and exterminate you from the earth. If I knew which ras-
5902 cal threw at the carriage, and if that brigand were sufficiently near it, he
5903 should be crushed under the wheels."
5905 So cowed was their condition, and so long and hard their experience
5906 of what such a man could do to them, within the law and beyond it, that
5907 not a voice, or a hand, or even an eye was raised. Among the men, not
5908 one. But the woman who stood knitting looked up steadily, and looked
5909 the Marquis in the face. It was not for his dignity to notice it; his con-
5910 temptuous eyes passed over her, and over all the other rats; and he
5911 leaned back in his seat again, and gave the word "Go on!"
5913 He was driven on, and other carriages came whirling by in quick suc-
5914 cession; the Minister, the State-Projector, the Farmer-General, the Doctor,
5915 the Lawyer, the Ecclesiastic, the Grand Opera, the Comedy, the whole
5916 Fancy Ball in a bright continuous flow, came whirling by. The rats had
5917 crept out of their holes to look on, and they remained looking on for
5918 hours; soldiers and police often passing between them and the spectacle,
5919 and making a barrier behind which they slunk, and through which they
5920 peeped. The father had long ago taken up his bundle and hidden himself
5921 away with it, when the women who had tended the bundle while it lay
5922 on the base of the fountain, sat there watching the running of the water
5923 and the rolling of the Fancy Ball- when the one woman who had stood
5924 conspicuous, knitting, still knitted on with the steadfastness of Fate. The
5925 water of the fountain ran, the swift river ran, the day ran into evening, so
5926 much life in the city ran into death according to rule, time and tide
5927 waited for no man, the rats were sleeping close together in their dark
5928 holes again, the Fancy Ball was lighted up at supper, all things ran their
5929 course.
5933 117
5937 Chapter
5941 8
5945 Monseigneur in the Country
5947 A beautiful landscape, with the corn bright in it, but not abundant.
5948 Patches of poor rye where corn should have been, patches of poor peas
5949 and beans, patches of most coarse vegetable substitutes for wheat. On in-
5950 animate nature, as on the men and women who cultivated it, a prevalent
5951 tendency towards an appearance of vegetating unwillingly- a dejected
5952 disposition to give up, and wither away.
5954 Monsieur the Marquis in his travelling carriage (which might have
5955 been lighter), conducted by four post-horses and two postilions, fagged
5956 up a steep hill. A blush on the countenance of Monsieur the Marquis was
5957 no impeachment of his high breeding; it was not from within; it was oc-
5958 casioned by an external circumstance beyond his control- the setting sun.
5960 The sunset struck so brilliantly into the travelling carriage when it
5961 gained the hill-top, that its occupant was steeped in crimson. "It will die
5962 out," said Monsieur the Marquis, glancing at his hands, "directly."
5964 In effect, the sun was so low that it dipped at the moment. When the
5965 heavy drag had been adjusted to the wheel, and the carriage slid down
5966 hill, with a cinderous smell, in a cloud of dust, the red glow departed
5967 quickly; the sun and the Marquis going down together, there was no
5968 glow left when the drag was taken off.
5970 But, there remained a broken country, bold and open, a little village at
5971 the bottom of the hill, a broad sweep and rise beyond it, a churchtower, a
5972 windmill, a forest for the chase, and a crag with a fortress on it used as a
5973 prison. Round upon all these darkening objects as the night drew on, the
5974 Marquis looked, with the air of one who was coming near home.
5976 The village had its one poor street, with its poor brewery, poor tan-
5977 nery, poor tavern, poor stable-yard for relays of post-horses, poor foun-
5978 tain, all usual poor appointments. It had its poor people too. All poor a
5979 its people were poor, and many of them were sitting at their doors,
5980 shredding spare onions and the like for supper, while many were at the
5984 118
5988 fountain, washing leaves, and grasses, and any such small yieldings of
5989 the earth that could be eaten. Expressive signs of what made them poor,
5990 were not wanting; the tax for the state, the tax for the church, the tax for
5991 the lord, tax local and tax general, were to be paid here and to be paid
5992 there, according to solemn inscription in the little village, until the won-
5993 der was, that there was any village left uns wallowed.
5995 Few children were to be seen, and no dogs. As to the men and women,
5996 their choice on earth was stated in the prospect- Life on the lowest terms
5997 that could sustain it, down in the little village under the ill; or captivity
5998 and Death in the dominant prison on the crag.
6000 Heralded by a courier in advance, and by the cracking of his pos-
6001 tilions' whips, which twined snake-like about their heads in the evening
6002 air, as if he came attended by the Furies, Monsieur the Marquis drew up
6003 in his travelling carriage at the posting-house gate. It was hard by the
6004 fountain, and the peasants suspended their operations to look at him. He
6005 looked at them, and saw in them, without knowing it, the slow sure fil-
6006 ing down of misery-worn face and figure, that was to make the meagre-
6007 ness of Frenchmen an English superstition which should survive the
6008 truth through the best part of a hundred years.
6010 Monsieur the Marquis cast his eyes over the submissive faces that
6011 drooped before him, as the like of himself had drooped before Monsei-
6012 gneur of the Court- only the difference was, that these faces drooped
6013 merely to suffer and not to propitiate- when a grizzled mender of the
6014 roads joined the group.
6016 "Bring me hither that fellow!" said the Marquis to the courier.
6018 The fellow was brought, cap in hand, and the other fellows closed
6019 round to look and listen, in the manner of the people at the Paris
6020 fountain.
6022 "I passed you on the road?"
6024 "Monseigneur, it is true. I had the honour of being passed on the
6025 road."
6027 "Coming up the hill, and at the top of the hill, both?
6029 "Monseigneur, it is true."
6031 "What did you look at, so fixedly?"
6033 "Monseigneur, I looked at the man."
6035 He stooped a little, and with his tattered blue cap pointed under the
6036 carriage. All his fellows stooped to look under the carriage.
6040 119
6044 "What man, pig? And why look there?"
6046 "Pardon, Monseigneur; he swung by the chain of the shoe- the drag."
6048 "Who?" demanded the traveller.
6050 "Monseigneur, the man."
6052 "May the Devil carry away these idiots! How do you call the man?
6053 You know all the men of this part of the country. Who was he?"
6055 "Your clemency, Monseigneur! He was not of this part of the country.
6056 Of all the days of my life, I never saw him."
6058 "Swinging by the chain? To be suffocated?"
6060 "With your gracious permission, that was the wonder of it, Monsei-
6061 gneur. His head hanging over- like this!"
6063 He turned himself sideways to the carriage, and leaned back, with his
6064 face thrown up to the sky, and his head hanging down; then recovered
6065 himself, fumbled with his cap, and made a bow.
6067 "What was he like?"
6069 "Monseigneur, he was whiter than the miller. All covered with dust,
6070 white as a spectre, tall as a spectre!"
6072 The picture produced an immense sensation in the little crowd; but all
6073 eyes, without comparing notes with other eyes, looked at Monsieur the
6074 Marquis. Perhaps, to observe whether he had any spectre on his
6075 conscience.
6077 "Truly, you did well," said the Marquis, felicitously sensible that such
6078 vermin were not to ruffle him, "to see a thief accompanying my carriage,
6079 and not open that great mouth of yours. Bah! Put him aside, Monsieur
6080 Gabelle!"
6082 Monsieur Gabelle was the Postmaster, and some other taxing function-
6083 ary united; he had come out with great obsequiousness to assist at this
6084 examination, and had held the examined by the drapery of his arm in an
6085 official manner.
6087 "Bah! Go aside!" said Monsieur Gabelle.
6089 "Lay hands on this stranger if he seeks to lodge in your village to-
6090 night, and be sure that his business is honest, Gabelle."
6092 "Monseigneur, I am flattered to devote myself to your orders."
6094 "Did he run away, fellow?- where is that Accursed?"
6096 The accursed was already under the carriage with some half-dozen
6097 particular friends, pointing out the chain with his blue cap. Some half-
6101 120
6105 dozen other particular friends promptly hauled him out, and presented
6106 him breathless to Monsieur the Marquis.
6108 "Did the man run away, Dolt, when we stopped for the drag?"
6110 "Monseigneur, he precipitated himself over the hill-side, head first, as
6111 a person plunges into the river."
6113 "See to it, Gabelle. Go on!"
6115 The half-dozen who were peering at the chain were still among the
6116 wheels, like sheep; the wheels turned so suddenly that they were lucky
6117 to save their skins and bones; they had very little else to save, or they
6118 might not have been so fortunate.
6120 The burst with which the carriage started out of the village and up the
6121 rise beyond, was soon checked by the steepness of the hill. Gradually, it
6122 subsided to a foot pace, swinging and lumbering upward among the
6123 many sweet scents of a summer night. The postilions, with a thousand
6124 gossamer gnats circling about them in lieu of the Furies, quietly mended
6125 the points to the lashes of their whips; the valet walked by the horses; the
6126 courier was audible, trotting on ahead into the dim distance.
6128 At the steepest point of the hill there was a little burial-ground, with a
6129 Cross and a new large figure of Our Saviour on it; it was a poor figure in
6130 wood, done by some inexperienced rustic carver, but he had studied the
6131 figure from the life- his own life, maybe- for it was dreadfully spare and
6132 thin.
6134 To this distressful emblem of a great distress that had long been grow-
6135 ing worse, and was not at its worst, a woman was kneeling. She turned
6136 her head as the carriage came up to her, rose quickly, and presented her-
6137 self at the carriage-door.
6139 "It is you, Monseigneur! Monseigneur, a petition."
6141 With an exclamation of impatience, but with his unchangeable face,
6142 Monseigneur looked out.
6144 "How, then! What is it? Always petitions!"
6146 "Monseigneur. For the love of the great God! My husband, the
6147 forester."
6149 "What of your husband, the forester? Always the same with you
6150 people. He cannot pay something?"
6152 "He has paid all, Monseigneur. He is dead."
6154 "Well! He is quiet. Can I restore him to you?"
6158 121
6162 "Alas, no, Monseigneur! But he lies yonder, under a little heap of poor
6163 grass."
6165 "Well?"
6167 "Monseigneur, there are so many little heaps of poor grass?"
6169 "Again, well?"
6171 She looked an old woman, but was young. Her manner was one of
6172 passionate grief; by turns she clasped her veinous and knotted hands to-
6173 gether with wild energy, and laid one of them on the carriage-door- ten-
6174 derly, caressingly, as if it had been a human breast, and could be expec-
6175 ted to feel the appealing touch.
6177 "Monseigneur, hear me! Monseigneur, hear my petition! My husband
6178 died of want; so many die of want; so many more will die of want."
6180 "Again, well? Can I feed them?"
6182 "Monseigneur, the good God knows; but I don't ask it. My petition is,
6183 that a morsel of stone or wood, with my husband's name, may be placed
6184 over him to show where he lies. Otherwise, the place will be quickly for-
6185 gotten, it will never be found when I am dead of the same malady, I shall
6186 be laid under some other heap of poor grass. Monseigneur, they are so
6187 many, they increase so fast, there is so much want. Monseigneur!
6188 Monseigneur!"
6190 The valet had put her away from the door, the carriage had broken in-
6191 to a brisk trot, the postilions had quickened the pace, she was left far be-
6192 hind, and Monseigneur, again escorted by the Furies, was rapidly dimin-
6193 ishing the league or two of distance that remained between him and his
6194 chateau.
6196 The sweet scents of the summer night rose all around him, and rose, as
6197 the rain falls, impartially, on the dusty, ragged, and toil-worn group at
6198 the fountain not far away; to whom the mender of roads, with the aid of
6199 the blue cap without which he was nothing, still enlarged upon his man
6200 like a spectre, as long as they could bear it. By degrees, as they could
6201 bear no more, they dropped off one by one, and lights twinkled in little
6202 casements; which lights, as the casements darkened, and more stars
6203 came out, seemed to have shot up into the sky instead of having been
6204 extinguished.
6206 The shadow of a large high-roofed house, and of many over-hanging
6207 trees, was upon Monsieur the Marquis by that time; and the shadow was
6208 exchanged for the light of a flambeau, as his carriage stopped, and the
6209 great door of his chateau was opened to him.
6213 122
6217 'Monsieur Charles, whom I expect; is he arrived from England?'
6218 'Monseigneur, not yet."
6222 123
6226 Chapter
6230 9
6234 The Gorgon's Head
6236 It was a heavy mass of building, that chateau of Monsieur the Mar-
6237 quis, with a large stone courtyard before it, and two stone sweeps of
6238 staircase meeting in a stone terrace before the principal door. A stony
6239 business altogether, with heavy stone balustrades, and stone urns, and
6240 stone flowers, and stone faces of men, and stone heads of lions, in all dir-
6241 ections. As if the Gorgon's head had surveyed it, when it was finished,
6242 two centuries ago.
6244 Up the broad flight of shallow steps, Monsieur the Marquis, flambeau
6245 preceded, went from his carriage, sufficiently disturbing the darkness to
6246 elicit loud remonstrance from an owl in the roof of the great pile of stable
6247 building away among the trees. All else was so quiet, that the flambeau
6248 carried up the steps, and the other flambeau held at the great door, burnt
6249 as if they were in a close room of state, instead of being in the open
6250 night-air. Other sound than the owl's voice there was none, save the fall-
6251 ing of a fountain into its stone basin; for, it was one of those dark nights
6252 that hold their breath by the hour together, and then heave a long low
6253 sigh, and hold their breath again.
6255 The great door clanged behind him, and Monsieur the Marquis
6256 crossed a hall grim with certain old boar-spears, swords, and knives of
6257 the chase; grimmer with certain heavy riding-rods and riding-whips, of
6258 which many a peasant, gone to his benefactor Death, had felt the weight
6259 when his lord was angry.
6261 Avoiding the larger rooms, which were dark and made fast for the
6262 night, Monsieur the Marquis, with his flambeau-bearer going on before,
6263 went up the staircase to a door in a corridor. This thrown open, admitted
6264 him to his own private apartment of three rooms: his bed-chamber and
6265 two others. High vaulted rooms with cool uncarpeted floors, great dogs
6266 upon the hearths for the burning of wood in winter time, and all luxuries
6267 befitting the state of a marquis in a luxurious age and country. The fash-
6268 ion of the last Louis but one, of the line that was never to break- the
6272 124
6276 fourteenth Louis- was conspicuous in their rich furniture; but, it was di-
6277 versified by many objects that were illustrations of old pages in the his-
6278 tory of France.
6280 A supper-table was laid for two, in the third of the rooms; a round
6281 room, in one of the chateau's four extinguisher- topped towers. A small
6282 lofty room, with its window wide open, and the wooden jalousie-blinds
6283 closed, so that the dark night only showed in slight horizontal lines of
6284 black, alternating with their broad lines of stone colour.
6286 "My nephew," said the Marquis, glancing at the supper preparation;
6287 "they said he was not arrived."
6289 Nor was he; but, he had been expected with Monseigneur.
6291 "Ah! It is not probable he will arrive to-night; nevertheless, leave the
6292 table as it is. I shall be ready in a quarter of an hour."
6294 In a quarter of an hour Monseigneur was ready, and sat down alone to
6295 his sumptuous and choice supper. His chair was opposite to the win-
6296 dow, and he had taken his soup, and was raising his glass of Bordeaux to
6297 his lips, when he put it down.
6299 "What is that?" he calmly asked, looking with attention at the hori-
6300 zontal lines of black and stone colour.
6302 "Monseigneur? That?"
6304 "Outside the blinds. Open the blinds."
6306 It was done.
6308 "Well?"
6310 "Monseigneur, it is nothing. The trees and the night are all that are
6311 here."
6313 The servant who spoke, had thrown the blinds wide, had looked out
6314 into the vacant darkness, and stood with that blank behind him, looking
6315 round for instructions.
6317 "Good," said the imperturbable master. "Close them again."
6319 That was done too, and the Marquis went on with his supper. He was
6320 half way through it, when he again stopped with his glass in his hand,
6321 hearing the sound of wheels. It came on briskly, and came up to the front
6322 of the chateau.
6324 "Ask who is arrived."
6326 It was the nephew of Monseigneur. He had been some few leagues be-
6327 hind Monseigneur, early in the afternoon. He had diminished the
6331 125
6335 distance rapidly, but not so rapidly as to come up with Monseigneur on
6336 the road. He had heard of Monseigneur, at the posting-houses, as being
6337 before him.
6339 He was to be told (said Monseigneur) that supper awaited him then
6340 and there, and that he was prayed to come to it. In a little while he came.
6341 He had been known in England as Charles Darnay.
6343 Monseigneur received him in a courtly manner, but they did not shake
6344 hands.
6346 "You left Paris yesterday, sir?" he said to Monseigneur, as he took his
6347 seat at table.
6349 "Yesterday. And you?"
6351 "I come direct."
6353 "From London?"
6355 "Yes."
6357 "You have been a long time coming," said the Marquis, with a smile.
6359 "On the contrary; I come direct."
6361 "Pardon me! I mean, not a long time on the journey; a long time in-
6362 tending the journey."
6364 "I have been detained by"- the nephew stopped a moment in his an-
6365 swer- "various business."
6367 "Without doubt," said the polished uncle.
6369 So long as a servant was present, no other words passed between
6370 them. When coffee had been served and they were alone together, the
6371 nephew, looking at the uncle and meeting the eyes of the face that was
6372 like a fine mask, opened a conversation.
6374 "I have come back, sir, as you anticipate, pursuing the object that took
6375 me away. It carried me into great and unexpected peril; but it is a sacred
6376 object, and if it had carried me to death I hope it would have sustained
6377 me.
6379 "Not to death," said the uncle; "it is not necessary to say, to death."
6381 "I doubt, sir," returned the nephew, "whether, if it had carried me to
6382 the utmost brink of death, you would have cared to stop me there."
6384 The deepened marks in the nose, and the lengthening of the fine
6385 straight lines in the cruel face, looked ominous as to that; the uncle made
6386 a graceful gesture of protest, which was so clearly a slight form of good
6387 breeding that it was not reassuring.
6391 126
6395 "Indeed, sir/' pursued the nephew, "for anything I know, you may
6396 have expressly worked to give a more suspicious appearance to the sus-
6397 picious circumstances that surrounded me."
6399 "No, no, no," said the uncle, pleasantly.
6401 "But, however that may be," resumed the nephew, glancing at him
6402 with deep distrust, "I know that your diplomacy would stop me by any
6403 means, and would know no scruple as to means."
6405 "My friend, I told you so," said the uncle, with a fine pulsation in the
6406 two marks. "Do me the favour to recall that I told you so, long ago."
6408 "I recall it."
6410 "Thank you," said the Marquis- very sweetly indeed.
6412 His tone lingered in the air, almost like the tone of a musical
6413 instrument.
6415 "In effect, sir," pursued the nephew, "I believe it to be at once your
6416 bad fortune, and my good fortune, that has kept me out of a prison in
6417 France here."
6419 "I do not quite understand," returned the uncle, sipping his coffee.
6420 "Dare I ask you to explain?"
6422 "I believe that if you were not in disgrace with the Court, and had not
6423 been overshadowed by that cloud for years past, a letter de cachet would
6424 have sent me to some fortress indefinitely."
6426 "It is possible," said the uncle, with great calmness. "For the honour of
6427 the family, I could even resolve to incommode you to that extent. Pray
6428 excuse me!"
6430 "I perceive that, happily for me, the Reception of the day before yester-
6431 day was, as usual, a cold one," observed the nephew.
6433 "I would not say happily, my friend," returned the uncle, with refined
6434 politeness; "I would not be sure of that. A good opportunity for consid-
6435 eration, surrounded by the advantages of solitude, might influence your
6436 destiny to far greater advantage than you influence it for yourself. But it
6437 is useless to discuss the question. I am, as you say, at a disadvantage.
6438 These little instruments of correction, these gentle aids to the power and
6439 honour of families, these slight favours that might so incommode you,
6440 are only to be obtained now by interest and importunity. They are
6441 sought by so many, and they are granted (comparatively) to so few! It
6442 used not to be so, but France in all such things is changed for the worse.
6443 Our not remote ancestors held the right of life and death over the
6447 127
6451 surrounding vulgar. From this room, many such dogs have been taken
6452 out to be hanged; in the next room (my bedroom), one fellow, to our
6453 knowledge, was poniarded on the spot for professing some insolent del-
6454 icacy respecting his daughter- his daughter? We have lost many priv-
6455 ileges; a new philosophy has become the mode; and the assertion of our
6456 station, in these days, might (I do not go so far as to say would, but
6457 might) cause us real inconvenience. All very bad, very bad!"
6459 The Marquis took a gentle little pinch of snuff, and shook his head; as
6460 elegantly despondent as he could becomingly be of a country still con-
6461 taining himself, that great means of regeneration.
6463 "We have so asserted our station, both in the old time and in the mod-
6464 ern time also," said the nephew, gloomily, "that I believe our name to be
6465 more detested than any name in France."
6467 "Let us hope so," said the uncle. "Detestation of the high is the invol-
6468 untary homage of the low."
6470 "There is not," pursued the nephew, in his former tone, "a face I can
6471 look at, in all this country round about us, which looks at me with any
6472 deference on it but the dark deference of fear and slavery."
6474 "A compliment," said the Marquis, "to the grandeur of the family,
6475 merited by the manner in which the family has sustained its grandeur.
6476 Hah!" And he took another gentle little pinch of snuff, and lightly
6477 crossed his legs.
6479 But, when his nephew, leaning an elbow on the table, covered his eyes
6480 thoughtfully and dejectedly with his hand, the fine mask looked at him
6481 sideways with a stronger concentration of keenness, closeness, and dis-
6482 like, than was comportable with its wearer's assumption of indifference.
6484 "Repression is the only lasting philosophy. The dark deference of fear
6485 and slavery, my friend," observed the Marquis, "will keep the dogs
6486 obedient to the whip, as long as this roof," looking up to it, "shuts out
6487 the sky."
6489 That might not be so long as the Marquis supposed. If a picture of the
6490 chateau as it was to be a very few years hence, and of fifty like it as they
6491 too were to be a very few years hence, could have been shown to him
6492 that night, he might have been at a loss to claim his own from the
6493 ghastly, fire-charred, plunder-wrecked ruins. As for the roof he vaunted,
6494 he might have found that shutting out the sky in a new way- to wit, for
6495 ever, from the eyes of the bodies into which its lead was fired, out of the
6496 barrels of a hundred thousand muskets.
6500 128
6504 "Meanwhile," said the Marquis, "I will preserve the honour and re-
6505 pose of the family, if you will not. But you must be fatigued. Shall we
6506 terminate our conference for the night?"
6508 "A moment more."
6510 "An hour, if you please."
6512 "Sir," said the nephew, "we have done wrong, and are reaping the
6513 fruits of wrong."
6515 "We have done wrong?" repeated the Marquis, with an inquiring
6516 smile, and delicately pointing, first to his nephew, then to himself.
6518 "Our family; our honourable family, whose honour is of so much ac-
6519 count to both of us, in such different ways. Even in my father's time, we
6520 did a world of wrong, injuring every human creature who came between
6521 us and our pleasure, whatever it was. Why need I speak of my father's
6522 time, when it is equally yours? Can I separate my father's twin-brother,
6523 joint inheritor, and next successor, from himself?"
6525 "Death has done that!" said the Marquis.
6527 "And has left me," answered the nephew, "bound to a system that is
6528 frightful to me, responsible for it, but powerless in it; seeking to execute
6529 the last request of my dear mother's lips, and obey the last look of my
6530 dear mother's eyes, which implored me to have mercy and to redress;
6531 and tortured by seeking assistance and power in vain."
6533 "Seeking them from me, my nephew," said the Marquis, touching him
6534 on the breast with his forefinger- they were now standing by the hearth-
6535 "you will for ever seek them in vain, be assured."
6537 Every fine straight line in the clear whiteness of his face, was cruelly,
6538 craftily, and closely compressed, while he stood looking quietly at his
6539 nephew, with his snuff-box in his hand. Once again he touched him on
6540 the breast, as though his finger were the fine point of a small sword, with
6541 which, in delicate finesse, he ran him through the body, and said,
6543 "My friend, I will die, perpetuating the system under which I have
6544 lived."
6546 When he had said it, he took a culminating pinch of snuff, and put his
6547 box in his pocket.
6549 "Better to be a rational creature," he added then, after ringing a small
6550 bell on the table, "and accept your natural destiny. But you are lost,
6551 Monsieur Charles, I see."
6555 129
6559 "This property and France are lost to me," said the nephew, sadly; "I
6560 renounce them."
6562 "Are they both yours to renounce? France may be, but is the property?
6563 It is scarcely worth mentioning; but, is it yet?"
6565 "I had no intention, in the words I used, to claim it yet. If it passed to
6566 me from you, to-morrow - "
6568 "Which I have the vanity to hope is not probable."
6570 "-or twenty years hence - "
6572 "You do me too much honour," said the Marquis; "still, I prefer that
6573 supposition."
6575 "-I would abandon it, and live otherwise and elsewhere. It is little to
6576 relinquish. What is it but a wilderness of misery and ruin!"
6578 "Hah!" said the Marquis, glancing round the luxurious room.
6580 "To the eye it is fair enough, here; but seen in its integrity, under the
6581 sky, and by the daylight, it is a crumbling tower of waste, mismanage-
6582 ment, extortion, debt, mortgage, oppression, hunger, nakedness, and
6583 suffering."
6585 "Hah!" said the Marquis again, in a well-satisfied manner.
6587 "If it ever becomes mine, it shall be put into some hands better quali-
6588 fied to free it slowly (if such a thing is possible) from the weight that
6589 drags it down, so that the miserable people who cannot leave it and who
6590 have been long wrung to the last point of endurance, may, in another
6591 generation, suffer less; but it is not for me. There is a curse on it, and on
6592 all this land."
6594 "And you?" said the uncle. "Forgive my curiosity; do you, under your
6595 new philosophy, graciously intend to live?"
6597 "I must do, to live, what others of my countrymen, even with nobility
6598 at their backs, may have to do some day- work."
6600 "In England, for example?"
6602 "Yes. The family honour, sir, is safe from me in this country. The fam-
6603 ily name can suffer from me in no other, for I bear it in no other."
6605 The ringing of the bell had caused the adjoining bed-chamber to be
6606 lighted. It now shone brightly, through the door of communication. The
6607 Marquis looked that way, and listened for the retreating step of his valet.
6611 130
6615 "England is very attractive to you, seeing how indifferently you have
6616 prospered there," he observed then, turning his calm face to his nephew
6617 with a smile.
6619 "I have already said, that for my prospering there, I am sensible I may
6620 be indebted to you, sir. For the rest, it is my Refuge."
6622 "They say, those boastful English, that it is the Refuge of many. You
6623 know a compatriot who has found a Refuge there? A Doctor?"
6625 "Yes."
6627 "With a daughter?"
6629 "Yes."
6631 "Yes," said the Marquis. "You are fatigued. Good night!"
6633 As he bent his head in his most courtly manner, there was a secrecy in
6634 his smiling face, and he conveyed an air of mystery to those words,
6635 which struck the eyes and ears of his nephew forcibly. At the same time,
6636 the thin straight lines of the setting of the eyes, and the thin straight lips,
6637 and the markings in the nose, curved with a sarcasm that looked hand-
6638 somely diabolic.
6640 "Yes," repeated the Marquis. "A Doctor with a daughter. Yes. So com-
6641 mences the new philosophy! You are fatigued. Good night!"
6643 It would have been of as much avail to interrogate any stone face out-
6644 side the chateau as to interrogate that face of his. The nephew looked at
6645 him, in vain, in passing on to the door.
6647 "Good night!" said the uncle. "I look to the pleasure of seeing you
6648 again in the morning. Good repose! Light Monsieur my nephew to his
6649 chamber there!- And burn Monsieur my nephew in his bed, if you will,"
6650 he added to himself, before he rang his little bell again, and summoned
6651 his valet to his own bedroom.
6653 The valet come and gone, Monsieur the Marquis walked to and fro in
6654 his loose chamber-robe, to prepare himself gently for sleep, that hot still
6655 night. Rustling about the room, his softly-slippered feet making no noise
6656 on the floor, he moved like a refined tiger:- looked like some enchanted
6657 marquis of the impenitently wicked sort, in story, whose periodical
6658 change into tiger form was either just going off, or just coming on.
6660 He moved from end to end of his voluptuous bedroom, looking again
6661 at the scraps of the day's journey that came unbidden into his mind; the
6662 slow toil up the hill at sunset, the setting sun, the descent, the mill, the
6663 prison on the crag, the little village in the hollow, the peasants at the
6667 131
6671 fountain, and the mender of roads with his blue cap pointing out the
6672 chain under the carriage. That fountain suggested the Paris fountain, the
6673 little bundle lying on the step, the women bending over it, and the tall
6674 man with his arms up, crying, "Dead!"
6676 "I am cool now," said Monsieur the Marquis, "and may go to bed."
6678 So, leaving only one light burning on the large hearth, he let his thin
6679 gauze curtains fall around him, and heard the night break its silence with
6680 a long sigh as he composed himself to sleep.
6682 The stone faces on the outer walls stared blindly at the black night for
6683 three heavy hours; for three heavy hours, the horses in the stables rattled
6684 at their racks, the dogs barked, and the owl made a noise with very little
6685 resemblance in it to the noise conventionally assigned to the owl by men-
6686 poets. But it is the obstinate custom of such creatures hardly ever to say
6687 what is set down for them.
6689 For three heavy hours, the stone faces of the chateau, lion and human,
6690 stared blindly at the night. Dead darkness lay on all the landscape, dead
6691 darkness added its own hush to the hushing dust on all the roads. The
6692 burial-place had got to the pass that its little heaps of poor grass were
6693 undistinguishable from one another; the figure on the Cross might have
6694 come down, for anything that could be seen of it. In the village, taxers
6695 and taxed were fast asleep. Dreaming, perhaps, of banquets, as the
6696 starved usually do, and of ease and rest, as the driven slave and the
6697 yoked ox may, its lean inhabitants slept soundly, and were fed and freed.
6699 The fountain in the village flowed unseen and unheard, and the foun-
6700 tain at the chateau dropped unseen and unheard- both melting away,
6701 like the minutes that were falling from the spring of Time- through three
6702 dark hours. Then, the grey water of both began to be ghostly in the light,
6703 and the eyes of the stone faces of the chateau were opened.
6705 Lighter and lighter, until at last the sun touched the tops of the still
6706 trees, and poured its radiance over the hill. In the glow, the water of the
6707 chateau fountain seemed to turn to blood, and the stone faces crimsoned.
6708 The carol of the birds was loud and high, and, on the weather-beaten sill
6709 of the great window of the bed-chamber of Monsieur the Marquis, one
6710 little bird sang its sweetest song with all its might. At this, the nearest
6711 stone face seemed to stare amazed, and, with open mouth and dropped
6712 under-jaw, looked awe-stricken.
6714 Now, the sun was full up, and movement began in the village. Case-
6715 ment windows opened, crazy doors were unbarred, and people came
6716 forth shivering- chilled, as yet, by the new sweet air. Then began the
6720 132
6724 rarely lightened toil of the day among the village population. Some, to
6725 the fountain; some, to the fields; men and women here, to dig and delve;
6726 men and women there, to see to the poor live stock, and lead the bony
6727 cows out, to such pasture as could be found by the roadside. In the
6728 church and at the Cross, a kneeling figure or two; attendant on the latter
6729 prayers, the led cow, trying for a breakfast among the weeds at its foot.
6731 The chateau awoke later, as became its quality, but awoke gradually
6732 and surely. First, the lonely boar-spears and knives of the chase had been
6733 reddened as of old; then, had gleamed trenchant in the morning sun-
6734 shine; now, doors and windows were thrown open, horses in their
6735 stables looked round over their shoulders at the light and freshness
6736 pouring in at doorways, leaves sparkled and rustled at iron-grated win-
6737 dows, dogs pulled hard at their chains, and reared impatient to be
6738 loosed.
6740 All these trivial incidents belonged to the routine of life, and the return
6741 of morning. Surely, not so the ringing of the great bell of the chateau, nor
6742 the running up and down the stairs; nor the hurried figures on the ter-
6743 race; nor the booting and tramping here and there and everywhere, nor
6744 the quick saddling of horses and riding away?
6746 What winds conveyed this hurry to the grizzled mender of roads,
6747 already at work on the hill-top beyond the village, with his day's dinner
6748 (not much to carry) lying in a bundle that it was worth no crow's while
6749 to peck at, on a heap of stones? Had the birds, carrying some grains of it
6750 to a distance, dropped one over him as they sow chance seeds? Whether
6751 or no, the mender of roads ran, on the sultry morning, as if for his life,
6752 down the hill, knee-high in dust, and never stopped till he got to the
6753 fountain.
6755 All the people of the village were at the fountain, standing about in
6756 their depressed manner, and whispering low, but showing no other emo-
6757 tions than grim curiosity and surprise. The led cows, hastily brought in
6758 and tethered to anything that would hold them, were looking stupidly
6759 on, or lying down chewing the cud of nothing particularly repaying their
6760 trouble, which they had picked up in their interrupted saunter. Some of
6761 the people of the chateau, and some of those of the posting-house, and
6762 all the taxing authorities, were armed more or less, and were crowded on
6763 the other side of the little street in a purposeless way, that was highly
6764 fraught with nothing. Already, the mender of roads had penetrated into
6765 the midst of a group of fifty particular friends, and was smiting himself
6766 in the breast with his blue cap. What did all this portend, and what
6770 133
6774 portended the swift hoisting-up of Monsieur Gabelle behind a servant on
6775 horseback, and the conveying away of the said Gabelle (double-laden
6776 though the horse was), at a gallop, like a new version of the German bal-
6777 lad of Leonora?
6779 It portended that there was one stone face too many, up at the chateau.
6781 The Gorgon had surveyed the building again in the night, and had ad-
6782 ded the one stone face wanting; the stone face for which it had waited
6783 through about two hundred years.
6785 It lay back on the pillow of Monsieur the Marquis. It was like a fine
6786 mask, suddenly startled, made angry, and petrified. Driven home into
6787 the heart of the stone figure attached to it, was a knife. Round its hilt was
6788 a frill of paper, on which was scrawled:
6790 "Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from JACQUES."
6794 134
6798 Chapter
6802 10
6806 Two Promises
6808 More months, to the number of twelve, had come and gone, and Mr.
6809 Charles Darnay was established in England as a higher teacher of the
6810 French language who was conversant with French literature. In this age,
6811 he would have been a Professor; in that age, he was a Tutor. He read
6812 with young men who could find any leisure and interest for the study of
6813 a living tongue spoken all over the world, and he cultivated a taste for its
6814 stores of knowledge and fancy. He could write of them, besides, in
6815 sound English, and render them into sound English. Such masters were
6816 not at that time easily found; Princes that had been, and Kings that were
6817 to be, were not yet of the Teacher class, and no ruined nobility had
6818 dropped out of Tellson's ledgers, to turn cooks and carpenters. As a tu-
6819 tor, whose attainments made the student's way unusually pleasant and
6820 profitable, and as an elegant translator who brought something to his
6821 work besides mere dictionary knowledge, young Mr. Darnay soon be-
6822 came known and encouraged. He was well acquainted, moreover, with
6823 the circumstances of his country, and those were of ever-growing in-
6824 terest. So, with great perseverance and untiring industry, he prospered.
6826 In London, he had expected neither to walk on pavements of gold, nor
6827 to lie on beds of roses; if he had had any such exalted expectation, he
6828 would not have prospered. He had expected labour, and he found it, and
6829 did it and made the best of it. In this, his prosperity consisted.
6831 A certain portion of his time was passed at Cambridge, where he read
6832 with undergraduates as a sort of tolerated smuggler who drove a contra-
6833 band trade in European languages, instead of conveying Greek and Latin
6834 through the Custom-house. The rest of his time he passed in London.
6836 Now, from the days when it was always summer in Eden, to these
6837 days when it is mostly winter in fallen latitudes, the world of a man has
6838 invariably gone one way- Charles Darnay's way- the way of the love of a
6839 woman.
6843 135
6847 He had loved Lucie Manette from the hour of his danger. He had nev-
6848 er heard a sound so sweet and dear as the sound of her compassionate
6849 voice; he had never seen a face so tenderly beautiful, as hers when it was
6850 confronted with his own on the edge of the grave that had been dug for
6851 him. But, he had not yet spoken to her on the subject; the assassination at
6852 the deserted chateau far away beyond the heaving water and the long,
6853 long, dusty roads- the solid stone chateau which had itself become the
6854 mere mist of a dream- had been done a year, and he had never yet, by so
6855 much as a single spoken word, disclosed to her the state of his heart.
6857 That he had his reasons for this, he knew full well. It was again a sum-
6858 mer day when, lately arrived in London from his college occupation, he
6859 turned into the quiet corner in Soho, bent on seeking an opportunity of
6860 opening his mind to Doctor Manette. It was the close of the summer day,
6861 and he knew Lucie to be out with Miss Pross.
6863 He found the Doctor reading in his arm-chair at a window. The energy
6864 which had at once supported him under his old sufferings and aggrav-
6865 ated their sharpness, had been gradually restored to him. He was now a
6866 very energetic man indeed, with great firmness of purpose, strength of
6867 resolution, and vigour of action. In his recovered energy he was some-
6868 times a little fitful and sudden, as he had at first been in the exercise of
6869 his other recovered faculties; but, this had never been frequently observ-
6870 able, and had grown more and more rare.
6872 He studied much, slept little, sustained a great deal of fatigue with
6873 ease, and was equably cheerful. To him, now entered Charles Darnay, at
6874 sight of whom he laid aside his book and held out his hand.
6876 "Charles Darnay! I rejoice to see you. We have been counting on your
6877 return these three or four days past. Mr. Stryver and Sydney Carton
6878 were both here yesterday, and both made you out to be more than due."
6880 "I am obliged to them for their interest in the matter," he answered, a
6881 little coldly as to them, though very warmly as to the Doctor. "Miss
6882 Manette - "
6884 "Is well," said the Doctor, as he stopped short, "and your return will
6885 delight us all. She has gone out on some household matters, but will
6886 soon be home."
6888 "Doctor Manette, I knew she was from home. I took the opportunity of
6889 her being from home, to beg to speak to you."
6891 There was a blank silence.
6895 136
6899 "Yes?" said the Doctor, with evident constraint. "Bring your chair
6900 here, and speak on."
6902 He complied as to the chair, but appeared to find the speaking on less
6903 easy.
6905 "I have had the happiness, Doctor Manette, of being so intimate here,"
6906 so he at length began, "for some year and a half, that I hope the topic on
6907 which I am about to touch may not - "
6909 He was stayed by the Doctor's putting out his hand to stop him. When
6910 he had kept it so a little while, he said, drawing it back:
6912 "Is Lucie the topic?"
6914 "She is."
6916 "It is hard for me to speak of her at any time. It is very hard for me to
6917 hear her spoken of in that tone of yours, Charles Darnay."
6919 "It is a tone of fervent admiration, true homage, and deep love, Doctor
6920 Manette!" he said deferentially.
6922 There was another blank silence before her father rejoined:
6924 "I believe it. I do you justice; I believe it."
6926 His constraint was so manifest, and it was so manifest, too, that it ori-
6927 ginated in an unwillingness to approach the subject, that Charles Darnay
6928 hesitated.
6930 "Shall I go on, sir?"
6932 Another blank.
6934 "Yes, go on."
6936 "You anticipate what I would say, though you cannot know how earn-
6937 estly I say it, how earnestly I feel it, without knowing my secret heart,
6938 and the hopes and fears and anxieties with which it has long been laden.
6939 Dear Doctor Manette, I love your daughter fondly, dearly, disinter-
6940 estedly, devotedly. If ever there were love in the world, I love her. You
6941 have loved yourself; let your old love speak for me!"
6943 The Doctor sat with his face turned away, and his eyes bent on the
6944 ground. At the last words, he stretched out his hand again, hurriedly,
6945 and cried:
6947 "Not that, sir! Let that be! I adjure you, do not recall that!"
6949 His cry was so like a cry of actual pain, that it rang in Charles Darnay's
6950 ears long after he had ceased. He motioned with the hand he had
6954 137
6958 extended, and it seemed to be an appeal to Darnay to pause. The latter so
6959 received it, and remained silent.
6961 "I ask your pardon," said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, after some
6962 moments. "I do not doubt your loving Lucie; you may be satisfied of it."
6964 He turned towards him in his chair, but did not look at him, or raise
6965 his eyes. His chin dropped upon his hand, and his white hair overshad-
6966 owed his face:
6968 "Have you spoken to Lucie?"
6970 "No."
6972 "Nor written?"
6974 "Never."
6976 "It would be ungenerous to affect not to know that your self-denial is
6977 to be referred to your consideration for her father. Her father thanks
6978 you."
6980 He offered his hand; but his eyes did not go with it.
6982 "I know," said Darnay, respectfully, "how can I fail to know, Doctor
6983 Manette, I who have seen you together from day to day, that between
6984 you and Miss Manette there is an affection so unusual, so touching, so
6985 belonging to the circumstances in which it has been nurtured, that it can
6986 have few parallels, even in the tenderness between a father and child. I
6987 know, Doctor Manette- how can I fail to know- that, mingled with the af-
6988 fection and duty of a daughter who has become a woman, there is, in her
6989 heart, towards you, all the love and reliance of infancy itself. I know that,
6990 as in her childhood she had no parent, so she is now devoted to you with
6991 all the constancy and fervour of her present years and character, united
6992 to the trustfulness and attachment of the early days in which you were
6993 lost to her. I know perfectly well that if you had been restored to her
6994 from the world beyond this life, you could hardly be invested, in her
6995 sight, with a more sacred character than that in which you are always
6996 with her. I know that when she is clinging to you, the hands of baby, girl,
6997 and woman, all in one, are round your neck. I know that in loving you
6998 she sees and loves her mother at her own age, sees and loves you at my
6999 age, loves her mother broken-hearted, loves you through your dreadful
7000 trial and in your blessed restoration. I have known this, night and day,
7001 since I have known you in your home."
7003 Her father sat silent, with his face bent down. His breathing was a little
7004 quickened; but he repressed all other signs of agitation.
7008 138
7012 "Dear Doctor Manette, always knowing this, always seeing her and
7013 you with this hallowed light about you, I have forborne, and forborne, as
7014 long as it was in the nature of man to do it. I have felt, and do even now
7015 feel, that to bring my love- even mine- between you, is to touch your his-
7016 tory with something not quite so good as itself. But I love her. Heaven is
7017 my witness that I love her!"
7019 "I believe it," answered her father, mournfully. "I have thought so be-
7020 fore now. I believe it."
7022 "But, do not believe," said Darnay, upon whose ear the mournful
7023 voice struck with a reproachful sound, "that if my fortune were so cast as
7024 that, being one day so happy as to make her my wife, I must at any time
7025 put any separation between her and you, I could or would breathe a
7026 word of what I now say. Besides that I should know it to be hopeless, I
7027 should know it to be a baseness. If I had any such possibility, even at a
7028 remote distance of years, harboured in my thoughts, and hidden in my
7029 heart- if it ever had been there- if it ever could be there- I could not now
7030 touch this honoured hand."
7032 He laid his own upon it as he spoke.
7034 "No, dear Doctor Manette. Like you, a voluntary exile from France;
7035 like you, driven from it by its distractions, oppressions, and miseries; like
7036 you, striving to live away from it by my own exertions, and trusting in a
7037 happier future; I look only to sharing your fortunes, sharing your Life
7038 and home, and being faithful to you to the death. Not to divide with
7039 Lucie her privilege as your child, companion, and friend; but to come in
7040 aid of it, and bind her closer to you, if such a thing can be."
7042 His touch still lingered on her father's hand. Answering the touch for a
7043 moment, but not coldly, her father rested his hands upon the arms of his
7044 chair, and looked up for the first time since the beginning of the confer-
7045 ence. A struggle was evidently in his face; a struggle with that occasional
7046 look which had a tendency in it to dark doubt and dread.
7048 "You speak so feelingly and so manfully, Charles Darnay, that I thank
7049 you with all my heart, and will open all my heart- or nearly so. Have you
7050 any reason to believe that Lucie loves you?"
7052 "None. As yet, none."
7054 "Is it the immediate object of this confidence, that you may at once as-
7055 certain that, with my knowledge?"
7057 "Not even so. I might not have the hopefulness to do it for weeks; I
7058 might (mistaken or not mistaken) have that hopefulness to-morrow."
7062 139
7066 "Do you seek any guidance from me?"
7068 "I ask none, sir. But I have thought it possible that you might have it in
7069 your power, if you should deem it right, to give me some."
7071 "Do you seek any promise from me?"
7073 "I do seek that."
7075 "What is it?"
7077 "I well understand that, without you, I could have no hope. I well un-
7078 derstand that, even if Miss Manette held me at this moment in her inno-
7079 cent heart- do not think I have the presumption to assume so much- I
7080 could retain no place in it against her love for her father."
7082 "If that be so, do you see what, on the other hand, is involved in it?"
7084 "I understand equally well, that a word from her father in any suitor's
7085 favour, would outweigh herself and all the world. For which reason,
7086 Doctor Manette," said Darnay, modestly but firmly, "I would not ask
7087 that word, to save my life."
7089 "I am sure of it. Charles Darnay, mysteries arise out of close love, as
7090 well as out of wide division; in the former case, they are subtle and delic-
7091 ate, and difficult to penetrate. My daughter Lucie is, in this one respect,
7092 such a mystery to me; I can make no guess at the state of her heart."
7094 "May I ask, sir, if you think she is - " As he hesitated, her father sup-
7095 plied the rest.
7097 "Is sought by any other suitor?"
7099 "It is what I meant to say."
7101 Her father considered a Little before he answered:
7103 "You have seen Mr. Carton here, yourself. Mr. Stryver is here too, oc-
7104 casionally. If it be at all, it can only be by one of these."
7106 "Or both," said Darnay.
7108 "I had not thought of both; I should not think either, likely. You want
7109 a promise from me. Tell me what it is."
7111 "It is, that if Miss Manette should bring to you at any time, on her own
7112 part, such a confidence as I have ventured to lay before you, you will
7113 bear testimony to what I have said, and to your belief in it. I hope you
7114 may be able to think so well of me, as to urge no influence against me. I
7115 say nothing more of my stake in this; this is what I ask. The condition on
7116 which I ask it, and which you have an undoubted right to require, I will
7117 observe immediately."
7121 140
7125 "I give the promise," said the Doctor, "without any condition. I believe
7126 your object to be, purely and truthfully, as you have stated it. I believe
7127 your intention is to perpetuate, and not to weaken, the ties between me
7128 and my other and far dearer self. If she should ever tell me that you are
7129 essential to her perfect happiness, I will give her to you. If there were-
7130 Charles Darnay, if there were - "
7132 The young man had taken his hand gratefully; their bands were joined
7133 as the Doctor spoke:
7135 "-any fancies, any reasons, any apprehensions, anything whatsoever,
7136 new or old, against the man she really loved- the direct responsibility
7137 thereof not lying on his head- they should all be obliterated for her sake.
7138 She is everything to me; more to me than suffering, more to me than
7139 wrong, more to me - Well! This is idle talk."
7141 So strange was the way in which he faded into silence, and so strange
7142 his fixed look when he had ceased to speak, that Darnay felt his own
7143 hand turn cold in the hand that slowly released and dropped it.
7145 "You said something to me," said Doctor Manette, breaking into a
7146 smile. "What was it you said to me?"
7148 He was at a loss how to answer, until he remembered having spoken
7149 of a condition. Relieved as his mind reverted to that, he answered:
7151 "Your confidence in me ought to be returned with full confidence on
7152 my part. My present name, though but slightly changed from my moth-
7153 er's, is not, as you will remember, my own. I wish to tell you what that
7154 is, and why I am in England."
7156 "Stop!" said the Doctor of Beauvais.
7158 "I wish it, that I may the better deserve your confidence, and have no
7159 secret from you."
7161 "Stop!"
7163 For an instant, the Doctor even had his two hands at his ears; for an-
7164 other instant, even had his two hands laid on Darnay 's lips.
7166 "Tell me when I ask you, not now. If your suit should prosper, if Lucie
7167 should love you, you shall tell me on your marriage morning. Do you
7168 promise?"
7170 "Willingly."
7172 "Give me your hand. She will be home directly, and it is better she
7173 should not see us together to-night. Go! God bless you!"
7177 141
7181 It was dark when Charles Darnay left him, and it was an hour later
7182 and darker when Lucie came home; she hurried into the room alone- for
7183 Miss Pross had gone straight up-stairs- and was surprised to find his
7184 reading-chair empty.
7186 "My father!" she called to him. "Father dear!"
7188 Nothing was said in answer, but she heard a low hammering sound in
7189 his bedroom. Passing lightly across the intermediate room, she looked in
7190 at his door and came running back frightened, crying to herself, with her
7191 blood all chilled, "What shall I do! What shall I do!"
7193 Her uncertainty lasted but a moment; she hurried back, and tapped at
7194 his door, and softly called to him. The noise ceased at the sound of her
7195 voice, and he presently came out to her, and they walked up and down
7196 together for a long time.
7198 She came down from her bed, to look at him in his sleep that night. He
7199 slept heavily, and his tray of shoemaking tools, and his old unfinished
7200 work, were all as usual.
7204 142
7208 Chapter
7212 11
7216 A Companion Picture
7218 "Sydney," said Mr. Stryver, on that self-same night, or morning, to his
7219 jackal; "mix another bowl of punch; I have something to say to you."
7221 Sydney had been working double tides that night, and the night be-
7222 fore, and the night before that, and a good many nights in succession,
7223 making a grand clearance among Mr. Stryver's papers before the setting
7224 in of the long vacation. The clearance was effected at last; the Stryver ar-
7225 rears were handsomely fetched up; everything was got rid of until
7226 November should come with its fogs atmospheric, and fogs legal, and
7227 bring grist to the mill again.
7229 Sydney was none the livelier and none the soberer for so much applic-
7230 ation. It had taken a deal of extra wet-towelling to pull him through the
7231 night; a correspondingly extra quantity of wine had preceded the towel-
7232 ling; and he was in a very damaged condition, as he now pulled his
7233 turban off and threw it into the basin in which he had steeped it at inter-
7234 vals for the last six hours.
7236 "Are you mixing that other bowl of punch?" said Stryver the portly,
7237 with his hands in his waistband, glancing round from the sofa where he
7238 lay on his back.
7240 "I am."
7242 "Now, look here! I am going to tell you something that will rather sur-
7243 prise you, and that perhaps will make you think me not quite as shrewd
7244 as you usually do think me. I intend to marry."
7246 "Do you?"
7248 "Yes. And not for money. What do you say now?"
7250 "I don't feel disposed to say much. Who is she?"
7252 "Guess."
7254 "Do I know her?"
7256 "Guess."
7260 143
7264 "I am not going to guess, at five o'clock in the morning, with my brains
7265 frying and sputtering in my head. If you want me to guess, you must ask
7266 me to dinner."
7268 "Well then, I'll tell you," said Stryver, coming slowly into a sitting pos-
7269 ture. "Sydney, I rather despair of making myself intelligible to you, be-
7270 cause you are such an insensible dog."
7272 "And you," returned Sydney, busy concocting the punch, "are such a
7273 sensitive and poetical spirit."
7275 "Come!" rejoined Stryver, laughing boastfully, "though I don't prefer
7276 any claim to being the soul of Romance (for I hope I know better), still I
7277 am a tenderer sort of fellow than you."
7279 "You are a luckier, if you mean that."
7281 "I don't mean that. I mean I am a man of more - more - "
7283 "Say gallantry, while you are about it," suggested Carton.
7285 "Well! I'll say gallantry. My meaning is that I am a man," said Stryver,
7286 inflating himself at his friend as he made the punch, "who cares more to
7287 be agreeable, who takes more pains to be agreeable, who knows better
7288 how to be agreeable, in a woman's society, than you do."
7290 "Go on," said Sydney Carton.
7292 "No; but before I go on," said Stryver, shaking his head in his bullying
7293 way, "I'll have this out with you. You've been at Doctor Manette's house
7294 as much as I have, or more than I have. Why, I have been ashamed of
7295 your moroseness there! Your manners have been of that silent and sullen
7296 and hangdog kind, that, upon my life and soul, I have been ashamed of
7297 you, Sydney!"
7299 "It should be very beneficial to a man in your practice at the bar, to be
7300 ashamed of anything," returned Sydney; "you ought to be much obliged
7301 to me."
7303 "You shall not get off in that way," rejoined Stryver, shouldering the
7304 rejoinder at him; "no, Sydney, it's my duty to tell you - and I tell you to
7305 your face to do you good - that you are a devilish ill-conditioned fellow
7306 in that sort of society. You are a disagreeable fellow."
7308 Sydney drank a bumper of the punch he had made, and laughed.
7310 "Look at me!" said Stryver, squaring himself; "I have less need to make
7311 myself agreeable than you have, being more independent in circum-
7312 stances. Why do I do it?"
7314 "I never saw you do it yet," muttered Carton.
7318 144
7322 "I do it because it's politic; I do it on principle. And look at me! I get
7323 on."
7325 "You don't get on with your account of your matrimonial intentions,"
7326 answered Carton, with a careless air; "I wish you would keep to that. As
7327 to me - will you never understand that I am incorrigible?"
7329 He asked the question with some appearance of scorn.
7331 "You have no business to be incorrigible," was his friend's answer, de-
7332 livered in no very soothing tone.
7334 "I have no business to be, at all, that I know of," said Sydney Carton.
7335 "Who is the lady?"
7337 "Now, don't let my announcement of the name make you uncomfort-
7338 able, Sydney," said Mr. Stryver, preparing him with ostentatious friendli-
7339 ness for the disclosure he was about to make, "because I know you don't
7340 mean half you say; and if you meant it all, it would be of no importance.
7341 I make this little preface, because you once mentioned the young lady to
7342 me in slighting terms."
7344 "I did?"
7346 "Certainly; and in these chambers."
7348 Sydney Carton looked at his punch and looked at his complacent
7349 friend; drank his punch and looked at his complacent friend.
7351 "You made mention of the young lady as a golden-haired doll. The
7352 young lady is Miss Manette. If you had been a fellow of any sensitive-
7353 ness or delicacy of feeling in that kind of way, Sydney, I might have been
7354 a little resentful of your employing such a designation; but you are not.
7355 You want that sense altogether; therefore I am no more annoyed when I
7356 think of the expression, than I should be annoyed by a man's opinion of a
7357 picture of mine, who had no eye for pictures: or of a piece of music of
7358 mine, who had no ear for music."
7360 Sydney Carton drank the punch at a great rate; drank it by bumpers,
7361 looking at his friend.
7363 "Now you know all about it, Syd," said Mr. Stryver. "I don't care about
7364 fortune: she is a charming creature, and I have made up my mind to
7365 please myself: on the whole, I think I can afford to please myself. She
7366 will have in me a man already pretty well off, and a rapidly rising man,
7367 and a man of some distinction: it is a piece of good fortune for her, but
7368 she is worthy of good fortune. Are you astonished?"
7372 145
7376 Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, "Why should I be
7377 astonished?"
7379 "You approve?"
7381 Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, "Why should I not
7382 approve?"
7384 "Well!" said his friend Stryver, "you take it more easily than I fancied
7385 you would, and are less mercenary on my behalf than I thought you
7386 would be; though, to be sure, you know well enough by this time that
7387 your ancient chum is a man of a pretty strong will. Yes, Sydney, I have
7388 had enough of this style of life, with no other as a change from it; I feel
7389 that it is a pleasant thing for a man to have a home when he feels in-
7390 clined to go to it (when he doesn't, he can stay away), and I feel that Miss
7391 Manette will tell well in any station, and will always do me credit. So I
7392 have made up my mind. And now, Sydney, old boy, I want to say a
7393 word to you about your prospects. You are in a bad way, you know; you
7394 really are in a bad way. You don't know the value of money, you live
7395 hard, you'll knock up one of these days, and be ill and poor; you really
7396 ought to think about a nurse."
7398 The prosperous patronage with which he said it, made him look twice
7399 as big as he was, and four times as offensive.
7401 "Now, let me recommend you," pursued Stryver, "to look it in the face.
7402 I have looked it in the face, in my different way; look it in the face, you,
7403 in your different way. Marry. Provide somebody to take care of you.
7404 Never mind your having no enjoyment of women's society, nor under-
7405 standing of it, nor tact for it. Find out somebody. Find out some respect-
7406 able woman with a little property - somebody in the landlady way, or
7407 lodging-letting way - and marry her, against a rainy day. That's the kind
7408 of thing for you. Now think of it, Sydney."
7410 "I'll think of it," said Sydney.
7414 146
7418 Chapter
7422 12
7426 The Fellow of Delicacy
7428 Mr. Stryver having made up his mind to that magnanimous bestowal
7429 of good fortune on the Doctor's daughter, resolved to make her happi-
7430 ness known to her before he left town for the Long Vacation. After some
7431 mental debating of the point, he came to the conclusion that it would be
7432 as well to get all the preliminaries done with, and they could then ar-
7433 range at their leisure whether he should give her his hand a week or two
7434 before Michaelmas Term, or in the little Christmas vacation between it
7435 and Hilary.
7437 As to the strength of his case, he had not a doubt about it, but clearly
7438 saw his way to the verdict. Argued with the jury on substantial worldly
7439 grounds - the only grounds ever worth taking into account - it was a
7440 plain case, and had not a weak spot in it. He called himself for the
7441 plaintiff, there was no getting over his evidence, the counsel for the de-
7442 fendant threw up his brief, and the jury did not even turn to consider.
7443 After trying it, Stryver, C. J., was satisfied that no plainer case could be.
7445 Accordingly, Mr. Stryver inaugurated the Long Vacation with a formal
7446 proposal to take Miss Manette to Vauxhall Gardens; that failing, to
7447 Ranelagh; that unaccountably failing too, it behoved him to present him-
7448 self in Soho, and there declare his noble mind.
7450 Towards Soho, therefore, Mr. Stryver shouldered his way from the
7451 Temple, while the bloom of the Long Vacation's infancy was still upon it.
7452 Anybody who had seen him projecting himself into Soho while he was
7453 yet on Saint Dunstan's side of Temple Bar, bursting in his full-blown
7454 way along the pavement, to the jostlement of all weaker people, might
7455 have seen how safe and strong he was.
7457 His way taking him past Tellson's, and he both banking at Tellson's
7458 and knowing Mr. Lorry as the intimate friend of the Manettes, it entered
7459 Mr. Stryver's mind to enter the bank, and reveal to Mr. Lorry the bright-
7460 ness of the Soho horizon. So, he pushed open the door with the weak
7464 147
7468 rattle in its throat, stumbled down the two steps, got past the two ancient
7469 cashiers, and shouldered himself into the musty back closet where Mr.
7470 Lorry sat at great books ruled for figures, with perpendicular iron bars to
7471 his window as if that were ruled for figures too, and everything under
7472 the clouds were a sum.
7474 "Halloa!" said Mr. Stryver. "How do you do? I hope you are well!"
7476 It was Stryver's grand peculiarity that he always seemed too big for
7477 any place, or space. He was so much too big for Tellson's, that old clerks
7478 in distant corners looked up with looks of remonstrance, as though he
7479 squeezed them against the wall. The House itself, magnificently reading
7480 the paper quite in the far-off perspective, lowered displeased, as if the
7481 Stryver head had been butted into its responsible waistcoat.
7483 The discreet Mr. Lorry said, in a sample tone of the voice he would re-
7484 commend under the circumstances, "How do you do, Mr. Stryver? How
7485 do you do, sir?" and shook hands. There was a peculiarity in his manner
7486 of shaking hands, always to be seen in any clerk at Tellson's who shook
7487 hands with a customer when the House pervaded the air. He shook in a
7488 self-abnegating way, as one who shook for Tellson and Co.
7490 "Can I do anything for you, Mr. Stryver?" asked Mr. Lorry, in his busi-
7491 ness character.
7493 "Why, no, thank you; this is a private visit to yourself, Mr. Lorry; I
7494 have come for a private word."
7496 "Oh indeed!" said Mr. Lorry, bending down his ear, while his eye
7497 strayed to the House afar off.
7499 "I am going," said Mr. Stryver, leaning his arms confidentially on the
7500 desk: whereupon, although it was a large double one, there appeared to
7501 be not half desk enough for him: "I am going to make an offer of myself
7502 in marriage to your agreeable little friend, Miss Manette, Mr. Lorry."
7504 "Oh dear me!" cried Mr. Lorry, rubbing his chin, and looking at his
7505 visitor dubiously.
7507 "Oh dear me, sir?" repeated Stryver, drawing back. "Oh dear you, sir?
7508 What may your meaning be, Mr. Lorry?"
7510 "My meaning," answered the man of business, "is, of course, friendly
7511 and appreciative, and that it does you the greatest credit, and - in short,
7512 my meaning is everything you could desire. But - really, you know, Mr.
7513 Stryver - " Mr. Lorry paused, and shook his head at him in the oddest
7514 manner, as if he were compelled against his will to add, internally, "you
7515 know there really is so much too much of you!"
7519 148
7523 "Well!" said Stryver, slapping the desk with his contentious hand,
7524 opening his eyes wider, and taking a long breath, "if I understand you,
7525 Mr. Lorry, I'll be hanged!"
7527 Mr. Lorry adjusted his little wig at both ears as a means towards that
7528 end, and bit the feather of a pen.
7530 "D - n it all, sir!" said Stryver, staring at him, "am I not eligible?"
7532 "Oh dear yes! Yes. Oh yes, you're eligible!" said Mr. Lorry. "If you say
7533 eligible, you are eligible."
7535 "Am I not prosperous?" asked Stryver.
7537 "Oh! if you come to prosperous, you are prosperous," said Mr. Lorry.
7539 "And advancing?"
7541 "If you come to advancing you know," said Mr. Lorry, delighted to be
7542 able to make another admission, "nobody can doubt that."
7544 "Then what on earth is your meaning, Mr. Lorry?" demanded Stryver,
7545 perceptibly crestfallen.
7547 "Well! I - Were you going there now?" asked Mr. Lorry.
7549 "Straight!" said Stryver, with a plump of his fist on the desk.
7551 "Then I think I wouldn't, if I was you."
7553 "Why?" said Stryver. "Now, I'll put you in a corner," forensically
7554 shaking a forefinger at him. "You are a man of business and bound to
7555 have a reason. State your reason. Why wouldn't you go?"
7557 "Because," said Mr. Lorry, "I wouldn't go on such an object without
7558 having some cause to believe that I should succeed."
7560 "D - n me!" cried Stryver, "but this beats everything."
7562 Mr. Lorry glanced at the distant House, and glanced at the angry
7563 Stryver.
7565 "Here's a man of business - a man of years - a man of experience - in
7566 a Bank," said Stryver; "and having summed up three leading reasons for
7567 complete success, he says there's no reason at all! Says it with his head
7568 on!" Mr. Stryver remarked upon the peculiarity as if it would have been
7569 infinitely less remarkable if he had said it with his head off.
7571 "When I speak of success, I speak of success with the young lady; and
7572 when I speak of causes and reasons to make success probable, I speak of
7573 causes and reasons that will tell as such with the young lady. The young
7574 lady, my good sir," said Mr. Lorry, mildly tapping the Stryver arm, "the
7575 young lady. The young lady goes before all."
7579 149
7583 "Then you mean to tell me, Mr. Lorry," said Stryver, squaring his el-
7584 bows, "that it is your deliberate opinion that the young lady at present in
7585 question is a mincing Fool?"
7587 "Not exactly so. I mean to tell you, Mr. Stryver," said Mr. Lorry, red-
7588 dening, "that I will hear no disrespectful word of that young lady from
7589 any lips; and that if I knew any man - which I hope I do not - whose
7590 taste was so coarse, and whose temper was so overbearing, that he could
7591 not restrain himself from speaking disrespectfully of that young lady at
7592 this desk, not even Tellson's should prevent my giving him a piece of my
7593 mind."
7595 The necessity of being angry in a suppressed tone had put Mr.
7596 Stryver's blood-vessels into a dangerous state when it was his turn to be
7597 angry; Mr. Lorry's veins, methodical as their courses could usually be,
7598 were in no better state now it was his turn.
7600 "That is what I mean to tell you, sir," said Mr. Lorry. "Pray let there be
7601 no mistake about it."
