A Tale of Two Citis

Dickens,

Charls Electronic Text Centr, University of Virjinia Libry

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About th electronic version
A Tale of Two Citis
Dickens, Charls

Creation of machine-readbl version: Judy Boss

Creation of dijitl imajs:

Conversion to TEI.2-conformant markup: University of Virjinia Libry Electronic Text Centr.


This version availbl from th University of Virjinia Libry.
Charlottesville, Va.

http://etext.lib.virjinia.edu/modeng/modeng0.browse.html
1994


About th print version
A Tale of Two Citis
Charls Dickens
Nelson Doubleday
Gardn City,
NY n.d.

   Prepared for th University of Virjinia Libry Electronic Text Centr.

   Spel-chek and verification made against printd text using Wordperfect spel checker.


Publishd: 1859


English


Revisions to th electronic version
May 1996 corrector Cathrin Tousignant Updated Tei Header, made th foloing chanjes: Header revision description: ambigous] ambiguus; Paje 77, para. 6: acknowedgment] aknolejmnt; thruout th text: Evremonde] Evrémond.


May 1996 corrector David Seman Paje 25: anus] arms [reportd by awechsle@bbn.com]


March 1994 corrector Kelly Tetterton Chanjed COCO tags to TEI tags; removed unambiguus line-end hyphenation; expandd unexpanded dashs to distinguish them from hyphens.


etext@virjinia.edu. Comercial use prohibitd; al usaj govrnd by our Conditions of Use: http://etext.lib.virjinia.edu/conditions.html
Final chekng: David


Seman


Paje 3



A Tale
of Two
Citis

by
CHARLS
DICKENS
NELSON DOUBLEDAY, INC.
Gardn City, New York
Printd in th United States of
America


Paje 5


CONTENTS
BOOK TH FIRST -- RECALD TO

LIFE

CHAPTR I Th Period 9

CHAPTR II Th Mail 12

CHAPTR III Th Nyt Shados 17

CHAPTR IV Th Prepration 21

CHAPTR V Th Wine-shop 32

CHAPTR VI Th Shoemaker 42

BOOK TH SECND -- TH GOLDN THRED

CHAPTR I Five Years Later 55

CHAPTR II A Syt 61

CHAPTR III A Disapointmnt 67

CHAPTR IV Congratulatory 79

CHAPTR V Th Jakl 85

CHAPTR VI Hundreds of Peple 90

CHAPTR VII Monseigneur in Town 101

CHAPTR VIII Monseigneur in th Cuntry 109

CHAPTR IX Th Gorgon's Hed 114

CHAPTR X Two Promises 124

CHAPTR XI A Companion Pictur 132

CHAPTR XII Th Felo of Delicacy 136

CHAPTR XIII Th Felo of no Delicacy 142

CHAPTR XIV Th Onest Tradesman 146


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CHAPTR XV Nitng 156

CHAPTR XVI Stil Nitng 166

CHAPTR XVII One Nyt 176

CHAPTR XVIII Nine Days 181

CHAPTR XIX An Opinion 187

CHAPTR XX A Ple 194

CHAPTR XXI Ecoing Footsteps 197

CHAPTR XXII Th Se stil Rises 208

CHAPTR XXIII Fire Rises 213

CHAPTR XXIV Drawn to th Loadstone Rok 219

BOOK TH THIRD -- TH TRAK OF A
STORM

CHAPTR I In Secret 233

CHAPTR II Th Grindstone 243

CHAPTR III Th Shado 249

CHAPTR IV Calm in Storm 254

CHAPTR V Th Wood-sawyr 259

CHAPTR VI Triumf 265

CHAPTR VII A Nok at th Dor 271

CHAPTR VIII A Hand at Cards 276

CHAPTR IX Th Game Made 287

CHAPTR X Th Substnce of th Shado 299

CHAPTR XI Dusk 312

CHAPTR XII Darkns 316

CHAPTR XIII Fifty-two 324

CHAPTR XIV Th Nitng Don 335

CHAPTR XV Th Footsteps die out For evr 346


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Book 1

BOOK TH FIRST -- RECALD TO

LIFE


Paje 9

TH PERIOD

   IT WAS th best of times, it was th worst of times, it was th aje of wisdm, it was th aje of foolishness, it was th epoc of belief, it was th epoc of incredulity, it was th seasn of Lyt, it was th seasn of Darkns, it was th spring of hope, it was th wintr of despair, we had everything befor us, we had nothing befor us, we wer al going direct to Hevn, we wer al going direct th othr way -- in short, th period was so far like th presnt period, that som of its noisiest authoritis insistd on its being receved, for good or for evil, in th superlativ degree of comparisn only.

   Ther wer a king with a larj jaw and a queen with a plan face, on th throne of England; ther wer a king with a larj jaw and a queen with a fair face, on th throne of France. In both cuntris it was clearr than crystl to th lords of th State preservs of loavs and fishs, that things in jenrl wer setld for evr.

   It was th year of Our Lord one thousnd sevn hundred and sevnty- five. Spiritul revlations wer conceded to England at that favord period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently ataind her five-and- twentieth blesd birthday, of hom a profetic privat in th Life Gards had heraldd th sublime apearnce by anouncing that aranjemnts wer made for th swaloing up of Londn and Westminstr. Even th Cok-lane gost had been laid only a round dozn of years, aftr rapng out its messajs, as th spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in orijnality) rapd out thers. Mere messajs in th erthly ordr of events had lately com to th English Crown and Peple, from a congress of British subjects in America:


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wich, stranje to relate, hav proved mor importnt to th human race than any comunications yet receved thru any of th chikns of th Cok-lane brood.

   France, less favord on th hole as to matrs spiritul than her sistr of th shield and trident, rold with exeedng smoothness down hil, making paper mony and spendng it. Undr th gidance of her Cristian pastors, she entrtaind herself, besides, with such humane achevemnts as sentncing a yuth to hav his hands cut off, his tong torn out with pincers, and his body burnd alive, because he had not neeld down in th rain to do onr to a dirty procession of monks wich pasd within his vew, at a distnce of som fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enuf that, rootd in th woods of France and Norway, ther wer groing tres, wen that sufrr was put to deth, alredy markd by th Woodman, Fate, to com down and be sawn into bords, to make a certn movebl framework with a sak and a nife in it, teribl in histry. It is likely enuf that in th ruf outhouses of som tillers of th hevy lands ajacent to Paris, ther wer sheltrd from th wethr that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire, snufd about by pigs, and roosted in by poltry, wich th Farmr, Deth, had alredy set apart to be his tumbrels of th Revlution. But that Woodman and that Farmr, tho they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one herd them as they went about with mufld tred: th rathr, forasmuch as to entrtain any suspicion that they wer awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.

   In England, ther was scarcely an amount of ordr and protection to justify much nationl boastng. Daring burglris by armd men, and hyway robris, took place in th capitl itself evry nyt; famlis wer publicly cautiond not to go out of town without removing ther furnitur to upholsterers' warehouses for security; th highwayman in th dark was a City tradesman in th lyt, and, being recognized and chalenjd by his felo-tradesman hom he stopd in his caractr of "th Captn," galantly shot him thru th hed and rode away; th mal was waylaid by sevn robrs, and th gard shot thre ded, and then got shot ded himself by th othr four, "in consequence of th failur of his amunition:" aftr wich th mal was robd in pece; that magnificent potntate, th Lord Mayr of Londn, was made to stand and delivr on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, ho despoild th ilustrius creatur in syt of al his retnu; prisnrs in Londn jails fot batls with ther turnkeys, and th majesty


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of th law fired blunderbusses in among them, loadd with rounds of shot and bal; theves snipd off diamnd crosses from th neks of noble lords at Cort drawng-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles's, to serch for contraband goods, and th mob fired on th musketeers, and th musketeers fired on th mob, and nobody thot any of these ocurences much out of th comn way. In th midst of them, th hangman, evr busy and evr worse than useless, was in constnt requisition; now, stringng up long ros of mislaneus crimnls; now, hangng a housebreaker on Satrday ho had been taken on Tuesday; now, burnng peple in th hand at Newgate by th dozn, and now burnng pamflets at th dor of Westminstr Hal; to-day, taking th life of an atrocius murdrr, and to-moro of a reched pilferer ho had robd a farmer's boy of sixpnce.

   Al these things, and a thousnd like them, came to pass in and close upon th dear old year one thousnd sevn hundred and sevnty-five. Environed by them, wile th Woodman and th Farmr workd unheedd, those two of th larj jaws, and those othr two of th plan and th fair faces, trod with stir enuf, and carrid ther divine ryts with a hy hand. Thus did th year one thousnd sevn hundred and sevnty-five conduct ther Greatnesses, and myriads of smal creaturs -- th creaturs of this cronicl among th rest -- along th roads that lay befor them.


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TH MAIL

   IT WAS th Dover road that lay, on a Friday nyt late in Novembr, befor th first of th persns with hom this histry has busness. Th Dover road lay, as to him, beyond th Dover mail, as it lumbrd up Shooter's Hil. He walkd up hil in th mire by th side of th mail, as th rest of th pasnjrs did; not because they had th least relish for walkng exrcise, undr th circmstnces, but because th hil, and th harness, and th mud, and th mail, wer al so hevy, that th horses had thre times alredy com to a stop, besides once drawng th coach across th road, with th mutinus intent of taking it bak to Blakheath. Reins and wip and coachman and gard, howevr, in combnation, had red that articl of war wich forbad a purpos othrwise strongly in favor of th argumnt, that som brute anmls ar endued with Reasn; and th team had capitulated and returnd to ther duty.

   With droopng heds and tremulus tails, they mashd ther way thru th thik mud, floundrng and stumblng between whiles, as if they wer falng to peces at th larjr joints. As ofn as th driver restd them and brot them to a stand, with a wary "Wo-ho! so-ho- then!" th near leadr violently shook his hed and everything upon it -- like an unusuly emfatic horse, denyng that th coach cud be got up th hil. Wenevr th leadr made this ratl, th pasnjr startd, as a nervus pasnjr myt, and was disturbd in mind.

   Ther was a steamng mist in al th holos, and it had roamd in its forlornness up th hil, like an evil spirit, seekng rest and findng non. A clammy and intensly cold mist, it made its slo way thru th air in ripls that visbly folod and overspread one anothr, as


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th waves of an unholesm se myt do. It was dense enuf to shut out everything from th lyt of th coach-lamps but these its own workngs, and a few yards of road; and th reek of th laborng horses steamd into it, as if they had made it al.

   Two othr pasnjrs, besides th one, wer plodng up th hil by th side of th mail. Al thre wer rapd to th cheekbones and over th ears, and wor jak-boots. Not one of th thre cud hav said, from anything he saw, wat eithr of th othr two was like; and each was hidn undr almost as many raprs from th ys of th mind, as from th ys of th body, of his two companions. In those days, travlrs wer very shy of being confidential on a short notice, for anybody on th road myt be a robr or in leag with robrs. As to th latr, wen evry postng-house and ale-house cud produce sombody in "th Captain's" pay, ranjing from th landlord to th loest stable non- descript, it was th likeliest thing upon th cards. So th gard of th Dover mail thot to himself, that Friday nyt in Novembr, one thousnd sevn hundred and sevnty-five, lumbrng up Shooter's Hil, as he stood on his own particulr perch behind th mail, beatng his feet, and keepng an y and a hand on th arm-chest befor him, wher a loadd blunderbuss lay at th top of six or eit loadd horse-pistls, depositd on a substratum of cutlass.

   Th Dover mail was in its usul jenial position that th gard suspectd th pasnjrs, th pasnjrs suspectd one anothr and th gard, they al suspectd evrybody else, and th coachman was sure of nothing but th horses; as to wich catl he cud with a clear concience hav taken his oath on th two Testaments that they wer not fit for th jurny.

   "Wo-ho!" said th coachman. "So, then! One mor pul and u'r at th top and be damd to u, for I hav had trubl enuf to get u to it! -- Jo!"

   "Halloa!" th gard replyd.

   "Wat oclok do u make it, Jo?"

   "Ten minuts, good, past elevn."

   "My blod!" ejaculated th vexd coachman, "and not atop of Shooter's yet! Tst! Ya! Get on with u! "

   Th emfatic horse, cut short by th wip in a most decided negativ, made a decided scrambl for it, and th thre othr horses folod suit. Once mor, th Dover mail strugld on, with th jak-boots of its pasnjrs squashng along by its side. They had stopd wen th coach


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stopd, and they kept close compny with it. If any one of th thre had had th hardihood to propose to anothr to walk on a litl ahed into th mist and darkns, he wud hav put himself in a fair way of getng shot instntly as a highwayman.

   Th last burst carrid th mail to th sumit of th hil. Th horses stopd to brethe again, and th gard got down to skid th weel for th desent, and open th coach-dor to let th pasnjrs in.

   "Tst! Jo!" cryd th coachman in a warnng voice, lookng down from his box.

   "Wat do u say, Tom?"

   They both lisnd.

   "I say a horse at a cantr comng up, Jo."

   "I say a horse at a galop, Tom," returnd th gard, leving his hold of th dor, and mountng nimbly to his place. "Jentlmen! In th kings name, al of u!"

   With this hurrid adjuration, he cokd his blunderbuss, and stood on th ofensiv.

   Th pasnjr bookd by this histry, was on th coach-step, getng in; th two othr pasnjrs wer close behind him, and about to folo. He remaind on th step, half in th coach and half out of; they remaind in th road belo him. They al lookd from th coachman to th gard, and from th gard to th coachman, and lisnd. Th coachman lookd bak and th gard lookd bak, and even th emfatic leadr prikd up his ears and lookd bak, without contradictng.