7603 Mr. Stryver sucked the end of a ruler for a little while, and then stood
7604 hitting a tune out of his teeth with it, which probably gave him the
7605 toothache. He broke the awkward silence by saying:
7607 "This is something new to me, Mr. Lorry. You deliberately advise me
7608 not to go up to Soho and offer myself - myself, Stryver of the King's
7609 Bench bar?"
7611 "Do you ask me for my advice, Mr. Stryver?"
7613 "Yes, I do."
7615 "Very good. Then I give it, and you have repeated it correctly."
7617 "And all I can say of it is," laughed Stryver with a vexed laugh, "that
7618 this - ha, ha! - beats everything past, present, and to come."
7620 "Now understand me," pursued Mr. Lorry. "As a man of business, I
7621 am not justified in saying anything about this matter, for, as a man of
7622 business, I know nothing of it. But, as an old fellow, who has carried
7623 Miss Manette in his arms, who is the trusted friend of Miss Manette and
7624 of her father too, and who has a great affection for them both, I have
7625 spoken. The confidence is not of my seeking, recollect. Now, you think I
7626 may not be right?"
7628 "Not I!" said Stryver, whistling. "I can't undertake to find third parties
7629 in common sense; I can only find it for myself. I suppose sense in certain
7630 quarters; you suppose mincing bread-and-butter nonsense. It's new to
7631 me, but you are right, I dare say."
7635 150
7639 "What I suppose, Mr. Stryver, I claim to characterise for myself - And
7640 understand me, sir," said Mr. Lorry, quickly flushing again, "I will
7641 not - not even at Tellson's - have it characterised for me by any gentle-
7642 man breathing."
7644 "There! I beg your pardon!" said Stryver.
7646 "Granted. Thank you. Well, Mr. Stryver, I was about to say: - it might
7647 be painful to you to find yourself mistaken, it might be painful to Doctor
7648 Manette to have the task of being explicit with you, it might be very
7649 painful to Miss Manette to have the task of being explicit with you. You
7650 know the terms upon which I have the honour and happiness to stand
7651 with the family. If you please, committing you in no way, representing
7652 you in no way, I will undertake to correct my advice by the exercise of a
7653 little new observation and judgment expressly brought to bear upon it. If
7654 you should then be dissatisfied with it, you can but test its soundness for
7655 yourself; if, on the other hand, you should be satisfied with it, and it
7656 should be what it now is, it may spare all sides what is best spared. What
7657 do you say?"
7659 "How long would you keep me in town?"
7661 "Oh! It is only a question of a few hours. I could go to Soho in the
7662 evening, and come to your chambers afterwards."
7664 "Then I say yes," said Stryver: "I won't go up there now, I am not so
7665 hot upon it as that comes to; I say yes, and I shall expect you to look in
7666 to-night. Good morning."
7668 Then Mr. Stryver turned and burst out of the Bank, causing such a
7669 concussion of air on his passage through, that to stand up against it bow-
7670 ing behind the two counters, required the utmost remaining strength of
7671 the two ancient clerks. Those venerable and feeble persons were always
7672 seen by the public in the act of bowing, and were popularly believed,
7673 when they had bowed a customer out, still to keep on bowing in the
7674 empty office until they bowed another customer in.
7676 The barrister was keen enough to divine that the banker would not
7677 have gone so far in his expression of opinion on any less solid ground
7678 than moral certainty. Unprepared as he was for the large pill he had to
7679 swallow, he got it down. "And now," said Mr. Stryver, shaking his
7680 forensic forefinger at the Temple in general, when it was down, "my way
7681 out of this, is, to put you all in the wrong."
7685 151
7689 It was a bit of the art of an Old Bailey tactician, in which he found
7690 great relief. "You shall not put me in the wrong, young lady," said Mr.
7691 Stryver; "I'll do that for you."
7693 Accordingly, when Mr. Lorry called that night as late as ten o'clock,
7694 Mr. Stryver, among a quantity of books and papers littered out for the
7695 purpose, seemed to have nothing less on his mind than the subject of the
7696 morning. He even showed surprise when he saw Mr. Lorry, and was al-
7697 together in an absent and preoccupied state.
7699 "Well!" said that good-natured emissary, after a full half -hour of boot-
7700 less attempts to bring him round to the question. "I have been to Soho."
7702 "To Soho?" repeated Mr. Stryver, coldly. "Oh, to be sure! What am I
7703 thinking of!"
7705 "And I have no doubt," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was right in the conver-
7706 sation we had. My opinion is confirmed, and I reiterate my advice."
7708 "I assure you," returned Mr. Stryver, in the friendliest way, "that I am
7709 sorry for it on your account, and sorry for it on the poor father's account.
7710 I know this must always be a sore subject with the family; let us say no
7711 more about it."
7713 "I don't understand you," said Mr. Lorry.
7715 "I dare say not," rejoined Stryver, nodding his head in a smoothing
7716 and final way; "no matter, no matter."
7718 "But it does matter," Mr. Lorry urged.
7720 "No it doesn't; I assure you it doesn't. Having supposed that there was
7721 sense where there is no sense, and a laudable ambition where there is not
7722 a laudable ambition, I am well out of my mistake, and no harm is done.
7723 Young women have committed similar follies often before, and have re-
7724 pented them in poverty and obscurity often before. In an unselfish as-
7725 pect, I am sorry that the thing is dropped, because it would have been a
7726 bad thing for me in a worldly point of view; in a selfish aspect, I am glad
7727 that the thing has dropped, because it would have been a bad thing for
7728 me in a worldly point of view - it is hardly necessary to say I could have
7729 gained nothing by it. There is no harm at all done. I have not proposed to
7730 the young lady, and, between ourselves, I am by no means certain, on re-
7731 flexion, that I ever should have committed myself to that extent. Mr.
7732 Lorry, you cannot control the mincing vanities and giddinesses of
7733 empty-headed girls; you must not expect to do it, or you will always be
7734 disappointed. Now, pray say no more about it. I tell you, I regret it on ac-
7735 count of others, but I am satisfied on my own account. And I am really
7739 152
7743 very much obliged to you for allowing me to sound you, and for giving
7744 me your advice; you know the young lady better than I do; you were
7745 right, it never would have done."
7747 Mr. Lorry was so taken aback, that he looked quite stupidly at Mr.
7748 Stryver shouldering him towards the door, with an appearance of
7749 showering generosity, forbearance, and goodwill, on his erring head.
7750 "Make the best of it, my dear sir," said Stryver; "say no more about it;
7751 thank you again for allowing me to sound you; good night!"
7753 Mr. Lorry was out in the night, before he knew where he was. Mr.
7754 Stryver was lying back on his sofa, winking at his ceiling.
7758 153
7762 Chapter
7766 13
7770 The Fellow of No Delicacy
7772 If Sydney Carton ever shone anywhere, he certainly never shone in the
7773 house of Doctor Manette. He had been there often, during a whole year,
7774 and had always been the same moody and morose lounger there. When
7775 he cared to talk, he talked well; but, the cloud of caring for nothing,
7776 which overshadowed him with such a fatal darkness, was very rarely
7777 pierced by the light within him.
7779 And yet he did care something for the streets that environed that
7780 house, and for the senseless stones that made their pavements. Many a
7781 night he vaguely and unhappily wandered there, when wine had
7782 brought no transitory gladness to him; many a dreary daybreak revealed
7783 his solitary figure lingering there, and still lingering there when the first
7784 beams of the sun brought into strong relief, removed beauties of archi-
7785 tecture in spires of churches and lofty buildings, as perhaps the quiet
7786 time brought some sense of better things, else forgotten and unattain-
7787 able, into his mind. Of late, the neglected bed in the Temple Court had
7788 known him more scantily than ever; and often when he had thrown him-
7789 self upon it no longer than a few minutes, he had got up again, and
7790 haunted that neighbourhood.
7792 On a day in August, when Mr. Stryver (after notifying to his jackal that
7793 "he had thought better of that marrying matter") had carried his delicacy
7794 into Devonshire, and when the sight and scent of flowers in the City
7795 streets had some waifs of goodness in them for the worst, of health for
7796 the sickliest, and of youth for the oldest, Sydney's feet still trod those
7797 stones. From being irresolute and purposeless, his feet became animated
7798 by an intention, and, in the working out of that intention, they took him
7799 to the Doctor's door.
7801 He was shown up-stairs, and found Lucie at her work, alone. She had
7802 never been quite at her ease with him, and received him with some little
7803 embarrassment as he seated himself near her table. But, looking up at his
7807 154
7811 face in the interchange of the first few common-places, she observed a
7812 change in it.
7814 "I fear you are not well, Mr. Carton!"
7816 "No. But the life I lead, Miss Manette, is not conducive to health. What
7817 is to be expected of, or by, such profligates?"
7819 "Is it not - forgive me; I have begun the question on my lips - a pity to
7820 live no better life?"
7822 "God knows it is a shame!"
7824 "Then why not change it?"
7826 Looking gently at him again, she was surprised and saddened to see
7827 that there were tears in his eyes. There were tears in his voice too, as he
7828 answered:
7830 "It is too late for that. I shall never be better than I am. I shall sink
7831 lower, and be worse."
7833 He leaned an elbow on her table, and covered his eyes with his hand.
7834 The table trembled in the silence that followed.
7836 She had never seen him softened, and was much distressed. He knew
7837 her to be so, without looking at her, and said:
7839 "Pray forgive me, Miss Manette. I break down before the knowledge
7840 of what I want to say to you. Will you hear me?"
7842 "If it will do you any good, Mr. Carton, if it would make you happier,
7843 it would make me very glad!"
7845 "God bless you for your sweet compassion!"
7847 He unshaded his face after a little while, and spoke steadily.
7849 "Don't be afraid to hear me. Don't shrink from anything I say. I am
7850 like one who died young. All my life might have been."
7852 "No, Mr. Carton. I am sure that the best part of it might still be; I am
7853 sure that you might be much, much worthier of yourself."
7855 "Say of you, Miss Manette, and although I know better - although in
7856 the mystery of my own wretched heart I know better - I shall never for-
7857 get it!"
7859 She was pale and trembling. He came to her relief with a fixed despair
7860 of himself which made the interview unlike any other that could have
7861 been holden.
7863 "If it had been possible, Miss Manette, that you could have returned
7864 the love of the man you see before yourself - flung away, wasted,
7868 155
7872 drunken, poor creature of misuse as you know him to be - he would
7873 have been conscious this day and hour, in spite of his happiness, that he
7874 would bring you to misery, bring you to sorrow and repentance, blight
7875 you, disgrace you, pull you down with him. I know very well that you
7876 can have no tenderness for me; I ask for none; I am even thankful that it
7877 cannot be."
7879 "Without it, can I not save you, Mr. Carton? Can I not recall you - for-
7880 give me again! - to a better course? Can I in no way repay your confid-
7881 ence? I know this is a confidence," she modestly said, after a little hesita-
7882 tion, and in earnest tears, "I know you would say this to no one else. Can
7883 I turn it to no good account for yourself, Mr. Carton?"
7885 He shook his head.
7887 "To none. No, Miss Manette, to none. If you will hear me through a
7888 very little more, all you can ever do for me is done. I wish you to know
7889 that you have been the last dream of my soul. In my degradation I have
7890 not been so degraded but that the sight of you with your father, and of
7891 this home made such a home by you, has stirred old shadows that I
7892 thought had died out of me. Since I knew you, I have been troubled by a
7893 remorse that I thought would never reproach me again, and have heard
7894 whispers from old voices impelling me upward, that I thought were si-
7895 lent for ever. I have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning
7896 anew, shaking off sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned
7897 fight. A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper
7898 where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it."
7900 "Will nothing of it remain? O Mr. Carton, think again! Try again!"
7902 "No, Miss Manette; all through it, I have known myself to be quite un-
7903 deserving. And yet I have had the weakness, and have still the weakness,
7904 to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap
7905 of ashes that I am, into fire - a fire, however, inseparable in its nature
7906 from myself, quickening nothing, lighting nothing, doing no service, idly
7907 burning away."
7909 "Since it is my misfortune, Mr. Carton, to have made you more un-
7910 happy than you were before you knew me - "
7912 "Don't say that, Miss Manette, for you would have reclaimed me, if
7913 anything could. You will not be the cause of my becoming worse."
7915 "Since the state of your mind that you describe, is, at all events, attrib-
7916 utable to some influence of mine - this is what I mean, if I can make it
7920 156
7924 plain - can I use no influence to serve you? Have I no power for good,
7925 with you, at all?"
7927 "The utmost good that I am capable of now, Miss Manette, I have
7928 come here to realise. Let me carry through the rest of my misdirected life,
7929 the remembrance that I opened my heart to you, last of all the world; and
7930 that there was something left in me at this time which you could deplore
7931 and pity."
7933 "Which I entreated you to believe, again and again, most fervently,
7934 with all my heart, was capable of better things, Mr. Carton!"
7936 "Entreat me to believe it no more, Miss Manette. I have proved myself,
7937 and I know better. I distress you; I draw fast to an end. Will you let me
7938 believe, when I recall this day, that the last confidence of my life was re-
7939 posed in your pure and innocent breast, and that it lies there alone, and
7940 will be shared by no one?"
7942 "If that will be a consolation to you, yes."
7944 "Not even by the dearest one ever to be known to you?"
7946 "Mr. Carton," she answered, after an agitated pause, "the secret is
7947 yours, not mine; and I promise to respect it."
7949 "Thank you. And again, God bless you."
7951 He put her hand to his lips, and moved towards the door.
7953 "Be under no apprehension, Miss Manette, of my ever resuming this
7954 conversation by so much as a passing word. I will never refer to it again.
7955 If I were dead, that could not be surer than it is henceforth. In the hour of
7956 my death, I shall hold sacred the one good remembrance - and shall
7957 thank and bless you for it - that my last avowal of myself was made to
7958 you, and that my name, and faults, and miseries were gently carried in
7959 your heart. May it otherwise be light and happy!"
7961 He was so unlike what he had ever shown himself to be, and it was so
7962 sad to think how much he had thrown away, and how much he every
7963 day kept down and perverted, that Lucie Manette wept mournfully for
7964 him as he stood looking back at her.
7966 "Be comforted!" he said, "I am not worth such feeling, Miss Manette.
7967 An hour or two hence, and the low companions and low habits that I
7968 scorn but yield to, will render me less worth such tears as those, than any
7969 wretch who creeps along the streets. Be comforted! But, within myself, I
7970 shall always be, towards you, what I am now, though outwardly I shall
7971 be what you have heretofore seen me. The last supplication but one I
7972 make to you, is, that you will believe this of me."
7976 157
7980 "I will, Mr. Carton."
7982 "My last supplication of all, is this; and with it, I will relieve you of a
7983 visitor with whom I well know you have nothing in unison, and between
7984 whom and you there is an impassable space. It is useless to say it, I
7985 know, but it rises out of my soul. For you, and for any dear to you, I
7986 would do anything. If my career were of that better kind that there was
7987 any opportunity or capacity of sacrifice in it, I would embrace any sacri-
7988 fice for you and for those dear to you. Try to hold me in your mind, at
7989 some quiet times, as ardent and sincere in this one thing. The time will
7990 come, the time will not be long in coming, when new ties will be formed
7991 about you - ties that will bind you yet more tenderly and strongly to the
7992 home you so adorn - the dearest ties that will ever grace and gladden
7993 you. O Miss Manette, when the little picture of a happy father's face
7994 looks up in yours, when you see your own bright beauty springing up
7995 anew at your feet, think now and then that there is a man who would
7996 give his life, to keep a life you love beside you!"
7998 He said, "Farewell!" said a last "God bless you!" and left her.
8002 158
8006 Chapter
8010 14
8014 The Honest Tradesman
8016 To the eyes of Mr. Jeremiah Cruncher, sitting on his stool in Fleet-
8017 street with his grisly urchin beside him, a vast number and variety of ob-
8018 jects in movement were every day presented. Who could sit upon any-
8019 thing in Fleet-street during the busy hours of the day, and not be dazed
8020 and deafened by two immense processions, one ever tending westward
8021 with the sun, the other ever tending eastward from the sun, both ever
8022 tending to the plains beyond the range of red and purple where the sun
8023 goes down!
8025 With his straw in his mouth, Mr. Cruncher sat watching the two
8026 streams, like the heathen rustic who has for several centuries been on
8027 duty watching one stream - saving that Jerry had no expectation of their
8028 ever running dry. Nor would it have been an expectation of a hopeful
8029 kind, since a small part of his income was derived from the pilotage of
8030 timid women (mostly of a full habit and past the middle term of life)
8031 from Tellson's side of the tides to the opposite shore. Brief as such com-
8032 panionship was in every separate instance, Mr. Cruncher never failed to
8033 become so interested in the lady as to express a strong desire to have the
8034 honour of drinking her very good health. And it was from the gifts be-
8035 stowed upon him towards the execution of this benevolent purpose, that
8036 he recruited his finances, as just now observed.
8038 Time was, when a poet sat upon a stool in a public place, and mused
8039 in the sight of men. Mr. Cruncher, sitting on a stool in a public place, but
8040 not being a poet, mused as little as possible, and looked about him.
8042 It fell out that he was thus engaged in a season when crowds were
8043 few, and belated women few, and when his affairs in general were so un-
8044 prosperous as to awaken a strong suspicion in his breast that Mrs.
8045 Cruncher must have been "flopping" in some pointed manner, when an
8046 unusual concourse pouring down Fleet-street westward, attracted his at-
8047 tention. Looking that way, Mr. Cruncher made out that some kind of
8051 159
8055 funeral was coming along, and that there was popular objection to this
8056 funeral, which engendered uproar.
8058 "Young Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, turning to his offspring, "it's a
8059 bury in?."
8061 "Hooroar, father!" cried Young Jerry.
8063 The young gentleman uttered this exultant sound with mysterious sig-
8064 nificance. The elder gentleman took the cry so ill, that he watched his op-
8065 portunity, and smote the young gentleman on the ear.
8067 "What d'ye mean? What are you hooroaring at? What do you want to
8068 conwey to your own father, you young Rip? This boy is a getting too
8069 many for me!" said Mr. Cruncher, surveying him. "Him and his hoo-
8070 roars! Don't let me hear no more of you, or you shall feel some more of
8071 me. D'ye hear?"
8073 "I warn't doing no harm," Young Jerry protested, rubbing his cheek.
8075 "Drop it then," said Mr. Cruncher; "I won't have none of your no
8076 harms. Get a top of that there seat, and look at the crowd."
8078 His son obeyed, and the crowd approached; they were bawling and
8079 hissing round a dingy hearse and dingy mourning coach, in which
8080 mourning coach there was only one mourner, dressed in the dingy trap-
8081 pings that were considered essential to the dignity of the position. The
8082 position appeared by no means to please him, however, with an increas-
8083 ing rabble surrounding the coach, deriding him, making grimaces at
8084 him, and incessantly groaning and calling out: "Yah! Spies! Tst! Yaha!
8085 Spies!" with many compliments too numerous and forcible to repeat.
8087 Funerals had at all times a remarkable attraction for Mr. Cruncher; he
8088 always pricked up his senses, and became excited, when a funeral
8089 passed Tellson's. Naturally, therefore, a funeral with this uncommon at-
8090 tendance excited him greatly, and he asked of the first man who ran
8091 against him:
8093 "What is it, brother? What's it about?"
8095 "I don't know," said the man. "Spies! Yaha! Tst! Spies!"
8097 He asked another man. "Who is it?"
8099 "I don't know," returned the man, clapping his hands to his mouth
8100 nevertheless, and vociferating in a surprising heat and with the greatest
8101 ardour, "Spies! Yaha! Tst, tst! Spi - ies!"
8105 160
8109 At length, a person better informed on the merits of the case, tumbled
8110 against him, and from this person he learned that the funeral was the fu-
8111 neral of one Roger Cly.
8113 "Was He a spy?" asked Mr. Cruncher.
8115 "Old Bailey spy," returned his informant. "Yaha! Tst! Yah! Old Bailey
8116 Spi - i - ies!"
8118 "Why, to be sure!" exclaimed Jerry, recalling the Trial at which he had
8119 assisted. "I've seen him. Dead, is he?"
8121 "Dead as mutton," returned the other, "and can't be too dead. Have
8122 'em out, there! Spies! Pull 'em out, there! Spies!"
8124 The idea was so acceptable in the prevalent absence of any idea, that
8125 the crowd caught it up with eagerness, and loudly repeating the sugges-
8126 tion to have 'em out, and to pull 'em out, mobbed the two vehicles so
8127 closely that they came to a stop. On the crowd's opening the coach doors,
8128 the one mourner scuffled out of himself and was in their hands for a mo-
8129 ment; but he was so alert, and made such good use of his time, that in
8130 another moment he was scouring away up a bye-street, after shedding
8131 his cloak, hat, long hatband, white pocket-handkerchief, and other sym-
8132 bolical tears.
8134 These, the people tore to pieces and scattered far and wide with great
8135 enjoyment, while the tradesmen hurriedly shut up their shops; for a
8136 crowd in those times stopped at nothing, and was a monster much
8137 dreaded. They had already got the length of opening the hearse to take
8138 the coffin out, when some brighter genius proposed instead, its being es-
8139 corted to its destination amidst general rejoicing. Practical suggestions
8140 being much needed, this suggestion, too, was received with acclamation,
8141 and the coach was immediately filled with eight inside and a dozen out,
8142 while as many people got on the roof of the hearse as could by any exer-
8143 cise of ingenuity stick upon it. Among the first of these volunteers was
8144 Jerry Cruncher himself, who modestly concealed his spiky head from the
8145 observation of Tellson's, in the further corner of the mourning coach.
8147 The officiating undertakers made some protest against these changes
8148 in the ceremonies; but, the river being alarmingly near, and several
8149 voices remarking on the efficacy of cold immersion in bringing refractory
8150 members of the profession to reason, the protest was faint and brief. The
8151 remodelled procession started, with a chimney-sweep driving the
8152 hearse - advised by the regular driver, who was perched beside him, un-
8153 der close inspection, for the purpose - and with a pieman, also attended
8154 by his cabinet minister, driving the mourning coach. A bear-leader, a
8158 161
8162 popular street character of the time, was impressed as an additional or-
8163 nament, before the cavalcade had gone far down the Strand; and his
8164 bear, who was black and very mangy, gave quite an Undertaking air to
8165 that part of the procession in which he walked.
8167 Thus, with beer-drinking, pipe-smoking, song-roaring, and infinite ca-
8168 ricaturing of woe, the disorderly procession went its way, recruiting at
8169 every step, and all the shops shutting up before it. Its destination was the
8170 old church of Saint Pancras, far off in the fields. It got there in course of
8171 time; insisted on pouring into the burial-ground; finally, accomplished
8172 the interment of the deceased Roger Cly in its own way, and highly to its
8173 own satisfaction.
8175 The dead man disposed of, and the crowd being under the necessity of
8176 providing some other entertainment for itself, another brighter genius
8177 (or perhaps the same) conceived the humour of impeaching casual
8178 passers-by, as Old Bailey spies, and wreaking vengeance on them. Chase
8179 was given to some scores of inoffensive persons who had never been
8180 near the Old Bailey in their lives, in the realisation of this fancy, and they
8181 were roughly hustled and maltreated. The transition to the sport of
8182 window-breaking, and thence to the plundering of public-houses, was
8183 easy and natural. At last, after several hours, when sundry summer-
8184 houses had been pulled down, and some area-railings had been torn up,
8185 to arm the more belligerent spirits, a rumour got about that the Guards
8186 were coming. Before this rumour, the crowd gradually melted away, and
8187 perhaps the Guards came, and perhaps they never came, and this was
8188 the usual progress of a mob.
8190 Mr. Cruncher did not assist at the closing sports, but had remained be-
8191 hind in the churchyard, to confer and condole with the undertakers. The
8192 place had a soothing influence on him. He procured a pipe from a
8193 neighbouring public-house, and smoked it, looking in at the railings and
8194 maturely considering the spot.
8196 "Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, apostrophising himself in his usual way,
8197 "you see that there Cly that day, and you see with your own eyes that he
8198 was a young 'un and a straight made r un."
8200 Having smoked his pipe out, and ruminated a little longer, he turned
8201 himself about, that he might appear, before the hour of closing, on his
8202 station at Tellson's. Whether his meditations on mortality had touched
8203 his liver, or whether his general health had been previously at all amiss,
8204 or whether he desired to show a little attention to an eminent man, is not
8208 162
8212 so much to the purpose, as that he made a short call upon his medical
8213 adviser - a distinguished surgeon - on his way back.
8215 Young Jerry relieved his father with dutiful interest, and reported No
8216 job in his absence. The bank closed, the ancient clerks came out, the usual
8217 watch was set, and Mr. Cruncher and his son went home to tea.
8219 "Now, I tell you where it is!" said Mr. Cruncher to his wife, on enter-
8220 ing. "If, as a honest tradesman, my wenturs goes wrong to-night, I shall
8221 make sure that you've been praying again me, and I shall work you for it
8222 just the same as if I seen you do it."
8224 The dejected Mrs. Cruncher shook her head.
8226 "Why, you're at it afore my face!" said Mr. Cruncher, with signs of
8227 angry apprehension.
8229 "I am saying nothing."
8231 "Well, then; don't meditate nothing. You might as well flop as medit-
8232 ate. You may as well go again me one way as another. Drop it
8233 altogether."
8235 "Yes, Jerry."
8237 "Yes, Jerry," repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to tea. "Ah! It is yes,
8238 Jerry. That's about it. You may say yes, Jerry."
8240 Mr. Cruncher had no particular meaning in these sulky corrobora-
8241 tions, but made use of them, as people not unfrequently do, to express
8242 general ironical dissatisfaction.
8244 "You and your yes, Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out of his
8245 bread-and-butter, and seeming to help it down with a large invisible
8246 oyster out of his saucer. "Ah! I think so. I believe you."
8248 "You are going out to-night?" asked his decent wife, when he took an-
8249 other bite.
8251 "Yes, I am."
8253 "May I go with you, father?" asked his son, briskly.
8255 "No, you mayn't. I'm a going - as your mother knows - a fishing.
8256 That's where I'm going to. Going a fishing."
8258 "Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don't it, father?"
8260 "Never you mind."
8262 "Shall you bring any fish home, father?"
8266 163
8270 "If I don't, you'll have short commons, to-morrow," returned that gen-
8271 tleman, shaking his head; "that's questions enough for you; I ain't a go-
8272 ing out, till you've been long abed."
8274 He devoted himself during the remainder of the evening to keeping a
8275 most vigilant watch on Mrs. Cruncher, and sullenly holding her in con-
8276 versation that she might be prevented from meditating any petitions to
8277 his disadvantage. With this view, he urged his son to hold her in conver-
8278 sation also, and led the unfortunate woman a hard life by dwelling on
8279 any causes of complaint he could bring against her, rather than he would
8280 leave her for a moment to her own reflexions. The devoutest person
8281 could have rendered no greater homage to the efficacy of an honest pray-
8282 er than he did in this distrust of his wife. It was as if a professed unbe-
8283 liever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost story.
8285 "And mind you!" said Mr. Cruncher. "No games to-morrow! If I, as a
8286 honest tradesman, succeed in providing a jinte of meat or two, none of
8287 your not touching of it, and sticking to bread. If I, as a honest tradesman,
8288 am able to provide a little beer, none of your declaring on water. When
8289 you go to Rome, do as Rome does. Rome will be a ugly customer to you,
8290 if you don't. I'm your Rome, you know."
8292 Then he began grumbling again:
8294 "With your flying into the face of your own wittles and drink! I don't
8295 know how scarce you mayn't make the wittles and drink here, by your
8296 flopping tricks and your unfeeling conduct. Look at your boy: he is
8297 your'n, ain't he? He's as thin as a lath. Do you call yourself a mother, and
8298 not know that a mother's first duty is to blow her boy out?"
8300 This touched Young Jerry on a tender place; who adjured his mother
8301 to perform her first duty, and, whatever else she did or neglected, above
8302 all things to lay especial stress on the discharge of that maternal function
8303 so affectingly and delicately indicated by his other parent.
8305 Thus the evening wore away with the Cruncher family, until Young
8306 Jerry was ordered to bed, and his mother, laid under similar injunctions,
8307 obeyed them. Mr. Cruncher beguiled the earlier watches of the night
8308 with solitary pipes, and did not start upon his excursion until nearly one
8309 o'clock. Towards that small and ghostly hour, he rose up from his chair,
8310 took a key out of his pocket, opened a locked cupboard, and brought
8311 forth a sack, a crowbar of convenient size, a rope and chain, and other
8312 fishing tackle of that nature. Disposing these articles about him in skilful
8313 manner, he bestowed a parting defiance on Mrs. Cruncher, extinguished
8314 the light, and went out.
8318 164
8322 Young Jerry, who had only made a feint of undressing when he went
8323 to bed, was not long after his father. Under cover of the darkness he fol-
8324 lowed out of the room, followed down the stairs, followed down the
8325 court, followed out into the streets. He was in no uneasiness concerning
8326 his getting into the house again, for it was full of lodgers, and the door
8327 stood ajar all night.
8329 Impelled by a laudable ambition to study the art and mystery of his
8330 father's honest calling, Young Jerry, keeping as close to house fronts,
8331 walls, and doorways, as his eyes were close to one another, held his hon-
8332 oured parent in view. The honoured parent steering Northward, had not
8333 gone far, when he was joined by another disciple of Izaak Walton, and
8334 the two trudged on together.
8336 Within half an hour from the first starting, they were beyond the wink-
8337 ing lamps, and the more than winking watchmen, and were out upon a
8338 lonely road. Another fisherman was picked up here - and that so si-
8339 lently, that if Young Jerry had been superstitious, he might have sup-
8340 posed the second follower of the gentle craft to have, all of a sudden,
8341 split himself into two.
8343 The three went on, and Young Jerry went on, until the three stopped
8344 under a bank overhanging the road. Upon the top of the bank was a low
8345 brick wall, surmounted by an iron railing. In the shadow of bank and
8346 wall the three turned out of the road, and up a blind lane, of which the
8347 wall - there, risen to some eight or ten feet high - formed one side.
8348 Crouching down in a corner, peeping up the lane, the next object that
8349 Young Jerry saw, was the form of his honoured parent, pretty well
8350 defined against a watery and clouded moon, nimbly scaling an iron gate.
8351 He was soon over, and then the second fisherman got over, and then the
8352 third. They all dropped softly on the ground within the gate, and lay
8353 there a little - listening perhaps. Then, they moved away on their hands
8354 and knees.
8356 It was now Young Jerry's turn to approach the gate: which he did,
8357 holding his breath. Crouching down again in a corner there, and looking
8358 in, he made out the three fishermen creeping through some rank grass!
8359 and all the gravestones in the churchyard - it was a large churchyard
8360 that they were in - looking on like ghosts in white, while the church
8361 tower itself looked on like the ghost of a monstrous giant. They did not
8362 creep far, before they stopped and stood upright. And then they began to
8363 fish.
8367 165
8371 They fished with a spade, at first. Presently the honoured parent ap-
8372 peared to be adjusting some instrument like a great corkscrew. Whatever
8373 tools they worked with, they worked hard, until the awful striking of the
8374 church clock so terrified Young Jerry, that he made off, with his hair as
8375 stiff as his father's.
8377 But, his long-cherished desire to know more about these matters, not
8378 only stopped him in his running away, but lured him back again. They
8379 were still fishing perseveringly, when he peeped in at the gate for the
8380 second time; but, now they seemed to have got a bite. There was a screw-
8381 ing and complaining sound down below, and their bent figures were
8382 strained, as if by a weight. By slow degrees the weight broke away the
8383 earth upon it, and came to the surface. Young Jerry very well knew what
8384 it would be; but, when he saw it, and saw his honoured parent about to
8385 wrench it open, he was so frightened, being new to the sight, that he
8386 made off again, and never stopped until he had run a mile or more.
8388 He would not have stopped then, for anything less necessary than
8389 breath, it being a spectral sort of race that he ran, and one highly desir-
8390 able to get to the end of. He had a strong idea that the coffin he had seen
8391 was running after him; and, pictured as hopping on behind him, bolt up-
8392 right, upon its narrow end, always on the point of overtaking him and
8393 hopping on at his side - perhaps taking his arm - it was a pursuer to
8394 shun. It was an inconsistent and ubiquitous fiend too, for, while it was
8395 making the whole night behind him dreadful, he darted out into the
8396 roadway to avoid dark alleys, fearful of its coming hopping out of them
8397 like a dropsical boy's-Kite without tail and wings. It hid in doorways too,
8398 rubbing its horrible shoulders against doors, and drawing them up to its
8399 ears, as if it were laughing. It got into shadows on the road, and lay cun-
8400 ningly on its back to trip him up. All this time it was incessantly hopping
8401 on behind and gaining on him, so that when the boy got to his own door
8402 he had reason for being half dead. And even then it would not leave him,
8403 but followed him upstairs with a bump on every stair, scrambled into
8404 bed with him, and bumped down, dead and heavy, on his breast when
8405 he fell asleep.
8407 From his oppressed slumber, Young Jerry in his closet was awakened
8408 after daybreak and before sunrise, by the presence of his father in the
8409 family room. Something had gone wrong with him; at least, so Young
8410 Jerry inferred, from the circumstance of his holding Mrs. Cruncher by
8411 the ears, and knocking the back of her head against the head-board of the
8412 bed.
8416 166
8420 "I told you I would," said Mr. Cruncher, "and I did."
8422 "Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!" his wife implored.
8424 "You oppose yourself to the profit of the business," said Jerry, "and
8425 me and my partners suffer. You was to honour and obey; why the devil
8426 don't you?"
8428 "I try to be a good wife, Jerry," the poor woman protested, with tears.
8430 "Is it being a good wife to oppose your husband's business? Is it hon-
8431 ouring your husband to dishonour his business? Is it obeying your hus-
8432 band to disobey him on the wital subject of his business?"
8434 "You hadn't taken to the dreadful business then, Jerry."
8436 "It's enough for you," retorted Mr. Cruncher, "to be the wife of a hon-
8437 est tradesman, and not to occupy your female mind with calculations
8438 when he took to his trade or when he didn't. A honouring and obeying
8439 wife would let his trade alone altogether. Call yourself a religious wo-
8440 man? If you're a religious woman, give me a irreligious one! You have
8441 no more nat'ral sense of duty than the bed of this here Thames river has
8442 of a pile, and similarly it must be knocked into you."
8444 The altercation was conducted in a low tone of voice, and terminated
8445 in the honest tradesman's kicking off his clay-soiled boots, and lying
8446 down at his length on the floor. After taking a timid peep at him lying on
8447 his back, with his rusty hands under his head for a pillow, his son lay
8448 down too, and fell asleep again.
8450 There was no fish for breakfast, and not much of anything else. Mr.
8451 Cruncher was out of spirits, and out of temper, and kept an iron pot-lid
8452 by him as a projectile for the correction of Mrs. Cruncher, in case he
8453 should observe any symptoms of her saying Grace. He was brushed and
8454 washed at the usual hour, and set off with his son to pursue his ostens-
8455 ible calling.
8457 Young Jerry, walking with the stool under his arm at his father's side
8458 along sunny and crowded Fleet-street, was a very different Young Jerry
8459 from him of the previous night, running home through darkness and
8460 solitude from his grim pursuer. His cunning was fresh with the day, and
8461 his qualms were gone with the night - in which particulars it is not im-
8462 probable that he had compeers in Fleet-street and the City of London,
8463 that fine morning.
8465 "Father," said Young Jerry, as they walked along: taking care to keep
8466 at arm's length and to have the stool well between them: "what's a
8467 Resurrection-Man? "
8471 167
8475 Mr. Cruncher came to a stop on the pavement before he answered,
8476 "How should I know?"
8478 "I thought you knowed everything, father," said the artless boy.
8480 "Hem! Well," returned Mr. Cruncher, going on again, and lifting off
8481 his hat to give his spikes free play, "he's a tradesman."
8483 "What's his goods, father?" asked the brisk Young Jerry.
8485 "His goods," said Mr. Cruncher, after turning it over in his mind, "is a
8486 branch of Scientific goods."
8488 "Persons' bodies, ain't it, father?" asked the lively boy.
8490 "I believe it is something of that sort," said Mr. Cruncher.
8492 "Oh, father, I should so like to be a Resurrection-Man when I'm quite
8493 growed up!"
8495 Mr. Cruncher was soothed, but shook his head in a dubious and moral
8496 way. "It depends upon how you dewelop your talents. Be careful to
8497 dewelop your talents, and never to say no more than you can help to
8498 nobody, and there's no telling at the present time what you may not
8499 come to be fit for." As Young Jerry, thus encouraged, went on a few
8500 yards in advance, to plant the stool in the shadow of the Bar, Mr.
8501 Cruncher added to himself: "Jerry, you honest tradesman, there's hopes
8502 wot that boy will yet be a blessing to you, and a recompense to you for
8503 his mother!"
8507 168
8511 Chapter
8515 15
8519 Knitting
8521 There had been earlier drinking than usual in the wine-shop of Mon-
8522 sieur Defarge. As early as six o'clock in the morning, sallow faces peep-
8523 ing through its barred windows had descried other faces within, bending
8524 over measures of wine. Monsieur Defarge sold a very thin wine at the
8525 best of times, but it would seem to have been an unusually thin wine that
8526 he sold at this time. A sour wine, moreover, or a souring, for its influence
8527 on the mood of those who drank it was to make them gloomy. No viva-
8528 cious Bacchanalian flame leaped out of the pressed grape of Monsieur
8529 Defarge: but, a smouldering fire that burnt in the dark, lay hidden in the
8530 dregs of it.
8532 This had been the third morning in succession, on which there had
8533 been early drinking at the wine-shop of Monsieur Defarge. It had begun
8534 on Monday, and here was Wednesday come. There had been more of
8535 early brooding than drinking; for, many men had listened and
8536 whispered and slunk about there from the time of the opening of the
8537 door, who could not have laid a piece of money on the counter to save
8538 their souls. These were to the full as interested in the place, however, as
8539 if they could have commanded whole barrels of wine; and they glided
8540 from seat to seat, and from corner to corner, swallowing talk in lieu of
8541 drink, with greedy looks.
8543 Notwithstanding an unusual flow of company, the master of the wine-
8544 shop was not visible. He was not missed; for, nobody who crossed the
8545 threshold looked for him, nobody asked for him, nobody wondered to
8546 see only Madame Defarge in her seat, presiding over the distribution of
8547 wine, with a bowl of battered small coins before her, as much defaced
8548 and beaten out of their original impress as the small coinage of humanity
8549 from whose ragged pockets they had come.
8551 A suspended interest and a prevalent absence of mind, were perhaps
8552 observed by the spies who looked in at the wine-shop, as they looked in
8553 at every place, high and low, from the kings palace to the criminal's gaol.
8557 169
8561 Games at cards languished, players at dominoes musingly built towers
8562 with them, drinkers drew figures on the tables with spilt drops of wine,
8563 Madame Defarge herself picked out the pattern on her sleeve with her
8564 toothpick, and saw and heard something inaudible and invisible a long
8565 way off.
8567 Thus, Saint Antoine in this vinous feature of his, until midday. It was
8568 high noontide, when two dusty men passed through his streets and un-
8569 der his swinging lamps: of whom, one was Monsieur Defarge: the other
8570 a mender of roads in a blue cap. All adust and athirst, the two entered
8571 the wine-shop. Their arrival had lighted a kind of fire in the breast of
8572 Saint Antoine, fast spreading as they came along, which stirred and
8573 flickered in flames of faces at most doors and windows. Yet, no one had
8574 followed them, and no man spoke when they entered the wine-shop,
8575 though the eyes of every man there were turned upon them.
8577 "Good day, gentlemen!" said Monsieur Defarge.
8579 It may have been a signal for loosening the general tongue. It elicited
8580 an answering chorus of "Good day!"
8582 "It is bad weather, gentlemen," said Defarge, shaking his head.
8584 Upon which, every man looked at his neighbour, and then all cast
8585 down their eyes and sat silent. Except one man, who got up and went
8586 out.
8588 "My wife," said Defarge aloud, addressing Madame Defarge: "I have
8589 travelled certain leagues with this good mender of roads, called Jacques.
8590 I met him - by accident - a day and half's journey out of Paris. He is a
8591 good child, this mender of roads, called Jacques. Give him to drink, my
8592 wife!"
8594 A second man got up and went out. Madame Defarge set wine before
8595 the mender of roads called Jacques, who doffed his blue cap to the com-
8596 pany, and drank. In the breast of his blouse he carried some coarse dark
8597 bread; he ate of this between whiles, and sat munching and drinking
8598 near Madame Defarge's counter. A third man got up and went out.
8600 Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of wine - but, he took less
8601 than was given to the stranger, as being himself a man to whom it was
8602 no rarity - and stood waiting until the countryman had made his break-
8603 fast. He looked at no one present, and no one now looked at him; not
8604 even Madame Defarge, who had taken up her knitting, and was at work.
8606 "Have you finished your repast, friend?" he asked, in due season.
8608 "Yes, thank you."
8612 170
8616 "Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you you could oc-
8617 cupy. It will suit you to a marvel."
8619 Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a courtyard,
8620 out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out of the staircase into a gar-
8621 ret, - formerly the garret where a white-haired man sat on a low bench,
8622 stooping forward and very busy, making shoes.
8624 No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were there
8625 who had gone out of the wine-shop singly. And between them and the
8626 white-haired man afar off, was the one small link, that they had once
8627 looked in at him through the chinks in the wall.
8629 Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subdued voice:
8631 "Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witness en-
8632 countered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four. He will tell you all.
8633 Speak, Jacques Five!"
8635 The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy forehead
8636 with it, and said, "Where shall I commence, monsieur?"
8638 "Commence," was Monsieur Defarge's not unreasonable reply, "at the
8639 commencement."
8641 "I saw him then, messieurs," began the mender of roads, "a year ago
8642 this running summer, underneath the carriage of the Marquis, hanging
8643 by the chain. Behold the manner of it. I leaving my work on the road, the
8644 sun going to bed, the carriage of the Marquis slowly ascending the hill,
8645 he hanging by the chain - like this."
8647 Again the mender of roads went through the whole performance; in
8648 which he ought to have been perfect by that time, seeing that it had been
8649 the infallible resource and indispensable entertainment of his village
8650 during a whole year.
8652 Jacques One struck in, and asked if he had ever seen the man before?
8654 "Never," answered the mender of roads, recovering his perpendicular.
8656 Jacques Three demanded how he afterwards recognised him then?
8658 "By his tall figure," said the mender of roads, softly, and with his fin-
8659 ger at his nose. "When Monsieur the Marquis demands that evening,
8660 'Say, what is he like?' I make response, Tall as a spectre.'"
8662 "You should have said, short as a dwarf," returned Jacques Two.
8664 "But what did I know? The deed was not then accomplished, neither
8665 did he confide in me. Observe! Under those circumstances even, I do not
8666 offer my testimony. Monsieur the Marquis indicates me with his finger,
8670 171
8674 standing near our little fountain, and says, To me! Bring that rascal!' My
8675 faith, messieurs, I offer nothing."
8677 "He is right there, Jacques," murmured Defarge, to him who had inter-
8678 rupted. "Go on!"
8680 "Good!" said the mender of roads, with an air of mystery. "The tall
8681 man is lost, and he is sought - how many months? Nine, ten, eleven?"
8683 "No matter, the number," said Defarge. "He is well hidden, but at last
8684 he is unluckily found. Go on!"
8686 "I am again at work upon the hill-side, and the sun is again about to
8687 go to bed. I am collecting my tools to descend to my cottage down in the
8688 village below, where it is already dark, when I raise my eyes, and see
8689 coming over the hill six soldiers. In the midst of them is a tall man with
8690 his arms bound - tied to his sides - like this!"
8692 With the aid of his indispensable cap, he represented a man with his
8693 elbows bound fast at his hips, with cords that were knotted behind him.
8695 "I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of stones, to see the soldiers and
8696 their prisoner pass (for it is a solitary road, that, where any spectacle is
8697 well worth looking at), and at first, as they approach, I see no more than
8698 that they are six soldiers with a tall man bound, and that they are almost
8699 black to my sight - except on the side of the sun going to bed, where they
8700 have a red edge, messieurs. Also, I see that their long shadows are on the
8701 hollow ridge on the opposite side of the road, and are on the hill above
8702 it, and are like the shadows of giants. Also, I see that they are covered
8703 with dust, and that the dust moves with them as they come, tramp,
8704 tramp! But when they advance quite near to me, I recognise the tall man,
8705 and he recognises me. Ah, but he would be well content to precipitate
8706 himself over the hill-side once again, as on the evening when he and I
8707 first encountered, close to the same spot!"
8709 He described it as if he were there, and it was evident that he saw it
8710 vividly; perhaps he had not seen much in his life.
8712 "I do not show the soldiers that I recognise the tall man; he does not
8713 show the soldiers that he recognises me; we do it, and we know it, with
8714 our eyes. 'Come on!' says the chief of that company, pointing to the vil-
8715 lage, 'bring him fast to his tomb!' and they bring him faster. I follow. His
8716 arms are swelled because of being bound so tight, his wooden shoes are
8717 large and clumsy, and he is lame. Because he is lame, and consequently
8718 slow, they drive him with their guns - like this!"
8722 172
8726 He imitated the action of a man's being impelled forward by the butt-
8727 ends of muskets.
8729 "As they descend the hill like madmen running a race, he falls. They
8730 laugh and pick him up again. His face is bleeding and covered with dust,
8731 but he cannot touch it; thereupon they laugh again. They bring him into
8732 the village; all the village runs to look; they take him past the mill, and
8733 up to the prison; all the village sees the prison gate open in the darkness
8734 of the night, and swallow him - like this!"
8736 He opened his mouth as wide as he could, and shut it with a sounding
8737 snap of his teeth. Observant of his unwillingness to mar the effect by
8738 opening it again, Defarge said, "Go on, Jacques."
8740 "All the village," pursued the mender of roads, on tiptoe and in a low
8741 voice, "withdraws; all the village whispers by the fountain; all the village
8742 sleeps; all the village dreams of that unhappy one, within the locks and
8743 bars of the prison on the crag, and never to come out of it, except to per-
8744 ish. In the morning, with my tools upon my shoulder, eating my morsel
8745 of black bread as I go, I make a circuit by the prison, on my way to my
8746 work. There I see him, high up, behind the bars of a lofty iron cage,
8747 bloody and dusty as last night, looking through. He has no hand free, to
8748 wave to me; I dare not call to him; he regards me like a dead man."
8750 Defarge and the three glanced darkly at one another. The looks of all
8751 of them were dark, repressed, and revengeful, as they listened to the
8752 countryman's story; the manner of all of them, while it was secret, was
8753 authoritative too. They had the air of a rough tribunal; Jacques One and
8754 Two sitting on the old pallet-bed, each with his chin resting on his hand,
8755 and his eyes intent on the road-mender; Jacques Three, equally intent, on
8756 one knee behind them, with his agitated hand always gliding over the
8757 network of fine nerves about his mouth and nose; Defarge standing
8758 between them and the narrator, whom he had stationed in the light of
8759 the window, by turns looking from him to them, and from them to him.
8761 "Go on, Jacques," said Defarge.
8763 "He remains up there in his iron cage some days. The village looks at
8764 him by stealth, for it is afraid. But it always looks up, from a distance, at
8765 the prison on the crag; and in the evening, when the work of the day is
8766 achieved and it assembles to gossip at the fountain, all faces are turned
8767 towards the prison. Formerly, they were turned towards the posting-
8768 house; now, they are turned towards the prison. They whisper at the
8769 fountain, that although condemned to death he will not be executed;
8770 they say that petitions have been presented in Paris, showing that he was
8774 173
8778 enraged and made mad by the death of his child; they say that a petition
8779 has been presented to the King himself. What do I know? It is possible.
8780 Perhaps yes, perhaps no."
8782 "Listen then, Jacques," Number One of that name sternly interposed.
8783 "Know that a petition was presented to the King and Queen. All here,
8784 yourself excepted, saw the King take it, in his carriage in the street, sit-
8785 ting beside the Queen. It is Defarge whom you see here, who, at the haz-
8786 ard of his life, darted out before the horses, with the petition in his
8787 hand."
8789 "And once again listen, Jacques!" said the kneeling Number Three: his
8790 fingers ever wandering over and over those fine nerves, with a strikingly
8791 greedy air, as if he hungered for something - that was neither food nor
8792 drink; "the guard, horse and foot, surrounded the petitioner, and struck
8793 him blows. You hear?"
8795 "I hear, messieurs."
8797 "Go on then," said Defarge.
8799 "Again; on the other hand, they whisper at the fountain," resumed the
8800 countryman, "that he is brought down into our country to be executed
8801 on the spot, and that he will very certainly be executed. They even whis-
8802 per that because he has slain Monseigneur, and because Monseigneur
8803 was the father of his tenants - serfs - what you will - he will be executed
8804 as a parricide. One old man says at the fountain, that his right hand,
8805 armed with the knife, will be burnt off before his face; that, into wounds
8806 which will be made in his arms, his breast, and his legs, there will be
8807 poured boiling oil, melted lead, hot resin, wax, and sulphur; finally, that
8808 he will be torn limb from limb by four strong horses. That old man says,
8809 all this was actually done to a prisoner who made an attempt on the life
8810 of the late King, Louis Fifteen. But how do I know if he lies? I am not a
8811 scholar."
8813 "Listen once again then, Jacques!" said the man with the restless hand
8814 and the craving air. "The name of that prisoner was Damiens, and it was
8815 all done in open day, in the open streets of this city of Paris; and nothing
8816 was more noticed in the vast concourse that saw it done, than the crowd
8817 of ladies of quality and fashion, who were full of eager attention to the
8818 last - to the last, Jacques, prolonged until nightfall, when he had lost two
8819 legs and an arm, and still breathed! And it was done - why, how old are
8820 you?"
8822 "Thirty-five," said the mender of roads, who looked sixty.
8826 174
8830 "It was done when you were more than ten years old; you might have
8831 seen it."
8833 "Enough!" said Defarge, with grim impatience. "Long live the Devil!
8834 Goon."
8836 "Well! Some whisper this, some whisper that; they speak of nothing
8837 else; even the fountain appears to fall to that tune. At length, on Sunday
8838 night when all the village is asleep, come soldiers, winding down from
8839 the prison, and their guns ring on the stones of the little street. Workmen
8840 dig, workmen hammer, soldiers laugh and sing; in the morning, by the
8841 fountain, there is raised a gallows forty feet high, poisoning the water."
8843 The mender of roads looked through rather than at the low ceiling,
8844 and pointed as if he saw the gallows somewhere in the sky.
8846 "All work is stopped, all assemble there, nobody leads the cows out,
8847 the cows are there with the rest. At midday, the roll of drums. Soldiers
8848 have marched into the prison in the night, and he is in the midst of many
8849 soldiers. He is bound as before, and in his mouth there is a gag - tied so,
8850 with a tight string, making him look almost as if he laughed." He sugges-
8851 ted it, by creasing his face with his two thumbs, from the corners of his
8852 mouth to his ears. "On the top of the gallows is fixed the knife, blade up-
8853 wards, with its point in the air. He is hanged there forty feet high - and
8854 is left hanging, poisoning the water."
8856 They looked at one another, as he used his blue cap to wipe his face,
8857 on which the perspiration had started afresh while he recalled the
8858 spectacle.
8860 "It is frightful, messieurs. How can the women and the children draw
8861 water! Who can gossip of an evening, under that shadow! Under it, have
8862 I said? When I left the village, Monday evening as the sun was going to
8863 bed, and looked back from the hill, the shadow struck across the church,
8864 across the mill, across the prison - seemed to strike across the earth,
8865 messieurs, to where the sky rests upon it!"
8867 The hungry man gnawed one of his fingers as he looked at the other
8868 three, and his finger quivered with the craving that was on him.
8870 "That's all, messieurs. I left at sunset (as I had been warned to do), and
8871 I walked on, that night and half next day, until I met (as I was warned I
8872 should) this comrade. With him, I came on, now riding and now walk-
8873 ing, through the rest of yesterday and through last night. And here you
8874 see me!"
8878 175
8882 After a gloomy silence, the first Jacques said, "Good! You have acted
8883 and recounted faithfully. Will you wait for us a little, outside the door?"
8885 "Very willingly," said the mender of roads. Whom Defarge escorted to
8886 the top of the stairs, and, leaving seated there, returned.
8888 The three had risen, and their heads were together when he came back
8889 to the garret.
8891 "How say you, Jacques?" demanded Number One. "To be registered?"
8893 "To be registered, as doomed to destruction," returned Defarge.
8895 "Magnificent!" croaked the man with the craving.
8897 "The chateau, and all the race?" inquired the first.
8899 "The chateau and all the race," returned Defarge. "Extermination."
8901 The hungry man repeated, in a rapturous croak, "Magnificent!" and
8902 began gnawing another finger.
8904 "Are you sure," asked Jacques Two, of Defarge, "that no embarrass-
8905 ment can arise from our manner of keeping the register? Without doubt
8906 it is safe, for no one beyond ourselves can decipher it; but shall we al-
8907 ways be able to decipher it - or, I ought to say, will she?"
8909 "Jacques," returned Defarge, drawing himself up, "if madame my wife
8910 undertook to keep the register in her memory alone, she would not lose a
8911 word of it - not a syllable of it. Knitted, in her own stitches and her own
8912 symbols, it will always be as plain to her as the sun. Confide in Madame
8913 Defarge. It would be easier for the weakest poltroon that lives, to erase
8914 himself from existence, than to erase one letter of his name or crimes
8915 from the knitted register of Madame Defarge."
8917 There was a murmur of confidence and approval, and then the man
8918 who hungered, asked: "Is this rustic to be sent back soon? I hope so. He
8919 is very simple; is he not a little dangerous?"
8921 "He knows nothing," said Defarge; "at least nothing more than would
8922 easily elevate himself to a gallows of the same height. I charge myself
8923 with him; let him remain with me; I will take care of him, and set him on
8924 his road. He wishes to see the fine world - the King, the Queen, and
8925 Court; let him see them on Sunday."
8927 "What?" exclaimed the hungry man, staring. "Is it a good sign, that he
8928 wishes to see Royalty and Nobility?"
8930 "Jacques," said Defarge; "judiciously show a cat milk, if you wish her
8931 to thirst for it. Judiciously show a dog his natural prey, if you wish him
8932 to bring it down one day."
8936 176
8940 Nothing more was said, and the mender of roads, being found already
8941 dozing on the topmost stair, was advised to lay himself down on the
8942 pallet-bed and take some rest. He needed no persuasion, and was soon
8943 asleep.
8945 Worse quarters than Defarge's wine-shop, could easily have been
8946 found in Paris for a provincial slave of that degree. Saving for a mysteri-
8947 ous dread of madame by which he was constantly haunted, his life was
8948 very new and agreeable. But, madame sat all day at her counter, so ex-
8949 pressly unconscious of him, and so particularly determined not to per-
8950 ceive that his being there had any connexion with anything below the
8951 surface, that he shook in his wooden shoes whenever his eye lighted on
8952 her. For, he contended with himself that it was impossible to foresee
8953 what that lady might pretend next; and he felt assured that if she should
8954 take it into her brightly ornamented head to pretend that she had seen
8955 him do a murder and afterwards flay the victim, she would infallibly go
8956 through with it until the play was played out.
8958 Therefore, when Sunday came, the mender of roads was not en-
8959 chanted (though he said he was) to find that madame was to accompany
8960 monsieur and himself to Versailles. It was additionally disconcerting to
8961 have madame knitting all the way there, in a public conveyance; it was
8962 additionally disconcerting yet, to have madame in the crowd in the after-
8963 noon, still with her knitting in her hands as the crowd waited to see the
8964 carriage of the King and Queen.
8966 "You work hard, madame," said a man near her.
8968 "Yes," answered Madame Defarge; "I have a good deal to do."
8970 "What do you make, madame?"
8972 "Many things."
8974 "For instance - "
8976 "For instance," returned Madame Defarge, composedly, "shrouds."
8978 The man moved a little further away, as soon as he could, and the
8979 mender of roads fanned himself with his blue cap: feeling it mightily
8980 close and oppressive. If he needed a King and Queen to restore him, he
8981 was fortunate in having his remedy at hand; for, soon the large-faced
8982 King and the fair-faced Queen came in their golden coach, attended by
8983 the shining Bull's Eye of their Court, a glittering multitude of laughing
8984 ladies and fine lords; and in jewels and silks and powder and splendour
8985 and elegantly spurning figures and handsomely disdainful faces of both
8986 sexes, the mender of roads bathed himself, so much to his temporary
8990 177
8994 intoxication, that he cried Long live the King, Long live the Queen, Long
8995 live everybody and everything! as if he had never heard of ubiquitous
8996 Jacques in his time. Then, there were gardens, courtyards, terraces, foun-
8997 tains, green banks, more King and Queen, more Bull's Eye,more lords
8998 and ladies, more Long live they all! until he absolutely wept with senti-
8999 ment. During the whole of this scene, which lasted some three hours, he
9000 had plenty of shouting and weeping and sentimental company, and
9001 throughout Defarge held him by the collar, as if to restrain him from fly-
9002 ing at the objects of his brief devotion and tearing them to pieces.
9004 "Bravo!" said Defarge, clapping him on the back when it was over, like
9005 a patron; "you are a good boy!"
9007 The mender of roads was now coming to himself, and was mistrustful
9008 of having made a mistake in his late demonstrations; but no.
9010 "You are the fellow we want," said Defarge, in his ear; "you make
9011 these fools believe that it will last for ever. Then, they are the more in-
9012 solent, and it is the nearer ended."
9014 "Hey!" cried the mender of roads, reflectively; "that's true."
9016 "These fools know nothing. While they despise your breath, and
9017 would stop it for ever and ever, in you or in a hundred like you rather
9018 than in one of their own horses or dogs, they only know what your
9019 breath tells them. Let it deceive them, then, a little longer; it cannot de-
9020 ceive them too much."
9022 Madame Defarge looked superciliously at the client, and nodded in
9023 confirmation.
9025 "As to you," said she, "you would shout and shed tears for anything,
9026 if it made a show and a noise. Say! Would you not?"
9028 "Truly, madame, I think so. For the moment."
9030 "If you were shown a great heap of dolls, and were set upon them to
9031 pluck them to pieces and despoil them for your own advantage, you
9032 would pick out the richest and gayest. Say! Would you not?"
9034 "Truly yes, madame."
9036 "Yes. And if you were shown a flock of birds, unable to fly, and were
9037 set upon them to strip them of their feathers for your own advantage,
9038 you would set upon the birds of the finest feathers; would you not?"
9040 "It is true, madame."
9044 178
9048 "You have seen both dolls and birds to-day," said Madame Defarge,
9049 with a wave of her hand towards the place where they had last been ap-
9050 parent; "now, go home!"
9054 179
9058 Chapter
9062 16
9066 Still Knitting
9068 Madame Defarge and monsieur her husband returned amicably to the
9069 bosom of Saint Antoine, while a speck in a blue cap toiled through the
9070 darkness, and through the dust, and down the weary miles of avenue by
9071 the wayside, slowly tending towards that point of the compass where
9072 the chateau of Monsieur the Marquis, now in his grave, listened to the
9073 whispering trees. Such ample leisure had the stone faces, now, for listen-
9074 ing to the trees and to the fountain, that the few village scarecrows who,
9075 in their quest for herbs to eat and fragments of dead stick to burn,
9076 strayed within sight of the great stone courtyard and terrace staircase,
9077 had it borne in upon their starved fancy that the expression of the faces
9078 was altered. A rumour just lived in the village - had a faint and bare ex-
9079 istence there, as its people had - that when the knife struck home, the
9080 faces changed, from faces of pride to faces of anger and pain; also, that
9081 when that dangling figure was hauled up forty feet above the fountain,
9082 they changed again, and bore a cruel look of being avenged, which they
9083 would henceforth bear for ever. In the stone face over the great window
9084 of the bed-chamber where the murder was done, two fine dints were
9085 pointed out in the sculptured nose, which everybody recognised, and
9086 which nobody had seen of old; and on the scarce occasions when two or
9087 three ragged peasants emerged from the crowd to take a hurried peep at
9088 Monsieur the Marquis petrified, a skinny finger would not have pointed
9089 to it for a minute, before they all started away among the moss and
9090 leaves, like the more fortunate hares who could find a living there.
9092 Chateau and hut, stone face and dangling figure, the red stain on the
9093 stone floor, and the pure water in the village well - thousands of acres of
9094 land - a whole province of France - all France itself - lay under the night
9095 sky, concentrated into a faint hair-breadth line. So does a whole world,
9096 with all its greatnesses and littlenesses, lie in a twinkling star. And as
9097 mere human knowledge can split a ray of light and analyse the manner
9098 of its composition, so, sublimer intelligences may read in the feeble
9102 180
9106 shining of this earth of ours, every thought and act, every vice and vir-
9107 tue, of every responsible creature on it.
9109 The Defarges, husband and wife, came lumbering under the starlight,
9110 in their public vehicle, to that gate of Paris whereunto their journey nat-
9111 urally tended. There was the usual stoppage at the barrier guardhouse,
9112 and the usual lanterns came glancing forth for the usual examination and
9113 inquiry. Monsieur Defarge alighted; knowing one or two of the soldiery
9114 there, and one of the police. The latter he was intimate with, and affec-
9115 tionately embraced.
9117 When Saint Antoine had again enfolded the Defarges in his dusky
9118 wings, and they, having finally alighted near the Saint's boundaries,
9119 were picking their way on foot through the black mud and offal of his
9120 streets, Madame Defarge spoke to her husband:
9122 "Say then, my friend; what did Jacques of the police tell thee?"
9124 "Very little to-night, but all he knows. There is another spy commis-
9125 sioned for our quarter. There may be many more, for all that he can say,
9126 but he knows of one."
9128 "Eh well!" said Madame Defarge, raising her eyebrows with a cool
9129 business air. "It is necessary to register him. How do they call that man?"
9131 "He is English."
9133 "So much the better. His name?"
9135 "Barsad," said Defarge, making it French by pronunciation. But, he
9136 had been so careful to get it accurately, that he then spelt it with perfect
9137 correctness.
9139 "Barsad," repeated madame. "Good. Christian name?"
9141 "John."
9143 "John Barsad," repeated madame, after murmuring it once to herself.
9144 "Good. His appearance; is it known?"
9146 "Age, about forty years; height, about five feet nine; black hair; com-
9147 plexion dark; generally, rather handsome visage; eyes dark, face thin,
9148 long, and sallow; nose aquiline, but not straight, having a peculiar inclin-
9149 ation towards the left cheek; expression, therefore, sinister."
9151 "Eh my faith. It is a portrait!" said madame, laughing. "He shall be
9152 registered to-morrow."
9154 They turned into the wine-shop, which was closed (for it was mid-
9155 night), and where Madame Defarge immediately took her post at her
9156 desk, counted the small moneys that had been taken during her absence,
9160 181
9164 examined the stock, went through the entries in the book, made other
9165 entries of her own, checked the serving man in every possible way, and
9166 finally dismissed him to bed. Then she turned out the contents of the
9167 bowl of money for the second time, and began knotting them up in her
9168 handkerchief, in a chain of separate knots, for safe keeping through the
9169 night. All this while, Defarge, with his pipe in his mouth, walked up and
9170 down, complacently admiring, but never interfering; in which condition,
9171 indeed, as to the business and his domestic affairs, he walked up and
9172 down through life.
9174 The night was hot, and the shop, close shut and surrounded by so foul
9175 a neighbourhood, was ill-smelling. Monsieur Defarge's olfactory sense
9176 was by no means delicate, but the stock of wine smelt much stronger
9177 than it ever tasted, and so did the stock of rum and brandy and aniseed.
9178 He whiffed the compound of scents away, as he put down his smoked-
9179 out pipe.
9181 "You are fatigued," said madame, raising her glance as she knotted the
9182 money. "There are only the usual odours."
9184 "I am a little tired," her husband acknowledged.
9186 "You are a little depressed, too," said madame, whose quick eyes had
9187 never been so intent on the accounts, but they had had a ray or two for
9188 him. "Oh, the men, the men!"
9190 "But my dear!" began Defarge.