   Th stilness consequent on th cesation of th rumblng and laborng of th coach, add to th stilness of th nyt, made it very quiet indeed. Th pantng of th horses comunicated a tremulus motion to th coach, as if it wer in a state of ajitation. Th harts of th pasnjrs beat loud enuf perhaps to be herd; but at any rate, th quiet pause was audbly expressiv of peple out of breth, and holdng th breth, and havng th pulses quiknd by expectation.

   Th sound of a horse at a galop came fast and furiusly up th hil.

   "So-ho!" th gard sang out, as loud as he cud ror. "Yo ther! Stand! I shal fire!"

   Th pace was sudnly chekd, and, with much splashng and floundrng, a man's voice cald from th mist, "Is that th Dover mail?"

   "Nevr u mind wat it is!" th gard retortd. "Wat ar u?"

   "Is that th Dover mail?"

   "Wy do u want to no?"


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   "I want a pasnjr, if it is."

   "Wat pasnjr?"

   "Mr. Jarvis Lorry."

   Our bookd pasnjr showd in a moment that it was his name. Th gard, th coachman, and th two othr pasnjrs yd him distrustfully.

   "Keep wher u ar," th gard cald to th voice in th mist, "because, if I shud make a mistake, it cud nevr be set ryt in yr lifetime. Jentlman of th name of Lorry ansr strait."

   "Wat is th matr?" askd th pasnjr, then, with mildly quaverng speech. "Ho wants me? Is it Jerry?"

   ("I dont like Jerry's voice, if it is Jerry," growld th gard to himself. "He's hoarser than suits me, is Jerry.")

   "Yes, Mr. Lorry."

   "Wat is th matr?"

   "A despach sent aftr u from over yondr. T. and Co."

   "I no this mesnjr, gard," said Mr. Lorry, getng down into th road-asistd from behind mor swiftly than politely by th othr two pasnjrs, ho imediatly scrambld into th coach, shut th dor, and puld up th windo. "He may com close; ther's nothing rong."

   "I hope ther aint, but I cant make so 'nation sure of that," said th gard, in gruf soliloquy. "Helo u!"

   "Wel! And helo u!" said Jerry, mor horsly than befor.

   "Com on at a footpace! d'ye mind me? And if u'v got holsters to that sadl o' yourn, dont let me se yr hand go ny 'em. For I'm a devl at a quik mistake, and wen I make one it takes th form of Led. So now let's look at u."

   Th figrs of a horse and rider came sloly thru th eddying mist, and came to th side of th mail, wher th pasnjr stood. Th rider stoopd, and, castng up his ys at th gard, handd th pasnjr a smal foldd paper. Th rider's horse was blown, and both horse and rider wer covrd with mud, from th hoovs of th horse to th hat of th man.

   "Gard!" said th pasnjr, in a tone of quiet busness confidnce.

   Th wachful gard, with his ryt hand at th stok of his rased blunderbuss, his left at th barel, and his y on th horsman, ansrd curtly, "Sir."

   "Ther is nothing to aprehend. I belong to Tellson's Bank. U


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must no Tellson's Bank in Londn. I am going to Paris on busness. A crown to drink. I may red this?"

   "If so be as u'r quik, sir."

   He opend it in th lyt of th coach-lamp on that side, and red -- first to himself and then aloud: "'wait at Dover for Mam'selle.' It's not long, u se, gard. Jerry, say that my ansr was, RECALD TO LIFE."

   Jerry startd in his sadl. "That's a Blazing stranje ansr, too," said he, at his hoarsest.

   "Take that messaj bak, and they wil no that I receved this, as wel as if I rote. Make th best of yr way. Good nyt."

   With those words th pasnjr opend th coach-dor and got in; not at al asistd by his felo-pasnjrs, ho had expeditiously secreted ther wachs and purses in ther boots, and wer now making a jenrl pretense of being asleep. With no mor defnit purpos than to escape th hazrd of orijnating any othr kind of action.

   Th coach lumbrd on again, with hevir reaths of mist closing round it as it began th desent. Th gard soon replaced his blunderbuss in his arm-chest, and, havng lookd to th rest of its contents, and havng lookd to th suplmentry pistls that he wor in his belt, lookd to a smalr chest beneath his seat, in wich ther wer a few smith's tools, a cupl of torchs, and a tindr-box. For he was furnishd with that completeness that if th coach-lamps had been blown and stormd out, wich did ocasionly hapn, he had only to shut himself up inside, keep th flint and steel sparks wel off th straw, and get a lyt with tolrbl safety and ese (if he wer lucky) in five minuts.

   "Tom!" softly over th coach roof.

   "Helo, Jo."

   "Did u hear th messaj?"

   "I did, Jo."

   "Wat did u make of it, Tom?"

   "Nothing at al, Jo."

   "That's a coincidnce, too," th gard mused, "for I made th same of it myself."

   Jerry, left alone in th mist and darkns, dismountd meanwile, not only to ese his spent horse, but to wipe th mud from his face, and shake th wet out of his hat-brim, wich myt be capabl of holdng about half a galon. Aftr standng with th bridle over his hevily- splashd arm, until th weels of th mail wer no longr within hearng and th nyt was quite stil again, he turnd to walk down th hil.


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   "Aftr that ther galop from Templ Bar, old lady, I wont trust yr for-legs til I get u on th levl," said this horse mesnjr, glancing at his mare. "'recalled to life.' That's a Blazing stranje messaj. Much of that wudnt do for u, Jerry! I say, Jerry! U'd be in a Blazing bad way, if recalng to life was to com into fashn, Jerry!"

TH NYT SHADOS

   A WONDRFUL FACT to reflect upon, that evry human creatur is constituted to be that profound secret and mystry to evry othr. A solem considration, wen I entr a gret city by nyt, that evry one of those darkly clustrd houses encloses its own secret; that evry room in evry one of them encloses its own secret; that evry beatng hart in th hundreds of thousnds of brests ther, is, in som of its imajnngs, a secret to th hart nearst it! Somthing of th awfulness, even of Deth itself, is referable to this. No mor can I turn th leavs of this dear book that I lovd, and vainly hope in time to red it al. No mor can I look into th depths of this unfathmbl watr, wherin, as momentry lyts glanced into it, I hav had glimpses of burid tresur and othr things submerjd. It was apointd that th book shud shut with a spring, for evr and for evr, wen I had red but a paje. It was apointd that th watr shud be lokd in an eternl frost, wen th lyt was playng on its surface, and I stood in ignrnce on th shor. My frend is ded, my neibr is ded, my lov, th darlng of my sol, is ded; it is th inexrbl consolidation and perpetuation of th secret that was always in that individuality, and wich I shal carry in mine to my life's end. In


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any of th burial-places of this city thru wich I pass, is ther a sleepr mor inscrutabl than its busy inhabitnts ar, in ther inrmost persnality, to me, or than I am to them?

   As to this, his natrl and not to be alienated inheritnce, th mesnjr on horsbak had exactly th same posessions as th King, th first Ministr of State, or th richst merchnt in Londn. So with th thre pasnjrs shut up in th naro compas of one lumbrng old mail coach; they wer mystris to one anothr, as complete as if each had been in his own coach and six, or his own coach and sixty, with th bredth of a county between him and th next.

   Th mesnjr rode bak at an esy trot, stopng pretty ofn at ale- houses by th way to drink, but evincing a tendncy to keep his own counsl, and to keep his hat cokd over his ys. He had ys that asortd very wel with that decration, being of a surface blak, with no depth in th color or form, and much too near togethr -- as if they wer afraid of being found out in somthing, singly, if they kept too far apart. They had a sinistr expression, undr an old cokd-hat like a thre-cornrd spittoon, and over a gret muflr for th chin and throat, wich desendd nearly to th wearer's nes. Wen he stopd for drink, he moved this muflr with his left hand, only wile he pord his liqr in with his ryt; as soon as that was don, he mufld again.

   "No, Jerry, no!" said th mesnjr, harpng on one theme as he rode. "It wudnt do for u, Jerry. Jerry, u onest tradesman, it wudnt suit yr line of busness! Recald -- ! Bust me if I dont think he'd been a drinkng!"

   His messaj perplexd his mind to that degree that he was fain, sevrl times, to take off his hat to scrach his hed. Exept on th crown, wich was ragedly bald, he had stif, blak hair, standng jaggedly al over it, and groing down hil almost to his brod, blunt nose. It was so like Smith's work, so much mor like th top of a strongly spiked wal than a hed of hair, that th best of playrs at leap-frog myt hav declined him, as th most danjerus man in th world to go over.

   Wile he trotd bak with th messaj he was to delivr to th nyt wachman in his box at th dor of Tellson's Bank, by Templ Bar, ho was to delivr it to gretr authoritis within, th shados of th nyt took such shapes to him as arose out of th messaj, and took such shapes to th mare as arose out of her privat topics of unesiness. They seemd to be numerus, for she shyd at evry shado on th road.


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   Wat time, th mail-coach lumbrd, joltd, ratld, and bumpd upon its tedius way, with its thre felo-inscrutables inside. To hom, likewise, th shados of th nyt reveald themselvs, in th forms ther dozing ys and wandrng thots sujestd.

   Tellson's Bank had a run upon it in th mail. As th bank pasnjr -- with an arm drawn thru th leathern strap, wich did wat lay in it to keep him from poundng against th next pasnjr, and driving him into his cornr, wenevr th coach got a special jolt -- nodd in his place, with half-shut ys, th litl coach-windos, and th coach-lamp dimly gleamng thru them, and th bulky bundl of oposit pasnjr, became th bank, and did a gret stroke of busness. Th ratl of th harness was th chink of mony, and mor drafts wer onrd in five minuts than even Tellson's, with al its foren and home conection, evr paid in thrice th time. Then th strong-rooms undrground, at Tellson's, with such of ther valubl stors and secrets as wer nown to th pasnjr (and it was not a litl that he new about them), opend befor him, and he went in among them with th gret kes and th feebly-burnng candl, and found them safe, and strong, and sound, and stil, just as he had last seen them.

   But, tho th bank was almost always with him, and tho th coach (in a confused way, like th presnce of pain undr an opiat) was always with him, ther was anothr curent of impression that nevr cesed to run, al thru th nyt. He was on his way to dig som one out of a grave.

   Now, wich of th multitude of faces that showd themselvs befor him was th tru face of th burid persn, th shados of th nyt did not indicate; but they wer al th faces of a man of five-and-forty by years, and they difrd principly in th passions they expresd, and in th ghastliness of ther worn and wasted state. Pride, contemt, defiance, stubrness, submission, lamntation, succeedd one anothr; so did varietis of sunkn cheek, cadavrus color, emaciated hands and figrs. But th face was in th main one face, and evry hed was prematurely wite. A hundred times th dozing pasnjr inquired of this spectr:

   "Burid how long?"

   Th ansr was always th same: "Almost eiteen years."

   "U had abandnd al hope of being dug out?"

   "Long ago."


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   "U no that u ar recald to life?"

   "They tel me so."

   "I hope u care to liv?"

   "I cant say."

   "Shal I sho her to u? Wil u com and se her?"

   Th ansrs to this question wer varius and contradictry. Somtimes th broken reply was, "Wait! It wud kil me if I saw her too soon." Somtimes, it was givn in a tendr rain of tears, and then it was, "Take me to her." Somtimes it was staring and bewildrd, and then it was, "I dont no her. I dont undrstand."

   Aftr such imajnry discorse, th pasnjr in his fancy wud dig, and dig, dig -- now with a spade, now with a gret ke, now with his hands -- to dig this reched creatur out. Got out at last, with erth hangng about his face and hair, he wud sudnly fan away to dust. Th pasnjr wud then start to himself, and loer th windo, to get th reality of mist and rain on his cheek.

   Yet even wen his ys wer opend on th mist and rain, on th moving pach of lyt from th lamps, and th hej at th roadside retreatng by jerks, th nyt shados outside th coach wud fal into th train of th nyt shados within. Th real Bankng-house by Templ Bar, th real busness of th past day, th real strong rooms, th real express sent aftr him, and th real messaj returnd, wud al be ther. Out of th midst of them, th gostly face wud rise, and he wud acost it again.

   "Burid how long?"

   "Almost eiteen years."

   "I hope u care to liv?"

   "I cant say."

   Dig -- dig -- dig -- until an impatient movemnt from one of th two pasnjrs wud admonish him to pul up th windo, draw his arm securely thru th leathern strap, and speculate upon th two slumbrng forms, until his mind lost its hold of them, and they again slid away into th bank and th grave.

   "Burid how long?"

   "Almost eiteen years."

   "U had abandnd al hope of being dug out?"

   "Long ago."


Paje 21

   Th words wer stil in his hearng as just spoken -- distinctly in his hearng as evr spoken words had been in his life -- wen th weary pasnjr startd to th conciusness of daylyt, and found that th shados of th nyt wer gon.

   He loerd th windo, and lookd out at th rising sun. Ther was a rij of plowd land, with a plow upon it wher it had been left last nyt wen th horses wer unyoked; beyond, a quiet copice-wood, in wich many leavs of burnng red and goldn yelo stil remaind upon th tres. Tho th erth was cold and wet, th sky was clear, and th sun rose bryt, placid, and butiful.

   "Eiteen years!" said th pasnjr, lookng at th sun. "Gracius Creator of day! To be burid alive for eiteen years!"

TH PREPRATION

   WEN TH MAIL got succesfuly to Dover, in th corse of th forenoon, th hed drawr at th Royl Jorj Hotel opend th coach-dor as his custm was. He did it with som flurish of ceremny, for a mail jurny from Londn in wintr was an achevemnt to congratulate an adventurus travlr upon.