9192 "But my dear!" repeated madame, nodding firmly; "but my dear! You
9193 are faint of heart to-night, my dear!"
9195 "Well, then," said Defarge, as if a thought were wrung out of his
9196 breast, "it is a long time."
9198 "It is a long time," repeated his wife; "and when is it not a long time?
9199 Vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule."
9201 "It does not take a long time to strike a man with Lightning," said
9202 Defarge.
9204 "How long," demanded madame, composedly, "does it take to make
9205 and store the lightning? Tell me."
9207 Defarge raised his head thoughtfully, as if there were something in
9208 that too.
9210 "It does not take a long time," said madame, "for an earthquake to
9211 swallow a town. Eh well! Tell me how long it takes to prepare the
9212 earthquake?"
9216 182
9220 "A long time, I suppose," said Defarge.
9222 "But when it is ready, it takes place, and grinds to pieces everything
9223 before it. In the meantime, it is always preparing, though it is not seen or
9224 heard. That is your consolation. Keep it."
9226 She tied a knot with flashing eyes, as if it throttled a foe.
9228 "I tell thee," said madame, extending her right hand, for emphasis,
9229 "that although it is a long time on the road, it is on the road and coming.
9230 I tell thee it never retreats, and never stops. I tell thee it is always advan-
9231 cing. Look around and consider the lives of all the world that we know,
9232 consider the faces of all the world that we know, consider the rage and
9233 discontent to which the Jacquerie addresses itself with more and more of
9234 certainty every hour. Can such things last? Bah! I mock you."
9236 "My brave wife," returned Defarge, standing before her with his head
9237 a little bent, and his hands clasped at his back, like a docile and attentive
9238 pupil before his catechist, "I do not question all this. But it has lasted a
9239 long time, and it is possible - you know well, my wife, it is pos-
9240 sible - that it may not come, during our lives."
9242 "Eh well! How then?" demanded madame, tying another knot, as if
9243 there were another enemy strangled.
9245 "Well!" said Defarge, with a half complaining and half apologetic
9246 shrug. "We shall not see the triumph."
9248 "We shall have helped it," returned madame, with her extended hand
9249 in strong action. "Nothing that we do, is done in vain. I believe, with all
9250 my soul, that we shall see the triumph. But even if not, even if I knew
9251 certainly not, show me the neck of an aristocrat and tyrant, and still I
9252 would - "
9254 Then madame, with her teeth set, tied a very terrible knot indeed.
9256 "Hold!" cried Defarge, reddening a little as if he felt charged with
9257 cowardice; "I too, my dear, will stop at nothing."
9259 "Yes! But it is your weakness that you sometimes need to see your vic-
9260 tim and your opportunity, to sustain you. Sustain yourself without that.
9261 When the time comes, let loose a tiger and a devil; but wait for the time
9262 with the tiger and the devil chained - not shown - yet always ready."
9264 Madame enforced the conclusion of this piece of advice by striking her
9265 little counter with her chain of money as if she knocked its brains out,
9266 and then gathering the heavy handkerchief under her arm in a serene
9267 manner, and observing that it was time to go to bed.
9271 183
9275 Next noontide saw the admirable woman in her usual place in the
9276 wine-shop, knitting away assiduously. A rose lay beside her, and if she
9277 now and then glanced at the flower, it was with no infraction of her usu-
9278 al preoccupied air. There were a few customers, drinking or not drink-
9279 ing, standing or seated, sprinkled about. The day was very hot, and
9280 heaps of flies, who were extending their inquisitive and adventurous
9281 perquisitions into all the glutinous little glasses near madame, fell dead
9282 at the bottom. Their decease made no impression on the other flies out
9283 promenading, who looked at them in the coolest manner (as if they
9284 themselves were elephants, or something as far removed), until they met
9285 the same fate. Curious to consider how heedless flies are! - perhaps they
9286 thought as much at Court that sunny summer day.
9288 A figure entering at the door threw a shadow on Madame Defarge
9289 which she felt to be a new one. She laid down her knitting, and began to
9290 pin her rose in her head-dress, before she looked at the figure.
9292 It was curious. The moment Madame Defarge took up the rose, the
9293 customers ceased talking, and began gradually to drop out of the wine-
9294 shop.
9296 "Good day, madame," said the new-comer.
9298 "Good day, monsieur."
9300 She said it aloud, but added to herself, as she resumed her knitting:
9301 "Hah! Good day, age about forty, height about five feet nine, black hair,
9302 generally rather handsome visage, complexion dark, eyes dark, thin,
9303 long and sallow face, aquiline nose but not straight, having a peculiar in-
9304 clination towards the left cheek which imparts a sinister expression!
9305 Good day, one and all!"
9307 "Have the goodness to give me a little glass of old cognac, and a
9308 mouthful of cool fresh water, madame."
9310 Madame complied with a polite air.
9312 "Marvellous cognac this, madame!"
9314 It was the first time it had ever been so complemented, and Madame
9315 Defarge knew enough of its antecedents to know better. She said,
9316 however, that the cognac was flattered, and took up her knitting. The
9317 visitor watched her fingers for a few moments, and took the opportunity
9318 of observing the place in general.
9320 "You knit with great skill, madame."
9322 "I am accustomed to it."
9326 184
9330 "A pretty pattern too!"
9332 "You think so?" said madame, looking at him with a smile.
9334 "Decidedly. May one ask what it is for?"
9336 "Pastime," said madame, still looking at him with a smile while her
9337 fingers moved nimbly.
9339 "Not for use?"
9341 "That depends. I may find a use for it one day. If I do - Well," said ma-
9342 dame, drawing a breath and nodding her head with a stern kind of
9343 coquetry, "I'll use it!"
9345 It was remarkable; but, the taste of Saint Antoine seemed to be de-
9346 cidedly opposed to a rose on the head-dress of Madame Defarge. Two
9347 men had entered separately, and had been about to order drink, when,
9348 catching sight of that novelty, they faltered, made a pretence of looking
9349 about as if for some friend who was not there, and went away. Nor, of
9350 those who had been there when this visitor entered, was there one left.
9351 They had all dropped off. The spy had kept his eyes open, but had been
9352 able to detect no sign. They had lounged away in a poverty-stricken,
9353 purposeless, accidental manner, quite natural and unimpeachable.
9355 "John," thought madame, checking off her work as her fingers knitted,
9356 and her eyes looked at the stranger. "Stay long enough, and I shall knit
9357 'Barsad' before you go."
9359 "You have a husband, madame?"
9361 "I have."
9363 "Children?"
9365 "No children."
9367 "Business seems bad?"
9369 "Business is very bad; the people are so poor."
9371 "Ah, the unfortunate, miserable people! So oppressed, too - as you
9372 say."
9374 "As you say," madame retorted, correcting him, and deftly knitting an
9375 extra something into his name that boded him no good.
9377 "Pardon me; certainly it was I who said so, but you naturally think so.
9378 Of course."
9380 "I think?" returned madame, in a high voice. "I and my husband have
9381 enough to do to keep this wine-shop open, without thinking. All we
9382 think, here, is how to live. That is the subject we think of, and it gives us,
9386 185
9390 from morning to night, enough to think about, without embarrassing our
9391 heads concerning others. I think for others? No, no."
9393 The spy, who was there to pick up any crumbs he could find or make,
9394 did not allow his baffled state to express itself in his sinister face; but,
9395 stood with an air of gossiping gallantry, leaning his elbow on Madame
9396 Defarge's little counter, and occasionally sipping his cognac.
9398 "A bad business this, madame, of Gaspard's execution. Ah! the poor
9399 Gaspard!" With a sigh of great compassion.
9401 "My faith!" returned madame, coolly and lightly, "if people use knives
9402 for such purposes, they have to pay for it. He knew beforehand what the
9403 price of his luxury was; he has paid the price."
9405 "I believe," said the spy, dropping his soft voice to a tone that invited
9406 confidence, and expressing an injured revolutionary susceptibility in
9407 every muscle of his wicked face: "I believe there is much compassion and
9408 anger in this neighbourhood, touching the poor fellow? Between
9409 ourselves."
9411 "Is there?" asked madame, vacantly.
9413 "Is there not?"
9415 " - Here is my husband!" said Madame Defarge.
9417 As the keeper of the wine-shop entered at the door, the spy saluted
9418 him by touching his hat, and saying, with an engaging smile, "Good day,
9419 Jacques!" Defarge stopped short, and stared at him.
9421 "Good day, Jacques!" the spy repeated; with not quite so much confid-
9422 ence, or quite so easy a smile under the stare.
9424 "You deceive yourself, monsieur," returned the keeper of the wine-
9425 shop. "You mistake me for another. That is not my name. I am Ernest
9426 Defarge."
9428 "It is all the same," said the spy, airily, but discomfited too: "good
9429 day!"
9431 "Good day!" answered Defarge, drily.
9433 "I was saying to madame, with whom I had the pleasure of chatting
9434 when you entered, that they tell me there is - and no wonder! - much
9435 sympathy and anger in Saint Antoine, touching the unhappy fate of poor
9436 Gaspard."
9438 "No one has told me so," said Defarge, shaking his head. "I know
9439 nothing of it."
9443 186
9447 Having said it, he passed behind the little counter, and stood with his
9448 hand on the back of his wife's chair, looking over that barrier at the per-
9449 son to whom they were both opposed, and whom either of them would
9450 have shot with the greatest satisfaction.
9452 The spy, well used to his business, did not change his unconscious atti-
9453 tude, but drained his little glass of cognac, took a sip of fresh water, and
9454 asked for another glass of cognac. Madame Defarge poured it out for
9455 him, took to her knitting again, and hummed a little song over it.
9457 "You seem to know this quarter well; that is to say, better than I do?"
9458 observed Defarge.
9460 "Not at all, but I hope to know it better. I am so profoundly interested
9461 in its miserable inhabitants."
9463 "Hah!" muttered Defarge.
9465 "The pleasure of conversing with you, Monsieur Defarge, recalls to
9466 me," pursued the spy, "that I have the honour of cherishing some inter-
9467 esting associations with your name."
9469 "Indeed!" said Defarge, with much indifference.
9471 "Yes, indeed. When Doctor Manette was released, you, his old do-
9472 mestic, had the charge of him, I know. He was delivered to you. You see
9473 I am informed of the circumstances?"
9475 "Such is the fact, certainly," said Defarge. He had had it conveyed to
9476 him, in an accidental touch of his wife's elbow as she knitted and
9477 warbled, that he would do best to answer, but always with brevity.
9479 "It was to you," said the spy, "that his daughter came; and it was from
9480 your care that his daughter took him, accompanied by a neat brown
9481 monsieur; how is he called? - in a little wig - Lorry - of the bank of Tell-
9482 son and Company - over to England."
9484 "Such is the fact," repeated Defarge.
9486 "Very interesting remembrances!" said the spy. "I have known Doctor
9487 Manette and his daughter, in England."
9489 "Yes?" said Defarge.
9491 "You don't hear much about them now?" said the spy.
9493 "No," said Defarge.
9495 "In effect," madame struck in, looking up from her work and her little
9496 song, "we never hear about them. We received the news of their safe ar-
9497 rival, and perhaps another letter, or perhaps two; but, since then, they
9501 187
9505 have gradually taken their road in life - we, ours - and we have held no
9506 correspondence . "
9508 "Perfectly so, madame," replied the spy. "She is going to be married."
9510 "Going?" echoed madame. "She was pretty enough to have been mar-
9511 ried long ago. You English are cold, it seems to me."
9513 "Oh! You know I am English."
9515 "I perceive your tongue is," returned madame; "and what the tongue
9516 is, I suppose the man is."
9518 He did not take the identification as a compliment; but he made the
9519 best of it, and turned it off with a laugh. After sipping his cognac to the
9520 end, he added:
9522 "Yes, Miss Manette is going to be married. But not to an Englishman;
9523 to one who, like herself, is French by birth. And speaking of Gaspard (ah,
9524 poor Gaspard! It was cruel, cruel!), it is a curious thing that she is going
9525 to marry the nephew of Monsieur the Marquis, for whom Gaspard was
9526 exalted to that height of so many feet; in other words, the present Mar-
9527 quis. But he lives unknown in England, he is no Marquis there; he is Mr.
9528 Charles Darnay. D'Aulnais is the name of his mother's family."
9530 Madame Defarge knitted steadily, but the intelligence had a palpable
9531 effect upon her husband. Do what he would, behind the little counter, as
9532 to the striking of a light and the lighting of his pipe, he was troubled, and
9533 his hand was not trustworthy. The spy would have been no spy if he had
9534 failed to see it, or to record it in his mind.
9536 Having made, at least, this one hit, whatever it might prove to be
9537 worth, and no customers coming in to help him to any other, Mr. Barsad
9538 paid for what he had drunk, and took his leave: taking occasion to say, in
9539 a genteel manner, before he departed, that he looked forward to the
9540 pleasure of seeing Monsieur and Madame Defarge again. For some
9541 minutes after he had emerged into the outer presence of Saint Antoine,
9542 the husband and wife remained exactly as he had left them, lest he
9543 should come back.
9545 "Can it be true," said Defarge, in a low voice, looking down at his wife
9546 as he stood smoking with his hand on the back of her chair: "what he has
9547 said of Ma'amselle Manette?"
9549 "As he has said it," returned madame, lifting her eyebrows a little, "it
9550 is probably false. But it may be true."
9552 "If it is - " Defarge began, and stopped.
9556 188
9560 "If it is?" repeated his wife.
9562 " - And if it does come, while we live to see it triumph - I hope, for her
9563 sake, Destiny will keep her husband out of France."
9565 "Her husband's destiny," said Madame Defarge, with her usual com-
9566 posure, "will take him where he is to go, and will lead him to the end
9567 that is to end him. That is all I know."
9569 "But it is very strange - now, at least, is it not very strange" - said De-
9570 farge, rather pleading with his wife to induce her to admit it, "that, after
9571 all our sympathy for Monsieur her father, and herself, her husband's
9572 name should be proscribed under your hand at this moment, by the side
9573 of that infernal dog's who has just left us?"
9575 "Stranger things than that will happen when it does come," answered
9576 madame. "I have them both here, of a certainty; and they are both here
9577 for their merits; that is enough."
9579 She roiled up her knitting when she had said those words, and
9580 presently took the rose out of the handkerchief that was wound about
9581 her head. Either Saint Antoine had an instinctive sense that the objection-
9582 able decoration was gone, or Saint Antoine was on the watch for its dis-
9583 appearance; howbeit, the Saint took courage to lounge in, very shortly af-
9584 terwards, and the wine-shop recovered its habitual aspect.
9586 In the evening, at which season of all others Saint Antoine turned him-
9587 self inside out, and sat on door-steps and window-ledges, and came to
9588 the corners of vile streets and courts, for a breath of air, Madame Defarge
9589 with her work in her hand was accustomed to pass from place to place
9590 and from group to group: a Missionary - there were many like
9591 her - such as the world will do well never to breed again. All the women
9592 knitted. They knitted worthless things; but, the mechanical work was a
9593 mechanical substitute for eating and drinking; the hands moved for the
9594 jaws and the digestive apparatus: if the bony fingers had been still, the
9595 stomachs would have been more famine-pinched.
9597 But, as the fingers went, the eyes went, and the thoughts. And as Ma-
9598 dame Defarge moved on from group to group, all three went quicker
9599 and fiercer among every little knot of women that she had spoken with,
9600 and left behind.
9602 Her husband smoked at his door, looking after her with admiration.
9603 "A great woman," said he, "a strong woman, a grand woman, a fright-
9604 fully grand woman!"
9608 189
9612 Darkness closed around, and then came the ringing of church bells
9613 and the distant beating of the military drums in the Palace Courtyard, as
9614 the women sat knitting, knitting. Darkness encompassed them. Another
9615 darkness was closing in as surely, when the church bells, then ringing
9616 pleasantly in many an airy steeple over France, should be melted into
9617 thundering cannon; when the military drums should be beating to
9618 drown a wretched voice, that night all potent as the voice of Power and
9619 Plenty, Freedom and Life. So much was closing in about the women who
9620 sat knitting, knitting, that they their very selves were closing in around a
9621 structure yet unbuilt, where they were to sit knitting, knitting, counting
9622 dropping heads.
9626 190
9630 Chapter
9634 17
9638 One Night
9640 Never did the sun go down with a brighter glory on the quiet corner in
9641 Soho, than one memorable evening when the Doctor and his daughter
9642 sat under the plane-tree together. Never did the moon rise with a milder
9643 radiance over great London, than on that night when it found them still
9644 seated under the tree, and shone upon their faces through its leaves.
9646 Lucie was to be married to-morrow. She had reserved this last evening
9647 for her father, and they sat alone under the plane-tree.
9649 "You are happy, my dear father?"
9651 "Quite, my child."
9653 They had said little, though they had been there a long time. When it
9654 was yet light enough to work and read, she had neither engaged herself
9655 in her usual work, nor had she read to him. She had employed herself in
9656 both ways, at his side under the tree, many and many a time; but, this
9657 time was not quite like any other, and nothing could make it so.
9659 "And I am very happy to-night, dear father. I am deeply happy in the
9660 love that Heaven has so blessed - my love for Charles, and Charles's
9661 love for me. But, if my life were not to be still consecrated to you, or if
9662 my marriage were so arranged as that it would part us, even by the
9663 length of a few of these streets, I should be more unhappy and self-re-
9664 proachful now than I can tell you. Even as it is - "
9666 Even as it was, she could not command her voice.
9668 In the sad moonlight, she clasped him by the neck, and laid her face
9669 upon his breast. In the moonlight which is always sad, as the light of the
9670 sun itself is - as the light called human life is - at its coming and its
9671 going.
9673 "Dearest dear! Can you tell me, this last time, that you feel quite, quite
9674 sure, no new affections of mine, and no new duties of mine, will ever
9678 191
9682 interpose between us? I know it well, but do you know it? In your own
9683 heart, do you feel quite certain?"
9685 Her father answered, with a cheerful firmness of conviction he could
9686 scarcely have assumed, "Quite sure, my darling! More than that," he ad-
9687 ded, as he tenderly kissed her: "my future is far brighter, Lucie, seen
9688 through your marriage, than it could have been - nay, than it ever
9689 was - without it."
9691 "If I could hope that, my father! - "
9693 "Believe it, love! Indeed it is so. Consider how natural and how plain it
9694 is, my dear, that it should be so. You, devoted and young, cannot fully
9695 appreciate the anxiety I have felt that your life should not be wasted - "
9697 She moved her hand towards his lips, but he took it in his, and re-
9698 peated the word.
9700 " - wasted, my child - should not be wasted, struck aside from the nat-
9701 ural order of things - for my sake. Your unselfishness cannot entirely
9702 comprehend how much my mind has gone on this; but, only ask your-
9703 self, how could my happiness be perfect, while yours was incomplete?"
9705 "If I had never seen Charles, my father, I should have been quite
9706 happy with you."
9708 He smiled at her unconscious admission that she would have been un-
9709 happy without Charles, having seen him; and replied:
9711 "My child, you did see him, and it is Charles. If it had not been
9712 Charles, it would have been another. Or, if it had been no other, I should
9713 have been the cause, and then the dark part of my life would have cast
9714 its shadow beyond myself, and would have fallen on you."
9716 It was the first time, except at the trial, of her ever hearing him refer to
9717 the period of his suffering. It gave her a strange and new sensation while
9718 his words were in her ears; and she remembered it long afterwards.
9720 "See!" said the Doctor of Beauvais, raising his hand towards the moon.
9721 "I have looked at her from my prison-window, when I could not bear her
9722 light. I have looked at her when it has been such torture to me to think of
9723 her shining upon what I had lost, that I have beaten my head against my
9724 prison-walls. I have looked at her, in a state so dun and lethargic, that I
9725 have thought of nothing but the number of horizontal lines I could draw
9726 across her at the full, and the number of perpendicular lines with which I
9727 could intersect them." He added in his inward and pondering manner,
9728 as he looked at the moon, "It was twenty either way, I remember, and
9729 the twentieth was difficult to squeeze in."
9733 192
9737 The strange thrill with which she heard him go back to that time,
9738 deepened as he dwelt upon it; but, there was nothing to shock her in the
9739 manner of his reference. He only seemed to contrast his present cheerful-
9740 ness and felicity with the dire endurance that was over.
9742 "I have looked at her, speculating thousands of times upon the unborn
9743 child from whom I had been rent. Whether it was alive. Whether it had
9744 been born alive, or the poor mother's shock had killed it. Whether it was
9745 a son who would some day avenge his father. (There was a time in my
9746 imprisonment, when my desire for vengeance was unbearable.) Whether
9747 it was a son who would never know his father's story; who might even
9748 live to weigh the possibility of his father's having disappeared of his
9749 own will and act. Whether it was a daughter who would grow to be a
9753 woman."
9757 She drew closer to him, and kissed his cheek and his hand.
9759 "I have pictured my daughter, to myself, as perfectly forgetful of me
9760 - rather, altogether ignorant of me, and unconscious of me. I have cast
9761 up the years of her age, year after year. I have seen her married to a man
9762 who knew nothing of my fate. I have altogether perished from the re-
9763 membrance of the living, and in the next generation my place was a
9764 blank."
9766 "My father! Even to hear that you had such thoughts of a daughter
9767 who never existed, strikes to my heart as if I had been that child."
9769 "You, Lucie? It is out of the Consolation and restoration you have
9770 brought to me, that these remembrances arise, and pass between us and
9771 the moon on this last night. - What did I say just now?"
9773 "She knew nothing of you. She cared nothing for you."
9775 "So! But on other moonlight nights, when the sadness and the silence
9776 have touched me in a different way - have affected me with something
9777 as like a sorrowful sense of peace, as any emotion that had pain for its
9778 foundations could - I have imagined her as coming to me in my cell, and
9779 leading me out into the freedom beyond the fortress. I have seen her im-
9780 age in the moonlight often, as I now see you; except that I never held her
9781 in my arms; it stood between the little grated window and the door. But,
9782 you understand that that was not the child I am speaking of?"
9784 "The figure was not; the - the - image; the fancy?"
9786 "No. That was another thing. It stood before my disturbed sense of
9787 sight, but it never moved. The phantom that my mind pursued, was an-
9788 other and more real child. Of her outward appearance I know no more
9792 193
9796 than that she was like her mother. The other had that likeness too - as
9797 you have - but was not the same. Can you follow me, Lucie? Hardly, I
9798 think? I doubt you must have been a solitary prisoner to understand
9799 these perplexed distinctions."
9801 His collected and calm manner could not prevent her blood from run-
9802 ning cold, as he thus tried to anatomise his old condition.
9804 "In that more peaceful state, I have imagined her, in the moonlight,
9805 coming to me and taking me out to show me that the home of her mar-
9806 ried life was full of her loving remembrance of her lost father. My picture
9807 was in her room, and I was in her prayers. Her life was active, cheerful,
9808 useful; but my poor history pervaded it all."
9810 "I was that child, my father, I was not half so good, but in my love that
9811 was I."
9813 "And she showed me her children," said the Doctor of Beauvais, "and
9814 they had heard of me, and had been taught to pity me. When they
9815 passed a prison of the State, they kept far from its frowning walls, and
9816 looked up at its bars, and spoke in whispers. She could never deliver me;
9817 I imagined that she always brought me back after showing me such
9818 things. But then, blessed with the relief of tears, I fell upon my knees,
9819 and blessed her."
9821 "I am that child, I hope, my father. O my dear, my dear, will you bless
9822 me as fervently to-morrow?"
9824 "Lucie, I recall these old troubles in the reason that I have to-night for
9825 loving you better than words can tell, and thanking God for my great
9826 happiness. My thoughts, when they were wildest, never rose near the
9827 happiness that I have known with you, and that we have before us."
9829 He embraced her, solemnly commended her to Heaven, and humbly
9830 thanked Heaven for having bestowed her on him. By-and-bye, they went
9831 into the house.
9833 There was no one bidden to the marriage but Mr. Lorry; there was
9834 even to be no bridesmaid but the gaunt Miss Pross. The marriage was to
9835 make no change in their place of residence; they had been able to extend
9836 it, by taking to themselves the upper rooms formerly belonging to the
9837 apocryphal invisible lodger, and they desired nothing more.
9839 Doctor Manette was very cheerful at the little supper. They were only
9840 three at table, and Miss Pross made the third. He regretted that Charles
9841 was not there; was more than half disposed to object to the loving little
9842 plot that kept him away; and drank to him affectionately.
9846 194
9850 So, the time came for him to bid Lucie good night, and they separated.
9851 But, in the stillness of the third hour of the morning, Lucie came down-
9852 stairs again, and stole into his room; not free from unshaped fears,
9853 beforehand.
9855 All things, however, were in their places; all was quiet; and he lay
9856 asleep, his white hair picturesque on the untroubled pillow, and his
9857 hands lying quiet on the coverlet. She put her needless candle in the
9858 shadow at a distance, crept up to his bed, and put her lips to his; then,
9859 leaned over him, and looked at him.
9861 Into his handsome face, the bitter waters of captivity had worn; but, he
9862 covered up their tracks with a determination so strong, that he held the
9863 mastery of them even in his sleep. A more remarkable face in its quiet,
9864 resolute, and guarded struggle with an unseen assailant, was not to be
9865 beheld in all the wide dominions of sleep, that night.
9867 She timidly laid her hand on his dear breast, and put up a prayer that
9868 she might ever be as true to him as her love aspired to be, and as his sor-
9869 rows deserved. Then, she withdrew her hand, and kissed his lips once
9870 more, and went away. So, the sunrise came, and the shadows of the
9871 leaves of the plane-tree moved upon his face, as softly as her lips had
9872 moved in praying for him.
9876 195
9880 Chapter
9884 18
9888 Nine Days
9890 The marriage-day was shining brightly, and they were ready outside
9891 the closed door of the Doctor's room, where he was speaking with
9892 Charles Darnay. They were ready to go to church; the beautiful bride,
9893 Mr. Lorry, and Miss Pross - to whom the event, through a gradual pro-
9894 cess of reconcilement to the inevitable, would have been one of absolute
9895 bliss, but for the yet lingering consideration that her brother Solomon
9896 should have been the bridegroom.
9898 "And so," said Mr. Lorry, who could not sufficiently admire the bride,
9899 and who had been moving round her to take in every point of her quiet,
9900 pretty dress; "and so it was for this, my sweet Lucie, that I brought you
9901 across the Channel, such a baby' Lord bless me' How little I thought
9902 what I was doing! How lightly I valued the obligation I was conferring
9903 on my friend Mr. Charles!"
9905 "You didn't mean it," remarked the matter-of-fact Miss Pross, "and
9906 therefore how could you know it? Nonsense!"
9908 "Really? Well; but don't cry," said the gentle Mr. Lorry.
9910 "I am not crying," said Miss Pross; "you are."
9912 "I, my Pross?" (By this time, Mr. Lorry dared to be pleasant with her,
9913 on occasion.)
9915 "You were, just now; I saw you do it, and I don't wonder at it. Such a
9916 present of plate as you have made 'em, is enough to bring tears into any-
9917 body's eyes. There's not a fork or a spoon in the collection," said Miss
9918 Pross, "that I didn't cry over, last night after the box came, till I couldn't
9919 see it."
9921 "I am highly gratified," said Mr. Lorry, "though, upon my honour, I
9922 had no intention of rendering those trifling articles of remembrance in-
9923 visible to any one. Dear me! This is an occasion that makes a man specu-
9924 late on all he has lost. Dear, dear, dear! To think that there might have
9925 been a Mrs. Lorry, any time these fifty years almost!"
9929 196
9933 "Not at all!" From Miss Pross.
9935 "You think there never might have been a Mrs. Lorry?" asked the gen-
9936 tleman of that name.
9938 "Pooh!" rejoined Miss Pross; "you were a bachelor in your cradle."
9940 "Well!" observed Mr. Lorry, beamingly adjusting his little wig, "that
9941 seems probable, too."
9943 "And you were cut out for a bachelor," pursued Miss Pross, "before
9944 you were put in your cradle."
9946 "Then, I think," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was very unhandsomely dealt
9947 with, and that I ought to have had a voice in the selection of my pattern.
9948 Enough! Now, my dear Lucie," drawing his arm soothingly round her
9949 waist, "I hear them moving in the next room, and Miss Pross and I, as
9950 two formal folks of business, are anxious not to lose the final opportunity
9951 of saying something to you that you wish to hear. You leave your good
9952 father, my dear, in hands as earnest and as loving as your own; he shall
9953 be taken every conceivable care of; during the next fortnight, while you
9954 are in Warwickshire and thereabouts, even Tellson's shall go to the wall
9955 (comparatively speaking) before him. And when, at the fortnight's end,
9956 he comes to join you and your beloved husband, on your other fort-
9957 night's trip in Wales, you shall say that we have sent him to you in the
9958 best health and in the happiest frame. Now, I hear Somebody's step com-
9959 ing to the door. Let me kiss my dear girl with an old-fashioned bachelor
9960 blessing, before Somebody comes to claim his own."
9962 For a moment, he held the fair face from him to look at the well-re-
9963 membered expression on the forehead, and then laid the bright golden
9964 hair against his little brown wig, with a genuine tenderness and delicacy
9965 which, if such things be old-fashioned, were as old as Adam.
9967 The door of the Doctor's room opened, and he came out with Charles
9968 Darnay. He was so deadly pale - which had not been the case when they
9969 went in together - that no vestige of colour was to be seen in his face.
9970 But, in the composure of his manner he was unaltered, except that to the
9971 shrewd glance of Mr. Lorry it disclosed some shadowy indication that
9972 the old air of avoidance and dread had lately passed over him, like a cold
9973 wind.
9975 He gave his arm to his daughter, and took her down-stairs to the
9976 chariot which Mr. Lorry had hired in honour of the day. The rest fol-
9977 lowed in another carriage, and soon, in a neighbouring church, where no
9981 197
9985 strange eyes looked on, Charles Darnay and Lucie Manette were happily
9986 married.
9988 Besides the glancing tears that shone among the smiles of the little
9989 group when it was done, some diamonds, very bright and sparkling,
9990 glanced on the bride's hand, which were newly released from the dark
9991 obscurity of one of Mr. Lorry's pockets. They returned home to break-
9992 fast, and all went well, and in due course the golden hair that had
9993 mingled with the poor shoemaker's white locks in the Paris garret, were
9994 mingled with them again in the morning sunlight, on the threshold of
9995 the door at parting.
9997 It was a hard parting, though it was not for long. But her father
9998 cheered her, and said at last, gently disengaging himself from her enfold-
9999 ing arms, "Take her, Charles! She is yours!"
10001 And her agitated hand waved to them from a chaise window, and she
10002 was gone.
10004 The corner being out of the way of the idle and curious, and the pre-
10005 parations having been very simple and few, the Doctor, Mr. Lorry, and
10006 Miss Pross, were left quite alone. It was when they turned into the wel-
10007 come shade of the cool old hall, that Mr. Lorry observed a great change
10008 to have come over the Doctor; as if the golden arm uplifted there, had
10009 struck him a poisoned blow.
10011 He had naturally repressed much, and some revulsion might have
10012 been expected in him when the occasion for repression was gone. But, it
10013 was the old scared lost look that troubled Mr. Lorry; and through his ab-
10014 sent manner of clasping his head and drearily wandering away into his
10015 own room when they got up-stairs, Mr. Lorry was reminded of Defarge
10016 the wine-shop keeper, and the starlight ride.
10018 "I think," he whispered to Miss Pross, after anxious consideration, "I
10019 think we had best not speak to him just now, or at all disturb him. I must
10020 look in at Tellson's; so I will go there at once and come back presently.
10021 Then, we will take him a ride into the country, and dine there, and all
10022 will be well."
10024 It was easier for Mr. Lorry to look in at Tellson's, than to look out of
10025 Tellson's. He was detained two hours. When he came back, he ascended
10026 the old staircase alone, having asked no question of the servant; going
10027 thus into the Doctor's rooms, he was stopped by a low sound of
10028 knocking.
10030 "Good God!" he said, with a start. "What's that?"
10034 198
10038 Miss Pross, with a terrified face, was at his ear. "O me, O me! All is
10039 lost!" cried she, wringing her hands. "What is to be told to Ladybird? He
10040 doesn't know me, and is making shoes!"
10042 Mr. Lorry said what he could to calm her, and went himself into the
10043 Doctor's room. The bench was turned towards the light, as it had been
10044 when he had seen the shoemaker at his work before, and his head was
10045 bent down, and he was very busy.
10047 "Doctor Manette. My dear friend, Doctor Manette!"
10049 The Doctor looked at him for a moment - half inquiringly, half as if he
10050 were angry at being spoken to - and bent over his work again.
10052 He had laid aside his coat and waistcoat; his shirt was open at the
10053 throat, as it used to be when he did that work; and even the old haggard,
10054 faded surface of face had come back to him. He worked hard - impa-
10055 tiently - as if in some sense of having been interrupted.
10057 Mr. Lorry glanced at the work in his hand, and observed that it was a
10058 shoe of the old size and shape. He took up another that was lying by
10059 him, and asked what it was.
10061 "A young lady's walking shoe," he muttered, without looking up. "It
10062 ought to have been finished long ago. Let it be."
10064 "But, Doctor Manette. Look at me!"
10066 He obeyed, in the old mechanically submissive manner, without paus-
10067 ing in his work.
10069 "You know me, my dear friend? Think again. This is not your proper
10070 occupation. Think, dear friend!"
10072 Nothing would induce him to speak more. He looked up, for an in-
10073 stant at a time, when he was requested to do so; but, no persuasion
10074 would extract a word from him. He worked, and worked, and worked,
10075 in silence, and words fell on him as they would have fallen on an echo-
10076 less wall, or on the air. The only ray of hope that Mr. Lorry could discov-
10077 er, was, that he sometimes furtively looked up without being asked. In
10078 that, there seemed a faint expression of curiosity or perplexity - as
10079 though he were trying to reconcile some doubts in his mind.
10081 Two things at once impressed themselves on Mr. Lorry, as important
10082 above all others; the first, that this must be kept secret from Lucie; the
10083 second, that it must be kept secret from all who knew him. In conjunc-
10084 tion with Miss Pross, he took immediate steps towards the latter precau-
10085 tion, by giving out that the Doctor was not well, and required a few days
10086 of complete rest. In aid of the kind deception to be practised on his
10090 199
10094 daughter, Miss Pross was to write, describing his having been called
10095 away professionally, and referring to an imaginary letter of two or three
10096 hurried lines in his own hand, represented to have been addressed to her
10097 by the same post.
10099 These measures, advisable to be taken in any case, Mr. Lorry took in
10100 the hope of his coming to himself. If that should happen soon, he kept
10101 another course in reserve; which was, to have a certain opinion that he
10102 thought the best, on the Doctor's case.
10104 In the hope of his recovery, and of resort to this third course being
10105 thereby rendered practicable, Mr. Lorry resolved to watch him attent-
10106 ively, with as little appearance as possible of doing so. He therefore
10107 made arrangements to absent himself from Tellson's for the first time in
10108 his life, and took his post by the window in the same room.
10110 He was not long in discovering that it was worse than useless to speak
10111 to him, since, on being pressed, he became worried. He abandoned that
10112 attempt on the first day, and resolved merely to keep himself always be-
10113 fore him, as a silent protest against the delusion into which he had fallen,
10114 or was falling. He remained, therefore, in his seat near the window, read-
10115 ing and writing, and expressing in as many pleasant and natural ways as
10116 he could think of, that it was a free place.
10118 Doctor Manette took what was given him to eat and drink, and
10119 worked on, that first day, until it was too dark to see - worked on, half
10120 an hour after Mr. Lorry could not have seen, for his life, to read or write.
10121 When he put his tools aside as useless, until morning, Mr. Lorry rose and
10122 said to him:
10124 "Will you go out?"
10126 He looked down at the floor on either side of him in the old manner,
10127 looked up in the old manner, and repeated in the old low voice:
10129 "Out?"
10131 "Yes; for a walk with me. Why not?"
10133 He made no effort to say why not, and said not a word more. But, Mr.
10134 Lorry thought he saw, as he leaned forward on his bench in the dusk,
10135 with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, that he was in
10136 some misty way asking himself, "Why not?" The sagacity of the man of
10137 business perceived an advantage here, and determined to hold it.
10139 Miss Pross and he divided the night into two watches, and observed
10140 him at intervals from the adjoining room. He paced up and down for a
10141 long time before he lay down; but, when he did finally lay himself down,
10145 200
10149 he fell asleep. In the morning, he was up betimes, and went straight to
10150 his bench and to work.
10152 On this second day, Mr. Lorry saluted him cheerfully by his name, and
10153 spoke to him on topics that had been of late familiar to them. He re-
10154 turned no reply, but it was evident that he heard what was said, and that
10155 he thought about it, however confusedly. This encouraged Mr. Lorry to
10156 have Miss Pross in with her work, several times during the day; at those
10157 times, they quietly spoke of Lucie, and of her father then present, pre-
10158 cisely in the usual manner, and as if there were nothing amiss. This was
10159 done without any demonstrative accompaniment, not long enough, or
10160 often enough to harass him; and it lightened Mr. Lorry's friendly heart to
10161 believe that he looked up oftener, and that he appeared to be stirred by
10162 some perception of inconsistencies surrounding him.
10164 When it fell dark again, Mr. Lorry asked him as before:
10166 "Dear Doctor, will you go out?"
10168 As before, he repeated, "Out?"
10170 "Yes; for a walk with me. Why not?"
10172 This time, Mr. Lorry feigned to go out when he could extract no an-
10173 swer from him, and, after remaining absent for an hour, returned. In the
10174 meanwhile, the Doctor had removed to the seat in the window, and had
10175 sat there looking down at the plane-tree; but, on Mr. Lorry's return, be
10176 slipped away to his bench.
10178 The time went very slowly on, and Mr. Lorry's hope darkened, and his
10179 heart grew heavier again, and grew yet heavier and heavier every day.
10180 The third day came and went, the fourth, the fifth. Five days, six days,
10181 seven days, eight days, nine days.
10183 With a hope ever darkening, and with a heart always growing heavier
10184 and heavier, Mr. Lorry passed through this anxious time. The secret was
10185 well kept, and Lucie was unconscious and happy; but he could not fail to
10186 observe that the shoemaker, whose hand had been a little out at first,
10187 was growing dreadfully skilful, and that he had never been so intent on
10188 his work, and that his hands had never been so nimble and expert, as in
10189 the dusk of the ninth evening.
10193 201
10197 Chapter
10201 19
10205 An Opinion
10207 Worn out by anxious watching, Mr. Lorry fell asleep at his post. On
10208 the tenth morning of his suspense, he was startled by the shining of the
10209 sun into the room where a heavy slumber had overtaken him when it
10210 was dark night.
10212 He rubbed his eyes and roused himself; but he doubted, when he had
10213 done so, whether he was not still asleep. For, going to the door of the
10214 Doctor's room and looking in, he perceived that the shoemaker's bench
10215 and tools were put aside again, and that the Doctor himself sat reading at
10216 the window. He was in his usual morning dress, and his face (which Mr.
10217 Lorry could distinctly see), though still very pale, was calmly studious
10218 and attentive.
10220 Even when he had satisfied himself that he was awake, Mr. Lorry felt
10221 giddily uncertain for some few moments whether the late shoemaking
10222 might not be a disturbed dream of his own; for, did not his eyes show
10223 him his friend before him in his accustomed clothing and aspect, and
10224 employed as usual; and was there any sign within their range, that the
10225 change of which he had so strong an impression had actually happened?
10227 It was but the inquiry of his first confusion and astonishment, the an-
10228 swer being obvious. If the impression were not produced by a real cor-
10229 responding and sufficient cause, how came he, Jarvis Lorry, there? How
10230 came he to have fallen asleep, in his clothes, on the sofa in Doctor
10231 Manette's consulting-room, and to be debating these points outside the
10232 Doctor's bedroom door in the early morning?
10234 Within a few minutes, Miss Pross stood whispering at his side. If he
10235 had had any particle of doubt left, her talk would of necessity have re-
10236 solved it; but he was by that time clear-headed, and had none. He ad-
10237 vised that they should let the time go by until the regular breakfast-hour,
10238 and should then meet the Doctor as if nothing unusual had occurred. If
10239 he appeared to be in his customary state of mind, Mr. Lorry would then
10243 202
10247 cautiously proceed to seek direction and guidance from the opinion he
10248 had been, in his anxiety, so anxious to obtain.
10250 Miss Pross, submitting herself to his judgment, the scheme was
10251 worked out with care. Having abundance of time for his usual methodic-
10252 al toilette, Mr. Lorry presented himself at the breakfast-hour in his usual
10253 white linen, and with his usual neat leg. The Doctor was summoned in
10254 the usual way, and came to breakfast.
10256 So far as it was possible to comprehend him without overstepping
10257 those delicate and gradual approaches which Mr. Lorry felt to be the
10258 only safe advance, he at first supposed that his daughter's marriage had
10259 taken place yesterday. An incidental allusion, purposely thrown out, to
10260 the day of the week, and the day of the month, set him thinking and
10261 counting, and evidently made him uneasy. In all other respects,
10262 however, he was so composedly himself, that Mr. Lorry determined to
10263 have the aid he sought. And that aid was his own.
10265 Therefore, when the breakfast was done and cleared away, and he and
10266 the Doctor were left together, Mr. Lorry said, feelingly:
10268 "My dear Manette, I am anxious to have your opinion, in confidence,
10269 on a very curious case in which I am deeply interested; that is to say, it is
10270 very curious to me; perhaps, to your better information it may be less
10271 so."
10273 Glancing at his hands, which were discoloured by his late work, the
10274 Doctor looked troubled, and listened attentively. He had already glanced
10275 at his hands more than once.
10277 "Doctor Manette," said Mr. Lorry, touching him affectionately on the
10278 arm, "the case is the case of a particularly dear friend of mine. Pray give
10279 your mind to it, and advise me well for his sake - and above all, for his
10280 daughter's - his daughter's, my dear Manette."
10282 "If I understand," said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, "some mental
10283 shock-?"
10285 "Yes!"
10287 "Be explicit," said the Doctor. "Spare no detail."
10289 Mr. Lorry saw that they understood one another, and proceeded.
10291 "My dear Manette, it is the case of an old and a prolonged shock, of
10292 great acuteness and severity to the affections, the feelings, the - the - as
10293 you express it - the mind. The mind. It is the case of a shock under which
10294 the sufferer was borne down, one cannot say for how long, because I be-
10295 lieve he cannot calculate the time himself, and there are no other means
10299 203
10303 of getting at it. It is the case of a shock from which the sufferer recovered,
10304 by a process that he cannot trace himself - as I once heard him publicly
10305 relate in a striking manner. It is the case of a shock from which he has re-
10306 covered, so completely, as to be a highly intelligent man, capable of close
10307 application of mind, and great exertion of body, and of constantly mak-
10308 ing fresh additions to his stock of knowledge, which was already very
10309 large. But, unfortunately, there has been," he paused and took a deep
10310 breath - "a slight relapse."
10312 The Doctor, in a low voice, asked, "Of how long duration?"
10314 "Nine days and nights."
10316 "How did it show itself? I infer," glancing at his hands again, "in the
10317 resumption of some old pursuit connected with the shock?"
10319 "That is the fact."
10321 "Now, did you ever see him," asked the Doctor, distinctly and collec-
10322 tedly, though in the same low voice, "engaged in that pursuit
10323 originally?"
10325 "Once."
10327 "And when the relapse fell on him, was he in most respects - or in all
10328 respects - as he was then?"
10330 "I think in all respects."
10332 "You spoke of his daughter. Does his daughter know of the relapse?"
10334 "No. It has been kept from her, and I hope will always be kept from
10335 her. It is known only to myself, and to one other who may be trusted."
10337 The Doctor grasped his hand, and murmured, "That was very kind.
10338 That was very thoughtful!" Mr. Lorry grasped his hand in return, and
10339 neither of the two spoke for a little while.
10341 "Now, my dear Manette," said Mr. Lorry, at length, in his most con-
10342 siderate and most affectionate way, "I am a mere man of business, and
10343 unfit to cope with such intricate and difficult matters. I do not possess
10344 the kind of information necessary; I do not possess the kind of intelli-
10345 gence; I want guiding. There is no man in this world on whom I could so
10346 rely for right guidance, as on you. Tell me, how does this relapse come
10347 about? Is there danger of another? Could a repetition of it be prevented?
10348 How should a repetition of it be treated? How does it come about at all?
10349 What can I do for my friend? No man ever can have been more desirous
10350 in his heart to serve a friend, than I am to serve mine, if I knew how.
10354 204
10358 But I don't know how to originate, in such a case. If your sagacity,
10359 knowledge, and experience, could put me on the right track, I might be
10360 able to do so much; unenlightened and undirected, I can do so little. Pray
10361 discuss it with me; pray enable me to see it a little more clearly, and
10362 teach me how to be a little more useful."
10364 Doctor Manette sat meditating after these earnest words were spoken,
10365 and Mr. Lorry did not press him.
10367 "I think it probable," said the Doctor, breaking silence with an effort,
10368 "that the relapse you have described, my dear friend, was not quite un-
10369 foreseen by its subject."
10371 "Was it dreaded by him?" Mr. Lorry ventured to ask.
10373 "Very much." He said it with an involuntary shudder.
10375 "You have no idea how such an apprehension weighs on the sufferer's
10376 mind, and how difficult - how almost impossible - it is, for him to force
10377 himself to utter a word upon the topic that oppresses him."
10379 "Would he," asked Mr. Lorry, "be sensibly relieved if he could prevail
10380 upon himself to impart that secret brooding to any one, when it is on
10381 him?"
10383 "I think so. But it is, as I have told you, next to impossible. I even be-
10384 lieve it - in some cases - to be quite impossible."
10386 "Now," said Mr. Lorry, gently laying his hand on the Doctor's arm
10387 again, after a short silence on both sides, "to what would you refer this
10388 attack? "
10390 "I believe," returned Doctor Manette, "that there had been a strong
10391 and extraordinary revival of the train of thought and remembrance that
10392 was the first cause of the malady. Some intense associations of a most
10393 distressing nature were vividly recalled, I think. It is probable that there
10394 had long been a dread lurking in his mind, that those associations would
10395 be recalled - say, under certain circumstances - say, on a particular occa-
10396 sion. He tried to prepare himself in vain; perhaps the effort to prepare
10397 himself made him less able to bear it."
10399 "Would he remember what took place in the relapse?" asked Mr.
10400 Lorry, with natural hesitation.
10402 The Doctor looked desolately round the room, shook his head, and
10403 answered, in a low voice, "Not at all."
10405 "Now, as to the future," hinted Mr. Lorry.
10409 205
10413 "As to the future," said the Doctor, recovering firmness, "I should
10414 have great hope. As it pleased Heaven in its mercy to restore him so
10415 soon, I should have great hope. He, yielding under the pressure of a
10416 complicated something, long dreaded and long vaguely foreseen and
10417 contended against, and recovering after the cloud had burst and passed,
10418 I should hope that the worst was over."
10420 "Well, well! That's good comfort. I am thankful!" said Mr. Lorry.
10422 "I am thankful!" repeated the Doctor, bending his head with
10423 reverence.
10425 "There are two other points," said Mr. Lorry, "on which I am anxious
10426 to be instructed. I may go on?"
10428 "You cannot do your friend a better service." The Doctor gave him his
10429 hand.
10431 "To the first, then. He is of a studious habit, and unusually energetic;
10432 he applies himself with great ardour to the acquisition of professional
10433 knowledge, to the conducting of experiments, to many things. Now,
10434 does he do too much?"
10436 "I think not. It may be the character of his mind, to be always in singu-
10437 lar need of occupation. That may be, in part, natural to it; in part, the res-
10438 ult of affliction. The less it was occupied with healthy things, the more it
10439 would be in danger of turning in the unhealthy direction. He may have
10440 observed himself, and made the discovery."
10442 "You are sure that he is not under too great a strain?"
10444 "I think I am quite sure of it."
10446 "My dear Manette, if he were overworked now - "
10448 "My dear Lorry, I doubt if that could easily be. There has been a viol-
10449 ent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight."
10451 "Excuse me, as a persistent man of business. Assuming for a moment,
10452 that he was overworked; it would show itself in some renewal of this
10453 disorder?"
10455 "I do not think so. I do not think," said Doctor Manette with the firm-
10456 ness of self-conviction, "that anything but the one train of association
10457 would renew it. I think that, henceforth, nothing but some extraordinary
10458 jarring of that chord could renew it. After what has happened, and after
10459 his recovery, I find it difficult to imagine any such violent sounding of
10460 that string again. I trust, and I almost believe, that the circumstances
10461 likely to renew it are exhausted."
10465 206
10469 He spoke with the diffidence of a man who knew how slight a thing
10470 would overset the delicate organisation of the mind, and yet with the
10471 confidence of a man who had slowly won his assurance out of personal
10472 endurance and distress. It was not for his friend to abate that confidence.
10473 He professed himself more relieved and encouraged than he really was,
10474 and approached his second and last point. He felt it to be the most diffi-
10475 cult of all; but, remembering his old Sunday morning conversation with
10476 Miss Pross, and remembering what he had seen in the last nine days, he
10477 knew that he must face it.
10479 "The occupation resumed under the influence of this passing affliction
10480 so happily recovered from," said Mr. Lorry, clearing his throat, "we will
10481 call - Blacksmith's work, Blacksmith's work. We will say, to put a case
10482 and for the sake of illustration, that he had been used, in his bad time, to
10483 work at a little forge. We will say that he was unexpectedly found at his
10484 forge again. Is it not a pity that he should keep it by him?"
10486 The Doctor shaded his forehead with his hand, and beat his foot
10487 nervously on the ground.
10489 "He has always kept it by him," said Mr. Lorry, with an anxious look
10490 at his friend. "Now, would it not be better that he should let it go?"
10492 Still, the Doctor, with shaded forehead, beat his foot nervously on the
10493 ground.
10495 "You do not find it easy to advise me?" said Mr. Lorry. "I quite under-
10496 stand it to be a nice question. And yet I think - " And there he shook his
10497 head, and stopped.
10499 "You see," said Doctor Manette, turning to him after an uneasy pause,
10500 "it is very hard to explain, consistently, the innermost workings of this
10501 poor man's mind. He once yearned so frightfully for that occupation,
10502 and it was so welcome when it came; no doubt it relieved his pain so
10503 much, by substituting the perplexity of the fingers for the perplexity of
10504 the brain, and by substituting, as he became more practised, the ingenu-
10505 ity of the hands, for the ingenuity of the mental torture; that he has never
10506 been able to bear the thought of putting it quite out of his reach. Even
10507 now, when I believe he is more hopeful of himself than he has ever been,
10508 and even speaks of himself with a kind of confidence, the idea that he
10509 might need that old employment, and not find it, gives him a sudden
10510 sense of terror, like that which one may fancy strikes to the heart of a lost
10511 child."
10513 He looked like his illustration, as he raised his eyes to Mr. Lorry's face.
10517 207
10521 "But may not - mind! I ask for information, as a plodding man of busi-
10522 ness who only deals with such material objects as guineas, shillings, and
10523 bank-notes - may not the retention of the thing involve the retention of
10524 the idea? If the thing were gone, my dear Manette, might not the fear go
10525 with it? In short, is it not a concession to the misgiving, to keep the
10526 forge?"
10528 There was another silence.
10530 "You see, too," said the Doctor, tremulously, "it is such an old
10531 companion."
10533 "I would not keep it," said Mr. Lorry, shaking his head; for he gained
10534 in firmness as he saw the Doctor disquieted. "I would recommend him
10535 to sacrifice it. I only want your authority. I am sure it does no good.
10536 Come! Give me your authority, like a dear good man. For his daughter's
10537 sake, my dear Manette!"
10539 Very strange to see what a struggle there was within him!
10541 "In her name, then, let it be done; I sanction it. But, I would not take it
10542 away while he was present. Let it be removed when he is not there; let
10543 him miss his old companion after an absence."
10545 Mr. Lorry readily engaged for that, and the conference was ended.
10546 They passed the day in the country, and the Doctor was quite restored.
10547 On the three following days he remained perfectly well, and on the four-
10548 teenth day he went away to join Lucie and her husband. The precaution
10549 that had been taken to account for his silence, Mr. Lorry had previously
10550 explained to him, and he had written to Lucie in accordance with it, and
10551 she had no suspicions.
10553 On the night of the day on which he left the house, Mr. Lorry went in-
10554 to his room with a chopper, saw, chisel, and hammer, attended by Miss
10555 Pross carrying a light. There, with closed doors, and in a mysterious and
10556 guilty manner, Mr. Lorry hacked the shoemaker's bench to pieces, while
10557 Miss Pross held the candle as if she were assisting at a murder - for
10558 which, indeed, in her grimness, she was no unsuitable figure. The burn-
10559 ing of the body (previously reduced to pieces convenient for the pur-
10560 pose) was commenced without delay in the kitchen fire; and the tools,
10561 shoes, and leather, were buried in the garden. So wicked do destruction
10562 and secrecy appear to honest minds, that Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross,
10563 while engaged in the commission of their deed and in the removal of its
10564 traces, almost felt, and almost looked, like accomplices in a horrible
10565 crime.
10569 208
10573 Chapter
10577 A Plea
10581 20
10585 When the newly-married pair came home, the first person who ap-
10586 peared, to offer his congratulations, was Sydney Carton. They had not
10587 been at home many hours, when he presented himself. He was not im-
10588 proved in habits, or in looks, or in manner; but there was a certain
10589 rugged air of fidelity about him, which was new to the observation of
10590 Charles Darnay.
10592 He watched his opportunity of taking Darnay aside into a window,
10593 and of speaking to him when no one overheard.
10595 "Mr. Darnay," said Carton, "I wish we might be friends."
10597 "We are already friends, I hope."
10599 "You are good enough to say so, as a fashion of speech; but, I don't
10600 mean any fashion of speech. Indeed, when I say I wish we might be
10601 friends, I scarcely mean quite that, either."
10603 Charles Darnay - as was natural - asked him, in all good-humour and
10604 good-fellowship, what he did mean?
10606 "Upon my life," said Carton, smiling, "I find that easier to compre-
10607 hend in my own mind, than to convey to yours. However, let me try.
10608 You remember a certain famous occasion when I was more drunk than -
10609 than usual?"
10611 "I remember a certain famous occasion when you forced me to confess
10612 that you had been drinking."
10614 "I remember it too. The curse of those occasions is heavy upon me, for
10615 I always remember them. I hope it may be taken into account one day,
10616 when all days are at an end for me! Don't be alarmed; I am not going to
10617 preach."
10619 "I am not at all alarmed. Earnestness in you, is anything but alarming
10620 to me."
10624 209
10628 "Ah!" said Carton, with a careless wave of his hand, as if he waved
10629 that away. "On the drunken occasion in question (one of a large number,
10630 as you know), I was insufferable about liking you, and not liking you. I
10631 wish you would forget it."
10633 "I forgot it long ago."
10635 "Fashion of speech again! But, Mr. Darnay, oblivion is not so easy to
10636 me, as you represent it to be to you. I have by no means forgotten it, and
10637 a light answer does not help me to forget it."
10639 "If it was a light answer," returned Darnay, "I beg your forgiveness for
10640 it. I had no other object than to turn a slight thing, which, to my surprise,
10641 seems to trouble you too much, aside. I declare to you, on the faith of a
10642 gentleman, that I have long dismissed it from my mind. Good Heaven,
10643 what was there to dismiss! Have I had nothing more important to re-
10644 member, in the great service you rendered me that day?"
10646 "As to the great service," said Carton, "I am bound to avow to you,
10647 when you speak of it in that way, that it was mere professional claptrap,
10648 I don't know that I cared what became of you, when I rendered
10649 it. - Mind! I say when I rendered it; I am speaking of the past."
10651 "You make light of the obligation," returned Darnay, "but I will not
10652 quarrel with your light answer."
10654 "Genuine truth, Mr. Darnay, trust me! I have gone aside from my pur-
10655 pose; I was speaking about our being friends. Now, you know me; you
10656 know I am incapable of all the higher and better flights of men. If you
10657 doubt it, ask Stryver, and he'll tell you so."
10659 "I prefer to form my own opinion, without the aid of his."
10661 "Well! At any rate you know me as a dissolute dog, who has never
10662 done any good, and never will."
10664 "I don't know that you 'never will.'"
10666 "But I do, and you must take my word for it. Well! If you could endure
10667 to have such a worthless fellow, and a fellow of such indifferent reputa-
10668 tion, coming and going at odd times, I should ask that I might be permit-
10669 ted to come and go as a privileged person here; that I might be regarded
10670 as an useless (and I would add, if it were not for the resemblance I detec-
10671 ted between you and me, an unornamental) piece of furniture, tolerated
10672 for its old service, and taken no notice of. I doubt if I should abuse the
10673 permission. It is a hundred to one if I should avail myself of it four times
10674 in a year. It would satisfy me, I dare say, to know that I had it."
10676 "Will you try?"
10680 210
10684 "That is another way of saying that I am placed on the footing I have
10685 indicated. I thank you, Darnay. I may use that freedom with your
10687 name?"
10689 "I think so, Carton, by this time."
10691 They shook hands upon it, and Sydney turned away. Within a minute
10692 afterwards, he was, to all outward appearance, as unsubstantial as ever.
10694 When he was gone, and in the course of an evening passed with Miss
10695 Pross, the Doctor, and Mr. Lorry, Charles Darnay made some mention of
10696 this conversation in general terms, and spoke of Sydney Carton as a
10697 problem of carelessness and recklessness. He spoke of him, in short, not
10698 bitterly or meaning to bear hard upon him, but as anybody might who
10699 saw him as he showed himself.
10701 He had no idea that this could dwell in the thoughts of his fair young
10702 wife; but, when he afterwards joined her in their own rooms, he found
10703 her waiting for him with the old pretty lifting of the forehead strongly
10704 marked.
10706 "We are thoughtful to-night!" said Darnay, drawing his arm about her.
10708 "Yes, dearest Charles," with her hands on his breast, and the inquiring
10709 and attentive expression fixed upon him; "we are rather thoughtful to-
10710 night, for we have something on our mind to-night."
10712 "What is it, my Lucie?"
10714 "Will you promise not to press one question on me, if I beg you not to
10715 ask it?"
10717 "Will I promise? What will I not promise to my Love?"
10719 What, indeed, with his hand putting aside the golden hair from the
10720 cheek, and his other hand against the heart that beat for him!
10722 "I think, Charles, poor Mr. Carton deserves more consideration and re-
10723 spect than you expressed for him to-night."
10725 "Indeed, my own? Why so?"
10727 "That is what you are not to ask me. But I think - I know - he does."
10729 "If you know it, it is enough. What would you have me do, my Life?"
10731 "I would ask you, dearest, to be very generous with him always, and
10732 very lenient on his faults when he is not by. I would ask you to believe
10733 that he has a heart he very, very seldom reveals, and that there are deep
10734 wounds in it. My dear, I have seen it bleeding."
10738 211
10742 "It is a painful reflexion to me," said Charles Darnay, quite astounded,
10743 "that I should have done him any wrong. I never thought this of him."
10745 "My husband, it is so. I fear he is not to be reclaimed; there is scarcely
10746 a hope that anything in his character or fortunes is reparable now. But, I
10747 am sure that he is capable of good things, gentle things, even magnanim-
10748 ous things."
10750 She looked so beautiful in the purity of her faith in this lost man, that
10751 her husband could have looked at her as she was for hours.
10753 "And, O my dearest Love!" she urged, clinging nearer to him, laying
10754 her head upon his breast, and raising her eyes to his, "remember how
10755 strong we are in our happiness, and how weak he is in his misery!"
10757 The supplication touched him home. "I will always remember it, dear
10758 Heart! I will remember it as long as I live."
10760 He bent over the golden head, and put the rosy lips to his, and folded
10761 her in his arms. If one forlorn wanderer then pacing the dark streets,
10762 could have heard her innocent disclosure, and could have seen the drops
10763 of pity kissed away by her husband from the soft blue eyes so loving of
10764 that husband, he might have cried to the night - and the words would
10765 not have parted from his lips for the first time -
10767 "God bless her for her sweet compassion!"
10771 212
10775 Chapter
10779 21
10783 Echoing Footsteps
10785 A wonderful corner for echoes, it has been remarked, that corner
10786 where the Doctor lived. Ever busily winding the golden thread which
10787 bound her husband, and her father, and herself, and her old directress
10788 and companion, in a life of quiet bliss, Lucie sat in the still house in the
10789 tranquilly resounding corner, listening to the echoing footsteps of years.
10791 At first, there were times, though she was a perfectly happy young
10792 wife, when her work would slowly fall from her hands, and her eyes
10793 would be dimmed. For, there was something coming in the echoes,
10794 something light, afar off, and scarcely audible yet, that stirred her heart
10795 too much. Fluttering hopes and doubts - hopes, of a love as yet un-
10796 known to her: doubts, of her remaining upon earth, to enjoy that new de-
10797 light - divided her breast. Among the echoes then, there would arise the
10798 sound of footsteps at her own early grave; and thoughts of the husband
10799 who would be left so desolate, and who would mourn for her so much,
10800 swelled to her eyes, and broke like waves.
10802 That time passed, and her little Lucie lay on her bosom. Then, among
10803 the advancing echoes, there was the tread of her tiny feet and the sound
10804 of her prattling words. Let greater echoes resound as they would, the
10805 young mother at the cradle side could always hear those coming. They
10806 came, and the shady house was sunny with a child's laugh, and the Div-
10807 ine friend of children, to whom in her trouble she had confided hers,
10808 seemed to take her child in his arms, as He took the child of old, and
10809 made it a sacred joy to her.
10811 Ever busily winding the golden thread that bound them all together,
10812 weaving the service of her happy influence through the tissue of all their
10813 lives, and making it predominate nowhere, Lucie heard in the echoes of
10814 years none but friendly and soothing sounds. Her husband's step was
10815 strong and prosperous among them; her father's firm and equal. Lo,
10816 Miss Pross, in harness of string, awakening the echoes, as an unruly
10820 213
10824 charger, whip-corrected, snorting and pawing the earth under the plane-
10825 tree in the garden!
10827 Even when there were sounds of sorrow among the rest, they were not
10828 harsh nor cruel. Even when golden hair, like her own, lay in a halo on a
10829 pillow round the worn face of a little boy, and he said, with a radiant
10830 smile, "Dear papa and mamma, I am very sorry to leave you both, and to
10831 leave my pretty sister; but I am called, and I must go!" those were not
10832 tears all of agony that wetted his young mother's cheek, as the spirit de-
10833 parted from her embrace that had been entrusted to it. Suffer them and
10834 forbid them not. They see my Father's face. O Father, blessed words!
10836 Thus, the rustling of an Angel's wings got blended with the other
10837 echoes, and they were not wholly of earth, but had in them that breath of
10838 Heaven. Sighs of the winds that blew over a little garden-tomb were
10839 mingled with them also, and both were audible to Lucie, in a hushed
10840 murmur - like the breathing of a summer sea asleep upon a sandy shore
10841 - as the little Lucie, comically studious at the task of the morning, or
10842 dressing a doll at her mother's footstool, chattered in the tongues of the
10843 Two Cities that were blended in her life.
10845 The Echoes rarely answered to the actual tread of Sydney Carton.
10846 Some half-dozen times a year, at most, he claimed his privilege of com-
10847 ing in uninvited, and would sit among them through the evening, as he
10848 had once done often. He never came there heated with wine. And one
10849 other thing regarding him was whispered in the echoes, which has been
10850 whispered by all true echoes for ages and ages.
10852 No man ever really loved a woman, lost her, and knew her with a
10853 blameless though an unchanged mind, when she was a wife and a moth-
10854 er, but her children had a strange sympathy with him - an instinctive
10855 delicacy of pity for him. What fine hidden sensibilities are touched in
10856 such a case, no echoes tell; but it is so, and it was so here. Carton was the
10857 first stranger to whom little Lucie held out her chubby arms, and he kept
10858 his place with her as she grew. The little boy had spoken of him, almost
10859 at the last. "Poor Carton! Kiss him for me!"