   By that time, ther was only one adventurus travlr left to be congratulated: for th two othrs had been set down at ther respectiv roadside destnations. Th mildewy inside of th coach, with its damp and dirty straw, its disageeable smel, and its obscurity, was rathr like a larjr dog-kenl. Mr. Lorry, th pasnjr, shaking himself out of it in chains of straw, a tangl of shaggy rapr, flapng hat, and muddy legs, was rathr like a larjr sort of dog.


Paje 22

   "Ther wil be a paket to Calais, to-moro, drawr?"

   "Yes, sir, if th wethr holds and th wind sets tolrbl fair. Th tide wil serv pretty nicely at about two in th aftrnoon, sir. Bed, sir?"

   "I shal not go to bed til nyt; but I want a bedroom, and a barbr."

   "And then brekfast, sir? Yes, sir. That way, sir, if u plese. Sho Concord! Gentleman's valise and hot watr to Concord. Pul off gentleman's boots in Concord. (U wil find a fine se-coal fire, sir.) Fech barbr to Concord. Stir about ther, now, for Concord!"

   Th Concord bed-chamber being always asynd to a pasnjr by th mail, and pasnjrs by th mail being always hevily rapd up from bead to foot, th room had th od intrest for th establishmnt of th Royl Jorj, that altho but one kind of man was seen to go into it, al kinds and varietis of men came out of it. Consequently, anothr drawr, and two portrs, and sevrl maids and th landlady, wer al loitrng by accidnt at varius points of th road between th Concord and th cofee-room, wen a jentlman of sixty, formly dresd in a brown suit of clothes, pretty wel worn, but very wel kept, with larj square cufs and larj flaps to th pokets, pasd along on his way to his brekfast.

   Th cofee-room had no othr ocupnt, that forenoon, than th jentlman in brown. His brekfast-table was drawn befor th fire, and as he sat, with its lyt shining on him, waitng for th meal, he sat so stil, that he myt hav been sitng for his portrit.

   Very ordrly and methodicl he lookd, with a hand on each ne, and a loud wach tikng a sonrus sermn undr his flapd waistcoat, as tho it pitd its gravity and lonjevity against th levity and evanescence of th brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a litl vain of it, for his brown stokngs fitd sleek and close, and wer of a fine textur; his shoes and bukls, too, tho plan, wer trim. He wor an od litl sleek crisp flaxen wig, setng very close to his hed: wich wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but wich lookd far mor as tho it wer spun from filamnts of silk or glass. His linn, tho not of a fineness in acordnce with his stokngs, was as wite as th tops of th waves that broke upon th neibrng beach, or th speks of sail that glintd in th sunlyt far at se. A face habituly supresd and quietd, was stil lytd up undr th quaint wig by a pair of moist bryt ys that it must hav cost ther ownr, in years gon by, som pains to dril to th composed and reservd expression of Tellson's Bank.


Paje 23

He had a helthy color in his cheeks, and his face, tho lined, bor few traces of anxiety. But, perhaps th confidential bachlr clerks in Tellson's Bank wer principly ocupyd with th cares of othr peple; and perhaps secnd-hand cares, like secnd-hand clothes, com esily off and on.

   Completing his resemblnce to a man ho was sitng for his portrit, Mr. Lorry dropd off to sleep. Th arival of his brekfast rousd him, and he said to th drawr, as he moved his chair to it:

   "I wish acomodation prepared for a yung lady ho may com here at any time to-day. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or she may only ask for a jentlman from Tellson's Bank. Plese to let me no."

   "Yes, sir. Tellson's Bank in Londn, sir?"

   "Yes."

   "Yes, sir. We hav oftentimes th onr to entrtain yr jentlmen in ther travlng bakwrds and forwrds betwixt Londn and Paris, sir. A vast deal of travlng, sir, in Tellson and Company's House."

   "Yes. We ar quite a French House, as wel as an English one."

   "Yes, sir. Not much in th habit of such travlng yrself, I think, sir?"

   "Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we -- since I -- came last from France."

   "Indeed, sir? That was befor my time here, sir. Befor our people's time here, sir. Th Jorj was in othr hands at that time, sir."

   "I beleve so."

   "But I wud hold a pretty wajer, sir, that a House like Tellson and Compny was flurishng, a matr of fifty, not to speak of fifteen years ago?"

   "U myt trebl that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet not be far from th truth."

   "Indeed, sir!"

   Roundng his mouth and both his ys, as he stepd bakwrd from th table, th waitr shiftd his napkn from his ryt arm to his left, dropd into a comfrtbl atitude, and stood surveyng th gest wile he ate and drank, as from an observatry or watchtower. Acordng to th imemorial usaj of waitrs in al ajes.

   Wen Mr. Lorry had finishd his brekfast, he went out for a strol on th beach. Th litl naro, crooked town of Dover hid itself away from th beach, and ran its hed into th chalk clifs, like a marine


Paje 24

ostrich. Th beach was a desrt of heaps of se and stones tumblng wildly about, and th se did wat it liked, and wat it liked was destruction. It thundrd at th town, and thundrd at th clifs, and brot th coast down, madly. Th air among th houses was of so strong a piscatory flavor that one myt hav suposed sik fish went up to be dipd in it, as sik peple went down to be dipd in th se. A litl fishng was don in th port, and a quantity of strolng about by nyt, and lookng sewrd: particulrly at those times wen th tide made, and was near flod. Smal tradesmen, ho did no busness watevr, somtimes unacountbly realized larj fortunes, and it was remarkbl that nobody in th neibrhood cud endure a lamplighter.

   As th day declined into th aftrnoon, and th air, wich had been at intrvls clear enuf to alow th French coast to be seen, became again charjd with mist and vapor, Mr. Lorry's thots seemd to cloud too. Wen it was dark, and he sat befor th cofee-room fire, awaitng his dinr as he had awaitd his brekfast, his mind was busily digng, digng, digng, in th liv red coals.

   A botl of good claret aftr dinr dos a digr in th red coals no harm, othrwise than as it has a tendncy to thro him out of work. Mr. Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just pord out his last glassful of wine with as complete an apearnce of satisfaction as is evr to be found in an eldrly jentlman of a fresh complexion ho has got to th end of a botl, wen a ratlng of weels came up th naro street, and rumbld into th in-yard.

   He set down his glass untuchd. "This is Mam'selle!" said he.

   In a very few minuts th waitr came in to anounce that Miss Manette had arived from Londn, and wud be happy to se th jentlman from Tellson's.

   "So soon?"

   Miss Manette had taken som refreshmnt on th road, and required non then, and was extremely anxius to se th jentlman from Tellson's imediatly, if it suitd his plesur and convenience.

   Th jentlman from Tellson's had nothing left for it but to emty his glass with an air of stolid despration, setl his od litl flaxen wig at th ears, and folo th waitr to Miss Manette's apartmnt. It was a larj, dark room, furnishd in a funereal manr with blak horshair, and loadd with hevy dark tables. These had been oild and oild, until th two tal candls on th table in th midl of th room wer gloomily


Paje 25

reflectd on evry leaf; as if they wer burid, in deep graves of blak mahogny, and no lyt to speak of cud be expectd from them until they wer dug out.

   Th obscurity was so dificlt to penetrate that Mr. Lorry, pikng his way over th wel-worn Turky carpet, suposed Miss Manette to be, for th moment, in som ajacent room, until, havng got past th two tal candls, he saw standng to receve him by th table between them and th fire, a yung lady of not mor than sevnteen, in a riding-cloak, and stil holdng her straw travlng-hat by its ribn in her hand. As his ys restd on a short, slyt, pretty figr, a quantity of goldn hair, a pair of blu ys that met his own with an inquiring look, and a forhed with a singulr capacity (remembrng how yung and smooth it was), of rifting and nitng itself into an expression that was not quite one of perplexity, or wondr, or alarm, or merely of a bryt fixd atention, tho it included al th four expressions -- as his ys restd on these things, a sudn vivid likeness pasd befor him, of a child hom he had held in his arms on th passaj across that very Chanl, one cold time, wen th hail driftd hevily and th se ran hy. Th likeness pasd away, like a breth along th surface of th gaunt pier-glass behind her, on th frame of wich, a hospitl procession of negro cupids, sevrl hedless and al cripls, wer ofrng blak baskets of Ded Se fruit to blak divinities of th femnn jendr -- and he made his forml bo to Miss Manette.

   "Pray take a seat, sir." In a very clear and plesnt yung voice; a litl foren in its accent, but a very litl indeed.

   "I kiss yr hand, miss," said Mr. Lorry, with th manrs of an erlir date, as he made his forml bo again, and took his seat.

   "I receved a letr from th Bank, sir, yestrday, informng me that som intelijnce -- or discovry -- "

   "Th word is not material, miss; eithr word wil do."

   " -- respectng th smal proprty of my poor fathr, hom I nevr saw-so long ded -- "

   Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a trubld look towards th hospitl procession of negro cupids. As if they had any help for anybody in ther absurd baskets!

   " -- rendrd it necesry that I shud go to Paris, ther to comunicate with a jentlman of th Bank, so good as to be despachd to Paris for th purpos."


Paje 26

   "Myself."

   "As I was prepared to hear, sir."

   She curtseyed to him (yung ladis made curtseys in those days), with a pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much oldr and wiser he was than she. He made her anothr bo.

   "I replyd to th Bank, sir, that as it was considrd necesry, by those ho no, and ho ar so kind as to advise me, that I shud go to France, and that as I am an orfn and hav no frend ho cud go with me, I shud esteem it hyly if I myt be permitd to place myself, during th jurny, undr that worthy gentleman's protection. Th jentlman had left Londn, but I think a mesnjr was sent aftr him to beg th favor of his waitng for me here."

   "I was happy," said Mr. Lorry, "to be entrustd with th charj. I shal be mor happy to execute it."

   "Sir, I thank u indeed. I thank u very gratefuly. It was told me by th Bank that th jentlman wud explain to me th details of th busness, and that I must prepare myself to find them of a surprising natur. I hav don my best to prepare myself, and I natrly hav a strong and eagr intrest to no wat they ar."

   "Natrly," said Mr. Lorry. "Yes -- I -- "

   Aftr a pause, he add, again setlng th crisp flaxen wig at th ears,

   "It is very dificlt to begin."

   He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. Th yung forhed liftd itself into that singulr expression -- but it was pretty and caractristic, besides being singulr -- and she rased her hand, as if with an involuntry action she caut at, or stayd som pasng shado.

   "Ar u quite a stranjer to me, sir?"

   "Am I not?" Mr. Lorry opend his hands, and extendd them outwrds with an argumentativ smile.

   Between th ybrows and just over th litl femnn nose, th line of wich was as delicat and fine as it was posbl to be, th expression deepnd itself as she took her seat thotfuly in th chair by wich she had hithrto remaind standng. He wachd her as she mused, and th moment she rased her ys again, went on:

   "In yr adoptd cuntry, I presume, I canot do betr than adress u as a yung English lady, Miss Manette?"

   "If u plese, sir."

   "Miss Manette, I am a man of busness. I hav a busness charj to


Paje 27

aquit myself of. In yr reception of it, dont heed me any mor than if I was a speakng machine -- truly, I am not much else. I wil, with yr leve, relate to u, miss, th story of one of our custmrs."

   "Story!"

   He seemd wilfuly to mistake th word she had repeatd, wen he add, in a hurry, "Yes, custmrs; in th bankng busness we usuly cal our conection our custmrs. He was a French jentlman; a sientific jentlman; a man of gret acquirements -- a Doctr."

   "Not of Bauvai?"

   "Wy, yes, of Bauvai. Like Mosier Manette, yr fathr, th jentlman was of Bauvai. Like Mosier Manette, yr fathr, th jentlman was of repute in Paris. I had th onr of noing him ther. Our relations wer busness relations, but confidential. I was at that time in our French House, and had been -- o! twenty years."

   "At that time -- I may ask, at wat time, sir?"

   "I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He marrid -- an English lady -- and I was one of th trusts. His afairs, like th afairs of many othr French jentlmen and French famlis, wer entirely in Tellson's hands. In a simlr way I am, or I hav been, trustee of one kind or othr for scors of our custmrs. These ar mere busness relations, miss; ther is no frendship in them, no particulr intrest, nothing like sentmnt. I hav pasd from one to anothr, in th corse of my busness life, just as I pass from one of our custmrs to anothr in th corse of my busness day; in short, I hav no feelngs; I am a mere machine. To go on -- "

   "But this is my father's story, sir; and I begin to think" -- th curiusly rufnd forhed was very intent upon him -- "that wen I was left an orfn thru my mother's surviving my fathr only two years, it was u ho brot me to England. I am almost sure it was u."

   Mr. Lorry took th hesitating litl hand that confidingly advanced to take his, and he put it with som ceremny to his lips. He then conductd th yung lady straitway to her chair again, and, holdng th chairback with his left hand, and using his ryt by turns to rub his chin, pul his wig at th ears, or point wat he said, stood lookng down into her face wile she sat lookng up into his.

   "Miss Manette, it was I. And u wil se how truly I spoke of myself just now, in sayng I had no feelngs, and that al th relations I hold with my felo-creaturs ar mere busness relations, wen u reflect


Paje 28

that I hav nevr seen u since. No; u hav been th ward of Tellson's House since, and I hav been busy with th othr busness of Tellson's House since. Feelngs! I hav no time for them, no chance of them. I pass my hole life, miss, in turnng an imense pecuniry Mangl."

   Aftr this od description of his daily rutine of employmnt, Mr. Lorry flatnd his flaxen wig upon his hed with both hands (wich was most unecesry, for nothing cud be flatr than its shining surface was befor), and resumed his formr atitude.

   "So far, miss (as u hav remarkd), this is th story of yr regretd fathr. Now coms th difrnce. If yr fathr had not died wen he did -- Dont be frytnd! How u start!"

   She did, indeed, start. And she caut his rist with both her hands.

   "Pray," said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringng his left hand from th bak of th chair to lay it on th supplicatory fingrs that claspd him in so violent a trembl: "pray control yr ajitation -- a matr of busness. As I was sayng -- "

   Her look so discomposed him that he stopd, wandrd, and began anew:

   "As I was sayng; if Mosier Manette had not died; if he had sudnly and silently disapeard; if he had been spiritd away; if it had not been dificlt to gess to wat dredful place, tho no art cud trace him; if he had an enmy in som compatriot ho cud exrcise a privlej that I in my own time hav nown th boldst peple afraid to speak of in a wispr, across th watr ther; for instnce, th privlej of filng up blank forms for th consynmnt of any one to th oblivion of a prisn for any length of time; if his wife had implord th king, th queen, th cort, th clerjy, for any tidings of him, and al quite in vain; -- then th histry of yr fathr wud hav been th histry of this unfortunat jentlman, th Doctr of Bauvai."

   "I entreat u to tel me mor, sir."

   "I wil. I am going to. U can ber it?"

   "I can ber anything but th uncertnty u leve me in at this moment."

   "U speak collectedly, and u -- ar colectd. That's good!" (Tho his manr was less satisfyd than his words.) "A matr of busness. Regard it as a matr of busness -- busness that must be don. Now if this doctor's wife, tho a lady of gret curaj and spirit, had sufrd so intensly from this cause befor her litl child was born -- "


Paje 29

   "Th litl child was a dautr, sir."

   "A dautr. A -- a -- matr of busness -- dont be distresd. Miss, if th poor lady had sufrd so intensly befor her litl child was born, that she came to th determnation of sparing th poor child th inheritnce of any part of th agny she had nown th pains of, by rearng her in th belief that her fathr was ded -- No, dont neel! In Heaven's name wy shud u neel to me!"

   "For th truth. O dear, good, compassionat sir, for th truth!"

   "A -- a matr of busness. U confuse me, and how can I transact busness if I am confused? Let us be clear-hedd. If u cud kindly mention now, for instnce, wat nine times ninepence ar, or how many shilngs in twenty gineas, it wud be so encurajng. I shud be so much mor at my ese about yr state of mind."

   Without directly ansrng to this apeal, she sat so stil wen he had very jently rased her, and th hands that had not cesed to clasp his rists wer so much mor stedy than they had been, that she comunicated som reasurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry.

   "That's ryt, that's ryt. Curaj! Busness! U hav busness befor u; useful busness. Miss Manette, yr mothr took this corse with u. And wen she died -- I beleve broken-hartd -- havng nevr slaknd her unavailng serch for yr fathr, she left u, at two years old, to gro to be bloomng, butiful, and happy, without th dark cloud upon u of livng in uncertnty wethr yr fathr soon wor his hart out in prisn, or wasted ther thru many lingrng years."

   As he said th words he lookd down, with an admiring pity, on th floing goldn hair; as if he picturd to himself that it myt hav been alredy tinjd with gray.

   "U no that yr parents had no gret posession, and that wat they had was secured to yr mothr and to u. Ther has been no new discovry, of mony, or of any othr proprty; but -- "

   He felt his rist held closer, and he stopd. Th expression in th forhed, wich had so particulrly atractd his notice, and wich was now imovebl, had deepnd into one of pain and horr.

   "But he has been -- been found. He is alive. Gretly chanjed, it is too probbl; almost a rek, it is posbl; tho we wil hope th best. Stil, alive. Yr fathr has been taken to th house of an old servnt in Paris, and we ar going ther: I, to identify him if I can: u, to restor him to life, lov, duty, rest, comfrt."

   A shivr ran thru her frame, and from it thru his. She said, in


Paje 30

a lo, distinct, aw-strikn voice, as if she wer sayng it in a dream,

   "I am going to se his Gost! It wil be his Gost -- not him!"

   Mr. Lorry quietly chafed th hands that held his arm. "Ther, ther, ther! Se now, se now! Th best and th worst ar nown to u, now. U ar wel on yr way to th poor rongd jentlman, and, with a fair se voyaj, and a fair land jurny, u wil be soon at his dear side."

   She repeatd in th same tone, sunk to a wispr, "I hav been fre, I hav been happy, yet his Gost has nevr hauntd me!"

   "Only one thing mor," said Mr. Lorry, layng stress upon it as a holesm means of enforcing her atention: "he has been found undr anothr name; his own, long forgotn or long conceald. It wud be worse than useless now to inquire wich; worse than useless to seek to no wethr he has been for years overlookd, or always designedly held prisnr. It wud be worse than useless now to make any inquiris, because it wud be danjerus. Betr not to mention th subject, anywher or in any way, and to remove him -- for a wile at al events -- out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson's, importnt as they ar to French credit, avoid al naming of th matr. I carry about me, not a scrap of riting openly referng to it. This is a secret service altogethr. My credentials, entris, and memranda, ar al comprehendd in th one line, 'recalled to Life;' wich may mean anything. But wat is th matr! She dosnt notice a word! Miss Manette!"

   Perfectly stil and silent, and not even falen bak in her chair, she sat undr his hand, utrly insensbl; with her ys open and fixd upon him, and with that last expression lookng as if it wer carvd or brandd into her forhed. So close was her hold upon his arm, that he feard to detach himself lest he shud hurt her; therfor he cald out loudly for asistnce without moving.

   A wild-lookng womn, hom even in his ajitation, Mr. Lorry observd to be al of a red color, and to hav red hair, and to be dresd in som extrordnry tyt-fitng fashn, and to hav on her hed a most wondrful bonet like a Grenadier woodn mesur, and good mesur too, or a gret Stiltn chese, came runng into th room in advance of th in servnts, and soon setld th question of his detachmnt from th poor yung lady, by layng a brawny hand upon his chest, and sendng him flyng bak against th nearst wal.

   ("I realy think this must be a man!" was Mr. Lorry's brethless reflection, simltaneusly with his comng against th wal.)


Paje 31

   "Wy, look at u al!" bawld this figr, adresng th in servnts. "Wy dont u go and fech things, insted of standng ther staring at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Wy dont u go and fech things? I'l let u no, if u dont bring smelng-salts, cold watr, and vinegr, quik, I wil."

   Ther was an imediat dispersl for these restoratives, and she softly laid th patient on a sofa, and tendd her with gret skil and jentlness: calng her "my precius!" and "my bird!" and spredng her goldn hair aside over her sholdrs with gret pride and care.

   "And u in brown!" she said, indignntly turnng to Mr. Lorry; cudnt u tel her wat u had to tel her, without frytnng her to deth? Look at her, with her pretty pale face and her cold hands. Do u cal that being a Bankr?"

   Mr. Lorry was so exeedngly disconcertd by a question so hard to ansr, that he cud only look on, at a distnce, with much feeblr sympathy and humility, wile th strong womn, havng banishd th in servnts undr th mysterius penlty of "letng them no" somthing not mentiond if they stayd ther, staring, recovrd her charj by a regulr series of gradations, and coaxd her to lay her droopng hed upon her sholdr.

   "I hope she wil do wel now," said Mr. Lorry.

   "No thanks to u in brown, if she dos. My darlng pretty!"

   "I hope," said Mr. Lorry, aftr anothr pause of feebl sympathy and humility, "that u acompny Miss Manette to France?"

   "A likely thing, too!" replyd th strong womn. "If it was evr intendd that I shud go across salt watr, do u supose Providnce wud hav cast my lot in an iland?"

   This being anothr question hard to ansr, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrew to considr it.


Paje 32

TH WINE-SHOP

   A LARJ CASK of wine had been dropd and broken, in th street. Th accidnt had hapnd in getng it out of a cart; th cask had tumbld out with a run, th hoops had burst, and it lay on th stones just outside th dor of th wine-shop, shatrd like a walnut-shel.

   Al th peple within reach had suspendd ther busness, or ther idleness, to run to th spot and drink th wine. Th ruf, iregulr stones of th street, pointng evry way, and desynd, one myt hav thot, expresly to lame al livng creaturs that aproachd them, had damd it into litl pools; these wer suroundd, each by its own joslng group or crowd, acordng to its size. Som men neeld down, made scoops of ther two hands joind, and sipd, or tryd to help women, ho bent over ther sholdrs, to sip, befor th wine had al run out between ther fingrs. Othrs, men and women, dipd in th pudls with litl mugs of mutilated erthnware, or even with hankrchiefs from women's heds, wich wer squezed dry into infants' mouths; othrs made smal mud-embankmnts, to stem th wine as it ran; othrs, directd by lookers-on up at hy windos, dartd here and ther, to cut off litl streams of wine that startd away in new directions; othrs devoted themselvs to th sodn and le-dyd peces of th cask, likng, and even champing th moister wine-rotd fragmnts with eagr relish. Ther was no drainaj to carry off th wine, and not only did it al get taken up, but so much mud got taken up along with it, that ther myt hav been a scavnjr in th street, if anybody aquaintd with it cud hav beleved in such a miraculus presnce.

   A shril sound of laftr and of amused voices -- voices of men,


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women, and children -- resoundd in th street wile this wine game lastd. Ther was litl rufness in th sport, and much playfulness. Ther was a special companionship in it, an observbl inclnation on th part of evry one to join som othr one, wich led, especialy among th luckir or lytr-hartd, to frolicsome embraces, drinkng of healths, shaking of hands, and even joinng of hands and dancing, a dozn togethr. Wen th wine was gon, and th places wher it had been most abundnt wer raked into a gridiron-patrn by fingrs, these demnstrations cesed, as sudnly as they had broken out. Th man ho had left his saw stikng in th firewood he was cutng, set it in motion again; th women ho had left on a dor-step th litl pot of hot ashs, at wich she had been tryng to sofn th pain in her own starvd fingrs and toes, or in those of her child, returnd to it; men with bare arms, matd loks, and cadavrus faces, ho had emerjd into th wintr lyt from celrs, moved away, to desend again; and a gloom gathrd on th sene that apeard mor natrl to it than sunshine.

   Th wine was red wine, and had staind th ground of th naro street in th suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, wher it was spild. It had staind many hands, too, and many faces, and many naked feet, and many woodn shoes. Th hands of th man ho sawd th wood, left red marks on th bilets; and th forhed of th womn ho nursd her baby, was staind with th stain of th old rag she wound about her hed again. Those ho had been greedy with th staves of th cask, had aquired a tigerish smear about th mouth; and one tal joker so besmirched, his hed mor out of a long squalid bag of a nytcap than in it, scrawld upon a wal with his fingr dipd in muddy wine-lees -- BLOD.

   Th time was to com, wen that wine too wud be spild on th street-stones, and wen th stain of it wud be red upon many ther.

   And now that th cloud setld on Saint Antoine, wich a momentry gleam had drivn from his sacred countnnce, th darkns of it was hevy -- cold, dirt, sikness, ignrnce, and want, wer th lords in waitng on th saintly presnce -- nobles of gret powr al of them; but, most especialy th last. Sampls of a peple that had undrgon a teribl grindng and regrinding in th mil, and certnly not in th fabulus mil wich ground old peple yung, shivrd at evry cornr, pasd in and out at evry dorway, lookd from evry windo, flutrd in evry vestij of a garmnt that th wind shook. Th mil wich had workd them down, was th mil that grinds yung peple old; th


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children had ancient faces and grave voices; and upon them, and upon th grown faces, and plowd into evry furo of aje and comng up afresh, was th sy, Hungr. It was prevlnt evrywher. Hungr was pushd out of th tal houses, in th reched clothing that hung upon poles and lines; Hungr was pachd into them with straw and rag and wood and paper; Hungr was repeatd in evry fragmnt of th smal modicm of firewood that th man sawd off; Hungr stared down from th smokeless chimnis, and startd up from th filthy street that had no ofl, among its refuse, of anything to eat. Hungr was th inscription on th baker's shelvs, ritn in evry smal loaf of his scanty stok of bad bred; at th sausaj-shop, in evry ded-dog prepration that was ofrd for sale. Hungr ratld its dry bones among th roastng chesnuts in th turnd cylindr; Hungr was shred into atomics in evry farthng porringer of husky chips of potato, fryd with som reluctnt drops of oil.

   Its abiding place was in al things fitd to it. A naro windng street, ful of ofense and stench, with othr naro windng streets diverjng, al pepled by rags and nightcaps, and al smelng of rags and nightcaps, and al visbl things with a broodng look upon them that lookd il. In th huntd air of th peple ther was yet som wild-beast thot of th posbility of turnng at bay. Depresd and slinkng tho they wer, ys of fire wer not wantng among them; nor compresd lips, wite with wat they supresd; nor forheds nitd into th likeness of th galos-rope they mused about enduring, or inflictng. Th trade syns (and they wer almost as many as th shops) wer, al, grim ilustrations of Want. Th buchr and th porkman paintd up, only th leanest scrags of meat; th baker, th coarsest of meagr loavs. Th peple rudely picturd as drinkng in th wine-shops, croakd over ther scanty mesurs of thin wine and beer, and wer gloweringly confidential togethr. Nothing was representd in a flurishng condition, save tools and wepns; but, th cutler's nives and axs wer sharp and bryt, th smith's hamrs wer hevy, and th gunmaker's stok was murdrus. Th criplng stones of th pavemnt, with ther many litl resrvoirs of mud and watr, had no footways, but broke off abruptly at th dors. Th kenl, to make amends, ran down th midl of th street -- wen it ran at al: wich was only aftr hevy rains, and then it ran, by many eccentric fits, into th houses. Across th streets, at wide intrvls, one clumsy lamp was slung by a rope and pully; at nyt, wen th lamplighter had let these down, and lytd, and hoistd them


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again, a feebl grove of dim wiks swung in a sikly manr overhed, as if they wer at se. Indeed they wer at se, and th ship and crew wer in peril of tempest.