10861 Mr. Stryver shouldered his way through the law, like some great en-
10862 gine forcing itself through turbid water, and dragged his useful friend in
10863 his wake, like a boat towed astern. As the boat so favoured is usually in a
10864 rough plight, and mostly under water, so, Sydney had a swamped life of
10865 it. But, easy and strong custom, unhappily so much easier and stronger
10866 in him than any stimulating sense of desert or disgrace, made it the life
10867 he was to lead; and he no more thought of emerging from his state of
10871 214
10875 lion's jackal, than any real jackal may be supposed to think of rising to be
10876 a lion. Stryver was rich; had married a florid widow with property and
10877 three boys, who had nothing particularly shining about them but the
10878 straight hair of their dumpling heads.
10880 These three young gentlemen, Mr. Stryver, exuding patronage of the
10881 most offensive quality from every pore, had walked before him like three
10882 sheep to the quiet corner in Soho, and had offered as pupils to Lucie's
10883 husband: delicately saying "Halloa! here are three lumps of bread-and-
10884 cheese towards your matrimonial picnic, Darnay!" The polite rejection of
10885 the three lumps of bread-and-cheese had quite bloated Mr. Stryver with
10886 indignation, which he afterwards turned to account in the training of the
10887 young gentlemen, by directing them to beware of the pride of Beggars,
10888 like that tutor-fellow. He was also in the habit of declaiming to Mrs.
10889 Stryver, over his full-bodied wine, on the arts Mrs. Darnay had once put
10890 in practice to "catch" him, and on the diamond-cut-diamond arts in him-
10891 self, madam, which had rendered him "not to be caught." Some of his
10892 King's Bench familiars, who were occasionally parties to the full-bodied
10893 wine and the lie, excused him for the latter by saying that he had told it
10894 so often, that he believed it himself - which is surely such an incorrigible
10895 aggravation of an originally bad offence, as to justify any such offender's
10896 being carried off to some suitably retired spot, and there hanged out of
10897 the way.
10899 These were among the echoes to which Lucie, sometimes pensive,
10900 sometimes amused and laughing, listened in the echoing corner, until
10901 her little daughter was six years old. How near to her heart the echoes of
10902 her child's tread came, and those of her own dear father's, always active
10903 and self-possessed, and those of her dear husband's, need not be told.
10904 Nor, how the lightest echo of their united home, directed by herself with
10905 such a wise and elegant thrift that it was more abundant than any waste,
10906 was music to her. Nor, how there were echoes all about her, sweet in her
10907 ears, of the many times her father had told her that he found her more
10908 devoted to him married (if that could be) than single, and of the many
10909 times her husband had said to her that no cares and duties seemed to di-
10910 vide her love for him or her help to him, and asked her "What is the ma-
10911 gic secret, my darling, of your being everything to all of us, as if there
10912 were only one of us, yet never seeming to be hurried, or to have too
10913 much to do?"
10915 But, there were other echoes, from a distance, that rumbled men-
10916 acingly in the corner all through this space of time. And it was now,
10920 215
10924 about little Lucie's sixth birthday, that they began to have an awful
10925 sound, as of a great storm in France with a dreadful sea rising.
10927 On a night in mid-July, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine,
10928 Mr. Lorry came in late, from Tellson's, and sat himself down by Lucie
10929 and her husband in the dark window. It was a hot, wild night, and they
10930 were all three reminded of the old Sunday night when they had looked
10931 at the lightning from the same place.
10933 "I began to think," said Mr. Lorry, pushing his brown wig back, "that I
10934 should have to pass the night at Tellson's. We have been so full of busi-
10935 ness all day, that we have not known what to do first, or which way to
10936 turn. There is such an uneasiness in Paris, that we have actually a run of
10937 confidence upon us! Our customers over there, seem not to be able to
10938 confide their property to us fast enough. There is positively a mania
10939 among some of them for sending it to England."
10941 "That has a bad look," said Darnay -
10943 "A bad look, you say, my dear Darnay? Yes, but we don't know what
10944 reason there is in it. People are so unreasonable! Some of us at Tellson's
10945 are getting old, and we really can't be troubled out of the ordinary
10946 course without due occasion."
10948 "Still," said Darnay, "you know how gloomy and threatening the sky
10952 is."
10956 "I know that, to be sure," assented Mr. Lorry, trying to persuade him-
10957 self that his sweet temper was soured, and that he grumbled, "but I am
10958 determined to be peevish after my long day's botheration. Where is
10959 Manette?"
10961 "Here he is," said the Doctor, entering the dark room at the moment.
10963 "I am quite glad you are at home; for these hurries and forebodings by
10964 which I have been surrounded all day long, have made me nervous
10965 without reason. You are not going out, I hope?"
10967 "No; I am going to play backgammon with you, if you like," said the
10968 Doctor.
10970 "I don't think I do like, if I may speak my mind. I am not fit to be pit-
10971 ted against you to-night. Is the teaboard still there, Lucie? I can't see."
10973 "Of course, it has been kept for you."
10975 "Thank ye, my dear. The precious child is safe in bed?"
10977 "And sleeping soundly."
10981 216
10985 "That's right; all safe and well! I don't know why anything should be
10986 otherwise than safe and well here, thank God; but I have been so put out
10987 all day, and I am not as young as I was! My tea, my dear! Thank ye.
10988 Now, come and take your place in the circle, and let us sit quiet, and
10989 hear the echoes about which you have your theory."
10991 "Not a theory; it was a fancy."
10993 "A fancy, then, my wise pet," said Mr. Lorry, patting her hand. "They
10994 are very numerous and very loud, though, are they not? Only hear
10995 them!"
10997 Headlong, mad, and dangerous footsteps to force their way into any-
10998 body's life, footsteps not easily made clean again if once stained red, the
10999 footsteps raging in Saint Antoine afar off, as the little circle sat in the
11000 dark London window.
11002 Saint Antoine had been, that morning, a vast dusky mass of scare-
11003 crows heaving to and fro, with frequent gleams of light above the bil-
11004 lowy heads, where steel blades and bayonets shone in the sun. A tre-
11005 mendous roar arose from the throat of Saint Antoine, and a forest of na-
11006 ked arms struggled in the air like shrivelled branches of trees in a winter
11007 wind: all the fingers convulsively clutching at every weapon or semb-
11008 lance of a weapon that was thrown up from the depths below, no matter
11009 how far off.
11011 Who gave them out, whence they last came, where they began,
11012 through what agency they crookedly quivered and jerked, scores at a
11013 time, over the heads of the crowd, like a kind of lightning, no eye in the
11014 throng could have told; but, muskets were being distributed - so were
11015 cartridges, powder, and ball, bars of iron and wood, knives, axes, pikes,
11016 every weapon that distracted ingenuity could discover or devise. People
11017 who could lay hold of nothing else, set themselves with bleeding hands
11018 to force stones and bricks out of their places in walls. Every pulse and
11019 heart in Saint Antoine was on high-fever strain and at high-fever heat.
11020 Every living creature there held life as of no account, and was demented
11021 with a passionate readiness to sacrifice it.
11023 As a whirlpool of boiling waters has a centre point, so, all this raging
11024 circled round Defarge's wine-shop, and every human drop in the
11025 caldron had a tendency to be sucked towards the vortex where Defarge
11026 himself, already begrimed with gunpowder and sweat, issued orders, is-
11027 sued arms, thrust this man back, dragged this man forward, disarmed
11028 one to arm another, laboured and strove in the thickest of the uproar.
11032 217
11036 "Keep near to me, Jacques Three," cried Defarge; "and do you, Jacques
11037 One and Two, separate and put yourselves at the head of as many of
11038 these patriots as you can. Where is my wife?"
11040 "Eh, well! Here you see me!" said madame, composed as ever, but not
11041 knitting to-day. Madame's resolute right hand was occupied with an axe,
11042 in place of the usual softer implements, and in her girdle were a pistol
11043 and a cruel knife.
11045 "Where do you go, my wife?"
11047 "I go," said madame, "with you at present. You shall see me at the
11048 head of women, by-and-bye."
11050 "Come, then!" cried Defarge, in a resounding voice. "Patriots and
11051 friends, we are ready! The Bastille!"
11053 With a roar that sounded as if all the breath in France had been shaped
11054 into the detested word, the living sea rose, wave on wave, depth on
11055 depth, and overflowed the city to that point. Alarm-bells ringing, drums
11056 beating, the sea raging and thundering on its new beach, the attack
11057 began.
11059 Deep ditches, double drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great
11060 towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. Through the fire and through
11061 the smoke - in the fire and in the smoke, for the sea cast him up against a
11062 cannon, and on the instant he became a cannonier - Defarge of the wine-
11063 shop worked like a manful soldier, Two fierce hours.
11065 Deep ditch, single drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great
11066 towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. One drawbridge down!
11067 "Work, comrades all, work! Work, Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques
11068 One Thousand, Jacques Two Thousand, Jacques Five-and-Twenty Thou-
11069 sand; in the name of all the Angels or the Devils - which you
11070 prefer - work!" Thus Defarge of the wine-shop, still at his gun, which
11071 had long grown hot.
11073 "To me, women!" cried madame his wife. "What! We can kill as well
11074 as the men when the place is taken!" And to her, with a shrill thirsty cry,
11075 trooping women variously armed, but all armed alike in hunger and
11076 revenge.
11078 Cannon, muskets, fire and smoke; but, still the deep ditch, the single
11079 drawbridge, the massive stone walls, and the eight great towers. Slight
11080 displacements of the raging sea, made by the falling wounded. Flashing
11081 weapons, blazing torches, smoking waggonloads of wet straw, hard
11082 work at neighbouring barricades in all directions, shrieks, volleys,
11086 218
11090 execrations, bravery without stint, boom smash and rattle, and the furi-
11091 ous sounding of the living sea; but, still the deep ditch, and the single
11092 drawbridge, and the massive stone walls, and the eight great towers, and
11093 still Defarge of the wine-shop at his gun, grown doubly hot by the ser-
11094 vice of Four fierce hours.
11096 A white flag from within the fortress, and a parley - this dimly per-
11097 ceptible through the raging storm, nothing audible in it - suddenly the
11098 sea rose immeasurably wider and higher, and swept Defarge of the
11099 wine-shop over the lowered drawbridge, past the massive stone outer
11100 walls, in among the eight great towers surrendered!
11102 So resistless was the force of the ocean bearing him on, that even to
11103 draw his breath or turn his head was as impracticable as if he had been
11104 struggling in the surf at the South Sea, until he was landed in the outer
11105 courtyard of the Bastille. There, against an angle of a wall, he made a
11106 struggle to look about him. Jacques Three was nearly at his side; Ma-
11107 dame Defarge, still heading some of her women, was visible in the inner
11108 distance, and her knife was in her hand. Everywhere was tumult, exulta-
11109 tion, deafening and maniacal bewilderment, astounding noise, yet
11110 furious dumb-show.
11112 "The Prisoners!"
11114 "The Records!"
11116 "The secret cells!"
11118 "The instruments of torture!"
11120 "The Prisoners!"
11122 Of all these cries, and ten thousand incoherences, "The Prisoners!" was
11123 the cry most taken up by the sea that rushed in, as if there were an etern-
11124 ity of people, as well as of time and space. When the foremost billows
11125 rolled past, bearing the prison officers with them, and threatening them
11126 all with instant death if any secret nook remained undisclosed, Defarge
11127 laid his strong hand on the breast of one of these men - a man with a
11128 grey head, who had a lighted torch in his hand - separated him from the
11129 rest, and got him between himself and the wall.
11131 "Show me the North Tower!" said Defarge. "Quick!"
11133 "I will faithfully," replied the man, "if you will come with me. But
11134 there is no one there."
11136 "What is the meaning of One Hundred and Five, North Tower?" asked
11137 Defarge. "Quick!"
11141 219
11145 "The meaning, monsieur?"
11147 "Does it mean a captive, or a place of captivity? Or do you mean that I
11148 shall strike you dead?"
11150 "Kill him!" croaked Jacques Three, who had come close up.
11152 "Monsieur, it is a cell."
11154 "Show it me!"
11156 "Pass this way, then."
11158 Jacques Three, with his usual craving on him, and evidently disap-
11159 pointed by the dialogue taking a turn that did not seem to promise
11160 bloodshed, held by Defarge's arm as he held by the turnkey's. Their
11161 three heads had been close together during this brief discourse, and it
11162 had been as much as they could do to hear one another, even then: so
11163 tremendous was the noise of the living ocean, in its irruption into the
11164 Fortress, and its inundation of the courts and passages and staircases. All
11165 around outside, too, it beat the walls with a deep, hoarse roar, from
11166 which, occasionally, some partial shouts of tumult broke and leaped into
11167 the air like spray.
11169 Through gloomy vaults where the light of day had never shone, past
11170 hideous doors of dark dens and cages, down cavernous flights of steps,
11171 and again up steep rugged ascents of stone and brick, more like dry wa-
11172 terfalls than staircases, Defarge, the turnkey, and Jacques Three, linked
11173 hand and arm, went with all the speed they could make. Here and there,
11174 especially at first, the inundation started on them and swept by; but
11175 when they had done descending, and were winding and climbing up a
11176 tower, they were alone. Hemmed in here by the massive thickness of
11177 walls and arches, the storm within the fortress and without was only
11178 audible to them in a dull, subdued way, as if the noise out of which they
11179 had come had almost destroyed their sense of hearing.
11181 The turnkey stopped at a low door, put a key in a clashing lock, swung
11182 the door slowly open, and said, as they all bent their heads and passed
11183 in:
11185 "One hundred and five, North Tower!"
11187 There was a small, heavily-grated, unglazed window high in the wall,
11188 with a stone screen before it, so that the sky could be only seen by stoop-
11189 ing low and looking up. There was a small chimney, heavily barred
11190 across, a few feet within. There was a heap of old feathery wood-ashes
11191 on the hearth. There was a stool, and table, and a straw bed. There were
11192 the four blackened walls, and a rusted iron ring in one of them.
11196 220
11200 "Pass that torch slowly along these walls, that I may see them," said
11201 Defarge to the turnkey.
11203 The man obeyed, and Defarge followed the light closely with his eyes.
11205 "Stop! - Look here, Jacques!"
11207 "A. M.!" croaked Jacques Three, as he read greedily.
11209 "Alexandre Manette," said Defarge in his ear, following the letters
11210 with his swart forefinger, deeply engrained with gunpowder. "And here
11211 he wrote 'a poor physician.' And it was he, without doubt, who
11212 scratched a calendar on this stone. What is that in your hand? A crow-
11213 bar? Give it me!"
11215 He had still the linstock of his gun in his own hand. He made a sudden
11216 exchange of the two instruments, and turning on the worm-eaten stool
11217 and table, beat them to pieces in a few blows.
11219 "Hold the light higher!" he said, wrathfully, to the turnkey. "Look
11220 among those fragments with care, Jacques. And see! Here is my knife,"
11221 throwing it to him; "rip open that bed, and search the straw. Hold the
11222 light higher, you!"
11224 With a menacing look at the turnkey he crawled upon the hearth, and,
11225 peering up the chimney, struck and prised at its sides with the crowbar,
11226 and worked at the iron grating across it. In a few minutes, some mortar
11227 and dust came dropping down, which he averted his face to avoid; and
11228 in it, and in the old wood-ashes, and in a crevice in the chimney into
11229 which his weapon had slipped or wrought itself, he groped with a cau-
11230 tious touch.
11232 "Nothing in the wood, and nothing in the straw, Jacques?"
11234 "Nothing."
11236 "Let us collect them together, in the middle of the cell. So! Light them,
11237 you!"
11239 The turnkey fired the little pile, which blazed high and hot. Stooping
11240 again to come out at the low-arched door, they left it burning, and re-
11241 traced their way to the courtyard; seeming to recover their sense of hear-
11242 ing as they came down, until they were in the raging flood once more.
11244 They found it surging and tossing, in quest of Defarge himself. Saint
11245 Antoine was clamorous to have its wine-shop keeper foremost in the
11246 guard upon the governor who had defended the Bastille and shot the
11247 people. Otherwise, the governor would not be marched to the Hotel de
11248 Ville for judgment. Otherwise, the governor would escape, and the
11252 221
11256 people's blood (suddenly of some value, after many years of worthless-
11257 ness) be unavenged.
11259 In the howling universe of passion and contention that seemed to en-
11260 compass this grim old officer conspicuous in his grey coat and red decor-
11261 ation, there was but one quite steady figure, and that was a woman's.
11262 "See, there is my husband!" she cried, pointing him out. "See Defarge!"
11263 She stood immovable close to the grim old officer, and remained immov-
11264 able close to him; remained immovable close to him through the streets,
11265 as Defarge and the rest bore him along; remained immovable close to
11266 him when he was got near his destination, and began to be struck at
11267 from behind; remained immovable close to him when the long-gathering
11268 rain of stabs and blows fell heavy; was so close to him when he dropped
11269 dead under it, that, suddenly animated, she put her foot upon his neck,
11270 and with her cruel knife - long ready - hewed off his head.
11272 The hour was come, when Saint Antoine was to execute his horrible
11273 idea of hoisting up men for lamps to show what he could be and do.
11274 Saint Antoine's blood was up, and the blood of tyranny and domination
11275 by the iron hand was down - down on the steps of the Hotel de Ville
11276 where the governor's body lay - down on the sole of the shoe of Ma-
11277 dame Defarge where she had trodden on the body to steady it for mutil-
11278 ation. "Lower the lamp yonder!" cried Saint Antoine, after glaring round
11279 for a new means of death; "here is one of his soldiers to be left on
11280 guard!" The swinging sentinel was posted, and the sea rushed on.
11282 The sea of black and threatening waters, and of destructive upheaving
11283 of wave against wave, whose depths were yet unfathomed and whose
11284 forces were yet unknown. The remorseless sea of turbulently swaying
11285 shapes, voices of vengeance, and faces hardened in the furnaces of suf-
11286 fering until the touch of pity could make no mark on them.
11288 But, in the ocean of faces where every fierce and furious expression
11289 was in vivid life, there were two groups of faces - each seven in number
11290 - so fixedly contrasting with the rest, that never did sea roll which bore
11291 more memorable wrecks with it. Seven faces of prisoners, suddenly re-
11292 leased by the storm that had burst their tomb, were carried high over-
11293 head: all scared, all lost, all wondering and amazed, as if the Last Day
11294 were come, and those who rejoiced around them were lost spirits. Other
11295 seven faces there were, carried higher, seven dead faces, whose drooping
11296 eyelids and half-seen eyes awaited the Last Day. Impassive faces, yet
11297 with a suspended - not an abolished - expression on them; faces, rather,
11301 222
11305 in a fearful pause, as having yet to raise the dropped lids of the eyes, and
11306 bear witness with the bloodless lips, "Thou didst it!"
11308 Seven prisoners released, seven gory heads on pikes, the keys of the
11309 accursed fortress of the eight strong towers, some discovered letters and
11310 other memorials of prisoners of old time, long dead of broken
11311 hearts, - such, and such - like, the loudly echoing footsteps of Saint An-
11312 toine escort through the Paris streets in mid-July, one thousand seven
11313 hundred and eighty-nine. Now, Heaven defeat the fancy of Lucie
11314 Darnay, and keep these feet far out of her life! For, they are headlong,
11315 mad, and dangerous; and in the years so long after the breaking of the
11316 cask at Defarge's wine-shop door, they are not easily purified when once
11317 stained red.
11321 223
11325 Chapter
11329 22
11333 The Sea still Rises
11335 Haggard Saint Antoine had had only one exultant week, in which to
11336 soften his modicum of hard and bitter bread to such extent as he could,
11337 with the relish of fraternal embraces and congratulations, when Madame
11338 Defarge sat at her counter, as usual, presiding over the customers. Ma-
11339 dame Defarge wore no rose in her head, for the great brotherhood of
11340 Spies had become, even in one short week, extremely chary of trusting
11341 themselves to the saint's mercies. The lamps across his streets had a
11342 portentously elastic swing with them.
11344 Madame Defarge, with her arms folded, sat in the morning light and
11345 heat, contemplating the wine-shop and the street. In both, there were
11346 several knots of loungers, squalid and miserable, but now with a mani-
11347 fest sense of power enthroned on their distress. The raggedest nightcap,
11348 awry on the wretchedest head, had this crooked significance in it: "I
11349 know how hard it has grown for me, the wearer of this, to support life in
11350 myself; but do you know how easy it has grown for me, the wearer of
11351 this, to destroy life in you?" Every lean bare arm, that had been without
11352 work before, had this work always ready for it now, that it could strike.
11353 The fingers of the knitting women were vicious, with the experience that
11354 they could tear. There was a change in the appearance of Saint Antoine;
11355 the image had been hammering into this for hundreds of years, and the
11356 last finishing blows had told mightily on the expression.
11358 Madame Defarge sat observing it, with such suppressed approval as
11359 was to be desired in the leader of the Saint Antoine women. One of her
11360 sisterhood knitted beside her. The short, rather plump wife of a starved
11361 grocer, and the mother of two children withal, this lieutenant had
11362 already earned the complimentary name of The Vengeance.
11364 "Hark!" said The Vengeance. "Listen, then! Who comes?"
11368 224:
11372 As if a train of powder laid from the outermost bound of Saint Antoine
11373 Quarter to the wine-shop door, had been suddenly fired, a fast-spread-
11374 ing murmur came rushing along.
11376 "It is Defarge," said madame. "Silence, patriots!"
11378 Defarge came in breathless, pulled off a red cap he wore, and looked
11379 around him! "Listen, everywhere!" said madame again. "Listen to him!"
11380 Defarge stood, panting, against a background of eager eyes and open
11381 mouths, formed outside the door; all those within the wine-shop had
11382 sprung to their feet.
11384 "Say then, my husband. What is it?"
11386 "News from the other world!"
11388 "How, then?" cried madame, contemptuously. "The other world?"
11390 "Does everybody here recall old Foulon, who told the famished people
11391 that they might eat grass, and who died, and went to Hell?"
11393 "Everybody!" from all throats.
11395 "The news is of him. He is among us!"
11397 "Among us!" from the universal throat again. "And dead?"
11399 "Not dead! He feared us so much - and with reason - that he caused
11400 himself to be represented as dead, and had a grand mock-funeral. But
11401 they have found him alive, hiding in the country, and have brought him
11402 in. I have seen him but now, on his way to the Hotel de Ville, a prisoner.
11403 I have said that he had reason to fear us. Say all! Had he reason?"
11405 Wretched old sinner of more than threescore years and ten, if he had
11406 never known it yet, he would have known it in his heart of hearts if he
11407 could have heard the answering cry.
11409 A moment of profound silence followed. Defarge and his wife looked
11410 steadfastly at one another. The Vengeance stooped, and the jar of a drum
11411 was heard as she moved it at her feet behind the counter.
11413 "Patriots!" said Defarge, in a determined voice, "are we ready?"
11415 Instantly Madame Defarge's knife was in her girdle; the drum was
11416 beating in the streets, as if it and a drummer had flown together by ma-
11417 gic; and The Vengeance, uttering terrific shrieks, and flinging her arms
11418 about her head like all the forty Furies at once, was tearing from house to
11419 house, rousing the women.
11421 The men were terrible, in the bloody-minded anger with which they
11422 looked from windows, caught up what arms they had, and came pour-
11423 ing down into the streets; but, the women were a sight to chill the
11427 225
11431 boldest. From such household occupations as their bare poverty yielded,
11432 from their children, from their aged and their sick crouching on the bare
11433 ground famished and naked, they ran out with streaming hair, urging
11434 one another, and themselves, to madness with the wildest cries and ac-
11435 tions. Villain Foulon taken, my sister! Old Foulon taken, my mother!
11436 Miscreant Foulon taken, my daughter! Then, a score of others ran into
11437 the midst of these, beating their breasts, tearing their hair, and scream-
11438 ing, Foulon alive! Foulon who told the starving people they might eat
11439 grass! Foulon who told my old father that he might eat grass, when I had
11440 no bread to give him! Foulon who told my baby it might suck grass,
11441 when these breasts where dry with want! O mother of God, this Foulon!
11442 O Heaven our suffering! Hear me, my dead baby and my withered fath-
11443 er: I swear on my knees, on these stones, to avenge you on Foulon! Hus-
11444 bands, and brothers, and young men, Give us the blood of Foulon, Give
11445 us the head of Foulon, Give us the heart of Foulon, Give us the body and
11446 soul of Foulon, Rend Foulon to pieces, and dig him into the ground, that
11447 grass may grow from him! With these cries, numbers of the women,
11448 lashed into blind frenzy, whirled about, striking and tearing at their own
11449 friends until they dropped into a passionate swoon, and were only saved
11450 by the men belonging to them from being trampled under foot.
11452 Nevertheless, not a moment was lost; not a moment! This Foulon was
11453 at the Hotel de Ville, and might be loosed. Never, if Saint Antoine knew
11454 his own sufferings, insults, and wrongs! Armed men and women flocked
11455 out of the Quarter so fast, and drew even these last dregs after them with
11456 such a force of suction, that within a quarter of an hour there was not a
11457 human creature in Saint Antoine's bosom but a few old crones and the
11458 wailing children.
11460 No. They were all by that time choking the Hall of Examination where
11461 this old man, ugly and wicked, was, and overflowing into the adjacent
11462 open space and streets. The Defarges, husband and wife, The Vengeance,
11463 and Jacques Three, were in the first press, and at no great distance from
11464 him in the Hall.
11466 "See!" cried madame, pointing with her knife. "See the old villain
11467 bound with ropes. That was well done to tie a bunch of grass upon his
11468 back. Ha, ha! That was well done. Let him eat it now!" Madame put her
11469 knife under her arm, and clapped her hands as at a play.
11471 The people immediately behind Madame Defarge, explaining the
11472 cause of her satisfaction to those behind them, and those again explain-
11473 ing to others, and those to others, the neighbouring streets resounded
11477 226
11481 with the clapping of hands. Similarly, during two or three hours of
11482 drawl, and the winnowing of many bushels of words, Madame Defarge's
11483 frequent expressions of impatience were taken up, with marvellous
11484 quickness, at a distance: the more readily, because certain men who had
11485 by some wonderful exercise of agility climbed up the external architec-
11486 ture to look in from the windows, knew Madame Defarge well, and ac-
11487 ted as a telegraph between her and the crowd outside the building.
11489 At length the sun rose so high that it struck a kindly ray as of hope or
11490 protection, directly down upon the old prisoner's head. The favour was
11491 too much to bear; in an instant the barrier of dust and chaff that had
11492 stood surprisingly long, went to the winds, and Saint Antoine had got
11493 him!
11495 It was known directly, to the furthest confines of the crowd. Defarge
11496 had but sprung over a railing and a table, and folded the miserable
11497 wretch in a deadly embrace - Madame Defarge had but followed and
11498 turned her hand in one of the ropes with which he was tied - The Ven-
11499 geance and Jacques Three were not yet up with them, and the men at the
11500 windows had not yet swooped into the Hall, like birds of prey from their
11501 high perches - when the cry seemed to go up, all over the city, "Bring
11502 him out! Bring him to the lamp!"
11504 Down, and up, and head foremost on the steps of the building; now,
11505 on his knees; now, on his feet; now, on his back; dragged, and struck at,
11506 and stifled by the bunches of grass and straw that were thrust into his
11507 face by hundreds of hands; torn, bruised, panting, bleeding, yet always
11508 entreating and beseeching for mercy; now full of vehement agony of ac-
11509 tion, with a small clear space about him as the people drew one another
11510 back that they might see; now, a log of dead wood drawn through a
11511 forest of legs; he was hauled to the nearest street corner where one of the
11512 fatal lamps swung, and there Madame Defarge let him go - as a cat
11513 might have done to a mouse - and silently and composedly looked at
11514 him while they made ready, and while he besought her: the women pas-
11515 sionately screeching at him all the time, and the men sternly calling out
11516 to have him killed with grass in his mouth. Once, he went aloft, and the
11517 rope broke, and they caught him shrieking; twice, he went aloft, and the
11518 rope broke, and they caught him shrieking; then, the rope was merciful,
11519 and held him, and his head was soon upon a pike, with grass enough in
11520 the mouth for all Saint Antoine to dance at the sight of.
11522 Nor was this the end of the day's bad work, for Saint Antoine so
11523 shouted and danced his angry blood up, that it boiled again, on hearing
11527 227
11531 when the day closed in that the son-in-law of the despatched, another of
11532 the people's enemies and insulters, was coming into Paris under a guard
11533 five hundred strong, in cavalry alone. Saint Antoine wrote his crimes on
11534 flaring sheets of paper, seized him - would have torn him out of the
11535 breast of an army to bear Foulon company - set his head and heart on
11536 pikes, and carried the three spoils of the day, in Wolf-procession through
11537 the streets.
11539 Not before dark night did the men and women come back to the chil-
11540 dren, wailing and breadless. Then, the miserable bakers' shops were be-
11541 set by long files of them, patiently waiting to buy bad bread; and while
11542 they waited with stomachs faint and empty, they beguiled the time by
11543 embracing one another on the triumphs of the day, and achieving them
11544 again in gossip. Gradually, these strings of ragged people shortened and
11545 frayed away; and then poor lights began to shine in high windows, and
11546 slender fires were made in the streets, at which neighbours cooked in
11547 common, afterwards supping at their doors.
11549 Scanty and insufficient suppers those, and innocent of meat, as of most
11550 other sauce to wretched bread. Yet, human fellowship infused some
11551 nourishment into the flinty viands, and struck some sparks of cheerful-
11552 ness out of them. Fathers and mothers who had had their full share in
11553 the worst of the day, played gently with their meagre children; and lov-
11554 ers, with such a world around them and before them, loved and hoped.
11556 It was almost morning, when Defarge's wine-shop parted with its last
11557 knot of customers, and Monsieur Defarge said to madame his wife, in
11558 husky tones, while fastening the door:
11560 "At last it is come, my dear!"
11562 "Eh well!" returned madame. "Almost."
11564 Saint Antoine slept, the Defarges slept: even The Vengeance slept with
11565 her starved grocer, and the drum was at rest. The drum's was the only
11566 voice in Saint Antoine that blood and hurry had not changed. The Ven-
11567 geance, as custodian of the drum, could have wakened him up and had
11568 the same speech out of him as before the Bastille fell, or old Foulon was
11569 seized; not so with the hoarse tones of the men and women in Saint An-
11570 toine's bosom.
11574 228
11578 Chapter
11582 23
11586 Fire Rises
11588 There was a change on the village where the fountain fell, and where
11589 the mender of roads went forth daily to hammer out of the stones on the
11590 highway such morsels of bread as might serve for patches to hold his
11591 poor ignorant soul and his poor reduced body together. The prison on
11592 the crag was not so dominant as of yore; there were soldiers to guard it,
11593 but not many; there were officers to guard the soldiers, but not one of
11594 them knew what his men would do - beyond this: that it would prob-
11595 ably not be what he was ordered.
11597 Far and wide lay a ruined country, yielding nothing but desolation.
11598 Every green leaf, every blade of grass and blade of grain, was as shriv-
11599 elled and poor as the miserable people. Everything was bowed down,
11600 dejected, oppressed, and broken. Habitations, fences, domesticated an-
11601 imals, men, women, children, and the soil that bore them - all worn out.
11603 Monseigneur (often a most worthy individual gentleman) was a na-
11604 tional blessing, gave a chivalrous tone to things, was a polite example of
11605 luxurious and shining fife, and a great deal more to equal purpose; nev-
11606 ertheless, Monseigneur as a class had, somehow or other, brought things
11607 to this. Strange that Creation, designed expressly for Monseigneur,
11608 should be so soon wrung dry and squeezed out! There must be
11609 something short-sighted in the eternal arrangements, surely! Thus it was,
11610 however; and the last drop of blood having been extracted from the
11611 flints, and the last screw of the rack having been turned so often that its
11612 purchase crumbled, and it now turned and turned with nothing to bite,
11613 Monseigneur began to run away from a phenomenon so low and
11614 unaccountable.
11616 But, this was not the change on the village, and on many a village like
11617 it. For scores of years gone by, Monseigneur had squeezed it and wrung
11618 it, and had seldom graced it with his presence except for the pleasures of
11619 the chase - now, found in hunting the people; now, found in hunting the
11620 beasts, for whose preservation Monseigneur made edifying spaces of
11624 229
11628 barbarous and barren wilderness. No. The change consisted in the ap-
11629 pearance of strange faces of low caste, rather than in the disappearance
11630 of the high caste, chiselled, and otherwise beautified and beautifying fea-
11631 tures of Monseigneur.
11633 For, in these times, as the mender of roads worked, solitary, in the
11634 dust, not often troubling himself to reflect that dust he was and to dust
11635 he must return, being for the most part too much occupied in thinking
11636 how little he had for supper and how much more he would eat if he had
11637 it - in these times, as he raised his eyes from his lonely labour, and
11638 viewed the prospect, he would see some rough figure approaching on
11639 foot, the like of which was once a rarity in those parts, but was now a fre-
11640 quent presence. As it advanced, the mender of roads would discern
11641 without surprise, that it was a shaggy-haired man, of almost barbarian
11642 aspect, tall, in wooden shoes that were clumsy even to the eyes of a
11643 mender of roads, grim, rough, swart, steeped in the mud and dust of
11644 many highways, dank with the marshy moisture of many low grounds,
11645 sprinkled with the thorns and leaves and moss of many byways through
11646 woods.
11648 Such a man came upon him, like a ghost, at noon in the July weather,
11649 as he sat on his heap of stones under a bank, taking such shelter as he
11650 could get from a shower of hail.
11652 The man looked at him, looked at the village in the hollow, at the mill,
11653 and at the prison on the crag. When he had identified these objects in
11654 what benighted mind he had, he said, in a dialect that was just
11655 intelligible:
11657 "How goes it, Jacques?"
11659 "All well, Jacques."
11661 "Touch then!"
11663 They joined hands, and the man sat down on the heap of stones.
11665 "No dinner?"
11667 "Nothing but supper now," said the mender of roads, with a hungry
11668 face.
11670 "It is the fashion," growled the man. "I meet no dinner anywhere."
11672 He took out a blackened pipe, filled it, lighted it with flint and steel,
11673 pulled at it until it was in a bright glow: then, suddenly held it from him
11674 and dropped something into it from between his finger and thumb, that
11675 blazed and went out in a puff of smoke.
11679 230
11683 "Touch then." It was the turn of the mender of roads to say it this time,
11684 after observing these operations. They again joined hands.
11686 "To-night?" said the mender of roads.
11688 "To-night," said the man, putting the pipe in his mouth.
11690 "Where?"
11692 "Here."
11694 He and the mender of roads sat on the heap of stones looking silently
11695 at one another, with the hail driving in between them like a pigmy
11696 charge of bayonets, until the sky began to clear over the village.
11698 "Show me!" said the traveller then, moving to the brow of the hill.
11700 "See!" returned the mender of roads, with extended finger. "You go
11701 down here, and straight through the street, and past the fountain - "
11703 "To the Devil with all that!" interrupted the other, rolling his eye over
11704 the landscape. "I go through no streets and past no fountains. Well?"
11706 "Well! About two leagues beyond the summit of that hill above the
11707 village."
11709 "Good. When do you cease to work?"
11711 "At sunset."
11713 "Will you wake me, before departing? I have walked two nights
11714 without resting. Let me finish my pipe, and I shall sleep like a child. Will
11715 you wake me?"
11717 "Surely."
11719 The wayfarer smoked his pipe out, put it in his breast, slipped off his
11720 great wooden shoes, and lay down on his back on the heap of stones. He
11721 was fast asleep directly.
11723 As the road-mender plied his dusty labour, and the hail-clouds, rolling
11724 away, revealed bright bars and streaks of sky which were responded to
11725 by silver gleams upon the landscape, the little man (who wore a red cap
11726 now, in place of his blue one) seemed fascinated by the figure on the
11727 heap of stones. His eyes were so often turned towards it, that he used his
11728 tools mechanically, and, one would have said, to very poor account. The
11729 bronze face, the shaggy black hair and beard, the coarse woollen red cap,
11730 the rough medley dress of home-spun stuff and hairy skins of beasts, the
11731 powerful frame attenuated by spare living, and the sullen and desperate
11732 compression of the lips in sleep, inspired the mender of roads with awe.
11733 The traveller had travelled far, and his feet were footsore, and his ankles
11734 chafed and bleeding; his great shoes, stuffed with leaves and grass, had
11738 231
11742 been heavy to drag over the many long leagues, and his clothes were
11743 chafed into holes, as he himself was into sores. Stooping down beside
11744 him, the road-mender tried to get a peep at secret weapons in his breast
11745 or where not; but, in vain, for he slept with his arms crossed upon him,
11746 and set as resolutely as his lips. Fortified towns with their stockades,
11747 guard-houses, gates, trenches, and drawbridges, seemed to the mender
11748 of roads, to be so much air as against this figure. And when he lifted his
11749 eyes from it to the horizon and looked around, he saw in his small fancy
11750 similar figures, stopped by no obstacle, tending to centres all over
11751 France.
11753 The man slept on, indifferent to showers of hail and intervals of
11754 brightness, to sunshine on his face and shadow, to the paltering lumps of
11755 dull ice on his body and the diamonds into which the sun changed them,
11756 until the sun was low in the west, and the sky was glowing. Then, the
11757 mender of roads having got his tools together and all things ready to go
11758 down into the village, roused him.
11760 "Good!" said the sleeper, rising on his elbow. "Two leagues beyond
11761 the summit of the hill?"
11763 "About."
11765 "About. Good!"
11767 The mender of roads went home, with the dust going on before him
11768 according to the set of the wind, and was soon at the fountain, squeezing
11769 himself in among the lean kine brought there to drink, and appearing
11770 even to whisper to them in his whispering to all the village. When the
11771 village had taken its poor supper, it did not creep to bed, as it usually
11772 did, but came out of doors again, and remained there. A curious conta-
11773 gion of whispering was upon it, and also, when it gathered together at
11774 the fountain in the dark, another curious contagion of looking expect-
11775 antly at the sky in one direction only. Monsieur Gabelle, chief function-
11776 ary of the place, became uneasy; went out on his house-top alone, and
11777 looked in that direction too; glanced down from behind his chimneys at
11778 the darkening faces by the fountain below, and sent word to the sacristan
11779 who kept the keys of the church, that there might be need to ring the
11780 tocsin by-and-bye.
11782 The night deepened. The trees environing the old chateau, keeping its
11783 solitary state apart, moved in a rising wind, as though they threatened
11784 the pile of building massive and dark in the gloom. Up the two terrace
11785 flights of steps the rain ran wildly, and beat at the great door, like a swift
11786 messenger rousing those within; uneasy rushes of wind went through
11790 232
11794 the hall, among the old spears and knives, and passed lamenting up the
11795 stairs, and shook the curtains of the bed where the last Marquis had
11796 slept. East, West, North, and South, through the woods, four heavy-
11797 treading, unkempt figures crushed the high grass and cracked the
11798 branches, striding on cautiously to come together in the courtyard. Four
11799 lights broke out there, and moved away in different directions, and all
11800 was black again.
11802 But, not for long. Presently, the chateau began to make itself strangely
11803 visible by some light of its own, as though it were growing luminous.
11804 Then, a flickering streak played behind the architecture of the front, pick-
11805 ing out transparent places, and showing where balustrades, arches, and
11806 windows were. Then it soared higher, and grew broader and brighter.
11807 Soon, from a score of the great windows, flames burst forth, and the
11808 stone faces awakened, stared out of fire.
11810 A faint murmur arose about the house from the few people who were
11811 left there, and there was a saddling of a horse and riding away. There
11812 was spurring and splashing through the darkness, and bridle was drawn
11813 in the space by the village fountain, and the horse in a foam stood at
11814 Monsieur Gabelle's door. "Help, Gabelle! Help, every one!" The tocsin
11815 rang impatiently, but other help (if that were any) there was none. The
11816 mender of roads, and two hundred and fifty particular friends, stood
11817 with folded arms at the fountain, looking at the pillar of fire in the sky.
11818 "It must be forty feet high," said they, grimly; and never moved.
11820 The rider from the chateau, and the horse in a foam, clattered away
11821 through the village, and galloped up the stony steep, to the prison on the
11822 crag. At the gate, a group of officers were looking at the fire; removed
11823 from them, a group of soldiers. "Help, gentlemen - officers! The chateau
11824 is on fire; valuable objects may be saved from the flames by timely aid!
11825 Help, help!" The officers looked towards the soldiers who looked at the
11826 fire; gave no orders; and answered, with shrugs and biting of lips, "It
11827 must burn."
11829 As the rider rattled down the hill again and through the street, the vil-
11830 lage was illuminating. The mender of roads, and the two hundred and
11831 fifty particular friends, inspired as one man and woman by the idea of
11832 lighting up, had darted into their houses, and were putting candles in
11833 every dull little pane of glass. The general scarcity of everything, occa-
11834 sioned candles to be borrowed in a rather peremptory manner of Mon-
11835 sieur Gabelle; and in a moment of reluctance and hesitation on that func-
11836 tionary's part, the mender of roads, once so submissive to authority, had
11840 233
11844 remarked that carriages were good to make bonfires with, and that post-
11845 horses would roast.
11847 The chateau was left to itself to flame and burn. In the roaring and ra-
11848 ging of the conflagration, a red-hot wind, driving straight from the in-
11849 fernal regions, seemed to be blowing the edifice away. With the rising
11850 and falling of the blaze, the stone faces showed as if they were in tor-
11851 ment. When great masses of stone and timber fell, the face with the two
11852 dints in the nose became obscured: anon struggled out of the smoke
11853 again, as if it were the face of the cruel Marquis, burning at the stake and
11854 contending with the fire.
11856 The chateau burned; the nearest trees, laid hold of by the fire, scorched
11857 and shrivelled; trees at a distance, fired by the four fierce figures, begirt
11858 the blazing edifice with a new forest of smoke. Molten lead and iron
11859 boiled in the marble basin of the fountain; the water ran dry; the extin-
11860 guisher tops of the towers vanished like ice before the heat, and trickled
11861 down into four rugged wells of flame. Great rents and splits branched
11862 out in the solid walls, like crystallisation; stupefied birds wheeled about
11863 and dropped into the furnace; four fierce figures trudged away, East,
11864 West, North, and South, along the night- enshrouded roads, guided by
11865 the beacon they had lighted, towards their next destination. The illumin-
11866 ated village had seized hold of the tocsin, and, abolishing the lawful
11867 ringer, rang for joy.
11869 Not only that; but the village, light-headed with famine, fire, and bell-
11870 ringing, and bethinking itself that Monsieur Gabelle had to do with the
11871 collection of rent and taxes - though it was but a small instalment of
11872 taxes, and no rent at all, that Gabelle had got in those latter
11873 days - became impatient for an interview with him, and, surrounding
11874 his house, summoned him to come forth for personal conference.
11875 Whereupon, Monsieur Gabelle did heavily bar his door, and retire to
11876 hold counsel with himself. The result of that conference was, that Gabelle
11877 again withdrew himself to his housetop behind his stack of chimneys;
11878 this time resolved, if his door were broken in (he was a small Southern
11879 man of retaliative temperament), to pitch himself head foremost over the
11880 parapet, and crush a man or two below.
11882 Probably, Monsieur Gabelle passed a long night up there, with the dis-
11883 tant chateau for fire and candle, and the beating at his door, combined
11884 with the joy-ringing, for music; not to mention his having an ill-omened
11885 lamp slung across the road before his posting-house gate, which the vil-
11886 lage showed a lively inclination to displace in his favour. A trying
11890 234
11894 suspense, to be passing a whole summer night on the brink of the black
11895 ocean, ready to take that plunge into it upon which Monsieur Gabelle
11896 had resolved! But, the friendly dawn appearing at last, and the rush-
11897 candles of the village guttering out, the people happily dispersed, and
11898 Monsieur Gabelle came down bringing his life with him for that while.
11900 Within a hundred miles, and in the light of other fires, there were oth-
11901 er functionaries less fortunate, that night and other nights, whom the
11902 rising sun found hanging across once-peaceful streets, where they had
11903 been born and bred; also, there were other villagers and townspeople
11904 less fortunate than the mender of roads and his fellows, upon whom the
11905 functionaries and soldiery turned with success, and whom they strung
11906 up in their turn. But, the fierce figures were steadily wending East, West,
11907 North, and South, be that as it would; and whosoever hung, fire burned.
11908 The altitude of the gallows that would turn to water and quench it, no
11909 functionary, by any stretch of mathematics, was able to calculate
11910 successfully.
11914 235
11918 Chapter
11922 24
11926 Drawn to the Loadstone Rock
11928 In such risings of fire and risings of sea - the firm earth shaken by the
11929 rushes of an angry ocean which had now no ebb, but was always on the
11930 flow, higher and higher, to the terror and wonder of the beholders on the
11931 shore - three years of tempest were consumed. Three more birthdays of
11932 little Lucie had been woven by the golden thread into the peaceful tissue
11933 of the life of her home.
11935 Many a night and many a day had its inmates listened to the echoes in
11936 the corner, with hearts that failed them when they heard the thronging
11937 feet. For, the footsteps had become to their minds as the footsteps of a
11938 people, tumultuous under a red flag and with their country declared in
11939 danger, changed into wild beasts, by terrible enchantment long persisted
11940 in.
11942 Monseigneur, as a class, had dissociated himself from the phenomen-
11943 on of his not being appreciated: of his being so little wanted in France, as
11944 to incur considerable danger of receiving his dismissal from it, and this
11945 life together. Like the fabled rustic who raised the Devil with infinite
11946 pains, and was so terrified at the sight of him that he could ask the
11947 Enemy no question, but immediately fled; so, Monseigneur, after boldly
11948 reading the Lord's Prayer backwards for a great number of years, and
11949 performing many other potent spells for compelling the Evil One, no
11950 sooner beheld him in his terrors than he took to his noble heels.
11952 The shining Bull's Eye of the Court was gone, or it would have been
11953 the mark for a hurricane of national bullets. It had never been a good eye
11954 to see with - had long had the mote in it of Lucifer's pride, Sard-
11955 ana - palus's luxury, and a mole's blindness - but it had dropped out
11956 and was gone. The Court, from that exclusive inner circle to its outer-
11957 most rotten ring of intrigue, corruption, and dissimulation, was all gone
11958 together. Royalty was gone; had been besieged in its Palace and
11959 "suspended," when the last tidings came over.
11963 236
11967 The August of the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety-two
11968 was come, and Monseigneur was by this time scattered far and wide.
11970 As was natural, the head-quarters and great gathering-place of Mon-
11971 seigneur, in London, was Tellson's Bank. Spirits are supposed to haunt
11972 the places where their bodies most resorted, and Monseigneur without a
11973 guinea haunted the spot where his guineas used to be. Moreover, it was
11974 the spot to which such French intelligence as was most to be relied upon,
11975 came quickest. Again: Tellson's was a munificent house, and extended
11976 great liberality to old customers who had fallen from their high estate.
11977 Again: those nobles who had seen the coming storm in time, and anticip-
11978 ating plunder or confiscation, had made provident remittances to Tell-
11979 son's, were always to be heard of there by their needy brethren. To
11980 which it must be added that every new-comer from France reported
11981 himself and his tidings at Tellson's, almost as a matter of course. For
11982 such variety of reasons, Tellson's was at that time, as to French intelli-
11983 gence, a kind of High Exchange; and this was so well known to the pub-
11984 lic, and the inquiries made there were in consequence so numerous, that
11985 Tellson's sometimes wrote the latest news out in a line or so and posted
11986 it in the Bank windows, for all who ran through Temple Bar to read.
11988 On a steaming, misty afternoon, Mr. Lorry sat at his desk, and Charles
11989 Darnay stood leaning on it, talking with him in a low voice. The peniten-
11990 tial den once set apart for interviews with the House, was now the news-
11991 Exchange, and was filled to overflowing. It was within half an hour or so
11992 of the time of closing.
11994 "But, although you are the youngest man that ever lived," said Charles
11995 Darnay, rather hesitating, "I must still suggest to you - "
11997 "I understand. That I am too old?" said Mr. Lorry.
11999 "Unsettled weather, a long journey, uncertain means of travelling, a
12000 disorganised country, a city that may not be even safe for you."
12002 "My dear Charles," said Mr. Lorry, with cheerful confidence, "you
12003 touch some of the reasons for my going: not for my staying away. It is
12004 safe enough for me; nobody will care to interfere with an old fellow of
12005 hard upon fourscore when there are so many people there much better
12006 worth interfering with. As to its being a disorganised city, if it were not a
12007 disorganised city there would be no occasion to send somebody from
12008 our House here to our House there, who knows the city and the busi-
12009 ness, of old, and is in Tellson's confidence. As to the uncertain travelling,
12010 the long journey, and the winter weather, if I were not prepared to
12014 237
12018 submit myself to a few inconveniences for the sake of Tellson's, after all
12019 these years, who ought to be?"
12021 "I wish I were going myself," said Charles Darnay, somewhat rest-
12022 lessly, and like one thinking aloud.
12024 "Indeed! You are a pretty fellow to object and advise!" exclaimed Mr.
12025 Lorry. "You wish you were going yourself? And you a Frenchman born?
12026 You are a wise counsellor."
12028 "My dear Mr. Lorry, it is because I am a Frenchman born, that the
12029 thought (which I did not mean to utter here, however) has passed
12030 through my mind often. One cannot help thinking, having had some
12031 sympathy for the miserable people, and having abandoned something to
12032 them," he spoke here in his former thoughtful manner, "that one might
12033 be listened to, and might have the power to persuade to some restraint.
12034 Only last night, after you had left us, when I was talking to Lucie - "
12036 "When you were talking to Lucie," Mr. Lorry repeated. "Yes. I wonder
12037 you are not ashamed to mention the name of Lucie! Wishing you were
12038 going to France at this time of day!"
12040 "However, I am not going," said Charles Darnay, with a smile. "It is
12041 more to the purpose that you say you are."
12043 "And I am, in plain reality. The truth is, my dear Charles," Mr. Lorry
12044 glanced at the distant House, and lowered his voice, "you can have no
12045 conception of the difficulty with which our business is transacted, and of
12046 the peril in which our books and papers over yonder are involved. The
12047 Lord above knows what the compromising consequences would be to
12048 numbers of people, if some of our documents were seized or destroyed;
12049 and they might be, at any time, you know, for who can say that Paris is
12050 not set afire to-day, or sacked to-morrow! Now, a judicious selection
12051 from these with the least possible delay, and the burying of them, or oth-
12052 erwise getting of them out of harm's way, is within the power (without
12053 loss of precious time) of scarcely any one but myself, if any one. And
12054 shall I hang back, when Tellson's knows this and says this - Tellson's,
12055 whose bread I have eaten these sixty years - because I am a little stiff
12056 about the joints? Why, I am a boy, sir, to half a dozen old codgers here!"
12058 "How I admire the gallantry of your youthful spirit, Mr. Lorry."
12060 "Tut! Nonsense, sir! - And, my dear Charles," said Mr. Lorry, glancing
12061 at the House again, "you are to remember, that getting things out of Par-
12062 is at this present time, no matter what things, is next to an impossibility.
12063 Papers and precious matters were this very day brought to us here (I
12067 238
12071 speak in strict confidence; it is not business-like to whisper it, even to
12072 you), by the strangest bearers you can imagine, every one of whom had
12073 his head hanging on by a single hair as he passed the Barriers. At anoth-
12074 er time, our parcels would come and go, as easily as in business-like Old
12075 England; but now, everything is stopped."
12077 "And do you really go to-night?"
12079 "I really go to-night, for the case has become too pressing to admit of
12080 delay."
12082 "And do you take no one with you?"
12084 "All sorts of people have been proposed to me, but I will have nothing
12085 to say to any of them. I intend to take Jerry. Jerry has been my body-
12086 guard on Sunday nights for a long time past and I am used to him.
12087 Nobody will suspect Jerry of being anything but an English bull-dog, or
12088 of having any design in his head but to fly at anybody who touches his
12089 master."
12091 "I must say again that I heartily admire your gallantry and
12092 youthfulness."
12094 "I must say again, nonsense, nonsense! When I have executed this little
12095 commission, I shall, perhaps, accept Tellson's proposal to retire and live
12096 at my ease. Time enough, then, to think about growing old."
12098 This dialogue had taken place at Mr. Lorry's usual desk, with Monsei-
12099 gneur swarming within a yard or two of it, boastful of what he would do
12100 to avenge himself on the rascal-people before long. It was too much the
12101 way of Monseigneur under his reverses as a refugee, and it was much
12102 too much the way of native British orthodoxy, to talk of this terrible Re-
12103 volution as if it were the only harvest ever known under the skies that
12104 had not been sown - as if nothing had ever been done, or omitted to be
12105 done, that had led to it - as if observers of the wretched millions in
12106 France, and of the misused and perverted resources that should have
12107 made them prosperous, had not seen it inevitably coming, years before,
12108 and had not in plain words recorded what they saw. Such vapouring,
12109 combined with the extravagant plots of Monseigneur for the restoration
12110 of a state of things that had utterly exhausted itself, and worn out
12111 Heaven and earth as well as itself, was hard to be endured without some
12112 remonstrance by any sane man who knew the truth. And it was such va-
12113 pouring all about his ears, like a troublesome confusion of blood in his
12114 own head, added to a latent uneasiness in his mind, which had already
12115 made Charles Darnay restless, and which still kept him so.
12119 239
12123 Among the talkers, was Stryver, of the King's Bench Bar, far on his
12124 way to state promotion, and, therefore, loud on the theme: broaching to
12125 Monseigneur, his devices for blowing the people up and exterminating
12126 them from the face of the earth, and doing without them: and for accom-
12127 plishing many similar objects akin in their nature to the abolition of
12128 eagles by sprinkling salt on the tails of the race. Him, Darnay heard with
12129 a particular feeling of objection; and Darnay stood divided between go-
12130 ing away that he might hear no more, and remaining to interpose his
12131 word, when the thing that was to be, went on to shape itself out.
12133 The House approached Mr. Lorry, and laying a soiled and unopened
12134 letter before him, asked if he had yet discovered any traces of the person
12135 to whom it was addressed? The House laid the letter down so close to
12136 Darnay that he saw the direction - the more quickly because it was his
12137 own right name. The address, turned into English, ran:
12139 "Very pressing. To Monsieur heretofore the Marquis St. Evremonde, of
12140 France. Confided to the cares of Messrs. Tellson and Co., Bankers, Lon-
12141 don, England."
12143 On the marriage morning, Doctor Manette had made it his one urgent
12144 and express request to Charles Darnay, that the secret of this name
12145 should be - unless he, the Doctor, dissolved the obligation - kept inviol-
12146 ate between them. Nobody else knew it to be his name; his own wife had
12147 no suspicion of the fact; Mr. Lorry could have none.
12149 "No," said Mr. Lorry, in reply to the House; "I have referred it, I think,
12150 to everybody now here, and no one can tell me where this gentleman is
12151 to be found."
12153 The hands of the clock verging upon the hour of closing the Bank,
12154 there was a general set of the current of talkers past Mr. Lorry's desk. He
12155 held the letter out inquiringly; and Monseigneur looked at it, in the per-
12156 son of this plotting and indignant refugee; and Monseigneur looked at it
12157 in the person of that plotting and indignant refugee; and This, That, and
12158 The Other, all had something disparaging to say, in French or in English,
12159 concerning the Marquis who was not to be found.
12161 "Nephew, I believe - but in any case degenerate successor - of the pol-
12162 ished Marquis who was murdered," said one. "Happy to say, I never
12163 knew him."
12165 "A craven who abandoned his post," said another - this Monseigneur
12166 had been got out of Paris, legs uppermost and half suffocated, in a load
12167 of hay - "some years ago."
12171 240
12175 "Infected with the new doctrines/' said a third, eyeing the direction
12176 through his glass in passing; "set himself in opposition to the last Mar-
12177 quis, abandoned the estates when he inherited them, and left them to the
12178 ruffian herd. They will recompense him now, I hope, as he deserves."
12180 "Hey?" cried the blatant Stryver. "Did he though? Is that the sort of
12181 fellow? Let us look at his infamous name. D - n the fellow!"
12183 Darnay, unable to restrain himself any longer, touched Mr. Stryver on
12184 the shoulder, and said:
12186 "I know the fellow."
12188 "Do you, by Jupiter?" said Stryver. "I am sorry for it."
12190 "Why?"
12192 "Why, Mr. Darnay? D'ye hear what he did? Don't ask, why, in these
12193 times."
12195 "But I do ask why?"
12197 "Then I tell you again, Mr. Darnay, I am sorry for it. I am sorry to hear
12198 you putting any such extraordinary questions. Here is a fellow, who, in-
12199 fected by the most pestilent and blasphemous code of devilry that ever
12200 was known, abandoned his property to the vilest scum of the earth that
12201 ever did murder by wholesale, and you ask me why I am sorry that a
12202 man who instructs youth knows him? Well, but I'll answer you. I am
12203 sorry because I believe there is contamination in such a scoundrel. That's
12204 why."
12206 Mindful of the secret, Darnay with great difficulty checked himself,
12207 and said: "You may not understand the gentleman."
12209 "I understand how to put you in a corner, Mr. Darnay," said Bully
12210 Stryver, "and I'll do it. If this fellow is a gentleman, I don't understand
12211 him. You may tell him so, with my compliments. You may also tell him,
12212 from me, that after abandoning his worldly goods and position to this
12213 butcherly mob, I wonder he is not at the head of them. But, no, gentle-
12214 men," said Stryver, looking all round, and snapping his fingers, "I know
12215 something of human nature, and I tell you that you'll never find a fellow
12216 like this fellow, trusting himself to the mercies of such precious proteges.
12217 No, gentlemen; he'll always show 'em a clean pair of heels very early in
12218 the scuffle, and sneak away."
12220 With those words, and a final snap of his fingers, Mr. Stryver
12221 shouldered himself into Fleet-street, amidst the general approbation of
12222 his hearers. Mr. Lorry and Charles Darnay were left alone at the desk, in
12223 the general departure from the Bank.
12227 241
12231 "Will you take charge of the letter?" said Mr. Lorry. "You know where
12232 to deliver it?"
12234 "I do."
12236 "Will you undertake to explain, that we suppose it to have been ad-
12237 dressed here, on the chance of our knowing where to forward it, and that
12238 it has been here some time?"
12240 "I will do so. Do you start for Paris from here?"
12242 "From here, at eight."
12244 "I will come back, to see you off."
12246 Very ill at ease with himself, and with Stryver and most other men,
12247 Darnay made the best of his way into the quiet of the Temple, opened
12248 the letter, and read it. These were its contents:
12250 "Prison of the Abbaye, Paris.
12252 "June 21, 1792. "Monsieur Heretofore the Marquis.
12254 "After having long been in danger of my life at the hands of the vil-
12255 lage, I have been seized, with great violence and indignity, and brought
12256 a long journey on foot to Paris. On the road I have suffered a great deal.
12257 Nor is that all; my house has been destroyed - razed to the ground.
12259 "The crime for which I am imprisoned, Monsieur heretofore the Mar-
12260 quis, and for which I shall be summoned before the tribunal, and shall
12261 lose my life (without your so generous help), is, they tell me, treason
12262 against the majesty of the people, in that I have acted against them for an
12263 emigrant. It is in vain I represent that I have acted for them, and not
12264 against, according to your commands. It is in vain I represent that, before
12265 the sequestration of emigrant property, I had remitted the imposts they
12266 had ceased to pay; that I had collected no rent; that I had had recourse to
12267 no process. The only response is, that I have acted for an emigrant, and
12268 where is that emigrant?
12270 "Ah! most gracious Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, where is that
12271 emigrant? I cry in my sleep where is he? I demand of Heaven, will he not
12272 come to deliver me? No answer. Ah Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, I
12273 send my desolate cry across the sea, hoping it may perhaps reach your
12274 ears through the great bank of Tilson known at Paris!
12276 "For the love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the honour of your
12277 noble name, I supplicate you, Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, to suc-
12278 cour and release me. My fault is, that I have been true to you. Oh Mon-
12279 sieur heretofore the Marquis, I pray you be you true to me!
12283 242
12287 "From this prison here of horror, whence I every hour tend nearer and
12288 nearer to destruction, I send you, Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, the
12289 assurance of my dolorous and unhappy service.
12291 "Your afflicted,
12293 "Gabelle."
12295 The latent uneasiness in Darnay's mind was roused to vigourous life
12296 by this letter. The peril of an old servant and a good one, whose only
12297 crime was fidelity to himself and his family, stared him so reproachfully
12298 in the face, that, as he walked to and fro in the Temple considering what
12299 to do, he almost hid his face from the passersby.
12301 He knew very well, that in his horror of the deed which had culmin-
12302 ated the bad deeds and bad reputation of the old family house, in his re-
12303 sentful suspicions of his uncle, and in the aversion with which his con-
12304 science regarded the crumbling fabric that he was supposed to uphold,
12305 he had acted imperfectly. He knew very well, that in his love for Lucie,
12306 his renunciation of his social place, though by no means new to his own
12307 mind, had been hurried and incomplete. He knew that he ought to have
12308 systematically worked it out and supervised it, and that he had meant to
12309 do it, and that it had never been done.
12311 The happiness of his own chosen English home, the necessity of being
12312 always actively employed, the swift changes and troubles of the time
12313 which had followed on one another so fast, that the events of this week
12314 annihilated the immature plans of last week, and the events of the week
12315 following made all new again; he knew very well, that to the force of
12316 these circumstances he had yielded: - not without disquiet, but still
12317 without continuous and accumulating resistance. That he had watched
12318 the times for a time of action, and that they had shifted and struggled
12319 until the time had gone by, and the nobility were trooping from France
12320 by every highway and byway, and their property was in course of con-
12321 fiscation and destruction, and their very names were blotting out, was as
12322 well known to himself as it could be to any new authority in France that
12323 might impeach him for it.
12325 But, he had oppressed no man, he had imprisoned no man; he was so
12326 far from having harshly exacted payment of his dues, that he had relin-
12327 quished them of his own will, thrown himself on a world with no favour
12328 in it, won his own private place there, and earned his own bread. Mon-
12329 sieur Gabelle had held the impoverished and involved estate on written
12330 instructions, to spare the people, to give them what little there was to
12331 give - such fuel as the heavy creditors would let them have in the winter,
12335 243
12339 and such produce as could be saved from the same grip in the sum-
12340 mer - and no doubt he had put the fact in plea and proof, for his own
12341 safety, so that it could not but appear now.
12343 This favoured the desperate resolution Charles Darnay had begun to
12344 make, that he would go to Paris.
12346 Yes. Like the mariner in the old story, the winds and streams had driv-
12347 en him within the influence of the Loadstone Rock, and it was drawing
12348 him to itself, and he must go. Everything that arose before his mind drif-
12349 ted him on, faster and faster, more and more steadily, to the terrible at-
12350 traction. His latent uneasiness had been, that bad aims were being
12351 worked out in his own unhappy land by bad instruments, and that he
12352 who could not fail to know that he was better than they, was not there,
12353 trying to do something to stay bloodshed, and assert the claims of mercy
12354 and humanity. With this uneasiness half stifled, and half reproaching
12355 him, he had been brought to the pointed comparison of himself with the
12356 brave old gentleman in whom duty was so strong; upon that comparison
12357 (injurious to himself) had instantly followed the sneers of Monseigneur,
12358 which had stung him bitterly, and those of Stryver, which above all were
12359 coarse and galling, for old reasons. Upon those, had followed Gabelle's
12360 letter: the appeal of an innocent prisoner, in danger of death, to his
12361 justice, honour, and good name.
12363 His resolution was made. He must go to Paris.
12365 Yes. The Loadstone Rock was drawing him, and he must sail on, until
12366 he struck. He knew of no rock; he saw hardly any danger. The intention
12367 with which he had done what he had done, even although he had left it
12368 incomplete, presented it before him in an aspect that would be gratefully
12369 acknowledged in France on his presenting himself to assert it. Then, that
12370 glorious vision of doing good, which is so often the sanguine mirage of
12371 so many good minds, arose before him, and he even saw himself in the
12372 illusion with some influence to guide this raging Revolution that was
12373 running so fearfully wild.
12375 As he walked to and fro with his resolution made, he considered that
12376 neither Lucie nor her father must know of it until he was gone. Lucie
12377 should be spared the pain of separation; and her father, always reluctant
12378 to turn his thoughts towards the dangerous ground of old, should come
12379 to the knowledge of the step, as a step taken, and not in the balance of
12380 suspense and doubt. How much of the incompleteness of his situation
12381 was referable to her father, through the painful anxiety to avoid reviving
12385 244
12389 old associations of France in his mind, he did not discuss with himself.