   For, th time was to com, wen th gaunt scarecrows of that rejon shud hav wachd th lamplighter, in ther idleness and hungr, so long, as to conceve th idea of improving on his method, and haulng up men by those ropes and pullis, to flare upon th darkns of ther condition. But, th time was not com yet; and evry wind that blew over France shook th rags of th scarecrows in vain, for th birds, fine of song and fethr, took no warnng.

   Th wine-shop was a cornr shop, betr than most othrs in its apearnce and degree, and th mastr of th wine-shop had stood outside it, in a yelo waistcoat and green brichs, lookng on at th strugl for th lost wine. "It's not my afair," said he, with a final shrug of th sholdrs. "Th peple from th market did it. Let them bring anothr."

   Ther, his ys hapnng to cach th tal joker riting up his joke, he cald to him across th way:

   "Say, then, my Gaspard, wat do u do ther?"

   Th felo pointd to his joke with imense significnce, as is ofn th way with his tribe. It misd its mark, and completely faild, as is ofn th way with his tribe too.

   "Wat now? Ar u a subject for th mad hospitl?" said th wine- shop keepr, crosng th road, and oblitrating th jest with a handful of mud, pikd up for th purpos, and smeard over it. "Wy do u rite in th public streets? Is ther -- tel me thou -- is ther no othr place to rite such words in?"

   In his expostulation he dropd his cleanr hand (perhaps accidently, perhaps not) upon th joker's hart. Th joker rapd it with his own, took a nimbl spring upwrd, and came down in a fantastic dancing atitude, with one of his staind shoes jerkd off his foot into his hand, and held out. A joker of an extremely, not to say wolfishly practicl caractr, he lookd, undr those circmstnces.

   "Put it on, put it on," said th othr. "Cal wine, wine; and finish ther." With that advice, he wiped his soild hand upon th joker's dress, such as it was -- quite delibratly, as havng dirtid th hand on his acount; and then recrossed th road and entrd th wine-shop.

   This wine-shop keepr was a bul-nekd, martial-lookng man of thirty, and he shud hav been of a hot temprmnt, for, altho it was a bitr day, he wor no coat, but carrid one slung over his sholdr.


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His shirt-sleves wer rold up, too, and his brown arms wer bare to th elbos. Neithr did he wer anything mor on his hed than his own crisply-curlng short dark hair. He was a dark man altogethr, with good ys and a good bold bredth between them. Good-humord lookng on th hole, but implacbl-lookng, too; evidntly a man of a strong reslution and a set purpos; a man not desirebl to be met, rushng down a naro pass with a gulf on eithr side, for nothing wud turn th man.

   Madame Defarge, his wife, sat in th shop behind th countr as he came in. Madame Defarge was a stout womn of about his own aje, with a wachful y that seldm seemd to look at anything, a larj hand hevily ringd, a stedy face, strong featurs, and gret composur of manr. Ther was a caractr about Madame Defarge, from wich one myt hav predicated that she did not ofn make mistakes against herself in any of th reckonings over wich she presided. Madame Defarge being sensitiv to cold, was rapd in fur, and had a quantity of bryt shawl twined about her hed, tho not to th concealmnt of her larj ear-rings. Her nitng was befor her, but she had laid it down to pik her teeth with a toothpik. Thus engajed, with her ryt elbo suportd by her left hand, Madame Defarge said nothing wen her lord came in, but cofd just one grain of cof. This, in combnation with th liftng of her darkly defined ybrows over her toothpik by th bredth of a line, sujestd to her husbnd that he wud do wel to look round th shop among th custmrs, for any new custmr ho had dropd in wile he stepd over th way.

   Th wine-shop keepr acordngly rold his ys about, until they restd upon an eldrly jentlman and a yung lady, ho wer seatd in a cornr. Othr compny wer ther: two playng cards, two playng dominos, thre standng by th countr lengthnng out a short suply of wine. As he pasd behind th countr, he took notice that th eldrly jentlman said in a look to th yung lady, "This is our man."

   "Wat th devl do u do in that gally ther?" said Mosier Defarge to himself; "I dont no u."

   But, he feind not to notice th two stranjers, and fel into discorse with th triumvrate of custmrs ho wer drinkng at th countr.

   "How gos it, Jaques?" said one of these thre to Mosier Defarge. "Is al th spilt wine swalod?"

   "Evry drop, Jaques," ansrd Mosier Defarge.

   Wen this interchange of Cristian name was efectd, Madame Defarge,


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pikng her teeth with her toothpik, cofd anothr grain of cof, and rased her ybrows by th bredth of anothr line.

   "It is not ofn," said th secnd of th thre, adresng Mosier Defarge, "that many of these misrbl beasts no th taste of wine, or of anything but blak bred and deth. Is it not so, Jaques?"

   "It is so, Jaques," Mosier Defarge returnd.

   At this secnd interchange of th Cristian name, Madame Defarge, stil using her toothpik with profound composur, cofd anothr grain of cof, and rased her ybrows by th bredth of anothr line.

   Th last of th thre now said his say, as he put down his emty drinkng vesl and smakd his lips.

   "Ah! So much th worse! A bitr taste it is that such poor catl always hav in ther mouths, and hard lives they liv, Jaques. Am I ryt, Jaques?"

   "U ar ryt, Jaques," was th response of Mosier Defarge.

   This third interchange of th Cristian name was completed at th moment wen Madame Defarge put her toothpik by, kept her ybrows up, and slytly rusld in her seat.

   "Hold then! Tru!" mutrd her husbnd. "Jentlmen -- my wife!"

   Th thre custmrs puld off ther hats to Madame Defarge, with thre flurishs. She aknolejd ther homaj by bendng her hed, and givng them a quik look. Then she glanced in a casul manr round th wine-shop, took up her nitng with gret aparent calmness and repose of spirit, and became absorbd in it.

   "Jentlmen," said her husbnd, ho had kept his bryt y observantly upon her, "good day. Th chamber, furnishd bachlr-fashn, that u wishd to se, and wer inquiring for wen I stepd out, is on th fifth flor. Th dorway of th staircase givs on th litl cortyard close to th left here," pointng with his hand, "near to th windo of my establishmnt. But, now that I remembr, one of u has alredy been ther, and can sho th way. Jentlmen, adiu!"

   They paid for ther wine, and left th place. Th ys of Mosier Defarge wer studying his wife at her nitng wen th eldrly jentlman advanced from his cornr, and begd th favor of a word.

   "Wilngly, sir," said Mosier Defarge, and quietly stepd with him to th dor.

   Ther confrnce was very short, but very decided. Almost at th first word, Mosier Defarge startd and became deeply atentiv. It had not lastd a minut, wen he nodd and went out. Th jentlman then


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beknd to th yung lady, and they, too, went out. Madame Defarge nitd with nimbl fingrs and stedy ybrows, and saw nothing.

   Mr. Jarvis Lorry and Miss Manette, emerjng from th wine-shop thus, joind Mosier Defarge in th dorway to wich he had directd his own compny just befor. It opend from a stinkng litl blak cortyard, and was th jenrl public entrnce to a gret pile of houses, inhabitd by a gret numbr of peple. In th gloomy tile-paved entry to th gloomy tile-paved staircase, Mosier Defarge bent down on one ne to th child of his old mastr, and put her hand to his lips. It was a jentl action, but not at al jently don; a very remarkbl transfrmation had com over him in a few secnds. He had no good-humor in his face, nor any openess of aspect left, but had becom a secret, angry, danjerus man.

   "It is very hy; it is a litl dificlt. Betr to begin sloly." Thus, Mosier Defarge, in a stem voice, to Mr. Lorry, as they began asendng th stairs.

   "Is he alone?" th latr wisprd.

   "Alone! God help him, ho shud be with him!" said th othr, in th same lo voice.

   "Is he always alone, then?"

   'yes.

   "Of his own desire?"

   "Of his own necessity. As he was, wen I first saw him aftr they found me and demandd to no if I wud take him, and, at my peril be discreet -- as he was then, so he is now."

   "He is gretly chanjed?"

   "Chanjed!"

   Th keepr of th wine-shop stopd to strike th wal with his hand, and mutr a tremendus curse. No direct ansr cud hav been half so forcibl. Mr. Lorry's spirits grew hevir and hevir, as he and his two companions asendd hyr and hyr.

   Such a staircase, with its accesris, in th oldr and mor crowdd parts of Paris, wud be bad enuf now; but, at that time, it was vile indeed to unacustmd and unhardened senses. Evry litl habitation within th gret foul nest of one hy bildng -- that is to say, th room or rooms within evry dor that opend on th jenrl staircase -- left its own heap of refuse on its own landng, besides flingng othr refuse from its own windos. Th uncontrolbl and hopeless mass of decomposition so enjendrd, wud hav poluted th air, even if povrty and deprivation


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had not loadd it with ther intanjbl impuritis; th two bad sorces combined made it almost insuportbl. Thru such an atmosfere, by a steep dark shaft of dirt and poisn, th way lay. Yieldng to his own disturbnce of mind, and to his yung companion's ajitation, wich became gretr evry instnt, Mr. Jarvis Lorry twice stopd to rest. Each of these stopajs was made at a doleful grating, by wich any languishng good airs that wer left uncoruptd, seemd to escape, and al spoilt and sikly vapors seemd to crawl in. Thru th rustd bars, tastes, rathr than glimpses, wer caut of th jumbld neibrhood; and nothing within ranje, nearr or loer than th sumits of th two gret towrs of Notre-Dame, had any promis on it of helthy life or holesm asprations.

   At last, th top of th staircase was gaind, and they stopd for th third time. Ther was yet an upr staircase, of a steepr inclnation and of contractd dimensions, to be asendd, befor th garet story was reachd. Th keepr of th wine-shop, always going a litl in advance, and always going on th side wich Mr. Lorry took, as tho he dredd to be askd any question by th yung lady, turnd himself about here, and, carefuly feelng in th pokets of th coat he carrid over his sholdr, took out a ke.

   "Th dor is lokd then, my frend?" said Mr. Lorry, surprised.

   "Y. Yes," was th grim reply of Mosier Defarge.

   "U think it necesry to keep th unfortunat jentlman so retired?"

   "I think it necesry to turn th ke." Mosier Defarge wisprd it closer in his ear, and frownd hevily.

   "Wy?"

   "Wy! Because he has livd so long, lokd up, that he wud be frytnd -- rave -- ter himself to peces -- die -- com to I no not wat harm -- if his dor was left open."

   "Is it posbl!" exclaimd Mr. Lorry.

   "Is it posbl!" repeatd Defarge, bitrly. "Yes. And a butiful world we liv in, wen it is posbl, and wen many othr such things ar posbl, and not only posbl, but don -- don, se u! -- undr that sky ther, evry day. Long liv th Devl. Let us go on."

   This dialog had been held in so very lo a wispr, that not a word of it had reachd th yung lady's ears. But, by this time she trembld undr such strong emotion, and her face expresd such deep anxiety, and, abov al, such dred and terr, that Mr. Lorry felt it incumbnt on him to speak a word or two of reasurance.


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   "Curaj, dear miss! Curaj! Busness! Th worst wil be over in a moment; it is but pasng th room-dor, and th worst is over. Then, al th good u bring to him, al th relief, al th happiness u bring to him, begin. Let our good frend here, asist u on that side. That's wel, frend Defarge. Com, now. Busness, busness!"

   They went up sloly and softly. Th staircase was short, and they wer soon at th top. Ther, as it had an abrupt turn in it, they came al at once in syt of thre men, hos heds wer bent down close togethr at th side of a dor, and ho wer intently lookng into th room to wich th dor belongd, thru som chinks or holes in th wal. On hearng footsteps close at hand, these thre turnd, and rose, and showd themselvs to be th thre of one name ho had been drinkng in th wine-shop.

   "I forgot them in th surprise of yr visit," explaind Mosier Defarge. "Leve us, good boys; we hav busness here."

   Th thre glided by, and went silently down.

   Ther apearng to be no othr dor on that flor, and th keepr of th wine-shop going strait to this one wen they wer left alone, Mr. Lorry askd him in a wispr, with a litl angr:

   "Do u make a sho of Mosier Manette?"

   "I sho him, in th way u hav seen, to a chosen few."

   "Is that wel?"

   "I think it is wel."

   "Ho ar th few? How do u choose them?"

   "I choose them as real men, of my name -- Jaques is my name -- to hom th syt is likely to do good. Enuf; u ar English; that is anothr thing. Stay ther, if u plese, a litl moment."

   With an admonitry jestur to keep them bak, he stoopd, and lookd in thru th crevice in th wal. Soon rasing his hed again, he struk twice or thrice upon th dor -- evidntly with no othr object than to make a noise ther. With th same intention, he drew th ke across it, thre or four times, befor he put it clumsily into th lok, and turnd it as hevily as he cud.

   Th dor sloly opend inwrd undr his hand, and he lookd into th room and said somthing. A faint voice ansrd somthing. Litl mor than a singl sylabl cud hav been spoken on eithr side.

   He lookd bak over his sholdr, and beknd them to entr. Mr. Lorry got his arm securely round th daughter's waist, and held her; for he felt that she was sinkng.


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   "A -- a -- a -- busness, busness!" he urjd, with a moistur that was not of busness shining on his cheek. "Com in, com in!"

   "I am afraid of it," she ansrd, shudrng.

   "Of it? Wat?"

   "I mean of him. Of my fathr."

   Rendrd in a manr desprat, by her state and by th beknng of ther conductr, he drew over his nek th arm that shook upon his sholdr, liftd her a litl, and hurrid her into th room. He sat her down just within th dor, and held her, clingng to him.

   Defarge drew out th ke, closed th dor, lokd it on th inside, took out th ke again, and held it in his hand. Al this he did, methodicly, and with as loud and harsh an acompnmnt of noise as he cud make. Finaly, he walkd across th room with a mesurd tred to wher th windo was. He stopd ther, and faced round.

   Th garet, bilt to be a depository for firewood and th like, was dim and dark: for, th windo of dormr shape, was in truth a dor in th roof, with a litl crane over it for th hoistng up of stors from th street: unglazed, and closing up th midl in two peces, like any othr dor of French construction. To exclude th cold, one half of this dor was fast closed, and th othr was opend but a very litl way. Such a scanty portion of lyt was admitd thru these means, that it was dificlt, on first comng in, to se anything; and long habit alone cud hav sloly formd in any one, th ability to do any work requiring nicety in such obscurity. Yet, work of that kind was being don in th garet; for, with his bak towards th dor, and his face towards th windo wher th keepr of th wine-shop stood lookng at him, a wite-haird man sat on a lo bench, stoopng forwrd and very busy, making shoes.


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TH SHOEMAKER

   "GOOD DAY!" said Mosier Defarge, lookng down at th wite hed that bent lo over th shoemaking.

   It was rased for a moment, and a very faint voice respondd to th salutation, as if it wer at a distnce:

   "Good day!"

   "U ar stil hard at work, I se?"

   Aftr a long silence, th hed was liftd for anothr moment, and th voice replyd, "Yes -- I am workng." This time, a pair of hagrd ys had lookd at th questionr, befor th face had dropd again.

   Th faintness of th voice was pitiabl and dredful. It was not th faintness of fysicl weakness, tho confinemnt and hard fare no dout had ther part in it. Its deplorabl peculiarity was, that it was th faintness of solitude and disuse. It was like th last feebl eco of a sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost th life and resnnce of th human voice, that it afectd th senses like a once butiful color faded away into a poor weak stain. So sunkn and supresd it was, that it was like a voice undrground. So expressiv it was, of a hopeless and lost creatur, that a famishd travlr, wearid out by lonely wandrng in a wildrness, wud hav remembrd home and frends in such a tone befor lyng down to die.

   Som minuts of silent work had pasd: and th hagrd ys had lookd up again: not with any intrest or curiosity, but with a dul mecanicl perception, beforhand, that th spot wher th only visitr they wer aware of had stood, was not yet emty.

   "I want," said Defarge, ho had not removed his gaze from th shoemaker,


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"to let in a litl mor lyt here. U can ber a litl mor?"

   Th shoemaker stopd his work; lookd with a vacant air of lisnng, at th flor on one side of him; then simlrly, at th flor on th othr side of him; then, upwrd at th speakr.

   "Wat did u say?"

   "U can ber a litl mor lyt?"

   "I must ber it, if u let it in." (Layng th palest shado of a stress upon th secnd word.)

   Th opend half-dor was opend a litl furthr, and secured at that angl for th time. A brod ray of lyt fel into th garet, and showd th workman with an unfinishd shoe upon his lap, pausng in his labor. His few comn tools and varius scraps of lethr wer at his feet and on his bench. He had a wite beard, ragedly cut, but not very long, a holo face, and exeedngly bryt ys. Th holoness and thiness of his face wud hav causd them to look larj, undr his yet dark ybrows and his confused wite hair, tho they had been realy othrwise; but, they wer natrly larj, and lookd unatrly so. His yelo rags of shirt lay open at th throat, and showd his body to be withrd and worn. He, and his old canvas frok, and his loose stokngs, and al his poor tatrs of clothes, had, in a long seclusion from direct lyt and air, faded down to such a dul uniformity of parchmnt- yelo, that it wud hav been hard to say wich was wich.

   He had put up a hand between his ys and th lyt, and th very bones of it seemd transparent. So he sat, with a stedfastly vacant gaze, pausng in his work. He nevr lookd at th figr befor him, without first lookng down on this side of himself, then on that, as if he had lost th habit of asociating place with sound; he nevr spoke, without first wandrng in this manr, and forgetng to speak.

   "Ar u going to finish that pair of shoes to-day?" askd Defarge, motionng to Mr. Lorry to com forwrd.

   "Wat did u say?"

   "Do u mean to finish that pair of shoes to-day?"

   "I cant say that I mean to. I supose so. I dont no."

   But, th question remindd him of his work, and he bent over it again.

   Mr. Lorry came silently forwrd, leving th dautr by th dor. Wen he had stood, for a minut or two, by th side of Defarge, th shoemaker lookd up. He showd no surprise at seing anothr figr, but th unstedy fingrs of one of his hands strayd to his lips as he lookd at it (his lips and his nails wer of th same pale led-color),


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and then th hand dropd to his work, and he once mor bent over th shoe. Th look and th action had ocupyd but an instnt.

   "U hav a visitr, u se," said Mosier Defarge.

   "Wat did u say?"

   "Here is a visitr."

   Th shoemaker lookd up as befor, but without removing a hand from his work.

   "Com!" said Defarge. "Here is mosier, ho nos a wel-made shoe wen he ses one. Sho him that shoe u ar workng at. Take it, mosier."

   Mr. Lorry took it in his hand.

   "Tel mosier wat kind of shoe it is, and th maker's name."

   Ther was a longr pause than usul, befor th shoemaker replyd:

   "I forget wat it was u askd me. Wat did u say?"

   "I said, cudnt u describe th kind of shoe, for monsieur's infrmation?"

   "It is a lady's shoe. It is a yung lady's walkng-shoe. It is in th presnt mode. I nevr saw th mode. I hav had a patrn in my hand." He glanced at th shoe with som litl pasng tuch of pride.

   "And th maker's name?" said Defarge.

   Now that he had no work to hold, he laid th nukls of th ryt hand in th holo of th left, and then th nukls of th left hand in th holo of th ryt, and then pasd a hand across his beardd chin, and so on in regulr chanjes, without a moment's intrmission. Th task of recalng him from th vagrancy into wich he always sank wen he had spoken, was like recalng som very weak persn from a swoon, or endevrng, in th hope of som disclosur, to stay th spirit of a fast-dyng man.

   "Did u ask me for my name?"

   "Asuredly I did."

   "One Hundred and Five, North Towr."

   "Is that al?"

   "One Hundred and Five, North Towr."

   With a weary sound that was not a sy, nor a groan, he bent to work again, until th silence was again broken.

   "U ar not a shoemaker by trade?" said Mr. Lorry, lookng stedfastly at him.

   His hagrd ys turnd to Defarge as if he wud hav transferd th


Paje 45

question to him: but as no help came from that quartr, they turnd bak on th questionr wen they had sot th ground.

   "I am not a shoemaker by trade? No, I was not a shoemaker by trade. I -- I lernt it here. I taut myself. I askd leve to -- "

   He lapsd away, even for minuts, ringng those mesurd chanjes on his hands th hole time. His ys came sloly bak, at last, to th face from wich they had wandrd; wen they restd on it, he startd, and resumed, in th manr of a sleepr that moment awake, revertng to a subject of last nyt.

   "I askd leve to teach myself, and I got it with much dificlty aftr a long wile, and I hav made shoes evr since."

   As he held out his hand for th shoe that had been taken from him, Mr. Lorry said, stil lookng stedfastly in his face:

   "Mosier Manette, do u remembr nothing of me?"

   Th shoe dropd to th ground, and he sat lookng fixedly at th questionr.

   "Mosier Manette"; Mr. Lorry laid his hand upon Defarge's arm; "do u remembr nothing of this man? Look at him. Look at me. Is ther no old bankr, no old busness, no old servnt, no old time, rising in yr mind, Mosier Manette?"

   As th captiv of many years sat lookng fixedly, by turns, at Mr. Lorry and at Defarge, som long oblitrated marks of an activly intent intelijnce in th midl of th forhed, graduly forced themselvs thru th blak mist that had falen on him. They wer overclouded again, they wer faintr, they wer gon; but they had been ther. And so exactly was th expression repeatd on th fair yung face of her ho had crept along th wal to a point wher she cud se him, and wher she now stood lookng at him, with hands wich at first had been only rased in frytnd compassion, if not even to keep him off and shut out th syt of him, but wich wer now extendng towards him, tremblng with eagrness to lay th spectrl face upon her warm yung brest, and lov it bak to life and hope -- so exactly was th expression repeatd (tho in strongr caractrs) on her fair yung face, that it lookd as tho it had pasd like a moving lyt, from him to her.

   Darkns had fatn on him in its place. He lookd at th two, less and less atentivly, and his ys in gloomy abstraction sot th ground and lookd about him in th old way. Finaly, with a deep long sy, he took th shoe up, and resumed his work.

   "Hav u recognized him, mosier?" askd Defarge in a wispr.


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   "Yes; for a moment. At first I thot it quite hopeless, but I hav unquestionbly seen, for a singl moment, th face that I once new so wel. Hush! Let us draw furthr bak. Hush!"

   She had moved from th wal of th garet, very near to th bench on wich he sat. Ther was somthing awful in his unconciusness of th figr that cud hav put out its hand and tuchd him as he stoopd over his labor.

   Not a word was spoken, not a sound was made. She stood, like a spirit, beside him, and he bent over his work.

   It hapnd, at length, that he had ocasion to chanje th instrumnt in his hand, for his shoemaker's nife. It lay on that side of him wich was not th side on wich she stood. He had taken it up, and was stoopng to work again, wen his ys caut th skirt of her dress. He rased them, and saw her face. Th two spectators startd forwrd, but she stayd them with a motion of her hand. She had no fear of his striking at her with th nife, tho they had.

   He stared at her with a fearful look, and aftr a wile his lips began to form som words, tho no sound proceedd from them. By degrees, in th pauses of his quik and labord brething, he was herd to say:

   "Wat is this?"

   With th tears streamng down her face, she put her two hands to her lips, and kisd them to him; then claspd them on her brest, as if she laid his ruind hed ther.

   "U ar not th gaoler's dautr?"

   She syd "No."

   "Ho ar u?"

   Not yet trustng th tones of her voice, she sat down on th bench beside him. He recoild, but she laid her hand upon his arm. A stranje thril struk him wen she did so, and visbly pasd over his frame; he laid th nife down' softly, as he sat staring at her.

   Her goldn hair, wich she wor in long curls, had been hurridly pushd aside, and fel down over her nek. Advancing his hand by litl and litl, he took it up and lookd at it. In th midst of th action he went astray, and, with anothr deep sy, fel to work at his shoemaking.

   But not for long. Relesing his arm, she laid her hand upon his sholdr. Aftr lookng doutfuly at it, two or thre times, as if to be sure that it was realy ther, he laid down his work, put his hand to his nek, and took off a blaknd string with a scrap of foldd rag atachd to it. He


Paje 47

opend this, carefuly, on his ne, and it containd a very litl quantity of hair: not mor than one or two long goldn hairs, wich he had, in som old day, wound off upon his fingr.

   He took her hair into his hand again, and lookd closely at it. "It is th same. How can it be! Wen was it! How was it!"

   As th concentrated expression returnd to his forhed, he seemd to becom concius that it was in hers too. He turnd her ful to th lyt, and lookd at her.

   "She had laid her hed upon my sholdr, that nyt wen I was sumnd out -- she had a fear of my going, tho I had non -- and wen I was brot to th North Towr they found these upon my sleve. 'you wil leve me them? They can nevr help me to escape in th body, tho they may in th spirit.' Those wer th words I said. I remembr them very wel."

   He formd this speech with his lips many times befor he cud utr it. But wen he did find spoken words for it, they came to him coherently, tho sloly.

   "How was this? -- Was it u?"

   Once mor, th two spectators startd, as he turnd upon her with a frytful sudness. But she sat perfectly stil in his grasp, and only said, in a lo voice, "I entreat u, good jentlmen, do not com near us, do not speak, do not move!"

   "Hark!" he exclaimd. "Hos voice was that?"

   His hands relesed her as he utrd this cry, and went up to his wite hair, wich they tor in a frenzy. It died out, as everything but his shoemaking did die out of him, and he refolded his litl paket and tryd to secure it in his brest; but he stil lookd at her, and gloomily shook his hed.

   "No, no, no; u ar too yung, too bloomng. It cant be. Se wat th prisnr is. These ar not th hands she new, this is not th face she new, this is not a voice she evr herd. No, no. She was -- and He was -- befor th slo years of th North Towr -- ajes ago. Wat is yr name, my jentl anjel?"

   Hailng his sofnd tone and manr, his dautr fel upon her nes befor him, with her apealng hands upon his brest.

   "O, sir, at anothr time u shal no my name, and ho my mothr was, and ho my fathr, and how I nevr new ther hard, hard histry. But I canot tel u at this time, and I canot tel u here. Al that I


Paje 48

may tel u, here and now, is, that I pray to u to tuch me and to bless me. Kiss me, kiss me! O my dear, my dear!"