12390 But, that circumstance too, had had its influence in his course.
12392 He walked to and fro, with thoughts very busy, until it was time to re-
12393 turn to Tellson's and take leave of Mr. Lorry. As soon as he arrived in
12394 Paris he would present himself to this old friend, but he must say noth-
12395 ing of his intention now.
12397 A carriage with post-horses was ready at the Bank door, and Jerry was
12398 booted and equipped.
12400 "I have delivered that letter," said Charles Darnay to Mr. Lorry. "I
12401 would not consent to your being charged with any written answer, but
12402 perhaps you will take a verbal one?"
12404 "That I will, and readily," said Mr. Lorry, "if it is not dangerous."
12406 "Not at all. Though it is to a prisoner in the Abbaye."
12408 "What is his name?" said Mr. Lorry, with his open pocket-book in his
12409 hand.
12411 "Gabelle."
12413 "Gabelle. And what is the message to the unfortunate Gabelle in
12414 prison?"
12416 "Simply, 'that he has received the letter, and will come.'"
12418 "Any time mentioned?"
12420 "He will start upon his journey to-morrow night."
12422 "Any person mentioned?"
12424 "No."
12426 He helped Mr. Lorry to wrap himself in a number of coats and cloaks,
12427 and went out with him from the warm atmosphere of the old Bank, into
12428 the misty air of Fleet-street. "My love to Lucie, and to little Lucie," said
12429 Mr. Lorry at parting, "and take precious care of them till I come back."
12430 Charles Darnay shook his head and doubtfully smiled, as the carriage
12431 rolled away.
12433 That night - it was the fourteenth of August - he sat up late, and wrote
12434 two fervent letters; one was to Lucie, explaining the strong obligation he
12435 was under to go to Paris, and showing her, at length, the reasons that he
12436 had, for feeling confident that he could become involved in no personal
12437 danger there; the other was to the Doctor, confiding Lucie and their dear
12438 child to his care, and dwelling on the same topics with the strongest as-
12439 surances. To both, he wrote that he would despatch letters in proof of his
12440 safety, immediately after his arrival.
12444 245
12448 It was a hard day, that day of being among them, with the first reser-
12449 vation of their joint lives on his mind. It was a hard matter to preserve
12450 the innocent deceit of which they were profoundly unsuspicious. But, an
12451 affectionate glance at his wife, so happy and busy, made him resolute
12452 not to tell her what impended (he had been half moved to do it, so
12453 strange it was to him to act in anything without her quiet aid), and the
12454 day passed quickly. Early in the evening he embraced her, and her
12455 scarcely less dear namesake, pretending that he would return by-and-
12456 bye (an imaginary engagement took him out, and he had secreted a
12457 valise of clothes ready), and so he emerged into the heavy mist of the
12458 heavy streets, with a heavier heart.
12460 The unseen force was drawing him fast to itself, now, and all the tides
12461 and winds were setting straight and strong towards it. He left his two
12462 letters with a trusty porter, to be delivered half an hour before midnight,
12463 and no sooner; took horse for Dover; and began his journey. "For the
12464 love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the honour of your noble
12465 name!" was the poor prisoner's cry with which he strengthened his sink-
12466 ing heart, as he left all that was dear on earth behind him, and floated
12467 away for the Loadstone Rock.
12471 246
12475 Part 3
12476 The Track of a Storm
12480 24:7
12484 Chapter
12488 1
12492 In Secret
12494 The traveller fared slowly on his way, who fared towards Paris from
12495 England in the autumn of the year one thousand seven hundred and
12496 ninety-two. More than enough of bad roads, bad equipages, and bad
12497 horses, he would have encountered to delay him, though the fallen and
12498 unfortunate King of France had been upon his throne in all his glory;
12499 but, the changed times were fraught with other obstacles than these.
12500 Every town-gate and village taxing-house had its band of citizen-patri-
12501 ots, with their national muskets in a most explosive state of readiness,
12502 who stopped all comers and goers, cross-questioned them, inspected
12503 their papers, looked for their names in lists of their own, turned them
12504 back, or sent them on, or stopped them and laid them in hold, as their ca-
12505 pricious judgment or fancy deemed best for the dawning Republic One
12506 and Indivisible, of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death.
12508 A very few French leagues of his journey were accomplished, when
12509 Charles Darnay began to perceive that for him along these country roads
12510 there was no hope of return until he should have been declared a good
12511 citizen at Paris. Whatever might befall now, he must on to his journey's
12512 end. Not a mean village closed upon him, not a common barrier dropped
12513 across the road behind him, but he knew it to be another iron door in the
12514 series that was barred between him and England. The universal watch-
12515 fulness so encompassed him, that if he had been taken in a net, or were
12516 being forwarded to his destination in a cage, he could not have felt his
12517 freedom more completely gone.
12519 This universal watchfulness not only stopped him on the highway
12520 twenty times in a stage, but retarded his progress twenty times in a day,
12521 by riding after him and taking him back, riding before him and stopping
12522 him by anticipation, riding with him and keeping him in charge. He had
12523 been days upon his journey in France alone, when he went to bed tired
12524 out, in a little town on the high road, still a long way from Paris.
12528 248
12532 Nothing but the production of the afflicted Gabelle's letter from his
12533 prison of the Abbaye would have got him on so far. His difficulty at the
12534 guard-house in this small place had been such, that he felt his journey to
12535 have come to a crisis. And he was, therefore, as little surprised as a man
12536 could be, to find himself awakened at the small inn to which he had been
12537 remitted until morning, in the middle of the night.
12539 Awakened by a timid local functionary and three armed patriots in
12540 rough red caps and with pipes in their mouths, who sat down on the
12541 bed.
12543 "Emigrant," said the functionary, "I am going to send you on to Paris,
12544 under an escort."
12546 "Citizen, I desire nothing more than to get to Paris, though I could dis-
12547 pense with the escort."
12549 "Silence!" growled a red-cap, striking at the coverlet with the butt-end
12550 of his musket. "Peace, aristocrat!"
12552 "It is as the good patriot says," observed the timid functionary. "You
12553 are an aristocrat, and must have an escort - and must pay for it."
12555 "I have no choice," said Charles Darnay.
12557 "Choice! Listen to him!" cried the same scowling red-cap. "As if it was
12558 not a favour to be protected from the lamp-iron!"
12560 "It is always as the good patriot says," observed the functionary. "Rise
12561 and dress yourself, emigrant."
12563 Darnay complied, and was taken back to the guard-house, where other
12564 patriots in rough red caps were smoking, drinking, and sleeping, by a
12565 watch-fire. Here he paid a heavy price for his escort, and hence he star-
12566 ted with it on the wet, wet roads at three o'clock in the morning.
12568 The escort were two mounted patriots in red caps and tri-coloured
12569 cockades, armed with national muskets and sabres, who rode one on
12570 either side of him.
12572 The escorted governed his own horse, but a loose line was attached to
12573 his bridle, the end of which one of the patriots kept girded round his
12574 wrist. In this state they set forth with the sharp rain driving in their faces:
12575 clattering at a heavy dragoon trot over the uneven town pavement, and
12576 out upon the mire-deep roads. In this state they traversed without
12577 change, except of horses and pace, all the mire-deep leagues that lay
12578 between them and the capital.
12582 249
12586 They travelled in the night, halting an hour or two after daybreak, and
12587 lying by until the twilight fell. The escort were so wretchedly clothed,
12588 that they twisted straw round their bare legs, and thatched their ragged
12589 shoulders to keep the wet off. Apart from the personal discomfort of be-
12590 ing so attended, and apart from such considerations of present danger as
12591 arose from one of the patriots being chronically drunk, and carrying his
12592 musket very recklessly, Charles Darnay did not allow the restraint that
12593 was laid upon him to awaken any serious fears in his breast; for, he
12594 reasoned with himself that it could have no reference to the merits of an
12595 individual case that was not yet stated, and of representations, confirm-
12596 able by the prisoner in the Abbaye, that were not yet made.
12598 But when they came to the town of Beauvais - which they did at even-
12599 tide, when the streets were filled with people - he could not conceal from
12600 himself that the aspect of affairs was very alarming. An ominous crowd
12601 gathered to see him dismount of the posting-yard, and many voices
12602 called out loudly, "Down with the emigrant!"
12604 He stopped in the act of swinging himself out of his saddle, and, re-
12605 suming it as his safest place, said:
12607 "Emigrant, my friends! Do you not see me here, in France, of my own
12608 will?"
12610 "You are a cursed emigrant," cried a farrier, making at him in a furious
12611 manner through the press, hammer in hand; "and you are a cursed
12612 aristocrat!"
12614 The postmaster interposed himself between this man and the rider's
12615 bridle (at which he was evidently making), and soothingly said, "Let him
12616 be; let him be! He will be judged at Paris."
12618 "Judged!" repeated the farrier, swinging his hammer. "Ay! and con-
12619 demned as a traitor." At this the crowd roared approval.
12621 Checking the postmaster, who was for turning his horse's head to the
12622 yard (the drunken patriot sat composedly in his saddle looking on, with
12623 the line round his wrist), Darnay said, as soon as he could make his voice
12624 heard:
12626 "Friends, you deceive yourselves, or you are deceived. I am not a
12627 traitor."
12629 "He lies!" cried the smith. "He is a traitor since the decree. His life is
12630 forfeit to the people. His cursed life is not his own!"
12632 At the instant when Darnay saw a rush in the eyes of the crowd, which
12633 another instant would have brought upon him, the postmaster turned
12637 250
12641 his horse into the yard, the escort rode in close upon his horse's flanks,
12642 and the postmaster shut and barred the crazy double gates. The farrier
12643 struck a blow upon them with his hammer, and the crowd groaned; but,
12644 no more was done.
12646 "What is this decree that the smith spoke of?" Darnay asked the post-
12647 master, when he had thanked him, and stood beside him in the yard.
12649 "Truly, a decree for selling the property of emigrants."
12651 "When passed?"
12653 "On the fourteenth."
12655 "The day I left England!"
12657 "Everybody says it is but one of several, and that there will be oth-
12658 ers - if there are not already-banishing all emigrants, and condemning all
12659 to death who return. That is what he meant when he said your life was
12660 not your own."
12662 "But there are no such decrees yet?"
12664 "What do I know!" said the postmaster, shrugging his shoulders; "there
12665 may be, or there will be. It is all the same. What would you have?"
12667 They rested on some straw in a loft until the middle of the night, and
12668 then rode forward again when all the town was asleep. Among the many
12669 wild changes observable on familiar things which made this wild ride
12670 unreal, not the least was the seeming rarity of sleep. After long and
12671 lonely spurring over dreary roads, they would come to a cluster of poor
12672 cottages, not steeped in darkness, but all glittering with lights, and
12673 would find the people, in a ghostly manner in the dead of the night, circ-
12674 ling hand in hand round a shrivelled tree of Liberty, or all drawn up to-
12675 gether singing a Liberty song. Happily, however, there was sleep in
12676 Beauvais that night to help them out of it and they passed on once more
12677 into solitude and loneliness: jingling through the untimely cold and wet,
12678 among impoverished fields that had yielded no fruits of the earth that
12679 year, diversified by the blackened remains of burnt houses, and by the
12680 sudden emergence from ambuscade, and sharp reining up across their
12681 way, of patriot patrols on the watch on all the roads.
12683 Daylight at last found them before the wall of Paris. The barrier was
12684 closed and strongly guarded when they rode up to it.
12686 "Where are the papers of this prisoner?" demanded a resolute-looking
12687 man in authority, who was summoned out by the guard.
12691 251
12695 Naturally struck by the disagreeable word, Charles Darnay requested
12696 the speaker to take notice that he was a free traveller and French citizen,
12697 in charge of an escort which the disturbed state of the country had im-
12698 posed upon him, and which he had paid for.
12700 "Where," repeated the same personage, without taking any heed of
12701 him whatever, "are the papers of this prisoner?"
12703 The drunken patriot had them in his cap, and produced them. Casting
12704 his eyes over Gabelle's letter, the same personage in authority showed
12705 some disorder and surprise, and looked at Darnay with a close attention.
12707 He left escort and escorted without saying a word, however, and went
12708 into the guard-room; meanwhile, they sat upon their horses outside the
12709 gate. Looking about him while in this state of suspense, Charles Darnay
12710 observed that the gate was held by a mixed guard of soldiers and patri-
12711 ots, the latter far outnumbering the former; and that while ingress into
12712 the city for peasants' carts bringing in supplies, and for similar traffic
12713 and traffickers, was easy enough, egress, even for the homeliest people,
12714 was very difficult. A numerous medley of men and women, not to men-
12715 tion beasts and vehicles of various sorts, was waiting to issue forth; but,
12716 the previous identification was so strict, that they filtered through the
12717 barrier very slowly. Some of these people knew their turn for examina-
12718 tion to be so far off, that they lay down on the ground to sleep or smoke,
12719 while others talked together, or loitered about. The red cap and tri-colour
12720 cockade were universal, both among men and women.
12722 When he had sat in his saddle some half-hour, taking note of these
12723 things, Darnay found himself confronted by the same man in authority,
12724 who directed the guard to open the barrier. Then he delivered to the es-
12725 cort, drunk and sober, a receipt for the escorted, and requested him to
12726 dismount. He did so, and the two patriots, leading his tired horse, turned
12727 and rode away without entering the city.
12729 He accompanied his conductor into a guard-room, smelling of com-
12730 mon wine and tobacco, where certain soldiers and patriots, asleep and
12731 awake, drunk and sober, and in various neutral states between sleeping
12732 and waking, drunkenness and sobriety, were standing and lying about.
12733 The light in the guard-house, half derived from the waning oil-lamps of
12734 the night, and half from the overcast day, was in a correspondingly un-
12735 certain condition. Some registers were lying open on a desk, and an of-
12736 ficer of a coarse, dark aspect, presided over these.
12738 "Citizen Defarge," said he to Darnay's conductor, as he took a slip of
12739 paper to write on. "Is this the emigrant Evremonde?"
12743 252
12747 "This is the man."
12749 "Your age, Evremonde?"
12751 "Thirty-seven."
12753 "Married, Evremonde?"
12755 "Yes."
12757 "Where married?"
12759 "In England."
12761 "Without doubt. Where is your wife, Evremonde?"
12763 "In England."
12765 "Without doubt. You are consigned, Evremonde, to the prison of La
12766 Force."
12768 "Just Heaven!" exclaimed Darnay. "Under what law, and for what
12769 offence?"
12771 The officer looked up from his slip of paper for a moment.
12773 "We have new laws, Evremonde, and new offences, since you were
12774 here." He said it with a hard smile, and went on writing.
12776 "I entreat you to observe that I have come here voluntarily, in response
12777 to that written appeal of a fellow-countryman which lies before you. I
12778 demand no more than the opportunity to do so without delay. Is not that
12779 my right?"
12781 "Emigrants have no rights, Evremonde," was the stolid reply. The of-
12782 ficer wrote until he had finished, read over to himself what he had writ-
12783 ten, sanded it, and handed it to Defarge, with the words "In secret."
12785 Defarge motioned with the paper to the prisoner that he must accom-
12786 pany him. The prisoner obeyed, and a guard of two armed patriots atten-
12787 ded them.
12789 "Is it you," said Defarge, in a low voice, as they went down the guard-
12790 house steps and turned into Paris, "who married the daughter of Doctor
12791 Manette, once a prisoner in the Bastille that is no more?"
12793 "Yes," replied Darnay, looking at him with surprise.
12795 "My name is Defarge, and I keep a wine-shop in the Quarter Saint An-
12796 toine. Possibly you have heard of me."
12798 "My wife came to your house to reclaim her father? Yes!"
12802 253
12806 The word "wife" seemed to serve as a gloomy reminder to Defarge, to
12807 say with sudden impatience, "In the name of that sharp female newly-
12808 born, and called La Guillotine, why did you come to France?"
12810 "You heard me say why, a minute ago. Do you not believe it is the
12811 truth?"
12813 "A bad truth for you," said Defarge, speaking with knitted brows, and
12814 looking straight before him.
12816 "Indeed I am lost here. All here is so unprecedented, so changed, so
12817 sudden and unfair, that I am absolutely lost. Will you render me a little
12818 help?"
12820 "None." Defarge spoke, always looking straight before him.
12822 "Will you answer me a single question?"
12824 "Perhaps. According to its nature. You can say what it is."
12826 "In this prison that I am going to so unjustly, shall I have some free
12827 communication with the world outside?"
12829 "You will see."
12831 "I am not to be buried there, prejudged, and without any means of
12832 presenting my case?"
12834 "You will see. But, what then? Other people have been similarly buried
12835 in worse prisons, before now."
12837 "But never by me, Citizen Defarge."
12839 Defarge glanced darkly at him for answer, and walked on in a steady
12840 and set silence. The deeper he sank into this silence, the fainter hope
12841 there was - or so Darnay thought - of his softening in any slight degree.
12842 He, therefore, made haste to say:
12844 "It is of the utmost importance to me (you know, Citizen, even better
12845 than I, of how much importance), that I should be able to communicate
12846 to Mr. Lorry of Tellson's Bank, an English gentleman who is now in Par-
12847 is, the simple fact, without comment, that I have been thrown into the
12848 prison of La Force. Will you cause that to be done for me?"
12850 "I will do," Defarge doggedly rejoined, "nothing for you. My duty is to
12851 my country and the People. I am the sworn servant of both, against you.
12852 I will do nothing for you."
12854 Charles Darnay felt it hopeless to entreat him further, and his pride
12855 was touched besides. As they walked on in silence, he could not but see
12856 how used the people were to the spectacle of prisoners passing along the
12857 streets. The very children scarcely noticed him. A few passers turned
12861 254
12865 their heads, and a few shook their fingers at him as an aristocrat; other-
12866 wise, that a man in good clothes should be going to prison, was no more
12867 remarkable than that a labourer in working clothes should be going to
12868 work. In one narrow, dark, and dirty street through which they passed,
12869 an excited orator, mounted on a stool, was addressing an excited audi-
12870 ence on the crimes against the people, of the king and the royal family.
12871 The few words that he caught from this man's lips, first made it known
12872 to Charles Darnay that the king was in prison, and that the foreign am-
12873 bassadors had one and all left Paris. On the road (except at Beauvais) he
12874 had heard absolutely nothing. The escort and the universal watchfulness
12875 had completely isolated him.
12877 That he had fallen among far greater dangers than those which had
12878 developed themselves when he left England, he of course knew now.
12879 That perils had thickened about him fast, and might thicken faster and
12880 faster yet, he of course knew now. He could not but admit to himself that
12881 he might not have made this journey, if he could have foreseen the
12882 events of a few days. And yet his misgivings were not so dark as, ima-
12883 gined by the light of this later time, they would appear. Troubled as the
12884 future was, it was the unknown future, and in its obscurity there was ig-
12885 norant hope. The horrible massacre, days and nights long, which, within
12886 a few rounds of the clock, was to set a great mark of blood upon the
12887 blessed garnering time of harvest, was as far out of his knowledge as if it
12888 had been a hundred thousand years away. The "sharp female newly-
12889 born, and called La Guillotine," was hardly known to him, or to the gen-
12890 erality of people, by name. The frightful deeds that were to be soon done,
12891 were probably unimagined at that time in the brains of the doers. How
12892 could they have a place in the shadowy conceptions of a gentle mind?
12894 Of unjust treatment in detention and hardship, and in cruel separation
12895 from his wife and child, he foreshadowed the likelihood, or the certainty;
12896 but, beyond this, he dreaded nothing distinctly. With this on his mind,
12897 which was enough to carry into a dreary prison courtyard, he arrived at
12898 the prison of La Force.
12900 A man with a bloated face opened the strong wicket, to whom Defarge
12901 presented "The Emigrant Evremonde."
12903 "What the Devil! How many more of them!" exclaimed the man with
12904 the bloated face.
12906 Defarge took his receipt without noticing the exclamation, and with-
12907 drew, with his two fellow-patriots.
12911 255
12915 "What the Devil, I say again!" exclaimed the gaoler, left with his wife.
12916 "How many more!"
12918 The gaoler's wife, being provided with no answer to the question,
12919 merely replied, "One must have patience, my dear!" Three turnkeys who
12920 entered responsive to a bell she rang, echoed the sentiment, and one ad-
12921 ded, "For the love of Liberty;" which sounded in that place like an inap-
12922 propriate conclusion.
12924 The prison of La Force was a gloomy prison, dark and filthy, and with
12925 a horrible smell of foul sleep in it. Extraordinary how soon the noisome
12926 flavour of imprisoned sleep, becomes manifest in all such places that are
12927 ill cared for!
12929 "In secret, too," grumbled the gaoler, looking at the written paper. "As
12930 if I was not already full to bursting!"
12932 He stuck the paper on a file, in an ill-humour, and Charles Darnay
12933 awaited his further pleasure for half an hour: sometimes, pacing to and
12934 fro in the strong arched room: sometimes, resting on a stone seat: in
12935 either case detained to be imprinted on the memory of the chief and his
12936 subordinates.
12938 "Come!" said the chief, at length taking up his keys, "come with me,
12939 emigrant."
12941 Through the dismal prison twilight, his new charge accompanied him
12942 by corridor and staircase, many doors clanging and locking behind them,
12943 until they came into a large, low, vaulted chamber, crowded with prison-
12944 ers of both sexes. The women were seated at a long table, reading and
12945 writing, knitting, sewing, and embroidering; the men were for the most
12946 part standing behind their chairs, or lingering up and down the room.
12948 In the instinctive association of prisoners with shameful crime and dis-
12949 grace, the new-comer recoiled from this company. But the crowning un-
12950 reality of his long unreal ride, was, their all at once rising to receive him,
12951 with every refinement of manner known to the time, and with all the en-
12952 gaging graces and courtesies of life.
12954 So strangely clouded were these refinements by the prison manners
12955 and gloom, so spectral did they become in the inappropriate squalor and
12956 misery through which they were seen, that Charles Darnay seemed to
12957 stand in a company of the dead. Ghosts all! The ghost of beauty, the
12958 ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of
12959 frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting
12963 256
12967 their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes that were
12968 changed by the death they had died in coming there.
12970 It struck him motionless. The gaoler standing at his side, and the other
12971 gaolers moving about, who would have been well enough as to appear-
12972 ance in the ordinary exercise of their functions, looked so extravagantly
12973 coarse contrasted with sorrowing mothers and blooming daughters who
12974 were there - with the apparitions of the coquette, the young beauty, and
12975 the mature woman delicately bred - that the inversion of all experience
12976 and likelihood which the scene of shadows presented, was heightened to
12977 its utmost. Surely, ghosts all. Surely, the long unreal ride some progress
12978 of disease that had brought him to these gloomy shades!
12980 "In the name of the assembled companions in misfortune," said a gen-
12981 tleman of courtly appearance and address, coming forward, "I have the
12982 honour of giving you welcome to La Force, and of condoling with you
12983 on the calamity that has brought you among us. May it soon terminate
12984 happily! It would be an impertinence elsewhere, but it is not so here, to
12985 ask your name and condition?"
12987 Charles Darnay roused himself, and gave the required information, in
12988 words as suitable as he could find.
12990 "But I hope," said the gentleman, following the chief gaoler with his
12991 eyes, who moved across the room, "that you are not in secret?"
12993 "I do not understand the meaning of the term, but I have heard them
12994 say so."
12996 "Ah, what a pity! We so much regret it! But take courage; several
12997 members of our society have been in secret, at first, and it has lasted but
12998 a short time." Then he added, raising his voice, "I grieve to inform the so-
12999 ciety - in secret."
13001 There was a murmur of commiseration as Charles Darnay crossed the
13002 room to a grated door where the gaoler awaited him, and many
13003 voices - among which, the soft and compassionate voices of women
13004 were conspicuous - gave him good wishes and encouragement. He
13005 turned at the grated door, to render the thanks of his heart; it closed un-
13006 der the gaoler's hand; and the apparitions vanished from his sight
13007 forever.
13009 The wicket opened on a stone staircase, leading upward. When they
13010 bad ascended forty steps (the prisoner of half an hour already counted
13011 them), the gaoler opened a low black door, and they passed into a solit-
13012 ary cell. It struck cold and damp, but was not dark.
13016 257
13020 "Yours," said the gaoler.
13022 "Why am I confined alone?"
13024 "How do I know!"
13026 "I can buy pen, ink, and paper?"
13028 "Such are not my orders. You will be visited, and can ask then. At
13029 present, you may buy your food, and nothing more."
13031 There were in the cell, a chair, a table, and a straw mattress. As the
13032 gaoler made a general inspection of these objects, and of the four walls,
13033 before going out, a wandering fancy wandered through the mind of the
13034 prisoner leaning against the wall opposite to him, that this gaoler was so
13035 unwholesomely bloated, both in face and person, as to look like a man
13036 who had been drowned and filled with water. When the gaoler was
13037 gone, he thought in the same wandering way, "Now am I left, as if I were
13038 dead." Stopping then, to look down at the mattress, he turned from it
13039 with a sick feeling, and thought, "And here in these crawling creatures is
13040 the first condition of the body after death."
13042 "Five paces by four and a half, five paces by four and a half, five paces
13043 by four and a half." The prisoner walked to and fro in his cell, counting
13044 its measurement, and the roar of the city arose like muffled drums with a
13045 wild swell of voices added to them. "He made shoes, he made shoes, he
13046 made shoes." The prisoner counted the measurement again, and paced
13047 faster, to draw his mind with him from that latter repetition. "The ghosts
13048 that vanished when the wicket closed. There was one among them, the
13049 appearance of a lady dressed in black, who was leaning in the embrasure
13050 of a window, and she had a light shining upon her golden hair, and she
13051 looked like * * * * Let us ride on again, for God's sake, through the illu-
13052 minated villages with the people all awake! * * * * He made shoes, he
13053 made shoes, he made shoes. * * * * Five paces by four and a half." With
13054 such scraps tossing and rolling upward from the depths of his mind, the
13055 prisoner walked faster and faster, obstinately counting and counting;
13056 and the roar of the city changed to this extent - that it still rolled in like
13057 muffled drums, but with the wail of voices that he knew, in the swell
13058 that rose above them.
13062 258
13066 Chapter
13070 2
13074 The Grindstone
13076 Tellson's Bank, established in the Saint Germain Quarter of Paris, was
13077 in a wing of a large house, approached by a courtyard and shut off from
13078 the street by a high wall and a strong gate. The house belonged to a great
13079 nobleman who had lived in it until he made a flight from the troubles, in
13080 his own cook's dress, and got across the borders. A mere beast of the
13081 chase flying from hunters, he was still in his metempsychosis no other
13082 than the same Monseigneur, the preparation of whose chocolate for
13083 whose lips had once occupied three strong men besides the cook in
13084 question.
13086 Monseigneur gone, and the three strong men absolving themselves
13087 from the sin of having drawn his high wages, by being more than ready
13088 and willing to cut his throat on the altar of the dawning Republic one
13089 and indivisible of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, Monseigneur's
13090 house had been first sequestrated, and then confiscated. For, all things
13091 moved so fast, and decree followed decree with that fierce precipitation,
13092 that now upon the third night of the autumn month of September, patri-
13093 ot emissaries of the law were in possession of Monseigneur's house, and
13094 had marked it with the tri-colour, and were drinking brandy in its state
13095 apartments.
13097 A place of business in London like Tellson's place of business in Paris,
13098 would soon have driven the House out of its mind and into the Gazette.
13099 For, what would staid British responsibility and respectability have said
13100 to orange-trees in boxes in a Bank courtyard, and even to a Cupid over
13101 the counter? Yet such things were. Tellson's had whitewashed the Cupid,
13102 but he was still to be seen on the ceiling, in the coolest linen, aiming (as
13103 he very often does) at money from morning to night. Bankruptcy must
13104 inevitably have come of this young Pagan, in Lombard-street, London,
13105 and also of a curtained alcove in the rear of the immortal boy, and also of
13106 a looking-glass let into the wall, and also of clerks not at all old, who
13107 danced in public on the slightest provocation. Yet, a French Tellson's
13111 259
13115 could get on with these things exceedingly well, and, as long as the times
13116 held together, no man had taken fright at them, and drawn out his
13117 money.
13119 What money would be drawn out of Tellson's henceforth, and what
13120 would lie there, lost and forgotten; what plate and jewels would tarnish
13121 in Tellson's hiding-places, while the depositors rusted in prisons, and
13122 when they should have violently perished; how many accounts with
13123 Tellson's never to be balanced in this world, must be carried over into the
13124 next; no man could have said, that night, any more than Mr. Jarvis Lorry
13125 could, though he thought heavily of these questions. He sat by a newly-
13126 lighted wood fire (the blighted and unfruitful year was prematurely
13127 cold), and on his honest and courageous face there was a deeper shade
13128 than the pendent lamp could throw, or any object in the room distortedly
13129 reflect - a shade of horror.
13131 He occupied rooms in the Bank, in his fidelity to the House of which
13132 he had grown to be a part, lie strong root-ivy. it chanced that they de-
13133 rived a kind of security from the patriotic occupation of the main build-
13134 ing, but the true-hearted old gentleman never calculated about that. All
13135 such circumstances were indifferent to him, so that he did his duty. On
13136 the opposite side of the courtyard, under a colonnade, was extensive
13137 standing - for carriages - where, indeed, some carriages of Monseigneur
13138 yet stood. Against two of the pillars were fastened two great flaring
13139 flambeaux, and in the light of these, standing out in the open air, was a
13140 large grindstone: a roughly mounted thing which appeared to have hur-
13141 riedly been brought there from some neighbouring smithy, or other
13142 workshop. Rising and looking out of window at these harmless objects,
13143 Mr. Lorry shivered, and retired to his seat by the fire. He had opened,
13144 not only the glass window, but the lattice blind outside it, and he had
13145 closed both again, and he shivered through his frame.
13147 From the streets beyond the high wall and the strong gate, there came
13148 the usual night hum of the city, with now and then an indescribable ring
13149 in it, weird and unearthly, as if some unwonted sounds of a terrible
13150 nature were going up to Heaven.
13152 "Thank God," said Mr. Lorry, clasping his hands, "that no one near and
13153 dear to me is in this dreadful town to-night. May He have mercy on all
13154 who are in danger!"
13156 Soon afterwards, the bell at the great gate sounded, and he thought,
13157 "They have come back!" and sat listening. But, there was no loud
13161 260
13165 irruption into the courtyard, as he had expected, and he heard the gate
13166 clash again, and all was quiet.
13168 The nervousness and dread that were upon him inspired that vague
13169 uneasiness respecting the Bank, which a great change would naturally
13170 awaken, with such feelings roused. It was well guarded, and he got up to
13171 go among the trusty people who were watching it, when his door sud-
13172 denly opened, and two figures rushed in, at sight of which he fell back in
13173 amazement.
13175 Lucie and her father! Lucie with her arms stretched out to him, and
13176 with that old look of earnestness so concentrated and intensified, that it
13177 seemed as though it had been stamped upon her face expressly to give
13178 force and power to it in this one passage of her life.
13180 "What is this?" cried Mr. Lorry, breathless and confused. "What is the
13181 matter? Lucie! Manette! What has happened? What has brought you
13182 here? What is it?"
13184 With the look fixed upon him, in her paleness and wildness, she
13185 panted out in his arms, imploringly, "O my dear friend! My husband!"
13187 "Your husband, Lucie?"
13189 "Charles."
13191 "What of Charles?"
13193 "Here.
13195 "Here, in Paris?"
13197 "Has been here some days - three or four - I don't know how many - I
13198 can't collect my thoughts. An errand of generosity brought him here un-
13199 known to us; he was stopped at the barrier, and sent to prison."
13201 The old man uttered an irrepressible cry. Almost at the same moment,
13202 the beg of the great gate rang again, and a loud noise of feet and voices
13203 came pouring into the courtyard.
13205 "What is that noise?" said the Doctor, turning towards the window.
13207 "Don't look!" cried Mr. Lorry. "Don't look out! Manette, for your life,
13208 don't touch the blind!"
13210 The Doctor turned, with his hand upon the fastening of the window,
13211 and said, with a cool, bold smile:
13213 "My dear friend, I have a charmed life in this city. I have been a
13214 Bastille prisoner. There is no patriot in Paris - in Paris? In France - who,
13215 knowing me to have been a prisoner in the Bastille, would touch me, ex-
13216 cept to overwhelm me with embraces, or carry me in triumph. My old
13220 261
13224 pain has given me a power that has brought us through the barrier, and
13225 gained us news of Charles there, and brought us here. I knew it would
13226 be so; I knew I could help Charles out of all danger; I told Lucie
13227 so. - What is that noise?" His hand was again upon the window.
13229 "Don't look!" cried Mr. Lorry, absolutely desperate. "No, Lucie, my
13230 dear, nor you!" He got his arm round her, and held her. "Don't be so ter-
13231 rified, my love. I solemnly swear to you that I know of no harm having
13232 happened to Charles; that I had no suspicion even of his being in this
13233 fatal place. What prison is he in?"
13235 "La Force!"
13237 "La Force! Lucie, my child, if ever you were brave and serviceable in
13238 your life - and you were always both - you will compose yourself now,
13239 to do exactly as I bid you; for more depends upon it than you can think,
13240 or I can say. There is no help for you in any action on your part to-night;
13241 you cannot possibly stir out. I say this, because what I must bid you to
13242 do for Charles's sake, is the hardest thing to do of all. You must instantly
13243 be obedient, still, and quiet. You must let me put you in a room at the
13244 back here. You must leave your father and me alone for two minutes,
13245 and as there are Life and Death in the world you must not delay."
13247 "I will be submissive to you. I see in your face that you know I can do
13248 nothing else than this. I know you are true."
13250 The old man kissed her, and hurried her into his room, and turned the
13251 key; then, came hurrying back to the Doctor, and opened the window
13252 and partly opened the blind, and put his hand upon the Doctor's arm,
13253 and looked out with him into the courtyard.
13255 Looked out upon a throng of men and women: not enough in number,
13256 or near enough, to fill the courtyard: not more than forty or fifty in all.
13257 The people in possession of the house had let them in at the gate, and
13258 they had rushed in to work at the grindstone; it had evidently been set
13259 up there for their purpose, as in a convenient and retired spot.
13261 But, such awful workers, and such awful work!
13263 The grindstone had a double handle, and, turning at it madly were
13264 two men, whose faces, as their long hair Rapped back when the whirl-
13265 ings of the grindstone brought their faces up, were more horrible and
13266 cruel than the visages of the wildest savages in their most barbarous dis-
13267 guise. False eyebrows and false moustaches were stuck upon them, and
13268 their hideous countenances were all bloody and sweaty, and all awry
13269 with howling, and all staring and glaring with beastly excitement and
13273 262
13277 want of sleep. As these ruffians turned and turned, their matted locks
13278 now flung forward over their eyes, now flung backward over their
13279 necks, some women held wine to their mouths that they might drink;
13280 and what with dropping blood, and what with dropping wine, and what
13281 with the stream of sparks struck out of the stone, all their wicked atmo-
13282 sphere seemed gore and fire. The eye could not detect one creature in the
13283 group free from the smear of blood. Shouldering one another to get next
13284 at the sharpening-stone, were men stripped to the waist, with the stain
13285 all over their limbs and bodies; men in all sorts of rags, with the stain
13286 upon those rags; men devilishly set off with spoils of women's lace and
13287 silk and ribbon, with the stain dyeing those trifles through and through.
13288 Hatchets, knives, bayonets, swords, all brought to be sharpened, were all
13289 red with it. Some of the hacked swords were tied to the wrists of those
13290 who carried them, with strips of linen and fragments of dress: ligatures
13291 various in kind, but all deep of the one colour. And as the frantic wield-
13292 ers of these weapons snatched them from the stream of sparks and tore
13293 away into the streets, the same red hue was red in their frenzied
13294 eyes; - eyes which any unbrutalised beholder would have given twenty
13295 years of life, to petrify with a well-directed gun.
13297 All this was seen in a moment, as the vision of a drowning man, or of
13298 any human creature at any very great pass, could see a world if it were
13299 there. They drew back from the window, and the Doctor looked for ex-
13300 planation in his friend's ashy face.
13302 "They are," Mr. Lorry whispered the words, glancing fearfully round
13303 at the locked room, "murdering the prisoners. If you are sure of what
13304 you say; if you really have the power you think you have - as I believe
13305 you have - make yourself known to these devils, and get taken to La
13306 Force. It may be too late, I don't know, but let it not be a minute later!"
13308 Doctor Manette pressed his hand, hastened bareheaded out of the
13309 room, and was in the courtyard when Mr. Lorry regained the blind.
13311 His streaming white hair, his remarkable face, and the impetuous con-
13312 fidence of his manner, as he put the weapons aside like water, carried
13313 him in an instant to the heart of the concourse at the stone. For a few mo-
13314 ments there was a pause, and a hurry, and a murmur, and the unintelli-
13315 gible sound of his voice; and then Mr. Lorry saw him, surrounded by all,
13316 and in the midst of a line of twenty men long, all linked shoulder to
13317 shoulder, and hand to shoulder, hurried out with cries of - "Live the
13318 Bastille prisoner! Help for the Bastille prisoner's kindred in La Force!
13322 263
13326 Room for the Bastille prisoner in front there! Save the prisoner Evre-
13327 monde at La Force!" and a thousand answering shouts.
13329 He closed the lattice again with a fluttering heart, closed the window
13330 and the curtain, hastened to Lucie, and told her that her father was as-
13331 sisted by the people, and gone in search of her husband. He found her
13332 child and Miss Pross with her; but, it never occurred to him to be sur-
13333 prised by their appearance until a long time afterwards, when he sat
13334 watching them in such quiet as the night knew.
13336 Lucie had, by that time, fallen into a stupor on the floor at his feet,
13337 clinging to his hand. Miss Pross had laid the child down on his own bed,
13338 and her head had gradually fallen on the pillow beside her pretty charge.
13339 O the long, long night, with the moans of the poor wife! And O the long,
13340 long night, with no return of her father and no tidings!
13342 Twice more in the darkness the bell at the great gate sounded, and the
13343 irruption was repeated, and the grindstone whirled and spluttered.
13344 "What is it?" cried Lucie, affrighted. "Hush! The soldiers' swords are
13345 sharpened there," said Mr. Lorry. "The place is national property now,
13346 and used as a kind of armoury, my love."
13348 Twice more in all; but, the last spell of work was feeble and fitful. Soon
13349 afterwards the day began to dawn, and he softly detached himself from
13350 the clasping hand, and cautiously looked out again. A man, so be-
13351 smeared that he might have been a sorely wounded soldier creeping
13352 back to consciousness on a field of slain, was rising from the pavement
13353 by the side of the grindstone, and looking about him with a vacant air.
13354 Shortly, this worn-out murderer descried in the imperfect light one of the
13355 carriages of Monseigneur, and, staggering to that gorgeous vehicle,
13356 climbed in at the door, and shut himself up to take his rest on its dainty
13357 cushions.
13359 The great grindstone, Earth, had turned when Mr. Lorry looked out
13360 again, and the sun was red on the courtyard. But, the lesser grindstone
13361 stood alone there in the calm morning air, with a red upon it that the sun
13362 had never given, and would never take away.
13366 264
13370 Chapter
13374 3
13378 The Shadow
13380 One of the first considerations which arose in the business mind of Mr.
13381 Lorry when business hours came round, was this: - that he had no right
13382 to imperil Tellson's by sheltering the wife of an emigrant prisoner under
13383 the Bank roof, His own possessions, safety, life, he would have hazarded
13384 for Lucie and her child, without a moment's demur; but the great trust he
13385 held was not his own, and as to that business charge he was a strict man
13386 of business.
13388 At first, his mind reverted to Defarge, and he thought of finding out
13389 the wine-shop again and taking counsel with its master in reference to
13390 the safest dwelling-place in the distracted state of the city. But, the same
13391 consideration that suggested him, repudiated him; he lived in the most
13392 violent Quarter, and doubtless was influential there, and deep in its dan-
13393 gerous workings.
13395 Noon coming, and the Doctor not returning, and every minute's delay
13396 tending to compromise Tellson's, Mr. Lorry advised with Lucie. She said
13397 that her father had spoken of hiring a lodging for a short term, in that
13398 Quarter, near the Banking-house. As there was no business objection to
13399 this, and as he foresaw that even if it were all well with Charles, and he
13400 were to be released, he could not hope to leave the city, Mr. Lorry went
13401 out in quest of such a lodging, and found a suitable one, high up in a
13402 removed by-street where the closed blinds in all the other windows of a
13403 high melancholy square of buildings marked deserted homes.
13405 To this lodging he at once removed Lucie and her child, and Miss
13406 Pross: giving them what comfort he could, and much more than he had
13407 himself. He left Jerry with them, as a figure to fill a doorway that would
13408 bear considerable knocking on the head, and retained to his own occupa-
13409 tions. A disturbed and doleful mind he brought to bear upon them, and
13410 slowly and heavily the day lagged on with him.
13414 265
13418 It wore itself out, and wore him out with it, until the Bank closed. He
13419 was again alone in his room of the previous night, considering what to
13420 do next, when he heard a foot upon the stair. In a few moments, a man
13421 stood in his presence, who, with a keenly observant look at him, ad-
13422 dressed him by his name.
13424 "Your servant," said Mr. Lorry. "Do you know me?"
13426 He was a strongly made man with dark curling hair, from forty-five to
13427 fifty years of age. For answer he repeated, without any change of em-
13428 phasis, the words:
13430 "Do you know me?"
13432 "I have seen you somewhere."
13434 "Perhaps at my wine-shop?"
13436 Much interested and agitated, Mr. Lorry said: "You come from Doctor
13437 Manette?"
13439 "Yes. I come from Doctor Manette."
13441 "And what says he? What does he send me?"
13443 Defarge gave into his anxious hand, an open scrap of paper. It bore the
13444 words in the Doctor's writing:
13446 "Charles is safe, but I cannot safely leave this place yet. I have obtained
13447 the favour that the bearer has a short note from Charles to his wife. Let
13448 the bearer see his wife."
13450 It was dated from La Force, within an hour.
13452 "Will you accompany me," said Mr. Lorry, joyfully relieved after read-
13453 ing this note aloud, "to where his wife resides?"
13455 "Yes," returned Defarge.
13457 Scarcely noticing as yet, in what a curiously reserved and mechanical
13458 way Defarge spoke, Mr. Lorry put on his hat and they went down into
13459 the courtyard. There, they found two women; one, knitting.
13461 "Madame Defarge, surely!" said Mr. Lorry, who had left her in exactly
13462 the same attitude some seventeen years ago.
13464 "It is she," observed her husband.
13466 "Does Madame go with us?" inquired Mr. Lorry, seeing that she
13467 moved as they moved.
13469 "Yes. That she may be able to recognise the faces and know the per-
13470 sons. It is for their safety."
13474 266
13478 Beginning to be struck by Defarge's manner, Mr. Lorry looked dubi-
13479 ously at him, and led the way. Both the women followed; the second wo-
13480 man being The Vengeance.
13482 They passed through the intervening streets as quickly as they might,
13483 ascended the staircase of the new domicile, were admitted by Jerry, and
13484 found Lucie weeping, alone. She was thrown into a transport by the tid-
13485 ings Mr. Lorry gave her of her husband, and clasped the hand that de-
13486 livered his note - little thinking what it had been doing near him in the
13487 night, and might, but for a chance, have done to him.
13489 "Dearest, - Take courage. I am well, and your father has influence
13490 around me. You cannot answer this. Kiss our child for me."
13492 That was all the writing. It was so much, however, to her who received
13493 it, that she turned from Defarge to his wife, and kissed one of the hands
13494 that knitted. It was a passionate, loving, thankful, womanly action, but
13495 the hand made no response - dropped cold and heavy, and took to its
13496 knitting again.
13498 There was something in its touch that gave Lucie a check. She stopped
13499 in the act of putting the note in her bosom, and, with her hands yet at her
13500 neck, looked terrified at Madame Defarge. Madame Defarge met the lif-
13501 ted eyebrows and forehead with a cold, impassive stare.
13503 "My dear," said Mr. Lorry, striking in to explain; "there are frequent
13504 risings in the streets; and, although it is not likely they will ever trouble
13505 you, Madame Defarge wishes to see those whom she has the power to
13506 protect at such times, to the end that she may know them - that she may
13507 identify them. I believe," said Mr. Lorry, rather halting in his reassuring
13508 words, as the stony manner of all the three impressed itself upon him
13509 more and more, "I state the case, Citizen Defarge?"
13511 Defarge looked gloomily at his wife, and gave no other answer than a
13512 gruff sound of acquiescence.
13514 "You had better, Lucie," said Mr. Lorry, doing all he could to propiti-
13515 ate, by tone and manner, "have the dear child here, and our good Pross.
13516 Our good Pross, Defarge, is an English lady, and knows no French."
13518 The lady in question, whose rooted conviction that she was more than
13519 a match for any foreigner, was not to be shaken by distress and, danger,
13520 appeared with folded arms, and observed in English to The Vengeance,
13521 whom her eyes first encountered, "Well, I am sure, Boldface! I hope you
13522 are pretty well!" She also bestowed a British cough on Madame Defarge;
13523 but, neither of the two took much heed of her.
13527 267
13531 "Is that his child?" said Madame Defarge, stopping in her work for the
13532 first time, and pointing her knitting-needle at little Lucie as if it were the
13533 finger of Fate.
13535 "Yes, madame," answered Mr. Lorry; "this is our poor prisoner's
13536 darling daughter, and only child."
13538 The shadow attendant on Madame Defarge and her party seemed to
13539 fall so threatening and dark on the child, that her mother instinctively
13540 kneeled on the ground beside her, and held her to her breast. The shad-
13541 ow attendant on Madame Defarge and her party seemed then to fall,
13542 threatening and dark, on both the mother and the child.
13544 "It is enough, my husband," said Madame Defarge. "I have seen them.
13545 We may go."
13547 But, the suppressed manner had enough of menace in it - not visible
13548 and presented, but indistinct and withheld - to alarm Lucie into saying,
13549 as she laid her appealing hand on Madame Defarge's dress:
13551 "You will be good to my poor husband. You will do him no harm. You
13552 will help me to see him if you can?"
13554 "Your husband is not my business here," returned Madame Defarge,
13555 looking down at her with perfect composure. "It is the daughter of your
13556 father who is my business here."
13558 "For my sake, then, be merciful to my husband. For my child's sake!
13559 She will put her hands together and pray you to be merciful. We are
13560 more afraid of you than of these others."
13562 Madame Defarge received it as a compliment, and looked at her hus-
13563 band. Defarge, who had been uneasily biting his thumb-nail and looking
13564 at her, collected his face into a sterner expression.
13566 "What is it that your husband says in that little letter?" asked Madame
13567 Defarge, with a lowering smile. "Influence; he says something touching
13568 influence?"
13570 "That my father," said Lucie, hurriedly taking the paper from her
13571 breast, but with her alarmed eyes on her questioner and not on it, "has
13572 much influence around him."
13574 "Surely it will release him!" said Madame Defarge. "Let it do so."
13576 "As a wife and mother," cried Lucie, most earnestly, "I implore you to
13577 have pity on me and not to exercise any power that you possess, against
13578 my innocent husband, but to use it in his behalf. O sister-woman, think
13579 of me. As a wife and mother!"
13583 268
13587 Madame Defarge looked, coldly as ever, at the suppliant, and said,
13588 turning to her friend The Vengeance:
13590 "The wives and mothers we have been used to see, since we were as
13591 little as this child, and much less, have not been greatly considered? We
13592 have known their husbands and fathers laid in prison and kept from
13593 them, often enough? All our lives, we have seen our sister-women suffer,
13594 in themselves and in their children, poverty, nakedness, hunger, thirst,
13595 sickness, misery, oppression and neglect of all kinds?"
13597 "We have seen nothing else," returned The Vengeance.
13599 "We have borne this a long time," said Madame Defarge, turning her
13600 eyes again upon Lucie. "Judge you! Is it likely that the trouble of one wife
13601 and mother would be much to us now?"
13603 She resumed her knitting and went out. The Vengeance followed. De-
13604 farge went last, and closed the door.
13606 "Courage, my dear Lucie," said Mr. Lorry, as he raised her. "Courage,
13607 courage! So far all goes well with us - much, much better than it has of
13608 late gone with many poor souls. Cheer up, and have a thankful heart."
13610 "I am not thankless, I hope, but that dreadful woman seems to throw a
13611 shadow on me and on all my hopes."
13613 "Tut, tut!" said Mr. Lorry; "what is this despondency in the brave little
13614 breast? A shadow indeed! No substance in it, Lucie."
13616 But the shadow of the manner of these Defarges was dark upon him-
13617 self, for all that, and in his secret mind it troubled him greatly.
13621 269
13625 Chapter
13629 4
13633 Calm in Storm
13635 Doctor Manette did not return until the morning of the fourth day of
13636 his absence. So much of what had happened in that dreadful time as
13637 could be kept from the knowledge of Lucie was so well concealed from
13638 her, that not until long afterwards, when France and she were far apart,
13639 did she know that eleven hundred defenceless prisoners of both sexes
13640 and all ages had been killed by the populace; that four days and nights
13641 had been darkened by this deed of horror; and that the air around her
13642 had been tainted by the slain. She only knew that there had been an at-
13643 tack upon the prisons, that all political prisoners had been in danger, and
13644 that some had been dragged out by the crowd and murdered.
13646 To Mr. Lorry, the Doctor communicated under an injunction of secrecy
13647 on which he had no need to dwell, that the crowd had taken him
13648 through a scene of carnage to the prison of La Force. That, in the prison
13649 he had found a self-appointed Tribunal sitting, before which the prison-
13650 ers were brought singly, and by which they were rapidly ordered to be
13651 put forth to be massacred, or to be released, or (in a few cases) to be sent
13652 back to their cells. That, presented by his conductors to this Tribunal, he
13653 had announced himself by name and profession as having been for
13654 eighteen years a secret and unaccused prisoner in the Bastille; that, one
13655 of the body so sitting in judgment had risen and identified him, and that
13656 this man was Defarge.
13658 That, hereupon he had ascertained, through the registers on the table,
13659 that his son-in-law was among the living prisoners, and had pleaded
13660 hard to the Tribunal - of whom some members were asleep and some
13661 awake, some dirty with murder and some clean, some sober and some
13662 not - for his life and liberty. That, in the first frantic greetings lavished on
13663 himself as a notable sufferer under the overthrown system, it had been
13664 accorded to him to have Charles Darnay brought before the lawless
13665 Court, and examined. That, he seemed on the point of being at once re-
13666 leased, when the tide in his favour met with some unexplained check
13670 270
13674 (not intelligible to the Doctor), which led to a few words of secret confer-
13675 ence. That, the man sitting as President had then informed Doctor
13676 Manette that the prisoner must remain in custody, but should, for his
13677 sake, be held inviolate in safe custody. That, immediately, on a signal,
13678 the prisoner was removed to the interior of the prison again; but, that he,
13679 the Doctor, had then so strongly pleaded for permission to remain and
13680 assure himself that his son-in-law was, through no malice or mischance,
13681 delivered to the concourse whose murderous yells outside the gate had
13682 often drowned the proceedings, that he had obtained the permission,
13683 and had remained in that Hall of Blood until the danger was over.
13685 The sights he had seen there, with brief snatches of food and sleep by
13686 intervals, shall remain untold. The mad joy over the prisoners who were
13687 saved, had astounded him scarcely less than the mad ferocity against
13688 those who were cut to pieces. One prisoner there was, he said, who had
13689 been discharged into the street free, but at whom a mistaken savage had
13690 thrust a pike as he passed out. Being besought to go to him and dress the
13691 wound, the Doctor had passed out at the same gate, and had found him
13692 in the arms of a company of Samaritans, who were seated on the bodies
13693 of their victims. With an inconsistency as monstrous as anything in this
13694 awful nightmare, they had helped the healer, and tended the wounded
13695 man with the gentlest solicitude - had made a litter for him and escorted
13696 him carefully from the spot - had then caught up their weapons and
13697 plunged anew into a butchery so dreadful, that the Doctor had covered
13698 his eyes with his hands, and swooned away in the midst of it.
13700 As Mr. Lorry received these confidences, and as he watched the face of
13701 his friend now sixty-two years of age, a misgiving arose within him that
13702 such dread experiences would revive the old danger.
13704 But, he had never seen his friend in his present aspect: he had never at
13705 all known him in his present character. For the first time the Doctor felt,
13706 now, that his suffering was strength and power. For the first time he felt
13707 that in that sharp fire, he had slowly forged the iron which could break
13708 the prison door of his daughter's husband, and deliver him. "It all tended
13709 to a good end, my friend; it was not mere waste and ruin. As my beloved
13710 child was helpful in restoring me to myself, I will be helpful now in
13711 restoring the dearest part of herself to her; by the aid of Heaven I will do
13712 it!" Thus, Doctor Manette. And when Jarvis Lorry saw the kindled eyes,
13713 the resolute face, the calm strong look and bearing of the man whose life
13714 always seemed to him to have been stopped, like a clock, for so many
13715 years, and then set going again with an energy which had lain dormant
13716 during the cessation of its usefulness, he believed.
13720 271
13724 Greater things than the Doctor had at that time to contend with, would
13725 have yielded before his persevering purpose. While he kept himself in
13726 his place, as a physician, whose business was with all degrees of man-
13727 kind, bond and free, rich and poor, bad and good, he used his personal
13728 influence so wisely, that he was soon the inspecting physician of three
13729 prisons, and among them of La Force. He could now assure Lucie that
13730 her husband was no longer confined alone, but was mixed with the gen-
13731 eral body of prisoners; he saw her husband weekly, and brought sweet
13732 messages to her, straight from his lips; sometimes her husband himself
13733 sent a letter to her (though never by the Doctor's hand), but she was not
13734 permitted to write to him: for, among the many wild suspicions of plots
13735 in the prisons, the wildest of all pointed at emigrants who were known
13736 to have made friends or permanent connexions abroad.
13738 This new life of the Doctor's was an anxious life, no doubt; still, the
13739 sagacious Mr. Lorry saw that there was a new sustaining pride in it.
13740 Nothing unbecoming tinged the pride; it was a natural and worthy one;
13741 but he observed it as a curiosity. The Doctor knew, that up to that time,
13742 his imprisonment had been associated in the minds of his daughter and
13743 his friend, with his personal affliction, deprivation, and weakness. Now
13744 that this was changed, and he knew himself to be invested through that
13745 old trial with forces to which they both looked for Charles's ultimate
13746 safety and deliverance, he became so far exalted by the change, that he
13747 took the lead and direction, and required them as the weak, to trust to
13748 him as the strong. The preceding relative positions of himself and Lucie
13749 were reversed, yet only as the liveliest gratitude and affection could re-
13750 verse them, for he could have had no pride but in rendering some ser-
13751 vice to her who had rendered so much to him. "All curious to see,"
13752 thought Mr. Lorry, in his amiably shrewd way, "but all natural and right;
13753 so, take the lead, my dear friend, and keep it; it couldn't be in better
13754 hands."
13756 But, though the Doctor tried hard, and never ceased trying, to get
13757 Charles Darnay set at liberty, or at least to get him brought to trial, the
13758 public current of the time set too strong and fast for him. The new era
13759 began; the king was tried, doomed, and beheaded; the Republic of
13760 Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, declared for victory or death
13761 against the world in arms; the black flag waved night and day from the
13762 great towers of Notre Dame; three hundred thousand men, summoned
13763 to rise against the tyrants of the earth, rose from all the varying soils of
13764 France, as if the dragon's teeth had been sown broadcast, and had yiel-
13765 ded fruit equally on hill and plain, on rock, in gravel, and alluvial mud,
13769 272
13773 under the bright sky of the South and under the clouds of the North, in
13774 fell and forest, in the vineyards and the olive-grounds and among the
13775 cropped grass and the stubble of the corn, along the fruitful banks of the
13776 broad rivers, and in the sand of the sea-shore. What private solicitude
13777 could rear itself against the deluge of the Year One of Liberty - the de-
13778 luge rising from below, not falling from above, and with the windows of
13779 Heaven shut, not opened!
13781 There was no pause, no pity, no peace, no interval of relenting rest, no
13782 measurement of time. Though days and nights circled as regularly as
13783 when time was young, and the evening and morning were the first day,
13784 other count of time there was none. Hold of it was lost in the raging
13785 fever of a nation, as it is in the fever of one patient. Now, breaking the
13786 unnatural silence of a whole city, the executioner showed the people the
13787 head of the king - and now, it seemed almost in the same breath, the
13788 head of his fair wife which had had eight weary months of imprisoned
13789 widowhood and misery, to turn it grey.
13791 And yet, observing the strange law of contradiction which obtains in
13792 all such cases, the time was long, while it flamed by so fast. A revolution-
13793 ary tribunal in the capital, and forty or fifty thousand revolutionary com-
13794 mittees all over the land; a law of the Suspected, which struck away all
13795 security for liberty or life, and delivered over any good and innocent per-
13796 son to any bad and guilty one; prisons gorged with people who had
13797 committed no offence, and could obtain no hearing; these things became
13798 the established order and nature of appointed things, and seemed to be
13799 ancient usage before they were many weeks old. Above all, one hideous
13800 figure grew as familiar as if it had been before the general gaze from the
13801 foundations of the world - the figure of the sharp female called La
13802 Guillotine.
13804 It was the popular theme for jests; it was the best cure for headache, it
13805 infallibly prevented the hair from turning grey, it imparted a peculiar
13806 delicacy to the complexion, it was the National Razor which shaved
13807 close: who kissed La Guillotine, looked through the little window and
13808 sneezed into the sack. It was the sign of the regeneration of the human
13809 race. It superseded the Cross. Models of it were worn on breasts from
13810 which the Cross was discarded, and it was bowed down to and believed
13811 in where the Cross was denied.
13813 It sheared off heads so many, that it, and the ground it most polluted,
13814 were a rotten red. It was taken to pieces, like a toy-puzzle for a young
13815 Devil, and was put together again when the occasion wanted it. It
13819 273
13823 hushed the eloquent, struck down the powerful, abolished the beautiful
13824 and good. Twenty-two friends of high public mark, twenty-one living
13825 and one dead, it had lopped the heads off, in one morning, in as many
13826 minutes. The name of the strong man of Old Scripture had descended to
13827 the chief functionary who worked it; but, so armed, he was stronger than
13828 his namesake, and blinder, and tore away the gates of God's own Temple
13829 every day.
13831 Among these terrors, and the brood belonging to them, the Doctor
13832 walked with a steady head: confident in his power, cautiously persistent
13833 in his end, never doubting that he would save Lucie's husband at last.
13834 Yet the current of the time swept by, so strong and deep, and carried the
13835 time away so fiercely, that Charles had lain in prison one year and three
13836 months when the Doctor was thus steady and confident. So much more
13837 wicked and distracted had the Revolution grown in that December
13838 month, that the rivers of the South were encumbered with the bodies of
13839 the violently drowned by night, and prisoners were shot in lines and
13840 squares under the southern wintry sun. Still, the Doctor walked among
13841 the terrors with a steady head. No man better known than he, in Paris at
13842 that day; no man in a stranger situation. Silent, humane, indispensable in
13843 hospital and prison, using his art equally among assassins and victims,
13844 he was a man apart. In the exercise of his skill, the appearance and the
13845 story of the Bastille Captive removed him from all other men. He was
13846 not suspected or brought in question, any more than if he had indeed
13847 been recalled to life some eighteen years before, or were a Spirit moving
13848 among mortals.
13852 274:
13856 Chapter
13860 5
13864 The Wood-sawyer
13866 One year and three months. During all that time Lucie was never sure,
13867 from hour to hour, but that the Guillotine would strike off her husband's
13868 head next day. Every day, through the stony streets, the tumbrils now
13869 jolted heavily, filled with Condemned. Lovely girls; bright women,
13870 brown-haired, black-haired, and grey; youths; stalwart men and old;
13871 gentle born and peasant born; all red wine for La Guillotine, all daily
13872 brought into light from the dark cellars of the loathsome prisons, and
13873 carried to her through the streets to slake her devouring thirst. Liberty,
13874 equality, fraternity, or death; - the last, much the easiest to bestow, O
13875 Guillotine!
13877 If the suddenness of her calamity, and the whirling wheels of the time,
13878 had stunned the Doctor's daughter into awaiting the result in idle des-
13879 pair, it would but have been with her as it was with many. But, from the
13880 hour when she had taken the white head to her fresh young bosom in the
13881 garret of Saint Antoine, she had been true to her duties. She was truest to
13882 them in the season of trial, as all the quietly loyal and good will always
13883 be.
13885 As soon as they were established in their new residence, and her father
13886 had entered on the routine of his avocations, she arranged the little
13887 household as exactly as if her husband had been there. Everything had
13888 its appointed place and its appointed time. Little Lucie she taught, as
13889 regularly, as if they had all been united in their English home. The slight
13890 devices with which she cheated herself into the show of a belief that they
13891 would soon be reunited - the little preparations for his speedy return,
13892 the setting aside of his chair and his books - these, and the solemn pray-
13893 er at night for one dear prisoner especially, among the many unhappy
13894 souls in prison and the shadow of death - were almost the only out-
13895 spoken reliefs of her heavy mind.
13897 She did not greatly alter in appearance. The plain dark dresses, akin to
13898 mourning dresses, which she and her child wore, were as neat and as
13902 275
13906 well attended to as the brighter clothes of happy days. She lost her col-
13907 our, and the old and intent expression was a constant, not an occasional,
13908 thing; otherwise, she remained very pretty and comely. Sometimes, at
13909 night on kissing her father, she would burst into the grief she had
13910 repressed all day, and would say that her sole reliance, under Heaven,
13911 was on him. He always resolutely answered: "Nothing can happen to
13912 him without my knowledge, and I know that I can save him, Lucie."
13914 They had not made the round of their changed life many weeks, when
13915 her father said to her, on coming home one evening:
13917 "My dear, there is an upper window in the prison, to which Charles
13918 can sometimes gain access at three in the afternoon. When he can get to
13919 it - which depends on many uncertainties and incidents - he might see
13920 you in the street, he thinks, if you stood in a certain place that I can show
13921 you. But you will not be able to see him, my poor child, and even if you
13922 could, it would be unsafe for you to make a sign of recognition."
13924 "O show me the place, my father, and I will go there every day."
13926 From that time, in all weathers, she waited there two hours. As the
13927 clock struck two, she was there, and at four she turned resignedly away.
13928 When it was not too wet or inclement for her child to be with her, they
13929 went together; at other times she was alone; but, she never missed a
13930 single day.
13932 It was the dark and dirty corner of a small winding street. The hovel of
13933 a cutter of wood into lengths for burning, was the only house at that end;
13934 all else was wall. On the third day of her being there, he noticed her.
13936 "Good day, citizeness."
13938 "Good day, citizen."
13940 This mode of address was now prescribed by decree. It had been es-
13941 tablished voluntarily some time ago, among the more thorough patriots;
13942 but, was now law for everybody.
13944 "Walking here again, citizeness?"
13946 "You see me, citizen!"
13948 The wood-sawyer, who was a little man with a redundancy of gesture
13949 (he had once been a mender of roads), cast a glance at the prison, pointed
13950 at the prison, and putting his ten fingers before his face to represent bars,
13951 peeped through them jocosely.
13953 "But it's not my business," said he. And went on sawing his wood.
13957 276
13961 Next day he was looking out for her, and accosted her the moment she
13962 appeared.
13964 "What? Walking here again, citizeness?"
13966 "Yes, citizen."
13968 "Ah! A child too! Your mother, is it not, my little citizeness?"
13970 "Do I say yes, mamma?" whispered little Lucie, drawing close to her.
13972 "Yes, dearest."
13974 "Yes, citizen."
13976 "Ah! But it's not my business. My work is my business. See my saw! I
13977 call it my Little Guillotine. La, la, la; La, la, la! And off his head comes!"
13979 The billet fell as he spoke, and he threw it into a basket.
13981 "I call myself the Samson of the firewood guillotine. See here again!
13982 Loo, loo, loo; Loo, loo, loo! And off her head comes! Now, a child. Tickle,
13983 tickle; Pickle, pickle! And off its head comes. All the family!"