   His cold wite hed mingld with her radiant hair, wich warmd and lytd it as tho it wer th lyt of Fredm shining on him.

   "If u hear in my voice -- I dont no that it is so, but I hope it is -- if u hear in my voice any resemblnce to a voice that once was sweet music in yr ears, weep for it, weep for it! If u tuch, in tuchng my hair, anything that recals a belovd hed that lay on yr brest wen u wer yung and fre, weep for it, weep for it! If, wen I hint to u of a Home that is befor us, wher I wil be tru to u with al my duty and with al my faithful service, I bring bak th remembrnce of a Home long desolate, wile yr poor hart pined away, weep for it, weep for it!"

   She held him closer round th nek, and rokd him on her brest like a child.

   "If, wen I tel u, dearst dear, that yr agny is over, and that I hav com here to take u from it, and that we go to England to be at pece and at rest, I cause u to think of yr useful life laid waste, and of our nativ France so wiked to u, weep for it, weep for it! And if, wen I shal tel u of my name, and of my fathr ho is livng, and of my mothr ho is ded, u lern that I hav to neel to my onrd fathr, and implor his pardn for havng nevr for his sake strivn al day and lain awake and wept al nyt, because th lov of my poor mothr hid his tortur from me, weep for it, weep for it! Weep for her, then, and for me! Good jentlmen, thank God! I feel his sacred tears upon my face, and his sobs strike against my hart. O, se! Thank God for us, thank God!"

   He had sunk in her arms, and his face dropd on her brest: a syt so tuchng, yet so teribl in th tremendus rong and sufrng wich had gon befor it, that th two beholders covrd ther faces.

   Wen th quiet of th garet had been long undisturbd, and his heving brest and shaken form had long yieldd to th calm that must folo al storms -- emblm to humanity, of th rest and silence into wich th storm cald Life must hush at last -- they came forwrd to rase th fathr and dautr from th ground. He had graduly dropd to th flor, and lay ther in a lethrjy, worn out. She had nesld down with him, that his hed myt lie upon her arm; and her hair droopng over him curtnd him from th lyt.

   "If, without disturbng him," she said, rasing her hand to Mr. Lorry


Paje 49

as he stoopd over them, aftr repeatd blowings of his nose, "al cud be aranjed for our leving Paris at once, so that, from th, very dor, he cud be taken away -- "

   "But, considr. Is he fit for th jurny?" askd Mr. Lorry.

   "Mor fit for that, I think, than to remain in this city, so dredful to him."

   "It is tru," said Defarge, ho was neelng to look on and hear. "Mor than that; Mosier Manette is, for al reasns, best out of France. Say, shal I hire a carrij and post-horses?"

   "That's busness," said Mr. Lorry, resuming on th shortst notice his methodicl manrs; "and if busness is to be don, I had betr do it."

   "Then be so kind," urjd Miss Manette, "as to leve us here. U se how composed he has becom, and u canot be afraid to leve him with me now. Wy shud u be? If u wil lok th dor to secure us from intruption, I do not dout that u wil find him, wen u com bak, as quiet as u leve him. In any case, I wil take care of him until u return, and then we wil remove him strait."

   Both Mr. Lorry and Defarge wer rathr disnclined to this corse, and in favor of one of them remainng. But, as ther wer not only carrij and horses to be seen to, but travlng papers; and as time presd, for th day was drawng to an end, it came at last to ther hastily dividing th busness that was necesry to be don, and hurrying away to do it.

   Then, as th darkns closed in, th dautr laid her hed down on th hard ground close at th father's side, and wachd him. Th darkns deepnd and deepnd, and they both lay quiet, until a lyt gleamd thru th chinks in th wal.

   Mr. Lorry and Mosier Defarge had made al redy for th jurny, and had brot with them, besides travlng cloaks and raprs, bred and meat, wine, and hot cofee. Mosier Defarge put this provender, and th lamp he carrid, on th shoemaker's bench (ther was nothing else in th garet but a palet bed), and he and Mr. Lorry rousd th captiv, and asistd him to his feet.

   No human intelijnce cud hav red th mystris of his mind, in th scared blank wondr of his face. Wethr he new wat had hapnd, wethr he reclectd wat they had said to him, wethr he new that he was fre, wer questions wich no sagacity cud hav solvd. They tryd speakng to him; but, he was so confused, and so very slo to ansr, that they took fryt at his bewildrmnt, and agreed for th time to tampr with him no mor. He had a wild, lost manr of


Paje 50

ocasionly claspng his hed in his hands, that had not been seen in him befor; yet, he had som plesur in th mere sound of his daughter's voice, and invaribly turnd to it wen she spoke.

   In th submissiv way of one long acustmd to obey undr coercion, he ate and drank wat they gave him to eat and drink, and put on th cloak and othr rapngs, that they gave him to wer. He redily respondd to his daughter's drawng her arm thru his, and took -- and kept -- her hand in both his own.

   They began to desend; Mosier Defarge going first with th lamp, Mr. Lorry closing th litl procession. They had not traversd many steps of th long main staircase wen he stopd, and stared at th roof and round at th wails.

   "U remembr th place, my fathr? U remembr comng up here?"

   "Wat did u say?"

   But, befor she cud repeat th question, he murmrd an ansr as if she had repeatd it.

   "Remembr? No, I dont remembr. It was so very long ago."

   That he had no reclection watevr of his havng been brot from his prisn to that house, was aparent to them. They beard him mutr, "One Hundred and Five, North Towr;" and wen he lookd about him, it evidntly was for th strong fortress-walls wich had long encompasd him. On ther reachng th cortyard he instinctivly altrd his tred, as being in expectation of a drawbrij; and wen ther was no drawbrij, and he saw th carrij waitng in th open street, he dropd his daughter's hand and claspd his hed again.

   No crowd was about th dor; no peple wer disernbl at any of th many windos; not even a chance passerby was in th street. An unatrl silence and desertion reind ther. Only one sol was to be seen, and that was Madame Defarge -- ho leand against th dor-post, nitng, and saw nothing.

   Th prisnr had got into a coach, and his dautr had folod him, wen Mr. Lorry's feet wer arestd on th step by his askng, misrbly, for his shoemaking tools and th unfinishd shoes. Madame Defarge imediatly cald to her husbnd that she wud get them, and went, nitng, out of th lamplyt, thru th cortyard. She quikly brot them down and handd them in; -- and imediatly aftrwrds leand against th dor-post, nitng, and saw nothing.

   Defarge got upon th box, and gave th word "To th Barir!" Th


Paje 51

postilion crakd his wip, and they clatrd away undr th feebl over- swingng lamps.

   Undr th over-swingng lamps -- swingng evr brytr in th betr streets, and evr dimr in th worse -- and by lytd shops, gay crowds, iluminated cofee-houses, and theatr-dors, to one of th city gates. Soldirs with lantrns, at th gard-house ther. "Yr papers, travlrs!" "Se here then, Mosier th Oficer," said Defarge, getng down, and taking him gravely apart, "these ar th papers of mosier inside, with th wite hed. They wer consynd to me, with him, at th -- " He dropd his voice, ther was a flutr among th militry lantrns, and one of them being handd into th coach by an arm in uniform, th ys conectd with th arm lookd, not an evry day or an evry nyt look, at mosier with th wite hed. "It is wel. Forwrd!" from th uniform. "Adiu!" from Defarge. And so, undr a short grove of feeblr and feeblr over-swingng lamps, out undr th gret grove of stars.

   Beneath that arch of unmoved and eternl lyts; som, so remote from this litl erth that th lernd tel us it is doutful wethr ther rays hav even yet discovrd it, as a point in space wher anything is sufrd or don: th shados of th nyt wer brod and blak. Al thru th cold and restless intrvl, until dawn, they once mor wisprd in th ears of Mr. Jarvis Lorry -- sitng oposit th burid man ho had been dug out, and wondrng wat sutl powrs wer for evr lost to him, and wat wer capabl of restration -- th old inquiry:

   "I hope u care to be recald to life?"

   And th old ansr:

   "I cant say." TH END OF TH FIRST BOOK.


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Book 2

BOOK TH SECND -- TH GOLDN

THRED


Paje 55

FIVE YEARS LATER

   TELLSON'S BANK by Templ Bar was an old-fashnd place, even in th year one thousnd sevn hundred and eity. It was very smal, very dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It was an old-fashnd place, morover, in th moral attribute that th partnrs in th House wer proud of its smalness, proud of its darkns, proud of its ugliness, proud of its incommodiousness. They wer even boastful of its emnnce in those particulrs, and wer fired by an express conviction that, if it wer less objectionbl, it wud be less respectbl. This was no passiv belief, but an activ wepn wich they flashd at mor convenient places of busness. Tellson's (they said) wantd no elbo-room, Tellson's wantd no lyt, Tellson's wantd no embelishmnt. Noakes and Co.'s myt, or Snooks Brothers' myt; but Tellson's, thank Hevn! --

   Any one of these partnrs wud hav disnheritd his son on th question of rebildng Tellson's. In this respect th House was much on a par with th Cuntry; wich did very ofn disinherit its sons for sujestng improvemnts in laws and custms that had long been hyly objectionbl, but wer only th mor respectbl.

   Thus it had com to pass, that Tellson's was th triumfnt perfection of inconvenience. Aftr burstng open a dor of idiotic obstnacy with a weak ratl in its throat, u fel into Tellson's down two steps, and came to yr senses in a misrbl litl shop, with two litl countrs, wher th oldst of men made yr chek shake as if th wind rusld it, wile they examnd th signatur by th dingiest of windos, wich wer always undr a showr-bath of mud from Fleet-street, and wich wer made th dingier by ther own iron bars propr, and th hevy shado of


Paje 56

Templ Bar. If yr busness necessitated yr seing "th House," u wer put into a species of Condemd Hold at th bak, wher u meditated on a misspent life, until th House came with its bands in its pokets, and u cud hardly blink at it in th disml twilyt. Yr mony came out of, or went into, wormy old woodn drawrs, particls of wich flew up yr nose and down yr throat wen they wer opend and shut. Yr bank-notes had a musty odor, as if they wer fast decomposing into rags again. Yr plate was stoed away among th neibrng cesspools, and evil comunications coruptd its good polish in a day or two. Yr deeds got into extemporised strong-rooms made of kichns and sculleries, and fretd al th fat out of ther parchments into th bankng-house air. Yr lytr boxs of famly papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a gret dining- table in it and nevr had a dinr, and wher, even in th year one thousnd sevn hundred and eity, th first letrs ritn to u by yr old lov, or by yr litl children, wer but newly relesed from th horr of being ogled thru th windos, by th heds exposed on Templ Bar with an insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

   But indeed, at that time, putng to deth was a recipe much in voge with al trades and professions, and not least of al with Tellson's. Deth is Nature's remedy for al things, and wy not Legislation's? Acordngly, th forjr was put to Deth; th utterer of a bad note was put to Deth; th unlawful openr of a letr was put to Deth; th purloiner of forty shilngs and sixpnce was put to Deth; th holdr of a horse at Tellson's dor, ho made off with it, was put to Deth; th coiner of a bad shilng was put to Deth; th sounders of thre-fourths of th notes in th hole gamut of Crime, wer put to Deth. Not that it did th least good in th way of prevention -- it myt almost hav been worth remarkng that th fact was exactly th reverse -- but, it cleard off (as to this world) th trubl of each particulr case, and left nothing else conectd with it to be lookd aftr. Thus, Tellson's, in its day, like gretr places of busness, its contempris, had taken so many lives, that, if th heds laid lo befor it had been ranjed on Templ Bar insted of being privatly disposed of, they wud probbly hav excluded wat litl lyt th ground flor bad, in a rathr synificnt manr.

   Crampd in al kinds of dun cubrds and hutches at Tellson's, th oldst of men carrid on th busness gravely. Wen they took a yung man into Tellson's Londn house, they hid him somwher til he was


Paje 57

old. They kept him in a dark place, like a chese, until he had th ful Tellson flavor and blu-mold upon him. Then only was he permitd to be seen, spectaculrly porng over larj books, and castng his brichs and gaitrs into th jenrl weit of th establishmnt.

   Outside Tellson's -- nevr by any means in it, unless cald in -- was an od-job-man, an ocasionl portr and mesnjr, ho servd as th liv syn of th house. He was nevr absnt during busness ours, unless upon an erand, and then he was representd by his son: a grisly urchn of twelv, ho was his express imaj. Peple undrstood that Tellson's, in a stately way, tolrated th od-job-man. Th house had always tolrated som persn in that capacity, and time and tide had driftd this persn to th post. His surname was Cruncher, and on th yuthful ocasion of his renouncing by proxy th works of darkns, in th eastrly parish church of Hounsditch, he had receved th add appellation of Jerry.

   Th sene was Mr. Cruncher's privat lojng in Hangng-sord-ally, Whitefriars: th time, half-past sevn of th clok on a windy March mornng, Anno Domini sevnteen hundred and eity. (Mr. Cruncher himself always spoke of th year of our Lord as Ana Dominos: aparently undr th impression that th Cristian era dated from th invention of a populr game, by a lady ho had bestod her name upon it.)

   Mr. Cruncher's apartmnts wer not in a savory neibrhood, and wer but two in numbr, even if a closet with a singl pane of glass in it myt be countd as one. But they wer very decently kept. Erly as it was, on th windy March mornng, th room in wich he lay abed was alredy scrubd thruout; and between th cups and saucers aranjed for brekfast, and th lumbrng deal table, a very clean wite cloth was spred.