13985 Lucie shuddered as he threw two more billets into his basket, but it
13986 was impossible to be there while the wood-sawyer was at work, and not
13987 be in his sight. Thenceforth, to secure his good will, she always spoke to
13988 him first, and often gave him drink-money, which he readily received.
13990 He was an inquisitive fellow, and sometimes when she had quite for-
13991 gotten him in gazing at the prison roof and grates, and in lifting her
13992 heart up to her husband, she would come to herself to find him looking
13993 at her, with his knee on his bench and his saw stopped in its work. "But
13994 it's not my business!" he would generally say at those times, and would
13995 briskly fall to his sawing again.
13997 In all weathers, in the snow and frost of winter, in the bitter winds of
13998 spring, in the hot sunshine of summer, in the rains of autumn, and again
13999 in the snow and frost of winter, Lucie passed two hours of every day at
14000 this place; and every day on leaving it, she kissed the prison wall. Her
14001 husband saw her (so she learned from her father) it might be once in five
14002 or six times: it might be twice or thrice running: it might be, not for a
14003 week or a fortnight together. It was enough that he could and did see her
14004 when the chances served, and on that possibility she would have waited
14005 out the day, seven days a week.
14007 These occupations brought her round to the December month,
14008 wherein her father walked among the terrors with a steady head. On a
14009 lightly-snowing afternoon she arrived at the usual corner. It was a day of
14010 some wild rejoicing, and a festival. She had seen the houses, as she came
14014 277
14018 along, decorated with little pikes, and with little red caps stuck upon
14019 them; also, with tricoloured ribbons; also, with the standard inscription
14020 (tricoloured letters were the favourite), Republic One and Indivisible.
14021 Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death!
14023 The miserable shop of the wood-sawyer was so small, that its whole
14024 surface furnished very indifferent space for this legend. He had got
14025 somebody to scrawl it up for him, however, who had squeezed Death in
14026 with most inappropriate difficulty. On his house-top, he displayed pike
14027 and cap, as a good citizen must, and in a window he had stationed his
14028 saw inscribed as his "Little Sainte Guillotine" - for the great sharp fe-
14029 male was by that time popularly canonised. His shop was shut and he
14030 was not there, which was a relief to Lucie, and left her quite alone.
14032 But, he was not far off, for presently she heard a troubled movement
14033 and a shouting coming along, which filled her with fear. A moment af-
14034 terwards, and a throng of people came pouring round the corner by the
14035 prison wall, in the midst of whom was the wood-sawyer hand in hand
14036 with The Vengeance. There could not be fewer than five hundred people,
14037 and they were dancing like five thousand demons. There was no other
14038 music than their own singing. They danced to the popular Revolution
14039 song, keeping a ferocious time that was like a gnashing of teeth in uni-
14040 son. Men and women danced together, women danced together, men
14041 danced together, as hazard had brought them together. At first, they
14042 were a mere storm of coarse red caps and coarse woollen rags; but, as
14043 they filled the place, and stopped to dance about Lucie, some ghastly ap-
14044 parition of a dance-figure gone raving mad arose among them. They ad-
14045 vanced, retreated, struck at one another's hands, clutched at one
14046 another's heads, spun round alone, caught one another and spun round
14047 in pairs, until many of them dropped. While those were down, the rest
14048 linked hand in hand, and all spun round together: then the ring broke,
14049 and in separate rings of two and four they turned and turned until they
14050 all stopped at once, began again, struck, clutched, and tore, and then re-
14051 versed the spin, and all spun round another way. Suddenly they stopped
14052 again, paused, struck out the time afresh, formed into lines the width of
14053 the public way, and, with their heads low down and their hands high up,
14054 swooped screaming off. No fight could have been half so terrible as this
14055 dance. It was so emphatically a fallen sport - a something, once innocent,
14056 delivered over to all devilry - a healthy pastime changed into a means of
14057 angering the blood, bewildering the senses, and steeling the heart. Such
14058 grace as was visible in it, made it the uglier, showing how warped and
14059 perverted all things good by nature were become. The maidenly bosom
14063 278
14067 bared to this, the pretty almost-child's head thus distracted, the delicate
14068 foot mincing in this slough of blood and dirt, were types of the disjointed
14069 time.
14071 This was the Carmagnole. As it passed, leaving Lucie frightened and
14072 bewildered in the doorway of the wood-sawyer's house, the feathery
14073 snow fell as quietly and lay as white and soft, as if it had never been.
14075 "O my father!" for he stood before her when she lifted up the eyes she
14076 had momentarily darkened with her hand; "such a cruel, bad sight."
14078 "I know, my dear, I know. I have seen it many times. Don't be
14079 frightened! Not one of them would harm you."
14081 "I am not frightened for myself, my father. But when I think of my
14082 husband, and the mercies of these people - "
14084 "We will set him above their mercies very soon. I left him climbing to
14085 the window, and I came to tell you. There is no one here to see. You may
14086 kiss your hand towards that highest shelving roof."
14088 "I do so, father, and I send him my Soul with it!"
14090 "You cannot see him, my poor dear?"
14092 "No, father," said Lucie, yearning and weeping as she kissed her hand,
14093 "no."
14095 A footstep in the snow. Madame Defarge. "I salute you, citizeness,"
14096 from the Doctor. "I salute you, citizen." This in passing. Nothing more.
14097 Madame Defarge gone, like a shadow over the white road.
14099 "Give me your arm, my love. Pass from here with an air of cheerful-
14100 ness and courage, for his sake. That was well done;" they had left the
14101 spot; "it shall not be in vain. Charles is summoned for to-morrow."
14103 "For to-morrow!"
14105 "There is no time to lose. I am well prepared, but there are precautions
14106 to be taken, that could not be taken until he was actually summoned be-
14107 fore the Tribunal. He has not received the notice yet, but I know that he
14108 will presently be summoned for to-morrow, and removed to the Conci-
14109 ergerie; I have timely information. You are not afraid?"
14111 She could scarcely answer, "I trust in you."
14113 "Do so, implicitly. Your suspense is nearly ended, my darling; he shall
14114 be restored to you within a few hours; I have encompassed him with
14115 every protection. I must see Lorry."
14119 279
14123 He stopped. There was a heavy lumbering of wheels within hearing.
14124 They both knew too well what it meant. One. Two. Three. Three tumbrils
14125 faring away with their dread loads over the hushing snow.
14127 "I must see Lorry," the Doctor repeated, turning her another way.
14129 The staunch old gentleman was still in his trust; had never left it. He
14130 and his books were in frequent requisition as to property confiscated and
14131 made national. What he could save for the owners, he saved. No better
14132 man living to hold fast by what Tellson's had in keeping, and to hold his
14133 peace.
14135 A murky red and yellow sky, and a rising mist from the Seine, de-
14136 noted the approach of darkness. It was almost dark when they arrived at
14137 the Bank. The stately residence of Monseigneur was altogether blighted
14138 and deserted. Above a heap of dust and ashes in the court, ran the let-
14139 ters: National Property. Republic One and Indivisible. Liberty, Equality,
14140 Fraternity, or Death!
14142 Who could that be with Mr. Lorry - the owner of the riding-coat upon
14143 the chair - who must not be seen? From whom newly arrived, did he
14144 come out, agitated and surprised, to take his favourite in his arms? To
14145 whom did he appear to repeat her faltering words, when, raising his
14146 voice and turning his head towards the door of the room from which he
14147 had issued, he said: "Removed to the Conciergerie, and summoned for
14148 to-morrow?"
14152 280
14156 Chapter
14160 6
14164 Triumph
14166 The dread tribunal of five Judges, Public Prosecutor, and determined
14167 Jury, sat every day. Their lists went forth every evening, and were read
14168 out by the gaolers of the various prisons to their prisoners. The standard
14169 gaoler-joke was, "Come out and listen to the Evening Paper, you inside
14170 there!"
14172 "Charles Evremonde, called Darnay!"
14174 So at last began the Evening Paper at La Force.
14176 When a name was called, its owner stepped apart into a spot reserved
14177 for those who were announced as being thus fatally recorded. Charles
14178 Evremonde, called Darnay, had reason to know the usage; he had seen
14179 hundreds pass away so.
14181 His bloated gaoler, who wore spectacles to read with, glanced over
14182 them to assure himself that he had taken his place, and went through the
14183 list, making a similar short pause at each name. There were twenty-three
14184 names, but only twenty were responded to; for one of the prisoners so
14185 summoned had died in gaol and been forgotten, and two had already
14186 been guillotined and forgotten. The list was read, in the vaulted chamber
14187 where Darnay had seen the associated prisoners on the night of his ar-
14188 rival. Every one of those had perished in the massacre; every human
14189 creature he had since cared for and parted with, had died on the scaffold.
14191 There were hurried words of farewell and kindness, but the parting
14192 was soon over. It was the incident of every day, and the society of La
14193 Force were engaged in the preparation of some games of forfeits and a
14194 little concert, for that evening. They crowded to the grates and shed tears
14195 there; but, twenty places in the projected entertainments had to be re-
14196 filled, and the time was, at best, short to the lock-up hour, when the com-
14197 mon rooms and corridors would be delivered over to the great dogs who
14198 kept watch there through the night. The prisoners were far from insens-
14199 ible or unfeeling; their ways arose out of the condition of the time.
14203 281
14207 Similarly, though with a subtle difference, a species of fervour or intoxic-
14208 ation, known, without doubt, to have led some persons to brave the guil-
14209 lotine unnecessarily, and to die by it, was not mere boastfulness, but a
14210 wild infection of the wildly shaken public mind. In seasons of pestilence,
14211 some of us will have a secret attraction to the disease - a terrible passing
14212 inclination to die of it. And all of us have like wonders hidden in our
14213 breasts, only needing circumstances to evoke them.
14215 The passage to the Conciergerie was short and dark; the night in its
14216 vermin-haunted cells was long and cold. Next day, fifteen prisoners
14217 were put to the bar before Charles Darnay's name was called. All the fif-
14218 teen were condemned, and the trials of the whole occupied an hour and
14219 a half.
14221 "Charles Evremonde, called Darnay," was at length arraigned.
14223 His judges sat upon the Bench in feathered hats; but the rough red cap
14224 and tricoloured cockade was the head-dress otherwise prevailing. Look-
14225 ing at the Jury and the turbulent audience, he might have thought that
14226 the usual order of things was reversed, and that the felons were trying
14227 the honest men. The lowest, crudest, and worst populace of a city, never
14228 without its quantity of low, cruel, and bad, were the directing spirits of
14229 the scene: noisily commenting, applauding, disapproving, anticipating,
14230 and precipitating the result, without a check. Of the men, the greater part
14231 were armed in various ways; of the women, some wore knives, some
14232 daggers, some ate and drank as they looked on, many knitted. Among
14233 these last, was one, with a spare piece of knitting under her arm as she
14234 worked. She was in a front row, by the side of a man whom he had never
14235 seen since his arrival at the Barrier, but whom he directly remembered as
14236 Defarge. He noticed that she once or twice whispered in his ear, and that
14237 she seemed to be his wife; but, what he most noticed in the two figures
14238 was, that although they were posted as close to himself as they could be,
14239 they never looked towards him. They seemed to be waiting for
14240 something with a dogged determination, and they looked at the Jury, but
14241 at nothing else. Under the President sat Doctor Manette, in his usual
14242 quiet dress. As well as the prisoner could see, he and Mr. Lorry were the
14243 only men there, unconnected with the Tribunal, who wore their usual
14244 clothes, and had not assumed the coarse garb of the Carmagnole.
14246 Charles Evremonde, called Darnay, was accused by the public prosec-
14247 utor as an emigrant, whose life was forfeit to the Republic, under the de-
14248 cree which banished all emigrants on pain of Death. It was nothing that
14249 the decree bore date since his return to France. There he was, and there
14253 282
14257 was the decree; he had been taken in France, and his head was
14258 demanded.
14260 "Take off his head!" cried the audience. "An enemy to the Republic!"
14262 The President rang his bell to silence those cries, and asked the prison-
14263 er whether it was not true that he had lived many years in England?
14265 Undoubtedly it was.
14267 Was he not an emigrant then? What did he call himself?
14269 Not an emigrant, he hoped, within the sense and spirit of the law.
14271 Why not? the President desired to know.
14273 Because he had voluntarily relinquished a title that was distasteful to
14274 him, and a station that was distasteful to him, and had left his coun-
14275 try - he submitted before the word emigrant in the present acceptation
14276 by the Tribunal was in use - to live by his own industry in England,
14277 rather than on the industry of the overladen people of France.
14279 What proof had he of this?
14281 He handed in the names of two witnesses; Theophile Gabelle, and Al-
14282 exandre Manette.
14284 But he had married in England? the President reminded him.
14286 True, but not an English woman.
14288 A citizeness of France?
14290 Yes. By birth.
14292 Her name and family?
14294 "Lucie Manette, only daughter of Doctor Manette, the good physician
14295 who sits there."
14297 This answer had a happy effect upon the audience. Cries in exaltation
14298 of the well-known good physician rent the hall. So capriciously were the
14299 people moved, that tears immediately rolled down several ferocious
14300 countenances which had been glaring at the prisoner a moment before,
14301 as if with impatience to pluck him out into the streets and kill him.
14303 On these few steps of his dangerous way, Charles Darnay had set his
14304 foot according to Doctor Manette's reiterated instructions. The same cau-
14305 tious counsel directed every step that lay before him, and had prepared
14306 every inch of his road.
14308 The President asked, why had he returned to France when he did, and
14309 not sooner?
14313 283
14317 He had not returned sooner, he replied, simply because he had no
14318 means of living in France, save those he had resigned; whereas, in Eng-
14319 land, he lived by giving instruction in the French language and literat-
14320 ure. He had returned when he did, on the pressing and written entreaty
14321 of a French citizen, who represented that his life was endangered by his
14322 absence. He had come back, to save a citizen's life, and to bear his testi-
14323 mony, at whatever personal hazard, to the truth. Was that criminal in the
14324 eyes of the Republic?
14326 The populace cried enthusiastically, "No!" and the President rang his
14327 bell to quiet them. Which it did not, for they continued to cry "No!" until
14328 they left off, of their own will.
14330 The President required the name of that citizen. The accused explained
14331 that the citizen was his first witness. He also referred with confidence to
14332 the citizen's letter, which had been taken from him at the Barrier, but
14333 which he did not doubt would be found among the papers then before
14334 the President.
14336 The Doctor had taken care that it should be there - had assured him
14337 that it would be there - and at this stage of the proceedings it was pro-
14338 duced and read. Citizen Gabelle was called to confirm it, and did so. Cit-
14339 izen Gabelle hinted, with infinite delicacy and politeness, that in the
14340 pressure of business imposed on the Tribunal by the multitude of en-
14341 emies of the Republic with which it had to deal, he had been slightly
14342 overlooked in his prison of the Abbaye - in fact, had rather passed out of
14343 the Tribunal's patriotic remembrance - until three days ago; when he
14344 had been summoned before it, and had been set at liberty on the Jury's
14345 declaring themselves satisfied that the accusation against him was
14346 answered, as to himself, by the surrender of the citizen Evremonde,
14347 called Darnay.
14349 Doctor Manette was next questioned. His high personal popularity,
14350 and the clearness of his answers, made a great impression; but, as he
14351 proceeded, as he showed that the Accused was his first friend on his re-
14352 lease from his long imprisonment; that, the accused had remained in
14353 England, always faithful and devoted to his daughter and himself in
14354 their exile; that, so far from being in favour with the Aristocrat govern-
14355 ment there, he had actually been tried for his life by it, as the foe of Eng-
14356 land and friend of the United States - as he brought these circumstances
14357 into view, with the greatest discretion and with the straightforward force
14358 of truth and earnestness, the Jury and the populace became one. At last,
14359 when he appealed by name to Monsieur Lorry, an English gentleman
14363 284
14367 then and there present, who, like himself, had been a witness on that
14368 English trial and could corroborate his account of it, the Jury declared
14369 that they had heard enough, and that they were ready with their votes if
14370 the President were content to receive them.
14372 At every vote (the Jurymen voted aloud and individually), the popu-
14373 lace set up a shout of applause. All the voices were in the prisoner's fa-
14374 vour, and the President declared him free.
14376 Then, began one of those extraordinary scenes with which the popu-
14377 lace sometimes gratified their fickleness, or their better impulses towards
14378 generosity and mercy, or which they regarded as some set-off against
14379 their swollen account of cruel rage. No man can decide now to which of
14380 these motives such extraordinary scenes were referable; it is probable, to
14381 a blending of all the three, with the second predominating. No sooner
14382 was the acquittal pronounced, than tears were shed as freely as blood at
14383 another time, and such fraternal embraces were bestowed upon the pris-
14384 oner by as many of both sexes as could rush at him, that after his long
14385 and unwholesome confinement he was in danger of fainting from ex-
14386 haustion; none the less because he knew very well, that the very same
14387 people, carried by another current, would have rushed at him with the
14388 very same intensity, to rend him to pieces and strew him over the streets.
14390 His removal, to make way for other accused persons who were to be
14391 tried, rescued him from these caresses for the moment. Five were to be
14392 tried together, next, as enemies of the Republic, forasmuch as they had
14393 not assisted it by word or deed. So quick was the Tribunal to compensate
14394 itself and the nation for a chance lost, that these five came down to him
14395 before he left the place, condemned to die within twenty-four hours. The
14396 first of them told him so, with the customary prison sign of Death - a
14397 raised finger - and they all added in words, "Long live the Republic!"
14399 The five had had, it is true, no audience to lengthen their proceedings,
14400 for when he and Doctor Manette emerged from the gate, there was a
14401 great crowd about it, in which there seemed to be every face he had seen
14402 in Court - except two, for which he looked in vain. On his coming out,
14403 the concourse made at him anew, weeping, embracing, and shouting, all
14404 by turns and all together, until the very tide of the river on the bank of
14405 which the mad scene was acted, seemed to run mad, like the people on
14406 the shore.
14408 They put him into a great chair they had among them, and which they
14409 had taken either out of the Court itself, or one of its rooms or passages.
14410 Over the chair they had thrown a red flag, and to the back of it they had
14414 285
14418 bound a pike with a red cap on its top. In this car of triumph, not even
14419 the Doctor's entreaties could prevent his being carried to his home on
14420 men's shoulders, with a confused sea of red caps heaving about him, and
14421 casting up to sight from the stormy deep such wrecks of faces, that he
14422 more than once misdoubted his mind being in confusion, and that he
14423 was in the tumbril on his way to the Guillotine.
14425 In wild dreamlike procession, embracing whom they met and pointing
14426 him out, they carried him on. Reddening the snowy streets with the pre-
14427 vailing Republican colour, in winding and tramping through them, as
14428 they had reddened them below the snow with a deeper dye, they carried
14429 him thus into the courtyard of the building where he lived. Her father
14430 had gone on before, to prepare her, and when her husband stood upon
14431 his feet, she dropped insensible in his arms.
14433 As he held her to his heart and turned her beautiful head between his
14434 face and the brawling crowd, so that his tears and her lips might come
14435 together unseen, a few of the people fell to dancing. Instantly, all the rest
14436 fell to dancing, and the courtyard overflowed with the Carmagnole.
14437 Then, they elevated into the vacant chair a young woman from the
14438 crowd to be carried as the Goddess of Liberty, and then swelling and
14439 overflowing out into the adjacent streets, and along the river's bank, and
14440 over the bridge, the Carmagnole absorbed them every one and whirled
14441 them away.
14443 After grasping the Doctor's hand, as he stood victorious and proud be-
14444 fore him; after grasping the hand of Mr. Lorry, who came panting in
14445 breathless from his struggle against the waterspout of the Carmagnole;
14446 after kissing little Lucie, who was lifted up to clasp her arms round his
14447 neck; and after embracing the ever zealous and faithful Pross who lifted
14448 her; he took his wife in his arms, and carried her up to their rooms.
14450 "Lucie! My own! I am safe."
14452 "O dearest Charles, let me thank God for this on my knees as I have
14453 prayed to Him."
14455 They all reverently bowed their heads and hearts. When she was again
14456 in his arms, he said to her:
14458 "And now speak to your father, dearest. No other man in all this
14459 France could have done what he has done for me."
14461 She laid her head upon her father's breast, as she had laid his poor
14462 head on her own breast, long, long ago. He was happy in the return he
14463 had made her, he was recompensed for his suffering, he was proud of
14467 286
14471 his strength. "You must not be weak, my darling," he remonstrated;
14472 "don't tremble so. I have saved him."
14476 287
14480 Chapter
14484 7
14488 A Knock at the Door
14490 "I have saved him." It was not another of the dreams in which he had
14491 often come back; he was really here. And yet his wife trembled, and a
14492 vague but heavy fear was upon her.
14494 All the air round was so thick and dark, the people were so passion-
14495 ately revengeful and fitful, the innocent were so constantly put to death
14496 on vague suspicion and black malice, it was so impossible to forget that
14497 many as blameless as her husband and as dear to others as he was to her,
14498 every day shared the fate from which he had been clutched, that her
14499 heart could not be as lightened of its load as she felt it ought to be. The
14500 shadows of the wintry afternoon were beginning to fall, and even now
14501 the dreadful carts were rolling through the streets. Her mind pursued
14502 them, looking for him among the Condemned; and then she clung closer
14503 to his real presence and trembled more.
14505 Her father, cheering her, showed a compassionate superiority to this
14506 woman's weakness, which was wonderful to see. No garret, no shoemak-
14507 ing, no One Hundred and Five, North Tower, now! He had accom-
14508 plished the task he had set himself, his promise was redeemed, he had
14509 saved Charles. Let them all lean upon him.
14511 Their housekeeping was of a very frugal kind: not only because that
14512 was the safest way of life, involving the least offence to the people, but
14513 because they were not rich, and Charles, throughout his imprisonment,
14514 had had to pay heavily for his bad food, and for his guard, and towards
14515 the living of the poorer prisoners. Partly on this account, and partly to
14516 avoid a domestic spy, they kept no servant; the citizen and citizeness
14517 who acted as porters at the courtyard gate, rendered them occasional ser-
14518 vice; and Jerry (almost wholly transferred to them by Mr. Lorry) had be-
14519 come their daily retainer, and had his bed there every night.
14521 It was an ordinance of the Republic One and Indivisible of Liberty,
14522 Equality, Fraternity, or Death, that on the door or doorpost of every
14526 288
14530 house, the name of every inmate must be legibly inscribed in letters of a
14531 certain size, at a certain convenient height from the ground. Mr. Jerry
14532 Cruncher's name, therefore, duly embellished the doorpost down below;
14533 and, as the afternoon shadows deepened, the owner of that name himself
14534 appeared, from overlooking a painter whom Doctor Manette had em-
14535 ployed to add to the list the name of Charles Evremonde, called Darnay.
14537 In the universal fear and distrust that darkened the time, all the usual
14538 harmless ways of life were changed. In the Doctor's little household, as
14539 in very many others, the articles of daily consumption that were wanted
14540 were purchased every evening, in small quantities and at various small
14541 shops. To avoid attracting notice, and to give as little occasion as possible
14542 for talk and envy, was the general desire.
14544 For some months past, Miss Pross and Mr. Cruncher had discharged
14545 the office of purveyors; the former carrying the money; the latter, the
14546 basket. Every afternoon at about the time when the public lamps were
14547 lighted, they fared forth on this duty, and made and brought home such
14548 purchases as were needful. Although Miss Pross, through her long asso-
14549 ciation with a French family, might have known as much of their lan-
14550 guage as of her own, if she had had a mind, she had no mind in that dir-
14551 ection; consequently she knew no more of that "nonsense" (as she was
14552 pleased to call it) than Mr. Cruncher did. So her manner of marketing
14553 was to plump a noun-substantive at the head of a shopkeeper without
14554 any introduction in the nature of an article, and, if it happened not to be
14555 the name of the thing she wanted, to look round for that thing, lay hold
14556 of it, and hold on by it until the bargain was concluded. She always
14557 made a bargain for it, by holding up, as a statement of its just price, one
14558 finger less than the merchant held up, whatever his number might be.
14560 "Now, Mr. Cruncher," said Miss Pross, whose eyes were red with feli-
14561 city; "if you are ready, I am."
14563 Jerry hoarsely professed himself at Miss Pross's service. He had worn
14564 all his rust off long ago, but nothing would file his spiky head down.
14566 "There's all manner of things wanted," said Miss Pross, "and we shall
14567 have a precious time of it. We want wine, among the rest. Nice toasts
14568 these Redheads will be drinking, wherever we buy it."
14570 "It will be much the same to your knowledge, miss, I should think," re-
14571 torted Jerry, "whether they drink your health or the Old Un's."
14573 "Who's he?" said Miss Pross.
14577 289
14581 Mr. Cruncher, with some diffidence, explained himself as meaning
14582 "Old Nick's."
14584 "Ha!" said Miss Pross, "it doesn't need an interpreter to explain the
14585 meaning of these creatures. They have but one, and it's Midnight
14586 Murder, and Mischief."
14588 "Hush, dear! Pray, pray, be cautious!" cried Lucie.
14590 "Yes, yes, yes, I'll be cautious," said Miss Pross; "but I may say among
14591 ourselves, that I do hope there will be no oniony and tobaccoey smother-
14592 ings in the form of embracings all round, going on in the streets. Now,
14593 Ladybird, never you stir from that fire till I come back! Take care of the
14594 dear husband you have recovered, and don't move your pretty head
14595 from his shoulder as you have it now, till you see me again! May I ask a
14596 question, Doctor Manette, before I go?"
14598 "I think you may take that liberty," the Doctor answered, smiling.
14600 "For gracious sake, don't talk about Liberty; we have quite enough of
14601 that," said Miss Pross.
14603 "Hush, dear! Again?" Lucie remonstrated.
14605 "Well, my sweet," said Miss Pross, nodding her head emphatically,
14606 "the short and the long of it is, that I am a subject of His Most Gracious
14607 Majesty King George the Third;" Miss Pross curtseyed at the name; "and
14608 as such, my maxim is, Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavish
14609 tricks, On him our hopes we fix, God save the King!"
14611 Mr. Cruncher, in an access of loyalty, growlingly repeated the words
14612 after Miss Pross, like somebody at church.
14614 "I am glad you have so much of the Englishman in you, though I wish
14615 you had never taken that cold in your voice," said Miss Pross, approv-
14616 ingly. "But the question, Doctor Manette. Is there" - it was the good
14617 creature's way to affect to make light of anything that was a great anxiety
14618 with them all, and to come at it in this chance manner - "is there any pro-
14619 spect yet, of our getting out of this place?"
14621 "I fear not yet. It would be dangerous for Charles yet."
14623 "Heigh-ho-hum!" said Miss Pross, cheerfully repressing a sigh as she
14624 glanced at her darling's golden hair in the light of the fire, "then we must
14625 have patience and wait: that's all. We must hold up our heads and fight
14626 low, as my brother Solomon used to say. Now, Mr. Cruncher! - Don't
14627 you move, Ladybird!"
14631 290
14635 They went out, leaving Lucie, and her husband, her father, and the
14636 child, by a bright fire. Mr. Lorry was expected back presently from the
14637 Banking House. Miss Pross had lighted the lamp, but had put it aside in
14638 a corner, that they might enjoy the fire-light undisturbed. Little Lucie sat
14639 by her grandfather with her hands clasped through his arm: and he, in a
14640 tone not rising much above a whisper, began to tell her a story of a great
14641 and powerful Fairy who had opened a prison-wall and let out a captive
14642 who had once done the Fairy a service. All was subdued and quiet, and
14643 Lucie was more at ease than she had been.
14645 "What is that?" she cried, all at once.
14647 "My dear!" said her father, stopping in his story, and laying his hand
14648 on hers, "command yourself. What a disordered state you are in! The
14649 least thing - nothing - startles you! You, your father's daughter!"
14651 "I thought, my father," said Lucie, excusing herself, with a pale face
14652 and in a faltering voice, "that I heard strange feet upon the stairs."
14654 "My love, the staircase is as still as Death."
14656 As he said the word, a blow was struck upon the door.
14658 "Oh father, father. What can this be! Hide Charles. Save him!"
14660 "My child," said the Doctor, rising, and laying his hand upon her
14661 shoulder, "I have saved him. What weakness is this, my dear! Let me go
14662 to the door."
14664 He took the lamp in his hand, crossed the two intervening outer
14665 rooms, and opened it. A rude clattering of feet over the floor, and four
14666 rough men in red caps, armed with sabres and pistols, entered the room.
14668 "The Citizen Evremonde, called Darnay," said the first.
14670 "Who seeks him?" answered Darnay.
14672 "I seek him. We seek him. I know you, Evremonde; I saw you before
14673 the Tribunal to-day. You are again the prisoner of the Republic."
14675 The four surrounded him, where he stood with his wife and child
14676 clinging to him.
14678 "Tell me how and why am I again a prisoner?"
14680 "It is enough that you return straight to the Conciergerie, and will
14681 know to-morrow. You are summoned for to-morrow."
14683 Doctor Manette, whom this visitation had so turned into stone, that be
14684 stood with the lamp in his hand, as if be woe a statue made to hold it,
14685 moved after these words were spoken, put the lamp down, and
14689 291
14693 confronting the speaker, and taking him, not ungently, by the loose front
14694 of his red woollen shirt, said:
14696 "You know him, you have said. Do you know me?"
14698 "Yes, I know you, Citizen Doctor."
14700 "We all know you, Citizen Doctor," said the other three.
14702 He looked abstractedly from one to another, and said, in a lower voice,
14703 after a pause:
14705 "Will you answer his question to me then? How does this happen?"
14707 "Citizen Doctor," said the first, reluctantly, "he has been denounced to
14708 the Section of Saint Antoine. This citizen," pointing out the second who
14709 had entered, "is from Saint Antoine."
14711 The citizen here indicated nodded his head, and added:
14713 "He is accused by Saint Antoine."
14715 "Of what?" asked the Doctor.
14717 "Citizen Doctor," said the first, with his former reluctance, "ask no
14718 more. If the Republic demands sacrifices from you, without doubt you as
14719 a good patriot will be happy to make them. The Republic goes before all.
14720 The People is supreme. Evremonde, we are pressed."
14722 "One word," the Doctor entreated. "Will you tell me who denounced
14723 him?"
14725 "It is against rule," answered the first; "but you can ask Him of Saint
14726 Antoine here."
14728 The Doctor turned his eyes upon that man. Who moved uneasily on
14729 his feet, rubbed his beard a little, and at length said:
14731 "Well! Truly it is against rule. But he is denounced - and gravely - by
14732 the Citizen and Citizeness Defarge. And by one other."
14734 "What other?"
14736 "Do you ask, Citizen Doctor?"
14738 "Yes."
14740 "Then," said he of Saint Antoine, with a strange look, "you will be
14741 answered to-morrow. Now, I am dumb!"
14745 292
14749 Chapter
14753 8
14757 A Hand at Cards
14759 Happily unconscious of the new calamity at home, Miss Pross
14760 threaded her way along the narrow streets and crossed the river by the
14761 bridge of the Pont-Neuf, reckoning in her mind the number of indispens-
14762 able purchases she had to make. Mr. Cruncher, with the basket, walked
14763 at her side. They both looked to the right and to the left into most of the
14764 shops they passed, had a wary eye for all gregarious assemblages of
14765 people, and turned out of their road to avoid any very excited group of
14766 talkers. It was a raw evening, and the misty river, blurred to the eye with
14767 blazing lights and to the ear with harsh noises, showed where the barges
14768 were stationed in which the smiths worked, making guns for the Army
14769 of the Republic. Woe to the man who played tricks with that Army, or
14770 got undeserved promotion in it! Better for him that his beard had never
14771 grown, for the National Razor shaved him close.
14773 Having purchased a few small articles of grocery, and a measure of oil
14774 for the lamp, Miss Pross bethought herself of the wine they wanted.
14775 After peeping into several wine-shops, she stopped at the sign of the
14776 Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, not far from the National Palace,
14777 once (and twice) the Tuileries, where the aspect of things rather took her
14778 fancy. It had a quieter look than any other place of the same description
14779 they had passed, and, though red with patriotic caps, was not so red as
14780 the rest. Sounding Mr. Cruncher, and finding him of her opinion, Miss
14781 Pross resorted to the Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, attended by
14782 her cavalier.
14784 Slightly observant of the smoky lights; of the people, pipe in mouth,
14785 playing with limp cards and yellow dominoes; of the one bare-breasted,
14786 bare-armed, soot-begrimed workman reading a journal aloud, and of the
14787 others listening to him; of the weapons worn, or laid aside to be re-
14788 sumed; of the two or three customers fallen forward asleep, who in the
14789 popular high-shouldered shaggy black spencer looked, in that attitude,
14793 293
14797 like slumbering bears or dogs; the two outlandish customers approached
14798 the counter, and showed what they wanted.
14800 As their wine was measuring out, a man parted from another man in a
14801 corner, and rose to depart. In going, he had to face Miss Pross. No sooner
14802 did he face her, than Miss Pross uttered a scream, and clapped her
14803 hands.
14805 In a moment, the whole company were on their feet. That somebody
14806 was assassinated by somebody vindicating a difference of opinion was
14807 the likeliest occurrence. Everybody looked to see somebody fall, but only
14808 saw a man and a woman standing staring at each other; the man with all
14809 the outward aspect of a Frenchman and a thorough Republican; the wo-
14810 man, evidently English.
14812 What was said in this disappointing anti-climax, by the disciples of the
14813 Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, except that it was something very
14814 voluble and loud, would have been as so much Hebrew or Chaldean to
14815 Miss Pross and her protector, though they had been all ears. But, they
14816 had no ears for anything in their surprise. For, it must be recorded, that
14817 not only was Miss Pross lost in amazement and agitation, but, Mr.
14818 Cruncher - though it seemed on his own separate and individual ac-
14819 count - was in a state of the greatest wonder.
14821 "What is the matter?" said the man who had caused Miss Pross to
14822 scream; speaking in a vexed, abrupt voice (though in a low tone), and in
14823 English.
14825 "Oh, Solomon, dear Solomon!" cried Miss Pross, clapping her hands
14826 again. "After not setting eyes upon you or hearing of you for so long a
14827 time, do I find you here!"
14829 "Don't call me Solomon. Do you want to be the death of me?" asked
14830 the man, in a furtive, frightened way.
14832 "Brother, brother!" cried Miss Pross, bursting into tears. "Have I ever
14833 been so hard with you that you ask me such a cruel question?"
14835 "Then hold your meddlesome tongue," said Solomon, "and come out,
14836 if you want to speak to me. Pay for your wine, and come out. Who's this
14837 man?"
14839 Miss Pross, shaking her loving and dejected head at her by no means
14840 affectionate brother, said through her tears, "Mr. Cruncher."
14842 "Let him come out too," said Solomon. "Does he think me a ghost?"
14844 Apparently, Mr. Cruncher did, to judge from his looks. He said not a
14845 word, however, and Miss Pross, exploring the depths of her reticule
14849 294
14853 through her tears with great difficulty paid for her wine. As she did so,
14854 Solomon turned to the followers of the Good Republican Brutus of
14855 Antiquity, and offered a few words of explanation in the French lan-
14856 guage, which caused them all to relapse into their former places and
14857 pursuits.
14859 "Now," said Solomon, stopping at the dark street corner, "what do you
14860 want?"
14862 "How dreadfully unkind in a brother nothing has ever turned my love
14863 away from!" cried Miss Pross, "to give me such a greeting, and show me
14864 no affection."
14866 "There. Confound it! There," said Solomon, making a dab at Miss
14867 Pross's lips with his own. "Now are you content?"
14869 Miss Pross only shook her head and wept in silence.
14871 "If you expect me to be surprised," said her brother Solomon, "I am not
14872 surprised; I knew you were here; I know of most people who are here. If
14873 you really don't want to endanger my existence - which I half believe
14874 you do - go your ways as soon as possible, and let me go mine. I am
14875 busy. I am an official."
14877 "My English brother Solomon," mourned Miss Pross, casting up her
14878 tear-fraught eyes, "that had the makings in him of one of the best and
14879 greatest of men in his native country, an official among foreigners, and
14880 such foreigners! I would almost sooner have seen the dear boy lying in
14881 his-"
14883 "I said so!" cried her brother, interrupting. "I knew it. You want to be
14884 the death of me. I shall be rendered Suspected, by my own sister. Just as
14885 I am getting on!"
14887 "The gracious and merciful Heavens forbid!" cried Miss Pross. "Far
14888 rather would I never see you again, dear Solomon, though I have ever
14889 loved you truly, and ever shall. Say but one affectionate word to me, and
14890 tell me there is nothing angry or estranged between us, and I will detain
14891 you no longer."
14893 Good Miss Pross! As if the estrangement between them had come of
14894 any culpability of hers. As if Mr. Lorry had not known it for a fact, years
14895 ago, in the quiet corner in Soho, that this precious brother had spent her
14896 money and left her!
14898 He was saying the affectionate word, however, with a far more
14899 grudging condescension and patronage than he could have shown if
14900 their relative merits and positions had been reversed (which is invariably
14904 295
14908 the case, all the world over), when Mr. Cruncher, touching him on the
14909 shoulder, hoarsely and unexpectedly interposed with the following sin-
14910 gular question:
14912 "I say! Might I ask the favour? As to whether your name is John So-
14913 lomon, or Solomon John?"
14915 The official turned towards him with sudden distrust. He had not pre-
14916 viously uttered a word.
14918 "Come!" said Mr. Cruncher. "Speak out, you know." (Which, by the
14919 way, was more than he could do himself.) "John Solomon, or Solomon
14920 John? She calls you Solomon, and she must know, being your sister. And
14921 I know you're John, you know. Which of the two goes first? And regard-
14922 ing that name of Pross, likewise. That warn't your name over the water."
14924 "What do you mean?"
14926 "Well, I don't know all I mean, for I can't call to mind what your name
14927 was, over the water."
14929 "No?"
14931 "No. But I'll swear it was a name of two syllables."
14933 "Indeed?"
14935 "Yes. T'other one's was one syllable. I know you. You was a spy - wit-
14936 ness at the Bailey. What, in the name of the Father of Lies, own father to
14937 yourself, was you called at that time?"
14939 "Barsad," said another voice, striking in.
14941 "That's the name for a thousand pound!" cried Jerry.
14943 The speaker who struck in, was Sydney Carton. He had his hands be-
14944 hind him under the skirts of his riding-coat, and he stood at Mr.
14945 Cruncher's elbow as negligently as he might have stood at the Old Bailey
14946 itself.
14948 "Don't be alarmed, my dear Miss Pross. I arrived at Mr. Lorry's, to his
14949 surprise, yesterday evening; we agreed that I would not present myself
14950 elsewhere until all was well, or unless I could be useful; I present myself
14951 here, to beg a little talk with your brother. I wish you had a better em-
14952 ployed brother than Mr. Barsad. I wish for your sake Mr. Barsad was not
14953 a Sheep of the Prisons."
14955 Sheep was a cant word of the time for a spy, under the gaolers. The
14956 spy, who was pale, turned paler, and asked him how he dared -
14958 "I'll tell you," said Sydney. "I lighted on you, Mr. Barsad, coming out of
14959 the prison of the Conciergerie while I was contemplating the walls, an
14963 296
14967 hour or more ago. You have a face to be remembered, and I remember
14968 faces well. Made curious by seeing you in that connexion, and having a
14969 reason, to which you are no stranger, for associating you with the misfor-
14970 tunes of a friend now very unfortunate, I walked in your direction. I
14971 walked into the wine-shop here, close after you, and sat near you. I had
14972 no difficulty in deducing from your unreserved conversation, and the ru-
14973 mour openly going about among your admirers, the nature of your call-
14974 ing. And gradually, what I had done at random, seemed to shape itself
14975 into a purpose, Mr. Barsad."
14977 "What purpose?" the spy asked.
14979 "It would be troublesome, and might be dangerous, to explain in the
14980 street. Could you favour me, in confidence, with some minutes of your
14981 company - at the office of Tellson's Bank, for instance?"
14983 "Under a threat?"
14985 "Oh! Did I say that?"
14987 "Then, why should I go there?"
14989 "Really, Mr. Barsad, I can't say, if you can't."
14991 "Do you mean that you won't say, sir?" the spy irresolutely asked.
14993 "You apprehend me very clearly, Mr. Barsad. I won't."
14995 Carton's negligent recklessness of manner came powerfully in aid of
14996 his quickness and skill, in such a business as he had in his secret mind,
14997 and with such a man as he had to do with. His practised eye saw it, and
14998 made the most of it.
15000 "Now, I told you so," said the spy, casting a reproachful look at his sis-
15001 ter; "if any trouble comes of this, it's your doing."
15003 "Come, come, Mr. Barsad!" exclaimed Sydney. "Don't be ungrateful.
15004 But for my great respect for your sister, I might not have led up so pleas-
15005 antly to a little proposal that I wish to make for our mutual satisfaction.
15006 Do you go with me to the Bank?"
15008 "I'll hear what you have got to say. Yes, I'll go with you."
15010 "I propose that we first conduct your sister safely to the corner of her
15011 own street. Let me take your arm, Miss Pross. This is not a good city, at
15012 this time, for you to be out in, unprotected; and as your escort knows Mr.
15013 Barsad, I will invite him to Mr. Lorry's with us. Are we ready? Come
15014 then!"
15016 Miss Pross recalled soon afterwards, and to the end of her life re-
15017 membered, that as she pressed her hands on Sydney's arm and looked
15021 297
15025 up in his face, imploring him to do no hurt to Solomon, there was a
15026 braced purpose in the arm and a kind of inspiration in the eyes, which
15027 not only contradicted his light manner, but changed and raised the man.
15028 She was too much occupied then with fears for the brother who so little
15029 deserved her affection, and with Sydney's friendly reassurances, ad-
15030 equately to heed what she observed.
15032 They left her at the corner of the street, and Carton led the way to Mr.
15033 Lorry's, which was within a few minutes' walk. John Barsad, or Solomon
15034 Pross, walked at his side.
15036 Mr. Lorry had just finished his dinner, and was sitting before a cheery
15037 little log or two of fire - perhaps looking into their blaze for the picture
15038 of that younger elderly gentleman from Tellson's, who had looked into
15039 the red coals at the Royal George at Dover, now a good many years ago.
15040 He turned his head as they entered, and showed the surprise with which
15041 he saw a stranger.
15043 "Miss Pross's brother, sir," said Sydney. "Mr. Barsad."
15045 "Barsad?" repeated the old gentleman, "Barsad? I have an association
15046 with the name - and with the face."
15048 "I told you you had a remarkable face, Mr. Barsad," observed Carton,
15049 coolly. "Pray sit down."
15051 As he took a chair himself, he supplied the link that Mr. Lorry wanted,
15052 by saying to him with a frown, "Witness at that trial." Mr. Lorry immedi-
15053 ately remembered, and regarded his new visitor with an undisguised
15054 look of abhorrence.
15056 "Mr. Barsad has been recognised by Miss Pross as the affectionate
15057 brother you have heard of," said Sydney, "and has acknowledged the re-
15058 lationship. I pass to worse news. Darnay has been arrested again."
15060 Struck with consternation, the old gentleman exclaimed, "What do you
15061 tell me! I left him safe and free within these two hours, and am about to
15062 return to him!"
15064 "Arrested for all that. When was it done, Mr. Barsad?"
15066 "Just now, if at all."
15068 "Mr. Barsad is the best authority possible, sir," said Sydney, "and I
15069 have it from Mr. Barsad' s communication to a friend and brother Sheep
15070 over a bottle of wine, that the arrest has taken place. He left the messen-
15071 gers at the gate, and saw them admitted by the porter. There is no
15072 earthly doubt that he is retaken."
15076 298
15080 Mr. Lorry's business eye read in the speaker's face that it was loss of
15081 time to dwell upon the point. Confused, but sensible that something
15082 might depend on his presence of mind, he commanded himself, and was
15083 silently attentive.
15085 "Now, I trust," said Sydney to him, "that the name and influence of
15086 Doctor Manette may stand him in as good stead to-morrow - you said he
15087 would be before the Tribunal again to-morrow, Mr. Barsad? - "
15089 "Yes; I believe so."
15091 " - In as good stead to-morrow as to-day. But it may not be so. I own to
15092 you, I am shaken, Mr. Lorry, by Doctor Manette's not having had the
15093 power to prevent this arrest."
15095 "He may not have known of it beforehand," said Mr. Lorry.
15097 "But that very circumstance would be alarming, when we remember
15098 how identified he is with his son-in-law."
15100 "That's true," Mr. Lorry acknowledged, with his troubled hand at his
15101 chin, and his troubled eyes on Carton.
15103 "In short," said Sydney, "this is a desperate time, when desperate
15104 games are played for desperate stakes. Let the Doctor play the winning
15105 game; I will play the losing one. No man's life here is worth purchase.
15106 Any one carried home by the people to-day, may be condemned tomor-
15107 row. Now, the stake I have resolved to play for, in case of the worst, is a
15108 friend in the Conciergerie. And the friend I purpose to myself to win, is
15109 Mr. Barsad."
15111 "You need have good cards, sir," said the spy.
15113 "I'll run them over. I'll see what I hold, - Mr. Lorry, you know what a
15114 brute I am; I wish you'd give me a little brandy."
15116 It was put before him, and he drank off a glassful - drank off another
15117 glassful - pushed the bottle thoughtfully away.
15119 "Mr. Barsad," he went on, in the tone of one who really was looking
15120 over a hand at cards: "Sheep of the prisons, emissary of Republican com-
15121 mittees, now turnkey, now prisoner, always spy and secret informer, so
15122 much the more valuable here for being English that an Englishman is
15123 less open to suspicion of subornation in those characters than a French-
15124 man, represents himself to his employers under a false name. That's a
15125 very good card. Mr. Barsad, now in the employ of the republican French
15126 government, was formerly in the employ of the aristocratic English gov-
15127 ernment, the enemy of France and freedom. That's an excellent card. In-
15128 ference clear as day in this region of suspicion, that Mr. Barsad, still in
15132 299
15136 the pay of the aristocratic English government, is the spy of Pitt, the
15137 treacherous foe of the Republic crouching in its bosom, the English trait-
15138 or and agent of all mischief so much spoken of and so difficult to find.
15139 That's a card not to be beaten. Have you followed my hand, Mr. Barsad?"
15141 "Not to understand your play," returned the spy, somewhat uneasily.
15143 "I play my Ace, Denunciation of Mr. Barsad to the nearest Section
15144 Committee. Look over your hand, Mr. Barsad, and see what you have.
15145 Don't hurry."
15147 He drew the bottle near, poured out another glassful of brandy, and
15148 drank it off. He saw that the spy was fearful of his drinking himself into
15149 a fit state for the immediate denunciation of him. Seeing it, he poured
15150 out and drank another glassful.
15152 "Look over your hand carefully, Mr. Barsad. Take time."
15154 It was a poorer hand than he suspected. Mr. Barsad saw losing cards
15155 in it that Sydney Carton knew nothing of. Thrown out of his honourable
15156 employment in England, through too much unsuccessful hard swearing
15157 there - not because he was not wanted there; our English reasons for
15158 vaunting our superiority to secrecy and spies are of very modern
15159 date - he knew that he had crossed the Channel, and accepted service in
15160 France: first, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among his own country-
15161 men there: gradually, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among the nat-
15162 ives. He knew that under the overthrown government he had been a spy
15163 upon Saint Antoine and Defarge's wine-shop; had received from the
15164 watchful police such heads of information concerning Doctor Manette's
15165 imprisonment, release, and history, as should serve him for an introduc-
15166 tion to familiar conversation with the Defarges; and tried them on Ma-
15167 dame Defarge, and had broken down with them signally. He always re-
15168 membered with fear and trembling, that that terrible woman had knitted
15169 when he talked with her, and had looked ominously at him as her fin-
15170 gers moved. He had since seen her, in the Section of Saint Antoine, over
15171 and over again produce her knitted registers, and denounce people
15172 whose lives the guillotine then surely swallowed up. He knew, as every
15173 one employed as he was did, that he was never safe; that flight was im-
15174 possible; that he was tied fast under the shadow of the axe; and that in
15175 spite of his utmost tergiversation and treachery in furtherance of the
15176 reigning terror, a word might bring it down upon him. Once denounced,
15177 and on such grave grounds as had just now been suggested to his mind,
15178 he foresaw that the dreadful woman of whose unrelenting character he
15179 had seen many proofs, would produce against him that fatal register,
15183 300
15187 and would quash his last chance of life. Besides that all secret men are
15188 men soon terrified, here were surely cards enough of one black suit, to
15189 justify the holder in growing rather livid as he turned them over.
15191 "You scarcely seem to like your hand," said Sydney, with the greatest
15192 composure. "Do you play?"
15194 "I think, sir," said the spy, in the meanest manner, as he turned to Mr.
15195 Lorry, "I may appeal to a gentleman of your years and benevolence, to
15196 put it to this other gentleman, so much your junior, whether he can un-
15197 der any circumstances reconcile it to his station to play that Ace of which
15198 he has spoken. I admit that I am a spy, and that it is considered a dis-
15199 creditable station - though it must be filled by somebody; but this gentle-
15200 man is no spy, and why should he so demean himself as to make himself
15201 one?"
15203 "I play my Ace, Mr. Barsad," said Carton, taking the answer on him-
15204 self, and looking at his watch, "without any scruple, in a very few
15205 minutes."
15207 "I should have hoped, gentlemen both," said the spy, always striving
15208 to hook Mr. Lorry into the discussion, "that your respect for my sister - "
15210 "I could not better testify my respect for your sister than by finally re-
15211 lieving her of her brother," said Sydney Carton.
15213 "You think not, sir?"
15215 "I have thoroughly made up my mind about it."
15217 The smooth manner of the spy, curiously in dissonance with his osten-
15218 tatiously rough dress, and probably with his usual demeanour, received
15219 such a check from the inscrutability of Carton, - who was a mystery to
15220 wiser and honester men than he, - that it faltered here and failed him.
15221 While he was at a loss, Carton said, resuming his former air of contem-
15222 plating cards:
15224 "And indeed, now I think again, I have a strong impression that I have
15225 another good card here, not yet enumerated. That friend and fellow-
15226 Sheep, who spoke of himself as pasturing in the country prisons; who
15227 was he?"
15229 "French. You don't know him," said the spy, quickly.
15231 "French, eh?" repeated Carton, musing, and not appearing to notice
15232 him at all, though he echoed his word. "Well; he may be."
15234 "Is, I assure you," said the spy; "though it's not important."
15238 301
15242 "Though it's not important," repeated Carton, in the same mechanical
15243 way - "though it's not important - No, it's not important. No. Yet I know
15244 the face."
15246 "I think not. I am sure not. It can't be," said the spy.
15248 "It-can't-be," muttered Sydney Carton, retrospectively, and idling his
15249 glass (which fortunately was a small one) again. "Can't-be. Spoke good
15250 French. Yet like a foreigner, I thought?"
15252 "Provincial," said the spy.
15254 "No. Foreign!" cried Carton, striking his open hand on the table, as a
15255 light broke clearly on his mind. "Cly! Disguised, but the same man. We
15256 had that man before us at the Old Bailey."
15258 "Now, there you are hasty, sir," said Barsad, with a smile that gave his
15259 aquiline nose an extra inclination to one side; "there you really give me
15260 an advantage over you. Cly (who I will unreservedly admit, at this dis-
15261 tance of time, was a partner of mine) has been dead several years. I atten-
15262 ded him in his last illness. He was buried in London, at the church of
15263 Saint Pancras-in-the-Fields. His unpopularity with the blackguard multi-
15264 tude at the moment prevented my following his remains, but I helped to
15265 lay him in his coffin."
15267 Here, Mr. Lorry became aware, from where he sat, of a most remark-
15268 able goblin shadow on the wall. Tracing it to its source, he discovered it
15269 to be caused by a sudden extraordinary rising and stiffening of all the
15270 risen and stiff hair on Mr. Cruncher's head.
15272 "Let us be reasonable," said the spy, "and let us be fair. To show you
15273 how mistaken you are, and what an unfounded assumption yours is, I
15274 will lay before you a certificate of Cly's burial, which I happened to have
15275 carried in my pocket-book," with a hurried hand he produced and
15276 opened it, "ever since. There it is. Oh, look at it, look at it! You may take
15277 it in your hand; it's no forgery."
15279 Here, Mr. Lorry perceived the reflexion on the wall to elongate, and
15280 Mr. Cruncher rose and stepped forward. His hair could not have been
15281 more violently on end, if it had been that moment dressed by the Cow
15282 with the crumpled horn in the house that Jack built.
15284 Unseen by the spy, Mr. Cruncher stood at his side, and touched him
15285 on the shoulder like a ghostly bailiff.
15287 "That there Roger Cly, master," said Mr. Cruncher, with a taciturn and
15288 iron-bound visage. "So you put him in his coffin?"
15290 "I did."
15294 302
15298 "Who took him out of it?"
15300 Barsad leaned back in his chair, and stammered, "What do you mean?"
15302 "I mean," said Mr. Cruncher, "that he warn't never in it. No! Not he! I'll
15303 have my head took off, if he was ever in it."
15305 The spy looked round at the two gentlemen; they both looked in un-
15306 speakable astonishment at Jerry.
15308 "I tell you," said Jerry, "that you buried paving-stones and earth in that
15309 there coffin. Don't go and tell me that you buried Cly. It was a take in.
15310 Me and two more knows it."
15312 "How do you know it?"
15314 "What's that to you? Ecod!" growled Mr. Cruncher, "it's you I have got
15315 a old grudge again, is it, with your shameful impositions upon trades-
15316 men! I'd catch hold of your throat and choke you for half a guinea."
15318 Sydney Carton, who, with Mr. Lorry, had been lost in amazement at
15319 this turn of the business, here requested Mr. Cruncher to moderate and
15320 explain himself.
15322 "At another time, sir," he returned, evasively, "the present time is ill-
15323 conwenient for explainin'. What I stand to, is, that he knows well wot
15324 that there Cly was never in that there coffin. Let him say he was, in so
15325 much as a word of one syllable, and I'll either catch hold of his throat
15326 and choke him for half a guinea;" Mr. Cruncher dwelt upon this as quite
15327 a liberal offer; "or I'll out and announce him."
15329 "Humph! I see one thing," said Carton. "I hold another card, Mr.
15330 Barsad. Impossible, here in raging Paris, with Suspicion filling the air, for
15331 you to outlive denunciation, when you are in communication with an-
15332 other aristocratic spy of the same antecedents as yourself, who,
15333 moreover, has the mystery about him of having feigned death and come
15334 to life again! A plot in the prisons, of the foreigner against the Republic.
15335 A strong card - a certain Guillotine card! Do you play?"
15337 "No!" returned the spy. "I throw up. I confess that we were so unpopu-
15338 lar with the outrageous mob, that I only got away from England at the
15339 risk of being ducked to death, and that Cly was so ferreted up and down,
15340 that he never would have got away at all but for that sham. Though how
15341 this man knows it was a sham, is a wonder of wonders to me."
15343 "Never you trouble your head about this man," retorted the conten-
15344 tious Mr. Cruncher; "you'll have trouble enough with giving your atten-
15345 tion to that gentleman. And look here! Once more!" - Mr. Cruncher
15346 could not be restrained from making rather an ostentatious parade of his
15350 303
15354 liberality - "I'd catch hold of your throat and choke you for half a
15355 guinea."
15357 The Sheep of the prisons turned from him to Sydney Carton, and said,
15358 with more decision, "It has come to a point. I go on duty soon, and can't
15359 overstay my time. You told me you had a proposal; what is it? Now, it is
15360 of no use asking too much of me. Ask me to do anything in my office,
15361 putting my head in great extra danger, and I had better trust my life to
15362 the chances of a refusal than the chances of consent. In short, I should
15363 make that choice. You talk of desperation. We are all desperate here. Re-
15364 member! I may denounce you if I think proper, and I can swear my way
15365 through stone walls, and so can others. Now, what do you want with
15366 me?"
15368 "Not very much. You are a turnkey at the Conciergerie?"
15370 "I tell you once for all, there is no such thing as an escape possible,"
15371 said the spy, firmly.
15373 "Why need you tell me what I have not asked? You are a turnkey at
15374 the Conciergerie?"
15376 "I am sometimes."
15378 "You can be when you choose?"
15380 "I can pass in and out when I choose."
15382 Sydney Carton filled another glass with brandy, poured it slowly out
15383 upon the hearth, and watched it as it dropped. It being all spent, he said,
15384 rising:
15386 "So far, we have spoken before these two, because it was as well that
15387 the merits of the cards should not rest solely between you and me. Come
15388 into the dark room here, and let us have one final word alone."
15392 304
15396 Chapter
15400 9
15404 The Game Made
15406 While Sydney Carton and the Sheep of the prisons were in the adjoin-
15407 ing dark room, speaking so low that not a sound was heard, Mr. Lorry
15408 looked at Jerry in considerable doubt and mistrust. That honest
15409 tradesman's manner of receiving the look, did not inspire confidence; he
15410 changed the leg on which he rested, as often as if he had fifty of those
15411 limbs, and were trying them all; he examined his finger-nails with a very
15412 questionable closeness of attention; and whenever Mr. Lorry's eye
15413 caught his, he was taken with that peculiar kind of short cough requiring
15414 the hollow of a hand before it, which is seldom, if ever, known to be an
15415 infirmity attendant on perfect openness of character.
15417 "Jerry," said Mr. Lorry. "Come here."
15419 Mr. Cruncher came forward sideways, with one of his shoulders in ad-
15420 vance of him.
15422 "What have you been, besides a messenger?"
15424 After some cogitation, accompanied with an intent look at his patron,
15425 Mr. Cruncher conceived the luminous idea of replying, "Agicultooral
15426 character."
15428 "My mind misgives me much," said Mr. Lorry, angrily shaking a fore-
15429 finger at him, "that you have used the respectable and great house of
15430 Tellson's as a blind, and that you have had an unlawful occupation of an
15431 infamous description. If you have, don't expect me to befriend you when
15432 you get back to England. If you have, don't expect me to keep your
15433 secret. Tellson's shall not be imposed upon."
15435 "I hope, sir," pleaded the abashed Mr. Cruncher, "that a gentleman like
15436 yourself wot I've had the honour of odd jobbing till I'm grey at it, would
15437 think twice about harming of me, even if it wos so - I don't say it is, but
15438 even if it wos. And which it is to be took into account that if it wos, it
15439 wouldn't, even then, be all o' one side. There'd be two sides to it. There
15440 might be medical doctors at the present hour, a picking up their guineas
15444 305
15448 where a honest tradesman don't pick up his fardens - fardens! no, nor
15449 yet his half fardens - half fardens! no, nor yet his quarter - a banking
15450 away like smoke at Tellson's, and a cocking their medical eyes at that
15451 tradesman on the sly, a going in and going out to their own car-
15452 riages - ah! equally like smoke, if not more so. Well, that 'ud be impos-
15453 ing, too, on Tellson's. For you cannot sarse the goose and not the gander.
15454 And here's Mrs. Cruncher, or leastways wos in the Old England times,
15455 and would be to-morrow, if cause given, a floppin' again the business to
15456 that degree as is ruinating - stark ruinating! Whereas them medical doc-
15457 tors' wives don't flop - catch 'em at it! Or, if they flop, their toppings
15458 goes in favour of more patients, and how can you rightly have one
15459 without t'other? Then, wot with undertakers, and wot with parish clerks,
15460 and wot with sextons, and wot with private watchmen (all awaricious
15461 and all in it), a man wouldn't get much by it, even if it wos so. And wot
15462 little a man did get, would never prosper with him, Mr. Lorry. He'd nev-
15463 er have no good of it; he'd want all along to be out of the line, if he, could
15464 see his way out, being once in - even if it wos so."
15466 "Ugh!" cried Mr. Lorry, rather relenting, nevertheless, "I am shocked at
15467 the sight of you."
15469 "Now, what I would humbly offer to you, sir," pursued Mr. Cruncher,
15470 "even if it wos so, which I don't say it is - "
15472 "Don't prevaricate," said Mr. Lorry.
15474 "No, I will not, sir," returned Mr. Crunches as if nothing were further
15475 from his thoughts or practice - "which I don't say it is - wot I would
15476 humbly offer to you, sir, would be this. Upon that there stool, at that
15477 there Bar, sets that there boy of mine, brought up and growed up to be a
15478 man, wot will errand you, message you, general-light-job you, till your
15479 heels is where your head is, if such should be your wishes. If it wos so,
15480 which I still don't say it is (for I will not prewaricate to you, sir), let that
15481 there boy keep his father's place, and take care of his mother; don't blow
15482 upon that boy's father - do not do it, sir - and let that father go into the
15483 line of the reg'lar diggin', and make amends for what he would have un-
15484 dug - if it wos so-by diggin' of 'em in with a will, and with conwictions
15485 respectin' the futur' keepin' of 'em safe. That, Mr. Lorry," said Mr.
15486 Cruncher, wiping his forehead with his arm, as an announcement that he
15487 had arrived at the peroration of his discourse, "is wot I would respect-
15488 fully offer to you, sir. A man don't see all this here a goin' on dreadful
15489 round him, in the way of Subjects without heads, dear me, plentiful
15490 enough fur to bring the price down to porterage and hardly that, without
15494 306
15498 havin' his serious thoughts of things. And these here would be mine, if it
15499 wos so, entreatin' of you fur to bear in mind that wot I said just now, I up
15500 and said in the good cause when I might have kep' it back."
15502 "That at least is true, said Mr. Lorry. "Say no more now. It may be that
15503 I shall yet stand your friend, if you deserve it, and repent in action - not
15504 in words. I want no more words."
15506 Mr. Cruncher knuckled his forehead, as Sydney Carton and the spy re-
15507 turned from the dark room. "Adieu, Mr. Barsad," said the former; "our
15508 arrangement thus made, you have nothing to fear from me."
15510 He sat down in a chair on the hearth, over against Mr. Lorry. When
15511 they were alone, Mr. Lorry asked him what he had done?
15513 "Not much. If it should go ill with the prisoner, I have ensured access
15514 to him, once."
15516 Mr. Lorry's countenance fell.
15518 "It is all I could do," said Carton. "To propose too much, would be to
15519 put this man's head under the axe, and, as he himself said, nothing
15520 worse could happen to him if he were denounced. It was obviously the
15521 weakness of the position. There is no help for it."
15523 "But access to him," said Mr. Lorry, "if it should go ill before the
15524 Tribunal, will not save him."
15526 "I never said it would."
15528 Mr. Lorry's eyes gradually sought the fire; his sympathy with his
15529 darling, and the heavy disappointment of his second arrest, gradually
15530 weakened them; he was an old man now, overborne with anxiety of late,
15531 and his tears fell.
15533 "You are a good man and a true friend," said Carton, in an altered
15534 voice. "Forgive me if I notice that you are affected. I could not see my
15535 father weep, and sit by, careless. And I could not respect your sorrow
15536 more, if you were my father. You are free from that misfortune,
15537 however."
15539 Though he said the last words, with a slip into his usual manner, there
15540 was a true feeling and respect both in his tone and in his touch, that Mr.
15541 Lorry, who had never seen the better side of him, was wholly unpre-
15542 pared for. He gave him his hand, and Carton gently pressed it.
15544 "To return to poor Darnay," said Carton. "Don't tell Her of this inter-
15545 view, or this arrangement. It would not enable Her to go to see him. She
15549 307
15553 might think it was contrived, in case of the worse, to convey to him the
15554 means of anticipating the sentence."
15556 Mr. Lorry had not thought of that, and he looked quickly at Carton to
15557 see if it were in his mind. It seemed to be; he returned the look, and evid-
15558 ently understood it.
15560 "She might think a thousand things," Carton said, "and any of them
15561 would only add to her trouble. Don't speak of me to her. As I said to you
15562 when I first came, I had better not see her. I can put my hand out, to do
15563 any little helpful work for her that my hand can find to do, without that.
15564 You are going to her, I hope? She must be very desolate to-night."
15566 "I am going now, directly."
15568 "I am glad of that. She has such a strong attachment to you and reli-
15569 ance on you. How does she look?"
15571 "Anxious and unhappy, but very beautiful."
15573 "Ah!"
15575 It was a long, grieving sound, like a sigh - almost like a sob. It attrac-
15576 ted Mr. Lorry's eyes to Carton's face, which was turned to the fire. A
15577 light, or a shade (the old gentleman could not have said which), passed
15578 from it as swiftly as a change will sweep over a hill-side on a wild bright
15579 day, and he lifted his foot to put back one of the little flaming logs, which
15580 was tumbling forward. He wore the white riding-coat and top-boots,
15581 then in vogue, and the light of the fire touching their light surfaces made
15582 him look very pale, with his long brown hair, all untrimmed, hanging
15583 loose about him. His indifference to fire was sufficiently remarkable to
15584 elicit a word of remonstrance from Mr. Lorry; his boot was still upon the
15585 hot embers of the flaming log, when it had broken under the weight of
15586 his foot.
15588 "I forgot it," he said.
15590 Mr. Lorry's eyes were again attracted to his face. Taking note of the
15591 wasted air which clouded the naturally handsome features, and having
15592 the expression of prisoners' faces fresh in his mind, he was strongly re-
15593 minded of that expression.
15595 "And your duties here have drawn to an end, sir?" said Carton, turn-
15596 ing to him.
15598 "Yes. As I was telling you last night when Lucie came in so unexpec-
15599 tedly, I have at length done all that I can do here. I hoped to have left
15600 them in perfect safety, and then to have quitted Paris. I have my Leave to
15601 Pass. I was ready to go."
15605 308
15609 They were both silent.
15611 "Yours is a long life to look back upon, sir?" said Carton, wistfully.
15613 "I am in my seventy-eighth year."
15615 "You have been useful all your life; steadily and constantly occupied;
15616 trusted, respected, and looked up to?"
15618 "I have been a man of business, ever since I have been a man. indeed, I
15619 may say that I was a man of business when a boy."
15621 "See what a place you fill at seventy-eight. How many people will miss
15622 you when you leave it empty!"
15624 "A solitary old bachelor," answered Mr. Lorry, shaking his head.
15625 "There is nobody to weep for me."
15627 "How can you say that? Wouldn't She weep for you? Wouldn't her
15628 child?"
15630 "Yes, yes, thank God. I didn't quite mean what I said."
15632 "It is a thing to thank God for; is it not?"
15634 "Surely, surely."
15636 "If you could say, with truth, to your own solitary heart, to-night, 'I
15637 have secured to myself the love and attachment, the gratitude or respect,
15638 of no human creature; I have won myself a tender place in no regard; I
15639 have done nothing good or serviceable to be remembered by!' your
15640 seventy-eight years would be seventy-eight heavy curses; would they
15641 not?"
15643 "You say truly, Mr. Carton; I think they would be."
15645 Sydney turned his eyes again upon the fire, and, after a silence of a
15646 few moments, said:
15648 "I should like to ask you: - Does your childhood seem far off? Do the
15649 days when you sat at your mother's knee, seem days of very long ago?"
15651 Responding to his softened manner, Mr. Lorry answered:
15653 "Twenty years back, yes; at this time of my life, no. For, as I draw
15654 closer and closer to the end, I travel in the circle, nearer and nearer to the
15655 beginning. It seems to be one of the kind smoothings and preparings of
15656 the way. My heart is touched now, by many remembrances that had long
15657 fallen asleep, of my pretty young mother (and I so old!), and by many as-
15658 sociations of the days when what we call the World was not so real with
15659 me, and my faults were not confirmed in me."
15663 309
15667 "I understand the feeling!" exclaimed Carton, with a bright flush. "And
15668 you are the better for it?"
15670 "I hope so."
15672 Carton terminated the conversation here, by rising to help him on with
15673 his outer coat; "But you," said Mr. Lorry, reverting to the theme, "you are
15674 young."
15676 "Yes," said Carton. "I am not old, but my young way was never the
15677 way to age. Enough of me."
15679 "And of me, I am sure," said Mr. Lorry. "Are you going out?"
15681 "I'll walk with you to her gate. You know my vagabond and restless
15682 habits. If I should prowl about the streets a long time, don't be uneasy; I
15683 shall reappear in the morning. You go to the Court to-morrow?"
15685 "Yes, unhappily."
15687 "I shall be there, but only as one of the crowd. My Spy will find a place
15688 for me. Take my arm, sir."
15690 Mr. Lorry did so, and they went down-stairs and out in the streets. A
15691 few minutes brought them to Mr. Lorry's destination. Carton left him
15692 there; but lingered at a little distance, and turned back to the gate again
15693 when it was shut, and touched it. He had heard of her going to the pris-
15694 on every day. "She came out here," he said, looking about him, "turned
15695 this way, must have trod on these stones often. Let me follow in her
15696 steps."
15698 It was ten o'clock at night when he stood before the prison of La Force,
15699 where she had stood hundreds of times. A little wood-sawyer, having
15700 closed his shop, was smoking his pipe at his shop-door.
15702 "Good night, citizen," said Sydney Carton, pausing in going by; for, the
15703 man eyed him inquisitively.
15705 "Good night, citizen."
15707 "How goes the Republic?"
15709 "You mean the Guillotine. Not ill. Sixty-three to-day. We shall mount
15710 to a hundred soon. Samson and his men complain sometimes, of being
15711 exhausted. Ha, ha, ha! He is so droll, that Samson. Such a Barber!"
15713 "Do you often go to see him - "
15715 "Shave? Always. Every day. What a barber! You have seen him at
15716 work?"
15718 "Never."
15722 310
15726 "Go and see him when he has a good batch. Figure this to yourself, cit-
15727 izen; he shaved the sixty-three to-day, in less than two pipes! Less than
15728 two pipes. Word of honour!"
15730 As the grinning little man held out the pipe he was smoking, to ex-
15731 plain how he timed the executioner, Carton was so sensible of a rising
15732 desire to strike the life out of him, that he turned away.
15734 "But you are not English," said the wood-sawyer, "though you wear
15735 English dress?"
15737 "Yes," said Carton, pausing again, and answering over his shoulder.
15739 "You speak like a Frenchman."
15741 "I am an old student here."
15743 "Aha, a perfect Frenchman! Good night, Englishman."
15745 "Good night, citizen."
15747 "But go and see that droll dog," the little man persisted, calling after
15748 him. "And take a pipe with you!"
15750 Sydney had not gone far out of sight, when he stopped in the middle
15751 of the street under a glimmering lamp, and wrote with his pencil on a
15752 scrap of paper. Then, traversing with the decided step of one who re-
15753 membered the way well, several dark and dirty streets - much dirtier
15754 than usual, for the best public thoroughfares remained uncleansed in
15755 those times of terror - he stopped at a chemist's shop, which the owner
15756 was closing with his own hands. A small, dim, crooked shop, kept in a
15757 tortuous, up-hill thoroughfare, by a small, dim, crooked man.
15759 Giving this citizen, too, good night, as he confronted him at his
15760 counter, he laid the scrap of paper before him. "Whew!" the chemist
15761 whistled softly, as he read it. "Hi! hi! hi!"
15763 Sydney Carton took no heed, and the chemist said:
15765 "For you, citizen?"
15767 "For me."
15769 "You will be careful to keep them separate, citizen? You know the con-
15770 sequences of mixing them?"
15772 "Perfectly."
15774 Certain small packets were made and given to him. He put them, one
15775 by one, in the breast of his inner coat, counted out the money for them,
15776 and deliberately left the shop. "There is nothing more to do," said he,
15777 glancing upward at the moon, "until to-morrow. I can't sleep."
15781 311
15785 It was not a reckless manner, the manner in which he said these words
15786 aloud under the fast-sailing clouds, nor was it more expressive of negli-
15787 gence than defiance. It was the settled manner of a tired man, who had
15788 wandered and struggled and got lost, but who at length struck into his
15789 road and saw its end.
15791 Long ago, when he had been famous among his earliest competitors as
15792 a youth of great promise, he had followed his father to the grave. His
15793 mother had died, years before. These solemn words, which had been
15794 read at his father's grave, arose in his mind as he went down the dark
15795 streets, among the heavy shadows, with the moon and the clouds sailing
15796 on high above him. "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he
15797 that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whoso-
15798 ever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die."
15800 In a city dominated by the axe, alone at night, with natural sorrow
15801 rising in him for the sixty-three who had been that day put to death, and
15802 for to-morrow's victims then awaiting their doom in the prisons, and still
15803 of to-morrow's and to-morrow's, the chain of association that brought
15804 the words home, like a rusty old ship's anchor from the deep, might have
15805 been easily found. He did not seek it, but repeated them and went on.
15807 With a solemn interest in the lighted windows where the people were
15808 going to rest, forgetful through a few calm hours of the horrors sur-
15809 rounding them; in the towers of the churches, where no prayers were
15810 said, for the popular revulsion had even travelled that length of self-de-
15811 struction from years of priestly impostors, plunderers, and profligates; in
15812 the distant burial-places, reserved, as they wrote upon the gates, for
15813 Eternal Sleep; in the abounding gaols; and in the streets along which the
15814 sixties rolled to a death which had become so common and material, that
15815 no sorrowful story of a haunting Spirit ever arose among the people out
15816 of all the working of the Guillotine; with a solemn interest in the whole
15817 life and death of the city settling down to its short nightly pause in fury;
15818 Sydney Carton crossed the Seine again for the lighter streets.
15820 Few coaches were abroad, for riders in coaches were liable to be sus-
15821 pected, and gentility hid its head in red nightcaps, and put on heavy
15822 shoes, and trudged. But, the theatres were all well filled, and the people
15823 poured cheerfully out as he passed, and went chatting home. At one of
15824 the theatre doors, there was a little girl with a mother, looking for a way
15825 across the street through the mud. He carried the child over, and before,
15826 the timid arm was loosed from his neck asked her for a kiss.
15830 312
15834 "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in
15835 me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and be-
15836 lieveth in me, shall never die."
15838 Now, that the streets were quiet, and the night wore on, the words
15839 were in the echoes of his feet, and were in the air. Perfectly calm and
15840 steady, he sometimes repeated them to himself as he walked; but, he
15841 heard them always.
15843 The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge listening to the
15844 water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the pic-
15845 turesque confusion of houses and cathedral shone bright in the light of
15846 the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the sky.
15847 Then, the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and
15848 for a little while it seemed as if Creation were delivered over to Death's
15849 dominion.
15851 But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden
15852 of the night, straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. And
15853 looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a bridge of light ap-
15854 peared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river sparkled
15855 under it.
15857 The strong tide, so swift, so deep, and certain, was like a congenial
15858 friend, in the morning stillness. He walked by the stream, far from the
15859 houses, and in the light and warmth of the sun fell asleep on the bank.
15860 When he awoke and was afoot again, he lingered there yet a little longer,
15861 watching an eddy that turned and turned purposeless, until the stream
15862 absorbed it, and carried it on to the sea. - "Like me."
15864 A trading-boat, with a sail of the softened colour of a dead leaf, then
15865 glided into his view, floated by him, and died away. As its silent track in
15866 the water disappeared, the prayer that had broken up out of his heart for
15867 a merciful consideration of all his poor blindnesses and errors, ended in
15868 the words, "I am the resurrection and the life."
15870 Mr. Lorry was already out when he got back, and it was easy to sur-
15871 mise where the good old man was gone. Sydney Carton drank nothing
15872 but a little coffee, ate some bread, and, having washed and changed to
15873 refresh himself, went out to the place of trial.
15875 The court was all astir and a-buzz, when the black sheep - whom
15876 many fell away from in dread - pressed him into an obscure corner
15877 among the crowd. Mr. Lorry was there, and Doctor Manette was there.
15878 She was there, sitting beside her father.
15882 313
15886 When her husband was brought in, she turned a look upon him, so
15887 sustaining, so encouraging, so full of admiring love and pitying tender-
15888 ness, yet so courageous for his sake, that it called the healthy blood into
15889 his face, brightened his glance, and animated his heart. If there had been
15890 any eyes to notice the influence of her look, on Sydney Carton, it would
15891 have been seen to be the same influence exactly.
15893 Before that unjust Tribunal, there was little or no order of procedure,
15894 ensuring to any accused person any reasonable hearing. There could
15895 have been no such Revolution, if all laws, forms, and ceremonies, had
15896 not first been so monstrously abused, that the suicidal vengeance of the
15897 Revolution was to scatter them all to the winds.
15899 Every eye was turned to the jury. The same determined patriots and
15900 good republicans as yesterday and the day before, and to-morrow and
15901 the day after. Eager and prominent among them, one man with a craving
15902 face, and his fingers perpetually hovering about his lips, whose appear-
15903 ance gave great satisfaction to the spectators. A life-thirsting, cannibal-
15904 looking, bloody-minded juryman, the Jacques Three of St. Antoine. The
15905 whole jury, as a jury of dogs empannelled to try the deer.
15907 Every eye then turned to the five judges and the public prosecutor. No
15908 favourable leaning in that quarter to-day. A fell, uncompromising,
15909 murderous business-meaning there. Every eye then sought some other
15910 eye in the crowd, and gleamed at it approvingly; and heads nodded at
15911 one another, before bending forward with a strained attention.
15913 Charles Evremonde, called Darnay. Released yesterday. Reaccused
15914 and retaken yesterday. Indictment delivered to him last night. Suspected
15915 and Denounced enemy of the Republic, Aristocrat, one of a family of tyr-
15916 ants, one of a race proscribed, for that they had used their abolished
15917 privileges to the infamous oppression of the people. Charles Evremonde,
15918 called Darnay, in right of such proscription, absolutely Dead in Law.
15920 To this effect, in as few or fewer words, the Public Prosecutor.
15922 The President asked, was the Accused openly denounced or secretly?
15924 "Openly, President."
15926 "By whom?"
15928 "Three voices. Ernest Defarge, wine-vendor of St. Antoine."
15930 "Good."
15932 "Therese Defarge, his wife."
15934 "Good."
15938 314
15942 "Alexandre Manette, physician."
15944 A great uproar took place in the court, and in the midst of it, Doctor
15945 Manette was seen, pale and trembling, standing where he had been
15946 seated.
15948 "President, I indignantly protest to you that this is a forgery and a
15949 fraud. You know the accused to be the husband of my daughter. My
15950 daughter, and those dear to her, are far dearer to me than my life. Who
15951 and where is the false conspirator who says that I denounce the husband
15952 of my child!"
15954 "Citizen Manette, be tranquil. To fail in submission to the authority of
15955 the Tribunal would be to put yourself out of Law. As to what is dearer to
15956 you than life, nothing can be so dear to a good citizen as the Republic."
15958 Loud acclamations hailed this rebuke. The President rang his bell, and
15959 with warmth resumed.
15961 "If the Republic should demand of you the sacrifice of your child her-
15962 self, you would have no duty but to sacrifice her. Listen to what is to fol-
15963 low. In the meanwhile, be silent!"
15965 Frantic acclamations were again raised. Doctor Manette sat down,
15966 with his eyes looking around, and his lips trembling; his daughter drew
15967 closer to him. The craving man on the jury rubbed his hands together,
15968 and restored the usual hand to his mouth.
15970 Defarge was produced, when the court was quiet enough to admit of
15971 his being heard, and rapidly expounded the story of the imprisonment,
15972 and of his having been a mere boy in the Doctor's service, and of the re-
15973 lease, and of the state of the prisoner when released and delivered to
15974 him. This short examination followed, for the court was quick with its
15975 work.
15977 "You did good service at the taking of the Bastille, citizen?"
15979 "I believe so."
15981 Here, an excited woman screeched from the crowd: "You were one of
15982 the best patriots there. Why not say so? You were a cannoneer that day
15983 there, and you were among the first to enter the accursed fortress when
15984 it fell. Patriots, I speak the truth!"
15986 It was The Vengeance who, amidst the warm commendations of the
15987 audience, thus assisted the proceedings. The President rang his bell; but,
15988 The Vengeance, warming with encouragement, shrieked, "I defy that
15989 bell!" wherein she was likewise much commended.
15993 315
15997 "Inform the Tribunal of what you did that day within the Bastille,
15998 citizen."
16000 "I knew," said Defarge, looking down at his wife, who stood at the bot-
16001 tom of the steps on which he was raised, looking steadily up at him; "I
16002 knew that this prisoner, of whom I speak, had been confined in a cell
16003 known as One Hundred and Five, North Tower. I knew it from himself.
16004 He knew himself by no other name than One Hundred and Five, North
16005 Tower, when he made shoes under my care. As I serve my gun that day,
16006 I resolve, when the place shall fall, to examine that cell. It falls. I mount
16007 to the cell, with a fellow-citizen who is one of the Jury, directed by a
16008 gaoler. I examine it, very closely. In a hole in the chimney, where a stone
16009 has been worked out and replaced, I find a written paper. This is that
16010 written paper. I have made it my business to examine some specimens of
16011 the writing of Doctor Manette. This is the writing of Doctor Manette. I
16012 confide this paper, in the writing of Doctor Manette, to the hands of the
16013 President."
16015 "Let it be read."
16017 In a dead silence and stillness - the prisoner under trial looking lov-
16018 ingly at his wife, his wife only looking from him to look with solicitude
16019 at her father, Doctor Manette keeping his eyes fixed on the reader, Ma-
16020 dame Defarge never taking hers from the prisoner, Defarge never taking
16021 his from his feasting wife, and all the other eyes there intent upon the
16022 Doctor, who saw none of them - the paper was read, as follows.
16026 316
16030 Chapter
16034 10
16038 The Substance of the Shadow
16040 "I, Alexandre Manette, unfortunate physician, native of Beauvais, and
16041 afterwards resident in Paris, write this melancholy paper in my doleful
16042 cell in the Bastille, during the last month of the year, 1767. I write it at
16043 stolen intervals, under every difficulty. I design to secrete it in the wall of
16044 the chimney, where I have slowly and laboriously made a place of con-
16045 cealment for it. Some pitying hand may find it there, when I and my sor-
16046 rows are dust.
16048 "These words are formed by the rusty iron point with which I write
16049 with difficulty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from the chimney,
16050 mixed with blood, in the last month of the tenth year of my captivity.
16051 Hope has quite departed from my breast. I know from terrible warnings
16052 I have noted in myself that my reason will not long remain unimpaired,
16053 but I solemnly declare that I am at this time in the possession of my right
16054 mind - that my memory is exact and circumstantial - and that I write the
16055 truth as I shall answer for these my last recorded words, whether they be
16056 ever read by men or not, at the Eternal Judgment-seat.
16058 "One cloudy moonlight night, in the third week of December (I think
16059 the twenty-second of the month) in the year 1757, 1 was walking on a re-
16060 tired part of the quay by the Seine for the refreshment of the frosty air, at
16061 an hour's distance from my place of residence in the Street of the School
16062 of Medicine, when a carriage came along behind me, driven very fast. As
16063 I stood aside to let that carriage pass, apprehensive that it might other-
16064 wise run me down, a head was put out at the window, and a voice called
16065 to the driver to stop.
16067 "The carriage stopped as soon as the driver could rein in his horses,
16068 and the same voice called to me by my name. I answered. The carriage
16069 was then so far in advance of me that two gentlemen had time to open
16070 the door and alight before I came up with it.
16074 317
16078 I observed that they were both wrapped in cloaks, and appeared to
16079 conceal themselves. As they stood side by side near the carriage door, I
16080 also observed that they both looked of about my own age, or rather
16081 younger, and that they were greatly alike, in stature, manner, voice, and
16082 (as far as I could see) face too.
16084 '"You are Doctor Manette?' said one.
16086 "I am."
16088 '"Doctor Manette, formerly of Beauvais,' said the other; 'the young
16089 physician, originally an expert surgeon, who within the last year or two
16090 has made a rising reputation in Paris?'
16092 '"Gentlemen, 1 I returned, T am that Doctor Manette of whom you
16093 speak so graciously.'
16095 '"We have been to your residence,' said the first, 'and not being so for-
16096 tunate as to find you there, and being informed that you were probably
16097 walking in this direction, we followed, in the hope of overtaking you.
16098 Will you please to enter the carriage?'
16100 "The manner of both was imperious, and they both moved, as these
16101 words were spoken, so as to place me between themselves and the car-
16102 riage door. They were armed. I was not.
16104 "'Gentlemen,' said I, 'pardon me; but I usually inquire who does me
16105 the honour to seek my assistance, and what is the nature of the case to
16106 which I am summoned.'
16108 "The reply to this was made by him who had spoken second. 'Doctor,
16109 your clients are people of condition. As to the nature of the case, our con-
16110 fidence in your skill assures us that you will ascertain it for yourself bet-
16111 ter than we can describe it. Enough. Will you please to enter the
16112 carriage?'
16114 "I could do nothing but comply, and I entered it in silence. They both
16115 entered after me - the last springing in, after putting up the steps. The
16116 carriage turned about, and drove on at its former speed.
16118 "I repeat this conversation exactly as it occurred. I have no doubt that
16119 it is, word for word, the same. I describe everything exactly as it took
16120 place, constraining my mind not to wander from the task. Where I make
16121 the broken marks that follow here, I leave off for the time, and put my
16122 paper in its hiding-place.
16124 * * * *
16128 318
16132 "The carriage left the streets behind, passed the North Barrier, and
16133 emerged upon the country road. At two-thirds of a league from the Bar-
16134 rier - I did not estimate the distance at that time, but afterwards when I
16135 traversed it - it struck out of the main avenue, and presently stopped at a
16136 solitary house, We all three alighted, and walked, by a damp soft foot-
16137 path in a garden where a neglected fountain had overflowed, to the door
16138 of the house. It was not opened immediately, in answer to the ringing of
16139 the bell, and one of my two conductors struck the man who opened it,
16140 with his heavy riding glove, across the face.
16142 "There was nothing in this action to attract my particular attention, for
16143 I had seen common people struck more commonly than dogs. But, the
16144 other of the two, being angry likewise, struck the man in like manner
16145 with his arm; the look and bearing of the brothers were then so exactly
16146 alike, that I then first perceived them to be twin brothers.
16148 "From the time of our alighting at the outer gate (which we found
16149 locked, and which one of the brothers had opened to admit us, and had
16150 relocked), I had heard cries proceeding from an upper chamber. I was
16151 conducted to this chamber straight, the cries growing louder as we as-
16152 cended the stairs, and I found a patient in a high fever of the brain, lying
16153 on a bed.
16155 "The patient was a woman of great beauty, and young; assuredly not
16156 much past twenty. Her hair was torn and ragged, and her arms were
16157 bound to her sides with sashes and handkerchiefs. I noticed that these
16158 bonds were all portions of a gentleman's dress. On one of them, which
16159 was a fringed scarf for a dress of ceremony, I saw the armorial bearings
16160 of a Noble, and the letter E.
16162 "I saw this, within the first minute of my contemplation of the patient;
16163 for, in her restless strivings she had turned over on her face on the edge
16164 of the bed, had drawn the end of the scarf into her mouth, and was in
16165 danger of suffocation. My first act was to put out my hand to relieve her
16166 breathing; and in moving the scarf aside, the embroidery in the corner
16167 caught my sight.
16169 "I turned her gently over, placed my hands upon her breast to calm
16170 her and keep her down, and looked into her face. Her eyes were dilated
16171 and wild, and she constantly uttered piercing shrieks, and repeated the
16172 words, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' and then counted up
16173 to twelve, and said, 'Hush!' For an instant, and no more, she would
16174 pause to listen, and then the piercing shrieks would begin again, and she
16175 would repeat the cry, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' and
16179 319
16183 would count up to twelve, and say, 'Hush!' There was no variation in the
16184 order, or the manner. There was no cessation, but the regular moment's
16185 pause, in the utterance of these sounds.
16187 '"How long,' I asked, 'has this lasted?'
16189 "To distinguish the brothers, I will call them the elder and the young-
16190 er; by the elder, I mean him who exercised the most authority. It was the
16191 elder who replied, 'Since about this hour last night.'
16193 "'She has a husband, a father, and a brother?'
16195 "'A brother.'
16197 "T do not address her brother?'
16199 "He answered with great contempt, 'No.'
16201 "'She has some recent association with the number twelve?'
16203 "The younger brother impatiently rejoined, 'With twelve o'clock?'
16205 "'See, gentlemen,' said I, still keeping my hands upon her breast, 'how
16206 useless I am, as you have brought me! If I had known what I was coming
16207 to see, I could have come provided. As it is, time must be lost. There are
16208 no medicines to be obtained in this lonely place.'
16210 "The elder brother looked to the younger, who said haughtily, 'There
16211 is a case of medicines here;' and brought it from a closet, and put it on
16212 the table.
16216 * * * *
16220 "I opened some of the bottles, smelt them, and put the stoppers to my
16221 lips. If I had wanted to use anything save narcotic medicines that were
16222 poisons in themselves, I would not have administered any of those.
16224 "'Do you doubt them?' asked the younger brother.
16226 '"You see, monsieur, I am going to use them,' I replied, and said no
16227 more.
16229 "I made the patient swallow, with great difficulty, and after many ef-
16230 forts, the dose that I desired to give. As I intended to repeat it after a
16231 while, and as it was necessary to watch its influence, I then sat down by
16232 the side of the bed. There was a timid and suppressed woman in attend-
16233 ance (wife of the man down-stairs), who had retreated into a corner. The
16234 house was damp and decayed, indifferently furnished - evidently, re-
16235 cently occupied and temporarily used. Some thick old hangings had
16236 been nailed up before the windows, to deaden the sound of the shrieks.
16237 They continued to be uttered in their regular succession, with the cry,
16238 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' the counting up to twelve,
16242 320
16246 and 'Hush!' The frenzy was so violent, that I had not unfastened the
16247 bandages restraining the arms; but, I had looked to them, to see that they
16248 were not painful. The only spark of encouragement in the case, was, that
16249 my hand upon the sufferer's breast had this much soothing influence,
16250 that for minutes at a time it tranquillised the figure. It had no effect upon
16251 the cries; no pendulum could be more regular.
16253 "For the reason that my hand had this effect (I assume), I had sat by
16254 the side of the bed for half an hour, with the two brothers looking on, be-
16255 fore the elder said:
16257 "There is another patient.'
16259 "I was startled, and asked, Ts it a pressing case?'
16261 "'You had better see,' he carelessly answered; and took up a light.
16262 * * * *
16264 "The other patient lay in a back room across a second staircase, which
16265 was a species of loft over a stable. There was a low plastered ceiling to a
16266 part of it; the rest was open, to the ridge of the tiled roof, and there were
16267 beams across. Hay and straw were stored in that portion of the place,
16268 fagots for firing, and a heap of apples in sand. I had to pass through that
16269 part, to get at the other. My memory is circumstantial and unshaken. I
16270 try it with these details, and I see them all, in this my cell in the Bastille,
16271 near the close of the tenth year of my captivity, as I saw them all that
16272 night.
16274 "On some hay on the ground, with a cushion thrown under his head,
16275 lay a handsome peasant boy - a boy of not more than seventeen at the
16276 most. He lay on his back, with his teeth set, his right hand clenched on
16277 his breast, and his glaring eyes looking straight upward. I could not see
16278 where his wound was, as I kneeled on one knee over him; but, I could
16279 see that he was dying of a wound from a sharp point.
16281 "T am a doctor, my poor fellow,' said I. 'Let me examine it.'
16283 "T do not want it examined,' he answered; 'let it be.'
16285 "It was under his hand, and I soothed him to let me move his hand
16286 away. The wound was a sword-thrust, received from twenty to twenty-
16287 four hours before, but no skill could have saved him if it had been
16288 looked to without delay. He was then dying fast. As I turned my eyes to
16289 the elder brother, I saw him looking down at this handsome boy whose
16290 life was ebbing out, as if he were a wounded bird, or hare, or rabbit; not
16291 at all as if he were a fellow-creature.
16293 "'How has this been done, monsieur?' said I.
16297 321
16301 "' 'A crazed young common dog! A serf! Forced my brother to draw
16302 upon him, and has fallen by my brother's sword - like a gentleman.'
16304 "There was no touch of pity, sorrow, or kindred humanity, in this an-
16305 swer. The speaker seemed to acknowledge that it was inconvenient to
16306 have that different order of creature dying there, and that it would have
16307 been better if he had died in the usual obscure routine of his vermin
16308 kind. He was quite incapable of any compassionate feeling about the
16309 boy, or about his fate.
16311 "The boy's eyes had slowly moved to him as he had spoken, and they
16312 now slowly moved to me.
16314 "'Doctor, they are very proud, these Nobles; but we common dogs are
16315 proud too, sometimes. They plunder us, outrage us, beat us, kill us; but
16316 we have a little pride left, sometimes. She - have you seen her, Doctor?'
16318 "The shrieks and the cries were audible there, though subdued by the
16319 distance. He referred to them, as if she were lying in our presence.
16321 "I said, T have seen her.'
16323 "'She is my sister, Doctor. They have had their shameful rights, these
16324 Nobles, in the modesty and virtue of our sisters, many years, but we
16325 have had good girls among us. I know it, and have heard my father say
16326 so. She was a good girl. She was betrothed to a good young man, too: a
16327 tenant of his. We were all tenants of his - that man's who stands there.
16328 The other is his brother, the worst of a bad race.'
16330 "It was with the greatest difficulty that the boy gathered bodily force
16331 to speak; but, his spirit spoke with a dreadful emphasis.
16333 "'We were so robbed by that man who stands there, as all we common
16334 dogs are by those superior Beings - taxed by him without mercy, obliged
16335 to work for him without pay, obliged to grind our corn at his mill, ob-
16336 liged to feed scores of his tame birds on our wretched crops, and forbid-
16337 den for our lives to keep a single tame bird of our own, pillaged and
16338 plundered to that degree that when we chanced to have a bit of meat, we
16339 ate it in fear, with the door barred and the shutters closed, that his
16340 people should not see it and take it from us - I say, we were so robbed,
16341 and hunted, and were made so poor, that our father told us it was a
16342 dreadful thing to bring a child into the world, and that what we should
16343 most pray for, was, that our women might be barren and our miserable
16344 race die out!'
16346 "I had never before seen the sense of being oppressed, bursting forth
16347 like a fire. I had supposed that it must be latent in the people
16351 322
16355 somewhere; but, I had never seen it break out, until I saw it in the dying
16356 boy.
16358 "'Nevertheless, Doctor, my sister married. He was ailing at that time,
16359 poor fellow, and she married her lover, that she might tend and comfort
16360 him in our cottage - our dog-hut, as that man would call it. She had not
16361 been married many weeks, when that man's brother saw her and ad-
16362 mired her, and asked that man to lend her to him - for what are hus-
16363 bands among us! He was willing enough, but my sister was good and
16364 virtuous, and hated his brother with a hatred as strong as mine. What
16365 did the two then, to persuade her husband to use his influence with her,
16366 to make her willing?'
16368 "The boy's eyes, which had been fixed on mine, slowly turned to the
16369 looker-on, and I saw in the two faces that all he said was true. The two
16370 opposing kinds of pride confronting one another, I can see, even in this
16371 Bastille; the gentleman's, all negligent indifference; the peasants, all
16372 trodden-down sentiment, and passionate revenge.
16374 "'You know, Doctor, that it is among the Rights of these Nobles to har-
16375 ness us common dogs to carts, and drive us. They so harnessed him and
16376 drove him. You know that it is among their Rights to keep us in their
16377 grounds all night, quieting the frogs, in order that their noble sleep may
16378 not be disturbed. They kept him out in the unwholesome mists at night,
16379 and ordered him back into his harness in the day. But he was not per-
16380 suaded. No! Taken out of harness one day at noon, to feed - if he could
16381 find food - he sobbed twelve times, once for every stroke of the bell, and
16382 died on her bosom.'
16384 "Nothing human could have held life in the boy but his determination
16385 to tell all his wrong. He forced back the gathering shadows of death, as
16386 he forced his clenched right hand to remain clenched, and to cover his
16387 wound.
16389 "Then, with that man's permission and even with his aid, his brother
16390 took her away; in spite of what I know she must have told his broth-
16391 er - and what that is, will not be long unknown to you, Doctor, if it is
16392 now - his brother took her away - for his pleasure and diversion, for a
16393 little while. I saw her pass me on the road. When I took the tidings home,
16394 our father's heart burst; he never spoke one of the words that filled it. I
16395 took my young sister (for I have another) to a place beyond the reach of
16396 this man, and where, at least, she will never be his vassal. Then, I tracked
16397 the brother here, and last night climbed in - a common dog, but sword in
16398 hand. - Where is the loft window? It was somewhere here?'
16402 323
16406 "The room was darkening to his sight; the world was narrowing
16407 around him. I glanced about me, and saw that the hay and straw were
16408 trampled over the floor, as if there had been a struggle.
16410 "'She heard me, and ran in. I told her not to come near us till he was
16411 dead. He came in and first tossed me some pieces of money; then struck
16412 at me with a whip. But I, though a common dog, so struck at him as to
16413 make him draw. Let him break into as many pieces as he will, the sword
16414 that he stained with my common blood; he drew to defend him-
16415 self - thrust at me with all his skill for his life.'
16417 "My glance had fallen, but a few moments before, on the fragments of
16418 a broken sword, lying among the hay. That weapon was a gentleman's.
16419 In another place, lay an old sword that seemed to have been a soldier's.
16421 "'Now, lift me up, Doctor; lift me up. Where is he?'
16423 "'He is not here,' I said, supporting the boy, and thinking that he re-
16424 ferred to the brother.
16426 "'He! Proud as these nobles are, he is afraid to see me. Where is the
16427 man who was here? turn my face to him.'
16429 "I did so, raising the boy's head against my knee. But, invested for the
16430 moment with extraordinary power, he raised himself completely: obli-
16431 ging me to rise too, or I could not have still supported him.
16433 "'Marquis,' said the boy, turned to him with his eyes opened wide,
16434 and his right hand raised, 'in the days when all these things are to be
16435 answered for, I summon you and yours, to the last of your bad race, to
16436 answer for them. I mark this cross of blood upon you, as a sign that I do
16437 it. In the days when all these things are to be answered for, I summon
16438 your brother, the worst of the bad race, to answer for them separately. I
16439 mark this cross of blood upon him, as a sign that I do it.'
16441 "Twice, he put his hand to the wound in his breast, and with his fore-
16442 finger drew a cross in the air. He stood for an instant with the finger yet
16443 raised, and as it dropped, he dropped with it, and I laid him down dead.
16445 * * * *
16447 "When I returned to the bedside of the young woman, I found her rav-
16448 ing in precisely the same order of continuity. I knew that this might last
16449 for many hours, and that it would probably end in the silence of the
16450 grave.
16452 "I repeated the medicines I had given her, and I sat at the side of the
16453 bed until the night was far advanced. She never abated the piercing qual-
16454 ity of her shrieks, never stumbled in the distinctness or the order of her
16458 324
16462 words. They were always 'My husband, my father, and my brother! One,
16463 two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Hush!'
16465 "This lasted twenty-six hours from the time when I first saw her. I had
16466 come and gone twice, and was again sitting by her, when she began to
16467 falter. I did what little could be done to assist that opportunity, and by-
16468 and-bye she sank into a lethargy, and lay like the dead.
16470 "It was as if the wind and rain had lulled at last, after a long and fear-
16471 ful storm. I released her arms, and called the woman to assist me to com-
16472 pose her figure and the dress she had to. It was then that I knew her con-
16473 dition to be that of one in whom the first expectations of being a mother
16474 have arisen; and it was then that I lost the little hope I had had of her.
16476 "Ts she dead?' asked the Marquis, whom I will still describe as the eld-
16477 er brother, coming booted into the room from his horse.
16479 "'Not dead/ said I; 'but like to die.'
16481 "'What strength there is in these common bodies!' he said, looking
16482 down at her with some curiosity.
16484 "'There is prodigious strength/ I answered him, 'in sorrow and
16485 despair.'
16487 "He first laughed at my words, and then frowned at them. He moved
16488 a chair with his foot near to mine, ordered the woman away, and said in
16489 a subdued voice,
16491 "'Doctor, finding my brother in this difficulty with these hinds, I re-
16492 commended that your aid should be invited. Your reputation is high,
16493 and, as a young man with your fortune to make, you are probably mind-
16494 ful of your interest. The things that you see here, are things to be seen,
16495 and not spoken of.'
16497 "I listened to the patient's breathing, and avoided answering.
16499 "'Do you honour me with your attention, Doctor?'
16501 "'Monsieur,' said I, 'in my profession, the communications of patients
16502 are always received in confidence.' I was guarded in my answer, for I
16503 was troubled in my mind with what I had heard and seen.
16505 "Her breathing was so difficult to trace, that I carefully tried the pulse
16506 and the heart. There was life, and no more. Looking round as I resumed
16507 my seat, I found both the brothers intent upon me.
16511 * * * *
16515 "I write with so much difficulty, the cold is so severe, I am so fearful of
16516 being detected and consigned to an underground cell and total darkness,
16520 325
16524 that I must abridge this narrative. There is no confusion or failure in my
16525 memory; it can recall, and could detail, every word that was ever spoken
16526 between me and those brothers.
16528 "She lingered for a week. Towards the last, I could understand some
16529 few syllables that she said to me, by placing my ear close to her lips. She
16530 asked me where she was, and I told her; who I was, and I told her. It was
16531 in vain that I asked her for her family name. She faintly shook her head
16532 upon the pillow, and kept her secret, as the boy had done.
16534 "I had no opportunity of asking her any question, until I had told the
16535 brothers she was sinking fast, and could not live another day. Until then,
16536 though no one was ever presented to her consciousness save the woman
16537 and myself, one or other of them had always jealously sat behind the
16538 curtain at the head of the bed when I was there. But when it came to that,
16539 they seemed careless what communication I might hold with her; as
16540 if - the thought passed through my mind - I were dying too.
16542 "I always observed that their pride bitterly resented the younger
16543 brother's (as I call him) having crossed swords with a peasant, and that
16544 peasant a boy. The only consideration that appeared to affect the mind of
16545 either of them was the consideration that this was highly degrading to
16546 the family, and was ridiculous. As often as I caught the younger broth-
16547 er's eyes, their expression reminded me that he disliked me deeply, for
16548 knowing what I knew from the boy. He was smoother and more polite to
16549 me than the elder; but I saw this. I also saw that I was an incumbrance in
16550 the mind of the elder, too.
16552 "My patient died, two hours before midnight - at a time, by my watch,
16553 answering almost to the minute when I had first seen her. I was alone
16554 with her, when her forlorn young head drooped gently on one side, and
16555 all her earthly wrongs and sorrows ended.
16557 "The brothers were waiting in a room down-stairs, impatient to ride
16558 away. I had heard them, alone at the bedside, striking their boots with
16559 their riding- whips, and loitering up and down.
16561 "'At last she is dead?' said the elder, when I went in.
16563 "'She is dead,' said I.
16565 "T congratulate you, my brother/were his words as he turned round.
16567 "He had before offered me money, which I had postponed taking. He
16568 now gave me a rouleau of gold. I took it from his hand, but laid it on the
16569 table. I had considered the question, and had resolved to accept nothing.
16571 "Tray excuse me,' said I. 'Under the circumstances, no.'
16575 326
16579 "They exchanged looks, but bent their heads to me as I bent mine to
16580 them, and we parted without another word on either side.
16584 * * * *
16588 "I am weary, weary, weary-worn down by misery. I cannot read what
16589 I have written with this gaunt hand.
16591 "Early in the morning, the rouleau of gold was left at my door in a
16592 little box, with my name on the outside. From the first, I had anxiously
16593 considered what I ought to do. I decided, that day, to write privately to
16594 the Minister, stating the nature of the two cases to which I had been
16595 summoned, and the place to which I had gone: in effect, stating all the
16596 circumstances. I knew what Court influence was, and what the immunit-
16597 ies of the Nobles were, and I expected that the matter would never be
16598 heard of; but, I wished to relieve my own mind. I had kept the matter a
16599 profound secret, even from my wife; and this, too, I resolved to state in
16600 my letter. I had no apprehension whatever of my real danger; but I was
16601 conscious that there might be danger for others, if others were comprom-
16602 ised by possessing the knowledge that I possessed.
16604 "I was much engaged that day, and could not complete my letter that
16605 night. I rose long before my usual time next morning to finish it. It was
16606 the last day of the year. The letter was lying before me just completed,
16607 when I was told that a lady waited, who wished to see me.
16611 * * * *
16615 "I am growing more and more unequal to the task I have set myself. It
16616 is so cold, so dark, my senses are so benumbed, and the gloom upon me
16617 is so dreadful.
16619 "The lady was young, engaging, and handsome, but not marked for
16620 long life. She was in great agitation. She presented herself to me as the
16621 wife of the Marquis St. Evremonde. I connected the title by which the
16622 boy had addressed the elder brother, with the initial letter embroidered
16623 on the scarf, and had no difficulty in arriving at the conclusion that I had
16624 seen that nobleman very lately.
16626 "My memory is still accurate, but I cannot write the words of our con-
16627 versation. I suspect that I am watched more closely than I was, and I
16628 know not at what times I may be watched. She had in part suspected,
16629 and in part discovered, the main facts of the cruel story, of her husband's
16630 share in it, and my being resorted to. She did not know that the girl was
16631 dead. Her hope had been, she said in great distress, to show her, in
16635 327
16639 secret, a woman's sympathy. Her hope had been to avert the wrath of
16640 Heaven from a House that had long been hateful to the suffering many.
16642 "She had reasons for believing that there was a young sister living,
16643 and her greatest desire was, to help that sister. I could tell her nothing
16644 but that there was such a sister; beyond that, I knew nothing. Her in-
16645 ducement to come to me, relying on my confidence, had been the hope
16646 that I could tell her the name and place of abode. Whereas, to this
16647 wretched hour I am ignorant of both.
16651 * * * *
16655 "These scraps of paper fail me. One was taken from me, with a warn-
16656 ing, yesterday. I must finish my record to-day.
16658 "She was a good, compassionate lady, and not happy in her marriage.
16659 How could she be! The brother distrusted and disliked her, and his influ-
16660 ence was all opposed to her; she stood in dread of him, and in dread of
16661 her husband too. When I handed her down to the door, there was a
16662 child, a pretty boy from two to three years old, in her carriage.
16664 "'For his sake, Doctor/ she said, pointing to him in tears, T would do
16665 all I can to make what poor amends I can. He will never prosper in his
16666 inheritance otherwise. I have a presentiment that if no other innocent
16667 atonement is made for this, it will one day be required of him. What I
16668 have left to call my own - it is little beyond the worth of a few jewels - I
16669 will make it the first charge of his life to bestow, with the compassion
16670 and lamenting of his dead mother, on this injured family, if the sister can
16671 be discovered.'
16673 "She kissed the boy, and said, caressing him, Tt is for thine own dear
16674 sake. Thou wilt be faithful, little Charles?' The child answered her
16675 bravely, 'Yes!' I kissed her hand, and she took him in her arms, and went
16676 away caressing him. I never saw her more.
16678 "As she had mentioned her husband's name in the faith that I knew it,
16679 I added no mention of it to my letter. I sealed my letter, and, not trusting
16680 it out of my own hands, delivered it myself that day.
16682 "That night, the last night of the year, towards nine o'clock, a man in a
16683 black dress rang at my gate, demanded to see me, and softly followed
16684 my servant, Ernest Defarge, a youth, up-stairs. When my servant came
16685 into the room where I sat with my wife - O my wife, beloved of my
16686 heart! My fair young English wife! - we saw the man, who was sup-
16687 posed to be at the gate, standing silent behind him.
16691 328
16695 "An urgent case in the Rue St. Honore, he said. It would not detain
16696 me, he had a coach in waiting.
16698 "It brought me here, it brought me to my grave. When I was clear of
16699 the house, a black muffler was drawn tightly over my mouth from be-
16700 hind, and my arms were pinioned. The two brothers crossed the road
16701 from a dark corner, and identified me with a single gesture. The Marquis
16702 took from his pocket the letter I had written, showed it me, burnt it in the
16703 light of a lantern that was held, and extinguished the ashes with his foot.
16704 Not a word was spoken. I was brought here, I was brought to my living
16705 grave.
16707 "If it had pleased God to put it in the hard heart of either of the broth-
16708 ers, in all these frightful years, to grant me any tidings of my dearest
16709 wife - so much as to let me know by a word whether alive or dead - I
16710 might have thought that He had not quite abandoned them. But, now I
16711 believe that the mark of the red cross is fatal to them, and that they have
16712 no part in His mercies. And them and their descendants, to the last of
16713 their race, I, Alexandre Manette, unhappy prisoner, do this last night of
16714 the year 1767, in my unbearable agony, denounce to the times when all
16715 these things shall be answered for. I denounce them to Heaven and to
16716 earth."
16718 A terrible sound arose when the reading of this document was done. A
16719 sound of craving and eagerness that had nothing articulate in it but
16720 blood. The narrative called up the most revengeful passions of the time,
16721 and there was not a head in the nation but must have dropped before it.
16723 Little need, in presence of that tribunal and that auditory, to show how
16724 the Defarges had not made the paper public, with the other captured
16725 Bastille memorials borne in procession, and had kept it, biding their
16726 time. Little need to show that this detested family name had long been
16727 anathematised by Saint Antoine, and was wrought into the fatal register.
16728 The man never trod ground whose virtues and services would have sus-
16729 tained him in that place that day, against such denunciation.
16731 And all the worse for the doomed man, that the denouncer was a well-
16732 known citizen, his own attached friend, the father of his wife. One of the
16733 frenzied aspirations of the populace was, for imitations of the question-
16734 able public virtues of antiquity, and for sacrifices and self-immolations
16735 on the people's altar. Therefore when the President said (else had his
16736 own head quivered on his shoulders), that the good physician of the Re-
16737 public would deserve better still of the Republic by rooting out an ob-
16738 noxious family of Aristocrats, and would doubtless feel a sacred glow
16742 329
16746 and joy in making his daughter a widow and her child an orphan, there
16747 was wild excitement, patriotic fervour, not a touch of human sympathy.
16749 "Much influence around him, has that Doctor?" murmured Madame
16750 Defarge, smiling to The Vengeance. "Save him now, my Doctor, save
16751 him!"
16753 At every juryman's vote, there was a roar. Another and another. Roar
16754 and roar.
16756 Unanimously voted. At heart and by descent an Aristocrat, an enemy
16757 of the Republic, a notorious oppressor of the People. Back to the Concier-
16758 gerie, and Death within four-and- twenty hours!
16762 330
16766 Chapter
16770 Dusk
16774 11
16778 The wretched wife of the innocent man thus doomed to die, fell under
16779 the sentence, as if she had been mortally stricken. But, she uttered no
16780 sound; and so strong was the voice within her, representing that it was
16781 she of all the world who must uphold him in his misery and not aug-
16782 ment it, that it quickly raised her, even from that shock.
16784 The Judges having to take part in a public demonstration out of doors,
16785 the Tribunal adjourned. The quick noise and movement of the court's
16786 emptying itself by many passages had not ceased, when Lucie stood
16787 stretching out her arms towards her husband, with nothing in her face
16788 but love and consolation.
16790 "If I might touch him! If I might embrace him once! O, good citizens, if
16791 you would have so much compassion for us!"
16793 There was but a gaoler left, along with two of the four men who had
16794 taken him last night, and Barsad. The people had all poured out to the
16795 show in the streets. Barsad proposed to the rest, "Let her embrace him
16796 then; it is but a moment." It was silently acquiesced in, and they passed
16797 her over the seats in the hall to a raised place, where he, by leaning over
16798 the dock, could fold her in his arms.
16800 "Farewell, dear darling of my soul. My parting blessing on my love.
16801 We shall meet again, where the weary are at rest!"
16803 They were her husband's words, as he held her to his bosom.
16805 "I can bear it, dear Charles. I am supported from above: don't suffer
16806 for me. A parting blessing for our child."
16808 "I send it to her by you. I kiss her by you. I say farewell to her by you."
16810 "My husband. No! A moment!" He was tearing himself apart from
16811 her. "We shall not be separated long. I feel that this will break my heart
16812 by-and-bye; but I will do my duty while I can, and when I leave her, God
16813 will raise up friends for her, as He did for me."
16817 331
16821 Her father had followed her, and would have fallen on his knees to
16822 both of them, but that Darnay put out a hand and seized him, crying:
16824 "No, no! What have you done, what have you done, that you should
16825 kneel to us! We know now, what a struggle you made of old. We know,
16826 now what you underwent when you suspected my descent, and when
16827 you knew it. We know now, the natural antipathy you strove against,
16828 and conquered, for her dear sake. We thank you with all our hearts, and
16829 all our love and duty. Heaven be with you!"
16831 Her father's only answer was to draw his hands through his white
16832 hair, and wring them with a shriek of anguish.
16834 "It could not be otherwise," said the prisoner. "All things have worked
16835 together as they have fallen out. it was the always-vain endeavour to dis-
16836 charge my poor mother's trust that first brought my fatal presence near
16837 you. Good could never come of such evil, a happier end was not in
16838 nature to so unhappy a beginning. Be comforted, and forgive me.
16839 Heaven bless you!"
16841 As he was drawn away, his wife released him, and stood looking after
16842 him with her hands touching one another in the attitude of prayer, and
16843 with a radiant look upon her face, in which there was even a comforting
16844 smile. As he went out at the prisoners' door, she turned, laid her head
16845 lovingly on her father's breast, tried to speak to him, and fell at his feet.
16847 Then, issuing from the obscure corner from which he had never
16848 moved, Sydney Carton came and took her up. Only her father and Mr.
16849 Lorry were with her. His arm trembled as it raised her, and supported
16850 her head. Yet, there was an air about him that was not all of pity - that
16851 had a flush of pride in it.
16853 "Shall I take her to a coach? I shall never feel her weight."
16855 He carried her lightly to the door, and laid her tenderly down in a
16856 coach. Her father and their old friend got into it, and he took his seat be-
16857 side the driver.
16859 When they arrived at the gateway where he had paused in the dark
16860 not many hours before, to picture to himself on which of the rough
16861 stones of the street her feet had trodden, he lifted her again, and carried
16862 her up the staircase to their rooms. There, he laid her down on a couch,
16863 where her child and Miss Pross wept over her.
16865 "Don't recall her to herself," he said, softly, to the latter, "she is better
16866 so. Don't revive her to consciousness, while she only faints."
16870 332
16874 "Oh, Carton, Carton, dear Carton!" cried little Lucie, springing up and
16875 throwing her arms passionately round him, in a burst of grief. "Now that
16876 you have come, I think you will do something to help mamma,
16877 something to save papa! O, look at her, dear Carton! Can you, of all the
16878 people who love her, bear to see her so?"
16880 He bent over the child, and laid her blooming cheek against his face.
16881 He put her gently from him, and looked at her unconscious mother.
16883 "Before I go," he said, and paused - "I may kiss her?"
16885 It was remembered afterwards that when he bent down and touched
16886 her face with his lips, he murmured some words. The child, who was
16887 nearest to him, told them afterwards, and told her grandchildren when
16888 she was a handsome old lady, that she heard him say, "A life you love."
16890 When he had gone out into the next room, he turned suddenly on Mr.
16891 Lorry and her father, who were following, and said to the latter:
16893 "You had great influence but yesterday, Doctor Manette; let it at least
16894 be tried. These judges, and all the men in power, are very friendly to
16895 you, and very recognisant of your services; are they not?"
16897 "Nothing connected with Charles was concealed from me. I had the
16898 strongest assurances that I should save him; and I did." He returned the
16899 answer in great trouble, and very slowly.
16901 "Try them again. The hours between this and to-morrow afternoon are
16902 few and short, but try."
16904 "\ intend to try. I will not rest a moment."
16906 "That's well. I have known such energy as yours do great things be-
16907 fore now - though never," he added, with a smile and a sigh together,
16908 "such great things as this. But try! Of little worth as life is when we mis-
16909 use it, it is worth that effort. It would cost nothing to lay down if it were
16910 not."
16912 "I will go," said Doctor Manette, "to the Prosecutor and the President
16913 straight, and I will go to others whom it is better not to name. I will write
16914 too, and - But stay! There is a Celebration in the streets, and no one will
16915 be accessible until dark."
16917 "That's true. Well! It is a forlorn hope at the best, and not much the
16918 forlorner for being delayed till dark. I should like to know how you
16919 speed; though, mind! I expect nothing! When are you likely to have seen
16920 these dread powers, Doctor Manette?"
16924 333
16928 "Immediately after dark, I should hope. Within an hour or two from
16929 this."
16931 "It will be dark soon after four. Let us stretch the hour or two. If I go to
16932 Mr. Lorry's at nine, shall I hear what you have done, either from our
16933 friend or from yourself?"
16935 "Yes."
16937 "May you prosper!"
16939 Mr. Lorry followed Sydney to the outer door, and, touching him on
16940 the shoulder as he was going away, caused him to turn.
16942 "I have no hope," said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sorrowful whisper.
16944 "Nor have I."
16946 "If any one of these men, or all of these men, were disposed to spare
16947 him - which is a large supposition; for what is his life, or any man's to
16948 them! - I doubt if they durst spare him after the demonstration in the
16949 court."
16951 "And so do 1. 1 heard the fall of the axe in that sound."
16953 Mr. Lorry leaned his arm upon the door-post, and bowed his face
16954 upon it.
16956 "Don't despond," said Carton, very gently; "don't grieve. I encour-
16957 aged Doctor Manette in this idea, because I felt that it might one day be
16958 consolatory to her. Otherwise, she might think 'his life was want only
16959 thrown away or wasted,' and that might trouble her."
16961 "Yes, yes, yes," returned Mr. Lorry, drying his eyes, "you are right.
16962 But he will perish; there is no real hope."
16964 "Yes. He will perish: there is no real hope," echoed Carton.
16966 And walked with a settled step, down-stairs.
16970 334
16974 Chapter
16978 12
16982 Darkness
16984 Sydney Carton paused in the street, not quite decided where to go. "At
16985 Tellson's banking-house at nine," he said, with a musing face. "Shall I do
16986 well, in the mean time, to show myself? I think so. It is best that these
16987 people should know there is such a man as I here; it is a sound precau-
16988 tion, and may be a necessary preparation. But care, care, care! Let me
16989 think it out!"
16991 Checking his steps which had begun to tend towards an object, he
16992 took a turn or two in the already darkening street, and traced the
16993 thought in his mind to its possible consequences. His first impression
16994 was confirmed. "It is best," he said, finally resolved, "that these people
16995 should know there is such a man as I here." And he turned his face to-
16996 wards Saint Antoine.
16998 Defarge had described himself, that day, as the keeper of a wine-shop
16999 in the Saint Antoine suburb. It was not difficult for one who knew the
17000 city well, to find his house without asking any question. Having ascer-
17001 tained its situation, Carton came out of those closer streets again, and
17002 dined at a place of refreshment and fell sound asleep after dinner. For
17003 the first time in many years, he had no strong drink. Since last night he
17004 had taken nothing but a little light thin wine, and last night he had
17005 dropped the brandy slowly down on Mr. Lorry's hearth like a man who
17006 had done with it.
17008 It was as late as seven o'clock when he awoke refreshed, and went out
17009 into the streets again. As he passed along towards Saint Antoine, he
17010 stopped at a shop-window where there was a mirror, and slightly altered
17011 the disordered arrangement of his loose cravat, and his coat-collar, and
17012 his wild hair. This done, he went on direct to Defarge's, and went in.
17014 There happened to be no customer in the shop but Jacques Three, of
17015 the restless fingers and the croaking voice. This man, whom he had seen
17016 upon the Jury, stood drinking at the little counter, in conversation with
17020 335
17024 the Defarges, man and wife. The Vengeance assisted in the conversation,
17025 like a regular member of the establishment.
17027 As Carton walked in, took his seat and asked (in very indifferent
17028 French) for a small measure of wine, Madame Defarge cast a careless
17029 glance at him, and then a keener, and then a keener, and then advanced
17030 to him herself, and asked him what it was he had ordered.
17032 He repeated what he had already said.
17034 "English?" asked Madame Defarge, inquisitively raising her dark
17035 eyebrows.
17037 After looking at her, as if the sound of even a single French word were
17038 slow to express itself to him, he answered, in his former strong foreign
17039 accent. "Yes, madame, yes. I am English!"
17041 Madame Defarge returned to her counter to get the wine, and, as he
17042 took up a Jacobin journal and feigned to pore over it puzzling out its
17043 meaning, he heard her say, "I swear to you, like Evremonde!"
17045 Defarge brought him the wine, and gave him Good Evening.
17047 "How?"
17049 "Good evening."
17051 "Oh! Good evening, citizen," filling his glass. "Ah! and good wine. I
17052 drink to the Republic."
17054 Defarge went back to the counter, and said, "Certainly, a little like."
17055 Madame sternly retorted, "I tell you a good deal like." Jacques Three pa-
17056 cifically remarked, "He is so much in your mind, see you, madame." The
17057 amiable Vengeance added, with a laugh, "Yes, my faith! And you are
17058 looking forward with so much pleasure to seeing him once more to-
17059 morrow!"
17061 Carton followed the lines and words of his paper, with a slow fore-
17062 finger, and with a studious and absorbed face. They were all leaning
17063 their arms on the counter close together, speaking low. After a silence of
17064 a few moments, during which they all looked towards him without dis-
17065 turbing his outward attention from the Jacobin editor, they resumed
17066 their conversation.
17068 "It is true what madame says," observed Jacques Three. "Why stop?
17069 There is great force in that. Why stop?"
17071 "Well, well," reasoned Defarge, "but one must stop somewhere. After
17072 all, the question is still where?"
17074 "At extermination," said madame.
17078 336
17082 "Magnificent!" croaked Jacques Three. The Vengeance, also, highly
17083 approved.
17085 "Extermination is good doctrine, my wife," said Defarge, rather
17086 troubled; "in general, I say nothing against it. But this Doctor has
17087 suffered much; you have seen him to-day; you have observed his face
17088 when the paper was read."
17090 "I have observed his face!" repeated madame, contemptuously and an-
17091 grily. "Yes. I have observed his face. I have observed his face to be not
17092 the face of a true friend of the Republic. Let him take care of his face!"
17094 "And you have observed, my wife," said Defarge, in a deprecatory
17095 manner, "the anguish of his daughter, which must be a dreadful anguish
17096 to him!"
17098 "I have observed his daughter," repeated madame; "yes, I have ob-
17099 served his daughter, more times than one. I have observed her to-day,
17100 and I have observed her other days. I have observed her in the court, and
17101 I have observed her in the street by the prison. Let me but lift my fin-
17102 ger - !" She seemed to raise it (the listener's eyes were always on his pa-
17103 per), and to let it fall with a rattle on the ledge before her, as if the axe
17104 had dropped.
17106 "The citizeness is superb!" croaked the Juryman.
17108 "She is an Angel!" said The Vengeance, and embraced her.
17110 "As to thee," pursued madame, implacably, addressing her husband,
17111 "if it depended on thee - which, happily, it does not - thou wouldst res-
17112 cue this man even now."
17114 "No!" protested Defarge. "Not if to lift this glass would do it! But I
17115 would leave the matter there. I say, stop there."
17117 "See you then, Jacques," said Madame Defarge, wrathfully; "and see
17118 you, too, my little Vengeance; see you both! Listen! For other crimes as
17119 tyrants and oppressors, I have this race a long time on my register,
17120 doomed to destruction and extermination. Ask my husband, is that so."
17122 "It is so," assented Defarge, without being asked.
17124 "In the beginning of the great days, when the Bastille falls, he finds
17125 this paper of to-day, and he brings it home, and in the middle of the
17126 night when this place is clear and shut, we read it, here on this spot, by
17127 the light of this lamp. Ask him, is that so."
17129 "It is so," assented Defarge.
17133 337
17137 "That night, I tell him, when the paper is read through, and the lamp is
17138 burnt out, and the day is gleaming in above those shutters and between
17139 those iron bars, that I have now a secret to communicate. Ask him, is that
17141 so."
17143 "It is so," assented Defarge again.
17145 "I communicate to him that secret. I smite this bosom with these two
17146 hands as I smite it now, and I tell him, 'Defarge, I was brought up among
17147 the fishermen of the sea-shore, and that peasant family so injured by the
17148 two Evremonde brothers, as that Bastille paper describes, is my family.
17149 Defarge, that sister of the mortally wounded boy upon the ground was
17150 my sister, that husband was my sister's husband, that unborn child was
17151 their child, that brother was my brother, that father was my father, those
17152 dead are my dead, and that summons to answer for those things des-
17153 cends to me!' Ask him, is that so."
17155 "It is so," assented Defarge once more.
17157 "Then tell Wind and Fire where to stop," returned madame; "but don't
17158 tell me."
17160 Both her hearers derived a horrible enjoyment from the deadly nature
17161 of her wrath - the listener could feel how white she was, without seeing
17162 her - and both highly commended it. Defarge, a weak minority, inter-
17163 posed a few words for the memory of the compassionate wife of the
17164 Marquis; but only elicited from his own wife a repetition of her last
17165 reply. "Tell the Wind and the Fire where to stop; not me!"
17167 Customers entered, and the group was broken up. The English cus-
17168 tomer paid for what he had had, perplexedly counted his change, and
17169 asked, as a stranger, to be directed towards the National Palace. Madame
17170 Defarge took him to the door, and put her arm on his, in pointing out the
17171 road. The English customer was not without his reflexions then, that it
17172 might be a good deed to seize that arm, lift it, and strike under it sharp
17173 and deep.
17175 But, he went his way, and was soon swallowed up in the shadow of
17176 the prison wall. At the appointed hour, he emerged from it to present
17177 himself in Mr. Lorry's room again, where he found the old gentleman
17178 walking to and fro in restless anxiety. He said he had been with Lucie
17179 until just now, and had only left her for a few minutes, to come and keep
17180 his appointment. Her father had not been seen, since he quitted the
17181 banking-house towards four o'clock. She had some faint hopes that his
17182 mediation might save Charles, but they were very slight. He had been
17183 more than five hours gone: where could he be?
17187 338
17191 Mr. Lorry waited until ten; but, Doctor Manette not returning, and he
17192 being unwilling to leave Lucie any longer, it was arranged that he should
17193 go back to her, and come to the banking-house again at midnight. In the
17194 meanwhile, Carton would wait alone by the fire for the Doctor.
17196 He waited and waited, and the clock struck twelve; but Doctor
17197 Manette did not come back. Mr. Lorry returned, and found no tidings of
17198 him, and brought none. Where could he be?
17200 They were discussing this question, and were almost building up
17201 some weak structure of hope on his prolonged absence, when they heard
17202 him on the stairs. The instant he entered the room, it was plain that all
17203 was lost.
17205 Whether he had really been to any one, or whether he had been all that
17206 time traversing the streets, was never known. As he stood staring at
17207 them, they asked him no question, for his face told them everything.
17209 "I cannot find it," said he, "and I must have it. Where is it?"
17211 His head and throat were bare, and, as he spoke with a helpless look
17212 straying all around, he took his coat off, and let it drop on the floor.
17214 "Where is my bench? I have been looking everywhere for my bench,
17215 and I can't find it. What have they done with my work? Time presses: I
17216 must finish those shoes."
17218 They looked at one another, and their hearts died within them.
17220 "Come, come!" said he, in a whimpering miserable way; "let me get to
17221 work. Give me my work."
17223 Receiving no answer, he tore his hair, and beat his feet upon the
17224 ground, like a distracted child.
17226 "Don't torture a poor forlorn wretch," he implored them, with a
17227 dreadful cry; "but give me my work! What is to become of us, if those
17228 shoes are not done to-night?"
17230 Lost, utterly lost!
17232 It was so clearly beyond hope to reason with him, or try to restore him,
17233 that - as if by agreement - they each put a hand upon his shoulder, and
17234 soothed him to sit down before the fire, with a promise that he should
17235 have his work presently. He sank into the chair, and brooded over the
17236 embers, and shed tears. As if all that had happened since the garret time
17237 were a momentary fancy, or a dream, Mr. Lorry saw him shrink into the
17238 exact figure that Defarge had had in keeping.
17242 339
17246 Affected, and impressed with terror as they both were, by this spec-
17247 tacle of ruin, it was not a time to yield to such emotions. His lonely
17248 daughter, bereft of her final hope and reliance, appealed to them both
17249 too strongly. Again, as if by agreement, they looked at one another with
17250 one meaning in their faces. Carton was the first to speak:
17252 "The last chance is gone: it was not much. Yes; he had better be taken
17253 to her. But, before you go, will you, for a moment, steadily attend to me?
17254 Don't ask me why I make the stipulations I am going to make, and exact
17255 the promise I am going to exact; I have a reason - a good one."
17257 "I do not doubt it," answered Mr. Lorry. "Say on."
17259 The figure in the chair between them, was all the time monotonously
17260 rocking itself to and fro, and moaning. They spoke in such a tone as they
17261 would have used if they had been watching by a sick-bed in the night.
17263 Carton stooped to pick up the coat, which lay almost entangling his
17264 feet. As he did so, a small case in which the Doctor was accustomed to
17265 carry the lists of his day's duties, fell lightly on the floor. Carton took it
17266 up, and there was a folded paper in it. "We should look at this!" he said.
17267 Mr. Lorry nodded his consent. He opened it, and exclaimed, "Thank
17268 God!"
17270 "What is it?" asked Mr. Lorry, eagerly.
17272 "A moment! Let me speak of it in its place. First," he put his hand in
17273 his coat, and took another paper from it, "that is the certificate which en-
17274 ables me to pass out of this city. Look at it. You see - Sydney Carton, an
17275 Englishman?"
17277 Mr. Lorry held it open in his hand, gazing in his earnest face.
17279 "Keep it for me until to-morrow. I shall see him to-morrow, you re-
17280 member, and I had better not take it into the prison."
17282 "Why not?"
17284 "I don't know; I prefer not to do so. Now, take this paper that Doctor
17285 Manette has carried about him. It is a similar certificate, enabling him
17286 and his daughter and her child, at any time, to pass the barrier and the
17287 frontier! You see?"
17289 "Yes!"
17291 "Perhaps he obtained it as his last and utmost precaution against evil,
17292 yesterday. When is it dated? But no matter; don't stay to look; put it up
17293 carefully with mine and your own. Now, observe! I never doubted until
17294 within this hour or two, that he had, or could have such a paper. It is
17298 340
17302 good, until recalled. But it may be soon recalled, and, I have reason to
17303 think, will be."
17305 "They are not in danger?"
17307 "They are in great danger. They are in danger of denunciation by Ma-
17308 dame Defarge. I know it from her own lips. I have overheard words of
17309 that woman's, to-night, which have presented their danger to me in
17310 strong colours. I have lost no time, and since then, I have seen the spy.
17311 He confirms me. He knows that a wood-sawyer, living by the prison
17312 wall, is under the control of the Defarges, and has been rehearsed by Ma-
17313 dame Defarge as to his having seen Her" - he never mentioned Lucie's
17314 name - "making signs and signals to prisoners. It is easy to foresee that
17315 the pretence will be the common one, a prison plot, and that it will in-
17316 volve her life - and perhaps her child's - and perhaps her father's - for
17317 both have been seen with her at that place. Don't look so horrified. You
17318 will save them all."
17320 "Heaven grant I may, Carton! But how?"
17322 "I am going to tell you how. It will depend on you, and it could de-
17323 pend on no better man. This new denunciation will certainly not take
17324 place until after to-morrow; probably not until two or three days after-
17325 wards; more probably a week afterwards. You know it is a capital crime,
17326 to mourn for, or sympathise with, a victim of the Guillotine. She and her
17327 father would unquestionably be guilty of this crime, and this woman
17328 (the inveteracy of whose pursuit cannot be described) would wait to add
17329 that strength to her case, and make herself doubly sure. You follow me?"
17331 "So attentively, and with so much confidence in what you say, that for
17332 the moment I lose sight," touching the back of the Doctor's chair, even of
17333 this distress."
17335 "You have money, and can buy the means of travelling to the seacoast
17336 as quickly as the journey can be made. Your preparations have been
17337 completed for some days, to return to England. Early to-morrow have
17338 your horses ready, so that they may be in starting trim at two o'clock in
17339 the afternoon."
17341 "It shall be done!"
17343 His manner was so fervent and inspiring, that Mr. Lorry caught the
17344 flame, and was as quick as youth.
17346 "You are a noble heart. Did I say we could depend upon no better
17347 man? Tell her, to-night, what you know of her danger as involving her
17348 child and her father. Dwell upon that, for she would lay her own fair
17352 341
17356 head beside her husband's cheerfully." He faltered for an instant; then
17357 went on as before. "For the sake of her child and her father, press upon
17358 her the necessity of leaving Paris, with them and you, at that hour. Tell
17359 her that it was her husband's last arrangement. Tell her that more de-
17360 pends upon it than she dare believe, or hope. You think that her father,
17361 even in this sad state, will submit himself to her; do you not?"
17363 "I am sure of it."
17365 "I thought so. Quietly and steadily have all these arrangements made
17366 in the courtyard here, even to the taking of your own seat in the carriage.
17367 The moment I come to you, take me in, and drive away."
17369 "I understand that I wait for you under all circumstances?"
17371 "You have my certificate in your hand with the rest, you know, and
17372 will reserve my place. Wait for nothing but to have my place occupied,
17373 and then for England!"
17375 "Why, then," said Mr. Lorry, grasping his eager but so firm and steady
17376 hand, "it does not all depend on one old man, but I shall have a young
17377 and ardent man at my side."
17379 "By the help of Heaven you shall! Promise me solemnly that nothing
17380 will influence you to alter the course on which we now stand pledged to
17381 one another."
17383 "Nothing, Carton."
17385 "Remember these words to-morrow: change the course, or delay in
17386 it - for any reason - and no life can possibly be saved, and many lives
17387 must inevitably be sacrificed."
17389 "I will remember them. I hope to do my part faithfully."
17391 "And I hope to do mine. Now, good bye!"
17393 Though he said it with a grave smile of earnestness, and though he
17394 even put the old man's hand to his lips, he did not part from him then.
17395 He helped him so far to arouse the rocking figure before the dying em-
17396 bers, as to get a cloak and hat put upon it, and to tempt it forth to find
17397 where the bench and work were hidden that it still moaningly besought
17398 to have. He walked on the other side of it and protected it to the court-
17399 yard of the house where the afflicted heart - so happy in the memorable
17400 time when he had revealed his own desolate heart to it - outwatched the
17401 awful night. He entered the courtyard and remained there for a few mo-
17402 ments alone, looking up at the light in the window of her room. Before
17403 he went away, he breathed a blessing towards it, and a Farewell.
17407 342
17411 Chapter
17415 13
17419 Fifty-two
17421 In the black prison of the Conciergerie, the doomed of the day awaited
17422 their fate. They were in number as the weeks of the year. Fifty-two were
17423 to roll that afternoon on the life-tide of the city to the boundless everlast-
17424 ing sea. Before their cells were quit of them, new occupants were appoin-
17425 ted; before their blood ran into the blood spilled yesterday, the blood
17426 that was to mingle with theirs to-morrow was already set apart.
17428 Two score and twelve were told off. From the farmer-general of sev-
17429 enty, whose riches could not buy his life, to the seamstress of twenty,
17430 whose poverty and obscurity could not save her. Physical diseases, en-
17431 gendered in the vices and neglects of men, will seize on victims of all de-
17432 grees; and the frightful moral disorder, born of unspeakable suffering,
17433 intolerable oppression, and heartless indifference, smote equally without
17434 distinction.
17436 Charles Darnay, alone in a cell, had sustained himself with no flatter-
17437 ing delusion since he came to it from the Tribunal. In every line of the
17438 narrative he had heard, he had heard his condemnation. He had fully
17439 comprehended that no personal influence could possibly save him, that
17440 he was virtually sentenced by the millions, and that units could avail
17441 him nothing.
17443 Nevertheless, it was not easy, with the face of his beloved wife fresh
17444 before him, to compose his mind to what it must bear. His hold on life
17445 was strong, and it was very, very hard, to loosen; by gradual efforts and
17446 degrees unclosed a little here, it clenched the tighter there; and when he
17447 brought his strength to bear on that hand and it yielded, this was closed
17448 again. There was a hurry, too, in all his thoughts, a turbulent and heated
17449 working of his heart, that contended against resignation. If, for a mo-
17450 ment, he did feel resigned, then his wife and child who had to live after
17451 him, seemed to protest and to make it a selfish thing.
17455 343
17459 But, all this was at first. Before long, the consideration that there was
17460 no disgrace in the fate he must meet, and that numbers went the same
17461 road wrongfully, and trod it firmly every day, sprang up to stimulate
17462 him. Next followed the thought that much of the future peace of mind
17463 enjoyable by the dear ones, depended on his quiet fortitude. So, by de-
17464 grees he calmed into the better state, when he could raise his thoughts
17465 much higher, and draw comfort down.
17467 Before it had set in dark on the night of his condemnation, he had trav-
17468 elled thus far on his last way. Being allowed to purchase the means of
17469 writing, and a light, he sat down to write until such time as the prison
17470 lamps should be extinguished.
17472 He wrote a long letter to Lucie, showing her that he had known noth-
17473 ing of her father's imprisonment, until he had heard of it from herself,
17474 and that he had been as ignorant as she of his father's and uncle's re-
17475 sponsibility for that misery, until the paper had been read. He had
17476 already explained to her that his concealment from herself of the name
17477 he had relinquished, was the one condition - fully intelligible now - that
17478 her father had attached to their betrothal, and was the one promise he
17479 had still exacted on the morning of their marriage. He entreated her, for
17480 her father's sake, never to seek to know whether her father had become
17481 oblivious of the existence of the paper, or had had it recalled to him (for
17482 the moment, or for good), by the story of the Tower, on that old Sunday
17483 under the dear old plane-tree in the garden. If he had preserved any def-
17484 inite remembrance of it, there could be no doubt that he had supposed it
17485 destroyed with the Bastille, when he had found no mention of it among
17486 the relics of prisoners which the populace had discovered there, and
17487 which had been described to all the world. He besought her - though he
17488 added that he knew it was needless - to console her father, by impress-
17489 ing him through every tender means she could think of, with the truth
17490 that he had done nothing for which he could justly reproach himself, but
17491 had uniformly forgotten himself for their joint sakes. Next to her preser-
17492 vation of his own last grateful love and blessing, and her overcoming of
17493 her sorrow, to devote herself to their dear child, he adjured her, as they
17494 would meet in Heaven, to comfort her father.
17496 To her father himself, he wrote in the same strain; but, he told her fath-
17497 er that he expressly confided his wife and child to his care. And he told
17498 him this, very strongly, with the hope of rousing him from any despond-
17499 ency or dangerous retrospect towards which he foresaw he might be
17500 tending.
17504 344
17508 To Mr. Lorry, he commended them all, and explained his worldly af-
17509 fairs. That done, with many added sentences of grateful friendship and
17510 warm attachment, all was done. He never thought of Carton. His mind
17511 was so full of the others, that he never once thought of him.
17513 He had time to finish these letters before the lights were put out. When
17514 he lay down on his straw bed, he thought he had done with this world.
17516 But, it beckoned him back in his sleep, and showed itself in shining
17517 forms. Free and happy, back in the old house in Soho (though it had
17518 nothing in it like the real house), unaccountably released and light of
17519 heart, he was with Lucie again, and she told him it was all a dream, and
17520 he had never gone away. A pause of forgetfulness, and then he had even
17521 suffered, and had come back to her, dead and at peace, and yet there was
17522 no difference in him. Another pause of oblivion, and he awoke in the
17523 sombre morning, unconscious where he was or what had happened, un-
17524 til it flashed upon his mind, "this is the day of my death!"
17526 Thus, had he come through the hours, to the day when the fifty-two
17527 heads were to fall. And now, while he was composed, and hoped that he
17528 could meet the end with quiet heroism, a new action began in his waking
17529 thoughts, which was very difficult to master.
17531 He had never seen the instrument that was to terminate his life. How
17532 high it was from the ground, how many steps it had, where he would be
17533 stood, how he would be touched, whether the touching hands would be
17534 dyed red, which way his face would be turned, whether he would be the
17535 first, or might be the last: these and many similar questions, in nowise
17536 directed by his will, obtruded themselves over and over again, countless
17537 times. Neither were they connected with fear: he was conscious of no
17538 fear. Rather, they originated in a strange besetting desire to know what
17539 to do when the time came; a desire gigantically disproportionate to the
17540 few swift moments to which it referred; a wondering that was more like
17541 the wondering of some other spirit within his, than his own.
17543 The hours went on as he walked to and fro, and the clocks struck the
17544 numbers he would never hear again. Nine gone for ever, ten gone for
17545 ever, eleven gone for ever, twelve coming on to pass away. After a hard
17546 contest with that eccentric action of thought which had last perplexed
17547 him, he had got the better of it. He walked up and down, softly repeating
17548 their names to himself. The worst of the strife was over. He could walk
17549 up and down, free from distracting fancies, praying for himself and for
17550 them.
17552 Twelve gone for ever.
17556 345
17560 He had been apprised that the final hour was Three, and he knew he
17561 would be summoned some time earlier, inasmuch as the tumbrils jolted
17562 heavily and slowly through the streets. Therefore, he resolved to keep
17563 Two before his mind, as the hour, and so to strengthen himself in the in-
17564 terval that he might be able, after that time, to strengthen others.
17566 Walking regularly to and fro with his arms folded on his breast, a very
17567 different man from the prisoner, who had walked to and fro at La Force,
17568 he heard One struck away from him, without surprise. The hour had
17569 measured like most other hours. Devoutly thankful to Heaven for his
17570 recovered self-possession, he thought, "There is but another now," and
17571 turned to walk again.
17573 Footsteps in the stone passage outside the door. He stopped.
17575 The key was put in the lock, and turned. Before the door was opened,
17576 or as it opened, a man said in a low voice, in English: "He has never seen
17577 me here; I have kept out of his way. Go you in alone; I wait near. Lose no
17578 time!"
17580 The door was quickly opened and closed, and there stood before him
17581 face to face, quiet, intent upon him, with the light of a smile on his fea-
17582 tures, and a cautionary finger on his lip, Sydney Carton.
17584 There was something so bright and remarkable in his look, that, for the
17585 first moment, the prisoner misdoubted him to be an apparition of his
17586 own imagining. But, he spoke, and it was his voice; he took the prison-
17587 er's hand, and it was his real grasp.
17589 "Of all the people upon earth, you least expected to see me?" he said.
17591 "I could not believe it to be you. I can scarcely believe it now. You are
17592 not" - the apprehension came suddenly into his mind - "a prisoner?"
17594 "No. I am accidentally possessed of a power over one of the keepers
17595 here, and in virtue of it I stand before you. I come from her - your wife,
17596 dear Darnay."
17598 The prisoner wrung his hand.
17600 "I bring you a request from her."
17602 "What is it?"
17604 "A most earnest, pressing, and emphatic entreaty, addressed to you in
17605 the most pathetic tones of the voice so dear to you, that you well
17606 remember."
17608 The prisoner turned his face partly aside.
17612 346
17616 "You have no time to ask me why I bring it, or what it means; I have
17617 no time to tell you. You must comply with it - take off those boots you
17618 wear, and draw on these of mine."
17620 There was a chair against the wall of the cell, behind the prisoner. Car-
17621 ton, pressing forward, had already, with the speed of lightning, got him
17622 down into it, and stood over him, barefoot.
17624 "Draw on these boots of mine. Put your hands to them; put your will
17625 to them. Quick!"
17627 "Carton, there is no escaping from this place; it never can be done. You
17628 will only die with me. It is madness."
17630 "It would be madness if I asked you to escape; but do I? When I ask
17631 you to pass out at that door, tell me it is madness and remain here.
17632 Change that cravat for this of mine, that coat for this of mine. While you
17633 do it, let me take this ribbon from your hair, and shake out your hair like
17634 this of mine!"
17636 With wonderful quickness, and with a strength both of will and action,
17637 that appeared quite supernatural, he forced all these changes upon him.
17638 The prisoner was like a young child in his hands.
17640 "Carton! Dear Carton! It is madness. It cannot be accomplished, it nev-
17641 er can be done, it has been attempted, and has always failed. I implore
17642 you not to add your death to the bitterness of mine."
17644 "Do I ask you, my dear Darnay, to pass the door? When I ask that, re-
17645 fuse. There are pen and ink and paper on this table. Is your hand steady
17646 enough to write?"
17648 "It was when you came in."
17650 "Steady it again, and write what I shall dictate. Quick, friend, quick!"
17652 Pressing his hand to his bewildered head, Darnay sat down at the
17653 table. Carton, with his right hand in his breast, stood close beside him.
17655 "Write exactly as I speak."
17657 "To whom do I address it?"
17659 "To no one." Carton still had his hand in his breast.
17661 "Do I date it?"
17663 "No."
17665 The prisoner looked up, at each question. Carton, standing over him
17666 with his hand in his breast, looked down.
17670 347
17674 "'If you remember/" said Carton, dictating, '"the words that passed
17675 between us, long ago, you will readily comprehend this when you see it.
17676 You do remember them, I know. It is not in your nature to forget them.'"
17678 He was drawing his hand from his breast; the prisoner chancing to
17679 look up in his hurried wonder as he wrote, the hand stopped, closing
17680 upon something.
17682 "Have you written 'forget them'?" Carton asked.
17684 "I have. Is that a weapon in your hand?"
17686 "No; I am not armed."
17688 "What is it in your hand?"
17690 "You shall know directly. Write on; there are but a few words more."
17691 He dictated again. '"I am thankful that the time has come, when I can
17692 prove them. That I do so is no subject for regret or grief.'" As he said
17693 these words with his eyes fixed on the writer, his hand slowly and softly
17694 moved down close to the writer's face.
17696 The pen dropped from Darnay's fingers on the table, and he looked
17697 about him vacantly.
17699 "What vapour is that?" he asked.
17701 "Vapour?"
17703 "Something that crossed me?"
17705 "I am conscious of nothing; there can be nothing here. Take up the pen
17706 and finish. Hurry, hurry!"
17708 As if his memory were impaired, or his faculties disordered, the pris-
17709 oner made an effort to rally his attention. As he looked at Carton with
17710 clouded eyes and with an altered manner of breathing, Carton - his hand
17711 again in his breast - looked steadily at him.
17713 "Hurry, hurry!"
17715 The prisoner bent over the paper, once more.
17717 "Tf it had been otherwise;'" Carton's hand was again watchfully and
17718 softly stealing down; "T never should have used the longer opportunity.
17719 If it had been otherwise;'" the hand was at the prisoner's face; "T should
17720 but have had so much the more to answer for. If it had been other-
17721 wise - '" Carton looked at the pen and saw it was trailing off into unin-
17722 telligible signs.
17724 Carton's hand moved back to his breast no more. The prisoner sprang
17725 up with a reproachful look, but Carton's hand was close and firm at his
17729 348
17733 nostrils, and Carton's left arm caught him round the waist. For a few
17734 seconds he faintly struggled with the man who had come to lay down
17735 his life for him; but, within a minute or so, he was stretched insensible on
17736 the ground.
17738 Quickly, but with hands as true to the purpose as his heart was, Car-
17739 ton dressed himself in the clothes the prisoner had laid aside, combed
17740 back his hair, and tied it with the ribbon the prisoner had worn. Then, he
17741 softly called, "Enter there! Come in!" and the Spy presented himself.
17743 "You see?" said Carton, looking up, as he kneeled on one knee beside
17744 the insensible figure, putting the paper in the breast: "is your hazard
17745 very great?"
17747 "Mr. Carton," the Spy answered, with a timid snap of his fingers, "my
17748 hazard is not that, in the thick of business here, if you are true to the
17749 whole of your bargain."
17751 "Don't fear me. I will be true to the death."
17753 "You must be, Mr. Carton, if the tale of fifty-two is to be right. Being
17754 made right by you in that dress, I shall have no fear."
17756 "Have no fear! I shall soon be out of the way of harming you, and the
17757 rest will soon be far from here, please God! Now, get assistance and take
17758 me to the coach."
17760 "You?" said the Spy nervously.
17762 "Him, man, with whom I have exchanged. You go out at the gate by
17763 which you brought me in?"
17765 "Of course."
17767 "I was weak and faint when you brought me in, and I am fainter now
17768 you take me out. The parting interview has overpowered me. Such a
17769 thing has happened here, often, and too often. Your life is in your own
17770 hands. Quick! Call assistance!"
17772 "You swear not to betray me?" said the trembling Spy, as he paused
17773 for a last moment.
17775 "Man, man!" returned Carton, stamping his foot; "have I sworn by no
17776 solemn vow already, to go through with this, that you waste the precious
17777 moments now? Take him yourself to the courtyard you know of, place
17778 him yourself in the carriage, show him yourself to Mr. Lorry, tell him
17779 yourself to give him no restorative but air, and to remember my words
17780 of last night, and his promise of last night, and drive away!"
17784 349
17788 The Spy withdrew, and Carton seated himself at the table, resting his
17789 forehead on his hands. The Spy returned immediately, with two men.
17791 "How, then?" said one of them, contemplating the fallen figure. "So af-
17792 flicted to find that his friend has drawn a prize in the lottery of Sainte
17793 Guillotine?"
17795 "A good patriot," said the other, "could hardly have been more afflic-
17796 ted if the Aristocrat had drawn a blank."
17798 They raised the unconscious figure, placed it on a litter they had
17799 brought to the door, and bent to carry it away.
17801 "The time is short, Evremonde," said the Spy, in a warning voice.
17803 "I know it well," answered Carton. "Be careful of my friend, I entreat
17804 you, and leave me."
17806 "Come, then, my children," said Barsad. "Lift him, and come away!"
17808 The door closed, and Carton was left alone. Straining his powers of
17809 listening to the utmost, he listened for any sound that might denote sus-
17810 picion or alarm. There was none. Keys turned, doors clashed, footsteps
17811 passed along distant passages: no cry was raised, or hurry made, that
17812 seemed unusual. Breathing more freely in a little while, he sat down at
17813 the table, and listened again until the clock struck Two.
17815 Sounds that he was not afraid of, for he divined their meaning, then
17816 began to be audible. Several doors were opened in succession, and fi-
17817 nally his own. A gaoler, with a list in his hand, looked in, merely saying,
17818 "Follow me, Evremonde!" and he followed into a large dark room, at a
17819 distance. It was a dark winter day, and what with the shadows within,
17820 and what with the shadows without, he could but dimly discern the oth-
17821 ers who were brought there to have their arms bound. Some were stand-
17822 ing; some seated. Some were lamenting, and in restless motion; but,
17823 these were few. The great majority were silent and still, looking fixedly
17824 at the ground.
17826 As he stood by the wall in a dim corner, while some of the fifty-two
17827 were brought in after him, one man stopped in passing, to embrace him,
17828 as having a knowledge of him. It thrilled him with a great dread of dis-
17829 covery; but the man went on. A very few moments after that, a young
17830 woman, with a slight girlish form, a sweet spare face in which there was
17831 no vestige of colour, and large widely opened patient eyes, rose from the
17832 seat where he had observed her sitting, and came to speak to him.
17834 "Citizen Evremonde," she said, touching him with her cold hand. "I
17835 am a poor little seamstress, who was with you in La Force."
17839 350
17843 He murmured for answer: "True. I forget what you were accused of?"
17845 "Plots. Though the just Heaven knows that I am innocent of any. Is it
17846 likely? Who would think of plotting with a poor little weak creature like
17847 me?"
17849 The forlorn smile with which she said it, so touched him, that tears
17850 started from his eyes.
17852 "I am not afraid to die, Citizen Evremonde, but I have done nothing. I
17853 am not unwilling to die, if the Republic which is to do so much good to
17854 us poor, will profit by my death; but I do not know how that can be, Cit-
17855 izen Evremonde. Such a poor weak little creature!"
17857 As the last thing on earth that his heart was to warm and soften to, it
17858 warmed and softened to this pitiable girl.
17860 "I heard you were released, Citizen Evremonde. I hoped it was true?"
17862 "It was. But, I was again taken and condemned."
17864 "If I may ride with you, Citizen Evremonde, will you let me hold your
17865 hand? I am not afraid, but I am little and weak, and it will give me more
17866 courage."
17868 As the patient eyes were lifted to his face, he saw a sudden doubt in
17869 them, and then astonishment. He pressed the work-worn, hunger-worn
17870 young fingers, and touched his lips.
17872 "Are you dying for him?" she whispered.
17874 "And his wife and child. Hush! Yes."
17876 "O you will let me hold your brave hand, stranger?"
17878 "Hush! Yes, my poor sister; to the last."
17880 The same shadows that are falling on the prison, are falling, in that
17881 same hour of the early afternoon, on the Barrier with the crowd about it,
17882 when a coach going out of Paris drives up to be examined.
17884 "Who goes here? Whom have we within? Papers!"
17886 The papers are handed out, and read.
17888 "Alexandre Manette. Physician. French. Which is he?"
17890 This is he; this helpless, inarticulately murmuring, wandering old man
17891 pointed out.
17893 "Apparently the Citizen-Doctor is not in his right mind? The
17894 Revolution-fever will have been too much for him?"
17896 Greatly too much for him.
17900 351
17904 "Hah! Many suffer with it. Lucie. His daughter. French. Which is she?"
17906 This is she.
17908 "Apparently it must be. Lucie, the wife of Evremonde; is it not?"
17910 It is.
17912 "Hah! Evremonde has an assignation elsewhere. Lucie, her child. Eng-
17913 lish. This is she?"
17915 She and no other.
17917 "Kiss me, child of Evremonde. Now, thou hast kissed a good Republic-
17918 an; something new in thy family; remember it! Sydney Carton. Advocate.
17919 English. Which is he?"
17921 He lies here, in this corner of the carriage. He, too, is pointed out.
17923 "Apparently the English advocate is in a swoon?"
17925 It is hoped he will recover in the fresher air. It is represented that he is
17926 not in strong health, and has separated sadly from a friend who is under
17927 the displeasure of the Republic.
17929 "Is that all? It is not a great deal, that! Many are under the displeasure
17930 of the Republic, and must look out at the little window. Jarvis Lorry.
17931 Banker. English. Which is he?"
17933 "I am he. Necessarily, being the last."
17935 It is Jarvis Lorry who has replied to all the previous questions. It is Jar-
17936 vis Lorry who has alighted and stands with his hand on the coach door,
17937 replying to a group of officials. They leisurely walk round the carriage
17938 and leisurely mount the box, to look at what little luggage it carries on
17939 the roof; the country-people hanging about, press nearer to the coach
17940 doors and greedily stare in; a little child, carried by its mother, has its
17941 short arm held out for it, that it may touch the wife of an aristocrat who
17942 has gone to the Guillotine.
17944 "Behold your papers, Jarvis Lorry, countersigned."
17946 "One can depart, citizen?"
17948 "One can depart. Forward, my postilions! A good journey!"
17950 "I salute you, citizens. - And the first danger passed!"
17952 These are again the words of Jarvis Lorry, as he clasps his hands, and
17953 looks upward. There is terror in the carriage, there is weeping, there is
17954 the heavy breathing of the insensible traveller.
17956 "Are we not going too slowly? Can they not be induced to go faster?"
17957 asks Lucie, clinging to the old man.
17961 352
17965 "It would seem like flight, my darling. I must not urge them too much;
17966 it would rouse suspicion."
17968 "Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued!"
17970 "The road is clear, my dearest. So far, we are not pursued."
17972 Houses in twos and threes pass by us, solitary farms, ruinous
17973 buildings, dye-works, tanneries, and the like, open country, avenues of
17974 leafless trees. The hard uneven pavement is under us, the soft deep mud
17975 is on either side. Sometimes, we strike into the skirting mud, to avoid the
17976 stones that clatter us and shake us; sometimes, we stick in ruts and
17977 sloughs there. The agony of our impatience is then so great, that in our
17978 wild alarm and hurry we are for getting out and run-
17979 ning - hiding - doing anything but stopping.
17981 Out of the open country, in again among ruinous buildings, solitary
17982 farms, dye-works, tanneries, and the like, cottages in twos and threes,
17983 avenues of leafless trees. Have these men deceived us, and taken us back
17984 by another road? Is not this the same place twice over? Thank Heaven,
17985 no. A village. Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued! Hush! the
17986 posting-house.
17988 Leisurely, our four horses are taken out; leisurely, the coach stands in
17989 the little street, bereft of horses, and with no likelihood upon it of ever
17990 moving again; leisurely, the new horses come into visible existence, one
17991 by one; leisurely, the new postilions follow, sucking and plaiting the
17992 lashes of their whips; leisurely, the old postilions count their money,
17993 make wrong additions, and arrive at dissatisfied results. All the time, our
17994 overfraught hearts are beating at a rate that would far outstrip the fastest
17995 gallop of the fastest horses ever foaled.
17997 At length the new postilions are in their saddles, and the old are left
17998 behind. We are through the village, up the hill, and down the hill, and on
17999 the low watery grounds. Suddenly, the postilions exchange speech with
18000 animated gesticulation, and the horses are pulled up, almost on their
18001 haunches. We are pursued?
18003 "Ho! Within the carriage there. Speak then!"
18005 "What is it?" asks Mr. Lorry, looking out at window.
18007 "How many did they say?"
18009 "I do not understand you."
18011 " - At the last post. How many to the Guillotine to-day?"
18013 "Fifty-two."
18017 353
18021 "I said so! A brave number! My fellow-citizen here would have it
18022 forty-two; ten more heads are worth having. The Guillotine goes hand-
18023 somely. I love it. Hi forward. Whoop!"
18025 The night comes on dark. He moves more; he is beginning to revive,
18026 and to speak intelligibly; he thinks they are still together; he asks him, by
18027 his name, what he has in his hand. O pity us, kind Heaven, and help us!
18028 Look out, look out, and see if we are pursued.
18030 The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and the
18031 moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of us;
18032 but, so far, we are pursued by nothing else.
18036 354
18040 Chapter
18044 14
18048 The Knitting Done
18050 In that same juncture of time when the Fifty-Two awaited their fate
18051 Madame Defarge held darkly ominous council with The Vengeance and
18052 Jacques Three of the Revolutionary Jury. Not in the wine-shop did Ma-
18053 dame Defarge confer with these ministers, but in the shed of the wood-
18054 sawyer, erst a mender of roads. The sawyer himself did not participate in
18055 the conference, but abided at a little distance, like an outer satellite who
18056 was not to speak until required, or to offer an opinion until invited.
18058 "But our Defarge," said Jacques Three, "is undoubtedly a good Repub-
18059 lican? Eh?"
18061 "There is no better," the voluble Vengeance protested in her shrill
18062 notes, "in France."
18064 "Peace, little Vengeance," said Madame Defarge, laying her hand with
18065 a slight frown on her lieutenant's lips, "hear me speak. My husband,
18066 fellow-citizen, is a good Republican and a bold man; he has deserved
18067 well of the Republic, and possesses its confidence. But my husband has
18068 his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relent towards this Doctor."
18070 "It is a great pity," croaked Jacques Three, dubiously shaking his head,
18071 with his cruel fingers at his hungry mouth; "it is not quite like a good cit-
18072 izen; it is a thing to regret."
18074 "See you," said madame, "I care nothing for this Doctor, I. He may
18075 wear his head or lose it, for any interest I have in him; it is all one to me.
18076 But, the Evremonde people are to be exterminated, and the wife and
18077 child must follow the husband and father."
18079 "She has a fine head for it," croaked Jacques Three. "I have seen blue
18080 eyes and golden hair there, and they looked charming when Samson
18081 held them up." Ogre that he was, he spoke like an epicure.
18083 Madame Defarge cast down her eyes, and reflected a little.
18087 355
18091 "The child also," observed Jacques Three, with a meditative enjoyment
18092 of his words, "has golden hair and blue eyes. And we seldom have a
18093 child there. It is a pretty sight!"
18095 "In a word," said Madame Defarge, coming out of her short abstrac-
18096 tion, "I cannot trust my husband in this matter. Not only do I feel, since
18097 last night, that I dare not confide to him the details of my projects; but
18098 also I feel that if I delay, there is danger of his giving warning, and then
18099 they might escape."
18101 "That must never be," croaked Jacques Three; "no one must escape.
18102 We have not half enough as it is. We ought to have six score a day."
18104 "In a word," Madame Defarge went on, "my husband has not my
18105 reason for pursuing this family to annihilation, and I have not his reason
18106 for regarding this Doctor with any sensibility. I must act for myself,
18107 therefore. Come hither, little citizen."
18109 The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in the sub-
18110 mission, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his red cap.
18112 "Touching those signals, little citizen," said Madame Defarge, sternly,
18113 "that she made to the prisoners; you are ready to bear witness to them
18114 this very day?"
18116 "Ay, ay, why not!" cried the sawyer. "Every day, in all weathers, from
18117 two to four, always signalling, sometimes with the little one, sometimes
18118 without. I know what I know. I have seen with my eyes."
18120 He made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if in incidental im-
18121 itation of some few of the great diversity of signals that he had never
18122 seen.
18124 "Clearly plots," said Jacques Three. "Transparently!"
18126 "There is no doubt of the Jury?" inquired Madame Defarge, letting her
18127 eyes turn to him with a gloomy smile.
18129 "Rely upon the patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I answer for my fellow-
18130 Jurymen."
18132 "Now, let me see," said Madame Defarge, pondering again. "Yet once
18133 more! Can I spare this Doctor to my husband? I have no feeling either
18134 way. Can I spare him?"
18136 "He would count as one head," observed Jacques Three, in a low
18137 voice. "We really have not heads enough; it would be a pity, I think."
18139 "He was signalling with her when I saw her," argued Madame De-
18140 farge; "I cannot speak of one without the other; and I must not be silent,
18144 356
18148 and trust the case wholly to him, this little citizen here. For, I am not a
18149 bad witness."
18151 The Vengeance and Jacques Three vied with each other in their fervent
18152 protestations that she was the most admirable and marvellous of wit-
18153 nesses. The little citizen, not to be outdone, declared her to be a celestial
18154 witness.
18156 "He must take his chance," said Madame Defarge. "No, I cannot spare
18157 him! You are engaged at three o'clock; you are going to see the batch of
18158 to-day executed. - You?"
18160 The question was addressed to the wood-sawyer, who hurriedly
18161 replied in the affirmative: seizing the occasion to add that he was the
18162 most ardent of Republicans, and that he would be in effect the most des-
18163 olate of Republicans, if anything prevented him from enjoying the pleas-
18164 ure of smoking his afternoon pipe in the contemplation of the droll na-
18165 tional barber. He was so very demonstrative herein, that he might have
18166 been suspected (perhaps was, by the dark eyes that looked contemptu-
18167 ously at him out of Madame Defarge's head) of having his small indi-
18168 vidual fears for his own personal safety, every hour in the day.
18170 "I," said madame, "am equally engaged at the same place. After it is
18171 over-say at eight to-night - come you to me, in Saint Antoine, and we
18172 will give information against these people at my Section."
18174 The wood-sawyer said he would be proud and flattered to attend the
18175 citizeness. The citizeness looking at him, he became embarrassed, evaded
18176 her glance as a small dog would have done, retreated among his wood,
18177 and hid his confusion over the handle of his saw.
18179 Madame Defarge beckoned the Juryman and The Vengeance a little
18180 nearer to the door, and there expounded her further views to them thus:
18182 "She will now be at home, awaiting the moment of his death. She will
18183 be mourning and grieving. She will be in a state of mind to impeach the
18184 justice of the Republic. She will be full of sympathy with its enemies. I
18185 will go to her."
18187 "What an admirable woman; what an adorable woman!" exclaimed
18188 Jacques Three, rapturously. "Ah, my cherished!" cried The Vengeance;
18189 and embraced her.
18191 "Take you my knitting," said Madame Defarge, placing it in her lieu-
18192 tenant's hands, "and have it ready for me in my usual seat. Keep me my
18193 usual chair. Go you there, straight, for there will probably be a greater
18194 concourse than usual, to-day."
18198 357
18202 "I willingly obey the orders of my Chief," said The Vengeance with
18203 alacrity, and kissing her cheek. "You will not be late?"
18205 "I shall be there before the commencement."
18207 "And before the tumbrils arrive. Be sure you are there, my soul," said
18208 The Vengeance, calling after her, for she had already turned into the
18209 street, "before the tumbrils arrive!"
18211 Madame Defarge slightly waved her hand, to imply that she heard,
18212 and might be relied upon to arrive in good time, and so went through
18213 the mud, and round the corner of the prison wall. The Vengeance and
18214 the Juryman, looking after her as she walked away, were highly appreci-
18215 ative of her fine figure, and her superb moral endowments.
18217 There were many women at that time, upon whom the time laid a
18218 dreadfully disfiguring hand; but, there was not one among them more to
18219 be dreaded than this ruthless woman, now taking her way along the
18220 streets. Of a strong and fearless character, of shrewd sense and readiness,
18221 of great determination, of that kind of beauty which not only seems to
18222 impart to its possessor firmness and animosity, but to strike into others
18223 an instinctive recognition of those qualities; the troubled time would
18224 have heaved her up, under any circumstances. But, imbued from her
18225 childhood with a brooding sense of wrong, and an inveterate hatred of a
18226 class, opportunity had developed her into a tigress. She was absolutely
18227 without pity. If she had ever had the virtue in her, it had quite gone out
18228 of her.
18230 It was nothing to her, that an innocent man was to die for the sins of
18231 his forefathers; she saw, not him, but them. It was nothing to her, that his
18232 wife was to be made a widow and his daughter an orphan; that was in-
18233 sufficient punishment, because they were her natural enemies and her
18234 prey, and as such had no right to live. To appeal to her, was made hope-
18235 less by her having no sense of pity, even for herself. If she had been laid
18236 low in the streets, in any of the many encounters in which she had been
18237 engaged, she would not have pitied herself; nor, if she had been ordered
18238 to the axe to-morrow, would she have gone to it with any softer feeling
18239 than a fierce desire to change places with the man who sent here there.
18241 Such a heart Madame Defarge carried under her rough robe. Care-
18242 lessly worn, it was a becoming robe enough, in a certain weird way, and
18243 her dark hair looked rich under her coarse red cap. Lying hidden in her
18244 bosom, was a loaded pistol. Lying hidden at her waist, was a sharpened
18245 dagger. Thus accoutred, and walking with the confident tread of such a
18246 character, and with the supple freedom of a woman who had habitually
18250 358
18254 walked in her girlhood, bare-foot and bare-legged, on the brown sea-
18255 sand, Madame Defarge took her way along the streets.
18257 Now, when the journey of the travelling coach, at that very moment
18258 waiting for the completion of its load, had been planned out last night,
18259 the difficulty of taking Miss Pross in it had much engaged Mr. Lorry's at-
18260 tention. It was not merely desirable to avoid overloading the coach, but it
18261 was of the highest importance that the time occupied in examining it and
18262 its passengers, should be reduced to the utmost; since their escape might
18263 depend on the saving of only a few seconds here and there. Finally, he
18264 had proposed, after anxious
18266 consideration, that Miss Pross and Jerry, who were at liberty to leave
18267 the city, should leave it at three o'clock in the lightest-wheeled convey-
18268 ance known to that period. Unencumbered with luggage, they would
18269 soon overtake the coach, and, passing it and preceding it on the road,
18270 would order its horses in advance, and greatly facilitate its progress dur-
18271 ing the precious hours of the night, when delay was the most to be
18272 dreaded.
18274 Seeing in this arrangement the hope of rendering real service in that
18275 pressing emergency, Miss Pross hailed it with joy. She and Jerry had be-
18276 held the coach start, had known who it was that Solomon brought, had
18277 passed some ten minutes in tortures of suspense, and were now conclud-
18278 ing their arrangements to follow the coach, even as Madame Defarge,
18279 taking her way through the streets, now drew nearer and nearer to the
18280 else-deserted lodging in which they held their consultation.
18282 "Now what do you think, Mr. Cruncher," said Miss Pross, whose agit-
18283 ation was so great that she could hardly speak, or stand, or move, or live:
18284 "what do you think of our not starting from this courtyard? Another car-
18285 riage having already gone from here to-day, it might awaken suspicion."
18287 "My opinion, miss," returned Mr. Cruncher, "is as you're right. Like-
18288 wise wot I'll stand by you, right or wrong."
18290 "I am so distracted with fear and hope for our precious creatures,"
18291 said Miss Pross, wildly crying, "that I am incapable of forming any plan.
18292 Are you capable of forming any plan, my dear good Mr. Cruncher?"
18294 "Respectin' a future spear o' life, miss," returned Mr. Cruncher, "I
18295 hope so. Respectin' any present use o' this here blessed old head o' mind,
18296 I think not. Would you do me the favour, miss, to take notice o' two
18297 promises and wows wot it is my wishes fur to record in this here crisis?"
18301 359
18305 "Oh, for gracious sake!" cried Miss Pross, still wildly crying, "record
18306 them at once, and get them out of the way, like an excellent man."
18308 "First," said Mr. Cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke
18309 with an ashy and solemn visage, "them poor things well out o' this, nev-
18310 er no more will I do it, never no more!"
18312 "I am quite sure, Mr. Cruncher," returned Miss Pross, "that you never
18313 will do it again, whatever it is, and I beg you not to think it necessary to
18314 mention more particularly what it is."
18316 "No, miss," returned Jerry, "it shall not be named to you. Second:
18317 them poor things well out o' this, and never no more will I interfere with
18318 Mrs. Cruncher's flopping, never no more!"
18320 "Whatever housekeeping arrangement that may be," said Miss Pross,
18321 striving to dry her eyes and compose herself, "I have no doubt it is best
18322 that Mrs. Cruncher should have it entirely under her own superintend-
18323 ence. - O my poor darlings!"
18325 "I go so far as to say, miss, moreover," proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with
18326 a most alarming tendency to hold forth as from a pulpit - "and let my
18327 words be took down and took to Mrs. Cruncher through yourself - that
18328 wot my opinions respectin' flopping has undergone a change, and that
18329 wot I only hope with all my heart as Mrs. Cruncher may be a flopping at
18330 the present time."
18332 "There, there, there! I hope she is, my dear man," cried the distracted
18333 Miss Pross, "and I hope she finds it answering her expectations."
18335 "Forbid it," proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with additional solemnity, addi-
18336 tional slowness, and additional tendency to hold forth and hold out, "as
18337 anything wot I have ever said or done should be wisited on my earnest
18338 wishes for them poor creeturs now! Forbid it as we shouldn't all flop (if
18339 it was anyways conwenient) to get 'em out o' this here dismal risk! For-
18340 bid it, miss! Wot I say, for-bid it!" This was Mr. Cruncher's conclusion
18341 after a protracted but vain endeavour to find a better one.
18343 And still Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came
18344 nearer and nearer.
18346 "If we ever get back to our native land," said Miss Pross, "you may
18347 rely upon my telling Mrs. Cruncher as much as I may be able to remem-
18348 ber and understand of what you have so impressively said; and at all
18349 events you may be sure that I shall bear witness to your being thor-
18350 oughly in earnest at this dreadful time. Now, pray let us think! My es-
18351 teemed Mr. Cruncher, let us think!"
18355 360
18359 Still, Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came near-
18360 er and nearer.
18362 "If you were to go before," said Miss Pross, "and stop the vehicle and
18363 horses from coming here, and were to wait somewhere for me; wouldn't
18364 that be best?"
18366 Mr. Cruncher thought it might be best.
18368 "Where could you wait for me?" asked Miss Pross.
18370 Mr. Cruncher was so bewildered that he could think of no locality but
18371 Temple Bar. Alas! Temple Bar was hundreds of miles away, and Ma-
18372 dame Defarge was drawing very near indeed.
18374 "By the cathedral door," said Miss Pross. "Would it be much out of the
18375 way, to take me in, near the great cathedral door between the two
18376 towers?"
18378 "No, miss," answered Mr. Cruncher.
18380 "Then, like the best of men," said Miss Pross, "go to the posting-house
18381 straight, and make that change."
18383 "I am doubtful," said Mr. Cruncher, hesitating and shaking his head,
18384 "about leaving of you, you see. We don't know what may happen."
18386 "Heaven knows we don't," returned Miss Pross, "but have no fear for
18387 me. Take me in at the cathedral, at Three o'clock, or as near it as you
18388 can, and I am sure it will be better than our going from here. I feel certain
18389 of it. There! Bless you, Mr. Cruncher! Think-not of me, but of the lives
18390 that may depend on both of us!"
18392 This exordium, and Miss Pross's two hands in quite agonised entreaty
18393 clasping his, decided Mr. Cruncher. With an encouraging nod or two, he
18394 immediately went out to alter the arrangements, and left her by herself
18395 to follow as she had proposed.
18397 The having originated a precaution which was already in course of ex-
18398 ecution, was a great relief to Miss Pross. The necessity of composing her
18399 appearance so that it should attract no special notice in the streets, was
18400 another relief. She looked at her watch, and it was twenty minutes past
18401 two. She had no time to lose, but must get ready at once.
18403 Afraid, in her extreme perturbation, of the loneliness of the deserted
18404 rooms, and of half -imagined faces peeping from behind every open door
18405 in them, Miss Pross got a basin of cold water and began laving her eyes,
18406 which were swollen and red. Haunted by her feverish apprehensions,
18407 she could not bear to have her sight obscured for a minute at a time by
18411 361
18415 the dripping water, but constantly paused and looked round to see that
18416 there was no one watching her. In one of those pauses she recoiled and
18417 cried out, for she saw a figure standing in the room.
18419 The basin fell to the ground broken, and the water flowed to the feet of
18420 Madame Defarge. By strange stern ways, and through much staining
18421 blood, those feet had come to meet that water.
18423 Madame Defarge looked coldly at her, and said, "The wife of Evre-
18424 monde; where is she?"
18426 It flashed upon Miss Pross's mind that the doors were all standing
18427 open, and would suggest the flight. Her first act was to shut them. There
18428 were four in the room, and she shut them all. She then placed herself be-
18429 fore the door of the chamber which Lucie had occupied.
18431 Madame Defarge's dark eyes followed her through this rapid move-
18432 ment, and rested on her when it was finished. Miss Pross had nothing
18433 beautiful about her; years had not tamed the wildness, or softened the
18434 grimness, of her appearance; but, she too was a determined woman in
18435 her different way, and she measured Madame Defarge with her eyes,
18436 every inch.
18438 "You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer," said Miss
18439 Pross, in her breathing. "Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me.
18440 I am an Englishwoman."
18442 Madame Defarge looked at her scornfully, but still with something of
18443 Miss Pross's own perception that they two were at bay. She saw a tight,
18444 hard, wiry woman before her, as Mr. Lorry had seen in the same figure a
18445 woman with a strong hand, in the years gone by. She knew full well that
18446 Miss Pross was the family's devoted friend; Miss Pross knew full well
18447 that Madame Defarge was the family's malevolent enemy.
18449 "On my way yonder," said Madame Defarge, with a slight movement
18450 of her hand towards the fatal spot, "where they reserve my chair and my
18451 knitting for me, I am come to make my compliments to her in passing. I
18452 wish to see her."
18454 "I know that your intentions are evil," said Miss Pross, "and you may
18455 depend upon it, I'll hold my own against them."
18457 Each spoke in her own language; neither understood the other's
18458 words; both were very watchful, and intent to deduce from look and
18459 manner, what the unintelligible words meant.
18463 362
18467 "It will do her no good to keep herself concealed from me at this mo-
18468 ment," said Madame Defarge. "Good patriots will know what that
18469 means. Let me see her. Go tell her that I wish to see her. Do you hear?"
18471 "If those eyes of yours were bed-winches," returned Miss Pross, "and I
18472 was an English four-poster, they shouldn't loose a splinter of me. No,
18473 you wicked foreign woman; I am your match."
18475 Madame Defarge was not likely to follow these idiomatic remarks in
18476 detail; but, she so far understood them as to perceive that she was set at
18477 naught.
18479 "Woman imbecile and pig-like!" said Madame Defarge, frowning. "I
18480 take no answer from you. I demand to see her. Either tell her that I de-
18481 mand to see her, or stand out of the way of the door and let me go to
18482 her!" This, with an angry explanatory wave of her right arm.
18484 "I little thought," said Miss Pross, "that I should ever want to under-
18485 stand your nonsensical language; but I would give all I have, except the
18486 clothes I wear, to know whether you suspect the truth, or any part of it."
18488 Neither of them for a single moment released the other's eyes. Ma-
18489 dame Defarge had not moved from the spot where she stood when Miss
18490 Pross first became aware of her; but, she now advanced one step.
18492 "I am a Briton," said Miss Pross, "I am desperate. I don't care an Eng-
18493 lish Twopence for myself. I know that the longer I keep you here, the
18494 greater hope there is for my Ladybird. I'll not leave a handful of that
18495 dark hair upon your head, if you lay a finger on me!"
18497 Thus Miss Pross, with a shake of her head and a flash of her eyes
18498 between every rapid sentence, and every rapid sentence a whole breath.
18499 Thus Miss Pross, who had never struck a blow in her life.
18501 But, her courage was of that emotional nature that it brought the irre-
18502 pressible tears into her eyes. This was a courage that Madame Defarge so
18503 little comprehended as to mistake for weakness. "Ha, ha!" she laughed,
18504 "you poor wretch! What are you worth! I address myself to that Doctor."
18505 Then she raised her voice and called out, "Citizen Doctor! Wife of Evre-
18506 monde! Child of Evremonde! Any person but this miserable fool, answer
18507 the Citizeness Defarge!"
18509 Perhaps the following silence, perhaps some latent disclosure in the
18510 expression of Miss Pross's face, perhaps a sudden misgiving apart from
18511 either suggestion, whispered to Madame Defarge that they were gone.
18512 Three of the doors she opened swiftly, and looked in.
18516 363
18520 "Those rooms are all in disorder, there has been hurried packing, there
18521 are odds and ends upon the ground. There is no one in that room behind
18522 you! Let me look."
18524 "Never!" said Miss Pross, who understood the request as perfectly as
18525 Madame Defarge understood the answer.
18527 "If they are not in that room, they are gone, and can be pursued and
18528 brought back," said Madame Defarge to herself.
18530 "As long as you don't know whether they are in that room or not, you
18531 are uncertain what to do," said Miss Pross to herself; "and you shall not
18532 know that, if I can prevent your knowing it; and know that, or not know
18533 that, you shall not leave here while I can hold you."
18535 "I have been in the streets from the first, nothing has stopped me, I
18536 will tear you to pieces, but I will have you from that door," said Madame
18537 Defarge.
18539 "We are alone at the top of a high house in a solitary courtyard, we are
18540 not likely to be heard, and I pray for bodily strength to keep you here,
18541 while every minute you are here is worth a hundred thousand guineas to
18542 my darling," said Miss Pross.
18544 Madame Defarge made at the door. Miss Pross, on the instinct of the
18545 moment, seized her round the waist in both her arms, and held her tight.
18546 It was in vain for Madame Defarge to struggle and to strike; Miss Pross,
18547 with the vigorous tenacity of love, always so much stronger than hate,
18548 clasped her tight, and even lifted her from the floor in the struggle that
18549 they had. The two hands of Madame Defarge buffeted and tore her face;
18550 but, Miss Pross, with her head down, held her round the waist, and
18551 clung to her with more than the hold of a drowning woman.
18553 Soon, Madame Defarge's hands ceased to strike, and felt at her en-
18554 circled waist. "It is under my arm," said Miss Pross, in smothered tones,
18555 "you shall not draw it. I am stronger than you, I bless Heaven for it. I
18556 hold you till one or other of us faints or dies!"
18558 Madame Defarge's hands were at her bosom. Miss Pross looked up,
18559 saw what it was, struck at it, struck out a flash and a crash, and stood
18560 alone - blinded with smoke.
18562 All this was in a second. As the smoke cleared, leaving an awful still-
18563 ness, it passed out on the air, like the soul of the furious woman whose
18564 body lay lifeless on the ground.
18566 In the first fright and horror of her situation, Miss Pross passed the
18567 body as far from it as she could, and ran down the stairs to call for
18571 364
18575 fruitless help. Happily, she bethought herself of the consequences of
18576 what she did, in time to check herself and go back. It was dreadful to go
18577 in at the door again; but, she did go in, and even went near it, to get the
18578 bonnet and other things that she must wear. These she put on, out on the
18579 staircase, first shutting and locking the door and taking away the key.
18580 She then sat down on the stairs a few moments to breathe and to cry, and
18581 then got up and hurried away.
18583 By good fortune she had a veil on her bonnet, or she could hardly have
18584 gone along the streets without being stopped. By good fortune, too, she
18585 was naturally so peculiar in appearance as not to show disfigurement
18586 like any other woman. She needed both advantages, for the marks of
18587 gripping fingers were deep in her face, and her hair was torn, and her
18588 dress (hastily composed with unsteady hands) was clutched and
18589 dragged a hundred ways.
18591 In crossing the bridge, she dropped the door key in the river. Arriving
18592 at the cathedral some few minutes before her escort, and waiting there,
18593 she thought, what if the key were already taken in a net, what if it were
18594 identified, what if the door were opened and the remains discovered,
18595 what if she were stopped at the gate, sent to prison, and charged with
18596 murder! In the midst of these fluttering thoughts, the escort appeared,
18597 took her in, and took her away.
18599 "Is there any noise in the streets?" she asked him.
18601 "The usual noises," Mr. Cruncher replied; and looked surprised by the
18602 question and by her aspect.
18604 "I don't hear you," said Miss Pross. "What do you say?"
18606 It was in vain for Mr. Cruncher to repeat what he said; Miss Pross
18607 could not hear him. "So I'll nod my head," thought Mr. Cruncher,
18608 amazed, "at all events she'll see that." And she did.
18610 "Is there any noise in the streets now?" asked Miss Pross again,
18611 presently.
18613 Again Mr. Cruncher nodded his head.
18615 "I don't hear it."
18617 "Gone deaf in an hour?" said Mr. Cruncher, ruminating, with his mind
18618 much disturbed; "wot's come to her?"
18620 "I feel," said Miss Pross, "as if there had been a flash and a crash, and
18621 that crash was the last thing I should ever hear in this life."
18625 365
18629 "Blest if she ain't in a queer condition!" said Mr. Cruncher, more and
18630 more disturbed. "Wot can she have been a takin', to keep her courage
18631 up? Hark! There's the roll of them dreadful carts! You can hear that,
18632 miss?"
18634 "I can hear," said Miss Pross, seeing that he spoke to her, "nothing. O,
18635 my good man, there was first a great crash, and then a great stillness,
18636 and that stillness seems to be fixed and unchangeable, never to be broken
18637 any more as long as my life lasts."
18639 "If she don't hear the roll of those dreadful carts, now very nigh their
18640 journey's end," said Mr. Cruncher, glancing over his shoulder, "it's my
18641 opinion that indeed she never will hear anything else in this world."
18643 And indeed she never did.
18647 366
18651 Chapter
18655 15
18659 The Footsteps Die Out For Ever
18661 Along the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh. Six
18662 tumbrils carry the day's wine to La Guillotine. All the devouring and in-
18663 satiate Monsters imagined since imagination could record itself, are
18664 fused in the one realisation, Guillotine. And yet there is not in France,
18665 with its rich variety of soil and climate, a blade, a leaf, a root, a sprig, a
18666 peppercorn, which will grow to maturity under conditions more certain
18667 than those that have produced this horror. Crush humanity out of shape
18668 once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same
18669 tortured forms. Sow the same seed of rapacious license and oppression
18670 over again, and it will surely yield the same fruit according to its kind.
18672 Six tumbrils roll along the streets. Change these back again to what
18673 they were, thou powerful enchanter, Time, and they shall be seen to be
18674 the carriages of absolute monarchs, the equipages of feudal nobles, the
18675 toilettes of flaring Jezebels, the churches that are not my father's house
18676 but dens of thieves, the huts of millions of starving peasants! No; the
18677 great magician who majestically works out the appointed order of the
18678 Creator, never reverses his transformations. "If thou be changed into this
18679 shape by the will of God," say the seers to the enchanted, in the wise Ar-
18680 abian stories, "then remain so! But, if thou wear this form through mere
18681 passing conjuration, then resume thy former aspect!" Changeless and
18682 hopeless, the tumbrils roll along.
18684 As the sombre wheels of the six carts go round, they seem to plough
18685 up a long crooked furrow among the populace in the streets. Ridges of
18686 faces are thrown to this side and to that, and the ploughs go steadily on-
18687 ward. So used are the regular inhabitants of the houses to the spectacle,
18688 that in many windows there are no people, and in some the occupation
18689 of the hands is not so much as suspended, while the eyes survey the
18690 faces in the tumbrils. Here and there, the inmate has visitors to see the
18691 sight; then he points his finger, with something of the complacency of a
18695 367
18699 curator or authorised exponent, to this cart and to this, and seems to tell
18700 who sat here yesterday, and who there the day before.
18702 Of the riders in the tumbrils, some observe these things, and all things
18703 on their last roadside, with an impassive stare; others, with a lingering
18704 interest in the ways of life and men. Some, seated with drooping heads,
18705 are sunk in silent despair; again, there are some so heedful of their looks
18706 that they cast upon the multitude such glances as they have seen in
18707 theatres, and in pictures. Several close their eyes, and think, or try to get
18708 their straying thoughts together. Only one, and he a miserable creature,
18709 of a crazed aspect, is so shattered and made drunk by horror, that he
18710 sings, and tries to dance. Not one of the whole number appeals by look
18711 or gesture, to the pity of the people.
18713 There is a guard of sundry horsemen riding abreast of the tumbrils,
18714 and faces are often turned up to some of them, and they are asked some
18715 question. It would seem to be always the same question, for, it is always
18716 followed by a press of people towards the third cart. The horsemen
18717 abreast of that cart, frequently point out one man in it with their swords.
18718 The leading curiosity is, to know which is he; he stands at the back of the
18719 tumbril with his head bent down, to converse with a mere girl who sits
18720 on the side of the cart, and holds his hand. He has no curiosity or care for
18721 the scene about him, and always speaks to the girl. Here and there in the
18722 long street of St. Honore, cries are raised against him. If they move him
18723 at all, it is only to a quiet smile, as he shakes his hair a little more loosely
18724 about his face. He cannot easily touch his face, his arms being bound.
18726 On the steps of a church, awaiting the coming-up of the tumbrils,
18727 stands the Spy and prison-sheep. He looks into the first of them: not
18728 there. He looks into the second: not there. He already asks himself, "Has
18729 he sacrificed me?" when his face clears, as he looks into the third.
18731 "Which is Evremonde?" says a man behind him.
18733 "That. At the back there."
18735 "With his hand in the girl's?"
18737 "Yes."
18739 The man cries, "Down, Evremonde! To the Guillotine all aristocrats!
18740 Down, Evremonde!"
18742 "Hush, hush!" the Spy entreats him, timidly.
18744 "And why not, citizen?"
18746 "He is going to pay the forfeit: it will be paid in five minutes more. Let
18747 him be at peace."
18751 368
18755 But the man continuing to exclaim, "Down, Evremonde!" the face of
18756 Evremonde is for a moment turned towards him. Evremonde then sees
18757 the Spy, and looks attentively at him, and goes his way.
18759 The clocks are on the stroke of three, and the furrow ploughed among
18760 the populace is turning round, to come on into the place of execution,
18761 and end. The ridges thrown to this side and to that, now crumble in and
18762 close behind the last plough as it passes on, for all are following to the
18763 Guillotine. In front of it, seated in chairs, as in a garden of public diver-
18764 sion, are a number of women, busily knitting. On one of the fore-most
18765 chairs, stands The Vengeance, looking about for her friend.
18767 "Therese!" she cries, in her shrill tones. "Who has seen her? Therese
18768 Defarge!"
18770 "She never missed before," says a knitting-woman of the sisterhood.
18772 "No; nor will she miss now," cries The Vengeance, petulantly.
18773 "Therese."
18775 "Louder," the woman recommends.
18777 Ay! Louder, Vengeance, much louder, and still she will scarcely hear
18778 thee. Louder yet, Vengeance, with a little oath or so added, and yet it will
18779 hardly bring her. Send other women up and down to seek her, lingering
18780 somewhere; and yet, although the messengers have done dread deeds, it
18781 is questionable whether of their own wills they will go far enough to find
18782 her!
18784 "Bad Fortune!" cries The Vengeance, stamping her foot in the chair,
18785 "and here are the tumbrils! And Evremonde will be despatched in a
18786 wink, and she not here! See her knitting in my hand, and her empty chair
18787 ready for her. I cry with vexation and disappointment!"
18789 As The Vengeance descends from her elevation to do it, the tumbrils
18790 begin to discharge their loads. The ministers of Sainte Guillotine are
18791 robed and ready. Crash! - A head is held up, and the knitting-women
18792 who scarcely lifted their eyes to look at it a moment ago when it could
18793 think and speak, count One.
18795 The second tumbril empties and moves on; the third comes up. Crash!
18796 - And the knitting-women, never faltering or pausing in their Work,
18797 count Two.
18799 The supposed Evremonde descends, and the seamstress is lifted out
18800 next after him. He has not relinquished her patient hand in getting out,
18801 but still holds it as he promised. He gently places her with her back to
18805 369
18809 the crashing engine that constantly whirrs up and falls, and she looks in-
18810 to his face and thanks him.
18812 "But for you, dear stranger, I should not be so composed, for I am nat-
18813 urally a poor little thing, faint of heart; nor should I have been able to
18814 raise my thoughts to Him who was put to death, that we might have
18815 hope and comfort here to-day. I think you were sent to me by Heaven."
18817 "Or you to me," says Sydney Carton. "Keep your eyes upon me, dear
18818 child, and mind no other object."
18820 "I mind nothing while I hold your hand. I shall mind nothing when I
18821 let it go, if they are rapid."
18823 "They will be rapid. Fear not!"
18825 The two stand in the fast-thinning throng of victims, but they speak as
18826 if they were alone. Eye to eye, voice to voice, hand to hand, heart to
18827 heart, these two children of the Universal Mother, else so wide apart and
18828 differing, have come together on the dark highway, to repair home to-
18829 gether, and to rest in her bosom.
18831 "Brave and generous friend, will you let me ask you one last question?
18832 I am very ignorant, and it troubles me - just a little."
18834 "Tell me what it is."
18836 "I have a cousin, an only relative and an orphan, like myself, whom I
18837 love very dearly. She is five years younger than I, and she lives in a farm-
18838 er's house in the south country. Poverty parted us, and she knows noth-
18839 ing of my fate - for I cannot write - and if I could, how should I tell her!
18840 It is better as it is."
18842 "Yes, yes: better as it is."
18844 "What I have been thinking as we came along, and what I am still
18845 thinking now, as I look into your kind strong face which gives me so
18846 much support, is this: - If the Republic really does good to the poor, and
18847 they come to be less hungry, and in all ways to suffer less, she may live a
18848 long time: she may even live to be old."
18850 "What then, my gentle sister?"
18852 "Do you think:" the uncomplaining eyes in which there is so much en-
18853 durance, fill with tears, and the lips part a little more and tremble: "that
18854 it will seem long to me, while I wait for her in the better land where I
18855 trust both you and I will be mercifully sheltered?"
18857 "It cannot be, my child; there is no Time there, and no trouble there."
18861 370
18865 "You comfort me so much! I am so ignorant. Am I to kiss you now? Is
18866 the moment come?"
18868 "Yes."
18870 She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemnly bless each other. The
18871 spare hand does not tremble as he releases it; nothing worse than a
18872 sweet, bright constancy is in the patient face. She goes next before
18873 him - is gone; the knitting- women count Twenty-Two.
18875 "I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in
18876 me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and be-
18877 lieveth in me shall never die."
18879 The murmuring of many voices, the upturning of many faces, the
18880 pressing on of many footsteps in the outskirts of the crowd, so that it
18881 swells forward in a mass, like one great heave of water, all flashes away.
18882 Twenty-Three.
18884 They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the peacefulest
18885 man's face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked sublime and
18886 prophetic.
18888 One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same axe - a woman-had
18889 asked at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed to
18890 write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given any ut-
18891 terance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been these:
18893 "I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the
18894 Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruc-
18895 tion of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall
18896 cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people
18897 rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their tri-
18898 umphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time
18899 and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually
18900 making expiation for itself and wearing out.
18902 "I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosper-
18903 ous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with
18904 a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and
18905 bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office,
18906 and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years'
18907 time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his
18908 reward.
18910 "I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their
18911 descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for
18915 371
18919 me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their
18920 course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that
18921 each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than I
18922 was in the souls of both.
18924 "I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a
18925 man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see
18926 him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the
18927 light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, fore-
18928 most of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with
18929 a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place - then fair to look
18930 upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement - and I hear him tell
18931 the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.
18933 "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far,
18934 far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."
18938 372