   Mr. Cruncher reposed undr a pachwork countrpane, like a Harlequin at home. At fast, he slept hevily, but, by degrees, began to rol and surj in bed, until he rose abov th surface, with his spiky hair lookng as if it must ter th sheets to ribns. At wich junctur, he exclaimd, in a voice of dire exaspration:

   "Bust me, if she aint at it agin!"

   A womn of ordrly and industrius apearnce rose from her nes in a cornr, with suficient haste and trepidation to sho that she was th persn referd to.


Paje 58

   "Wat!" said Mr. Cruncher, lookng out of bed for a boot. "U'r at it agin, ar u?"

   Aftr hailng th mom with this secnd salutation, he threw a boot at th womn as a third. It was a very muddy boot, and may introduce th od circmstnce conectd with Mr. Cruncher's domestic econmy, that, wheras he ofn came home aftr bankng ours with clean boots, he ofn got up next mornng to find th same boots covrd with clay.

   "Wat," said Mr. Cruncher, varying his apostrofe aftr misng his mark -- "wat ar u up to, Aggerawayter?"

   "I was only sayng my prayrs."

   "Sayng yr prayrs! U'r a nice womn! Wat do u mean by flopng yrself down and prayng agin me?"

   "I was not prayng against u; I was prayng for u."

   "U wernt. And if u wer, I wont be took th librty with. Here! yr mother's a nice womn, yung Jerry, going a prayng agin yr father's prosperity. U'v got a dutiful mothr, u hav, my son. U'v got a relijus mothr, u hav, my boy: going and flopng herself down, and prayng that th bred-and-butr may be snachd out of th mouth of her only child."

   Mastr Cruncher (ho was in his shirt) took this very il, and, turnng to his mothr, strongly deprecated any prayng away of his persnl bord.

   "And wat do u supose, u conceitd female," said Mr. Cruncher, with unconcius inconsistncy, "that th worth of yr prayrs may be? Name th price that u put yr prayrs at!"

   "They only com from th hart, Jerry. They ar worth no mor than that."

   "Worth no mor than that," repeatd Mr. Cruncher. "They aint worth much, then. Wethr or no, I wont be prayd agin, I tel u. I cant aford it. I'm not a going to be made unlucky by yr sneakng. If u must go flopng yrself down, flop in favor of yr husbnd and child, and not in oposition to 'em. If I had had any but a unnat'ral wife, and this poor boy had had any but a unnat'ral mothr, I myt hav made som mony last week insted of being countr-prayd and countermined and relijusly circumwented into th worst of luk. B-u-u-ust me!" said Mr. Cruncher, ho al this time had been putng on his clothes, "if I aint, wat with piety and one blowed thing and anothr, been choused this last week into as bad luk as evr a poor devl of a onest tradesman met with! Yung Jerry, dress yrself, my boy, and


Paje 59

wile I clean my boots keep a y upon yr mothr now and then, and if u se any syns of mor flopng, giv me a cal. For, I tel u," here he adresd his wife once mor, "I wont be gon agin, in this manr. I am as rikety as a hakny-coach, I'm as sleepy as laudnm, my lines is straind to that degree that I shudnt no, if it wasnt for th pain in 'em, wich was me and wich sombody else, yet I'm non th betr for it in poket; and it's my suspicion that u'v been at it from mornng to nyt to prevent me from being th betr for it in poket, and I wont put up with it, Aggerawayter, and wat do u say now!"

   Growlng, in adition, such frases as "Ah! yes! U'r relijus, too. U wudnt put yrself in oposition to th intrests of yr husbnd and child, wud u? Not u!" and throing off othr sarcastic sparks from th wirlng grindstone of his indignation, Mr. Cruncher betook himself to his boot-cleanng and his jenrl prepration for busness. In th meantime, his son, hos hed was garnishd with tenderer spikes, and hos yung ys stood close by one anothr, as his father's did, kept th required wach upon his mothr. He gretly disturbd that poor womn at intrvls, by dartng out of his sleepng closet, wher he made his toilet, with a supresd cry of "U ar going to flop, mothr. -- Halloa, fathr!" and, aftr rasing this fictitius alarm, dartng in again with an undutiful grin.

   Mr. Cruncher's tempr was not at al improved wen he came to his brekfast. He resentd Mrs. Cruncher's sayng grace with particulr anmosity.

   "Now, Aggerawayter! Wat ar u up to? At it again?"

   His wife explaind that she had merely "askd a blesng."

   "Dont do it!" said Mr. Crunches lookng about, as if he rathr expectd to se th loaf disapear undr th eficacy of his wife's petitions. "I aint a going to be blest out of house and home. I wont hav my wittles blest off my table. Keep stil!"

   Exeedngly red-yd and grim, as if he had been up al nyt at a party wich had taken anything but a convivial turn, Jerry Cruncher worrid his brekfast rathr than ate it, growlng over it like any four-footd inmate of a menajri. Towards nine oclok he smoothd his rufld aspect, and, presentng as respectbl and busness-like an exterir as he cud overlay his natrl self with, isud forth to th ocupation of th day.

   It cud scarcely be cald a trade, in spite of his favorit description of himself as "a onest tradesman." His stok consistd of a woodn


Paje 60

stool, made out of a broken-bakd chair cut down, wich stool, yung Jerry, walkng at his father's side, carrid evry mornng to beneath th bankng-house windo that was nearst Templ Bar: wher, with th adition of th first handful of straw that cud be gleand from any pasng vehicl to keep th cold and wet from th od-job-man's feet, it formd th encampmnt for th day. On this post of his, Mr. Cruncher was as wel nown to Fleet-street and th Templ, as th Bar itself, -- and was almost as il-lookng.

   Encampd at a quartr befor nine, in good time to tuch his thre- cornrd hat to th oldst of men as they pasd in to Tellson's, Jerry took up his station on this windy March mornng, with yung Jerry standng by him, wen not engajed in making forays thru th Bar, to inflict bodily and mentl injris of an acute description on pasng boys ho wer smal enuf for his amiabl purpos. Fathr and son, extremely like each othr, lookng silently on at th mornng trafic in Fleet- street, with ther two heds as near to one anothr as th two ys of each wer, bor a considrbl resemblnce to a pair of monkis. Th resemblnce was not lesnd by th accidentl circmstnce, that th mature Jerry bit and spat out straw, wile th twinklng ys of th yuthful Jerry wer as restlesly wachful of him as of everything else in Fleet-street.

   Th hed of one of th regulr indor mesnjrs atachd to Tellson's establishmnt was put thru th dor, and th word was givn:

   "Portr wantd!"

   "Huray, fathr! Here's an erly job to begin with!"

   Havng thus givn his parent God speed, yung Jerry seatd himself on th stool, entrd on his reversionary intrest in th straw his fathr had been chewng, and cogitated.

   "Al-ways rusty! His fingrs is always rusty!" mutrd yung Jerry. "Wher dos my fathr get al that iron rust from? He dont get no iron rust here!"


Paje 61

A SYT

   "U NO th Old Baily, wel, no dout?" said one of th oldst of clerks to Jerry th mesnjr.

   "Ye-es, sir," returnd Jerry, in somthing of a doged manr. "I do no th Baily."

   "Just so. And u no Mr. Lorry."

   "I no Mr. Lorry, sir, much betr than I no th Baily. Much betr," said Jerry, not unlike a reluctnt witness at th establishmnt in question, "than I, as a onest tradesman, wish to no th Baily."

   "Very wel. Find th dor wher th witnesses go in, and sho th dor-keepr this note for Mr. Lorry. He wil then let u in."

   "Into th cort, sir?"

   "Into th cort."

   Mr. Cruncher's ys seemd to get a litl closer to one anothr, and to interchange th inquiry, "Wat do u think of this?"

   "Am I to wait in th cort, sir?" he askd, as th result of that confrnce.

   "I am going to tel u. Th dor-keepr wil pass th note to Mr. Lorry, and do u make any jestur that wil atract Mr. Lorry's atention, and sho him wher u stand. Then wat u hav to do, is, to remain ther until he wants u."

   "Is that al, sir?"

   "That's al. He wishs to hav a mesnjr at hand. This is to tel him u ar ther."

   As th ancient clerk delibratly foldd and superscribed th note, Mr.


Paje 62

Cruncher, aftr surveyng him in silence until he came to th blotng- paper staje, remarkd:

   "I supose they'l be tryng Forjris this mornng?"

   "Treasn!"

   "That's quartrng," said Jerry. "Barbrus!"

   "It is th law," remarkd th ancient clerk, turnng his surprised spectacls upon him. "It is th law."

   "It's hard in th law to spile a man, I think. Ifs hard enuf to kil him, but it's wery hard to spile him, sir."

   "Not at al," retaind th ancient clerk. "Speak wel of th law. Take care of yr chest and voice, my good frend, and leve th law to take care of itself. I giv u that advice."

   "It's th damp, sir, wat setls on my chest and voice," said Jerry. "I leve u to juj wat a damp way of ernng a livng mine is."

   "Wel, wel," said th old clerk; "we al hav our varius ways of gainng a livelihood. Som of us hav damp ways, and som of us hav dry ways. Here is th letr. Go along."

   Jerry took th letr, and, remarkng to himself with less internl defrnce than he made an outwrd sho of, "U ar a lean old one, too," made his bo, informd his son, in pasng, of his destnation, and went his way.

   They hangd at Tybrn, in those days, so th street outside Newgate had not obtaind one infmus notoriety that has since atachd to it. But, th jail was a vile place, in wich most kinds of debauchry and vilany wer practisd, and wher dire diseses wer bred, that came into cort with th prisnrs, and somtimes rushd strait from th dok at my Lord Chief Justice himself, and puld him off th bench. It had mor than once hapnd, that th Juj in th blak cap pronounced his own doom as certnly as th prisoner's, and even died befor him. For th rest, th Old Baily was famus as a kind of dedly in-yard, from wich pale travlrs set out continuly, in carts and coachs, on a violent passaj into th othr world: traversng som two miles and a half of public street and road, and shaming few good citizns, if any. So powrful is use, and so desirebl to be good use in th beginng. It was famus, too, for th pilry, a wise old institution, that inflictd a punishmnt of wich no one cud forse th extent; also, for th wipng-post, anothr dear old institution, very humanising and sofnng to behold in action; also, for extensiv transactions in blod-mony, anothr fragmnt of ancestrl wisdm, systmaticly


Paje 63

leadng to th most frytful mercenry crimes that cud be comitd undr Hevn. Altogethr, th Old Baily, at that date, was a choice ilustration of th precept, that "Watevr is is ryt;" an afrism that wud be as final as it is lazy, did it not include th trublsm consequence, that nothing that evr was, was rong.

   Making his way thru th taintd crowd, dispersd up and down this hideus sene of action, with th skil of a man acustmd to make his way quietly, th mesnjr found out th dor he sot, and handd in his letr thru a trap in it. For, peple then paid to se th play at th Old Baily, just as they paid to se th play in Bedlm -- only th formr entrtainmnt was much th dearr. Therfor, al th Old Baily dors wer wel gardd -- exept, indeed, th social dors by wich th crimnls got ther, and those wer always left wide open.

   Aftr som delay and demur, th dor grujngly turnd on its hinjs a very litl way, and alowd Mr. Jerry Cruncher to squeze himself into cort.

   "Wat's on?" he askd, in a wispr, of th man he found himself next to.

   "Nothing yet."

   "Wat's comng on?"

   "Th Treasn case."

   "Th quartrng one, eh?"

   "Ah!" returnd th man, with a relish; "he'l be drawn on a hurdl to be half hangd, and then he'l be taken down and sliced befor his own face, and then his inside wil be taken out and burnt wile he looks on, and then his hed wil be chopd off, and he'l be cut into quartrs. That's th sentnce."

   "If he's found Gilty, u mean to say?" Jerry add, by way of proviso.

   "O! they'l find him gilty," said th othr. "Dont u be afraid of that."

   Mr. Cruncher's atention was here divertd to th dor-keepr, hom he saw making his way to Mr. Lorry, with th note in his hand. Mr. Lorry sat at a table, among th jentlmen in wigs: not far from a wigged jentlman, th prisoner's counsl, ho had a gret bundl of papers befor him: and nearly oposit anothr wigged jentlman with his hands in his pokets, hos hole atention, wen Mr. Cruncher lookd at him then or aftrwrds, seemd to be concentrated on th celing of th cort. Aftr som gruf cofng and rubng of his chin and synng with his


Paje 64

hand, Jerry atractd th notice of Mr. Lorry, ho had stood up to look for him, and ho quietly nodd and sat down again.

   "Wat's he got to do with th case?" askd th man he had spoken with.

   "Blest if I no," said Jerry.

   "Wat hav u got to do with it, then, if a persn may inquire?"

   "Blest if I no that eithr," said Jerry.

   Th entrnce of th Juj, and a consequent gret stir and setlng down in th cort, stopd th dialog. Presntly, th dok became th centrl point of intrest. Two jailrs, ho had been standng ther, wont out, and th prisnr was brot in, and put to th bar.

   Evrybody presnt, exept th one wigged jentlman ho lookd at th celing, stared at him. Al th human breth in th place, rold at him, like a se, or a wind, or a fire. Eagr faces straind round pilrs and cornrs, to get a syt of him; spectators in bak ros stood up, not to miss a hair of him; peple on th flor of th cort, laid ther hands on th sholdrs of th peple befor them, to help themselvs, at anybody's cost, to a vew of him -- stood a-tiptoe, got upon lejs, stood upon next to nothing, to se evry inch of him. Conspicuus among these latr, like an anmated bit of th spiked wal of Newgate, Jerry stood: aimng at th prisnr th beery breth of a whet he had taken as he came along, and discharjng it to mingl with th waves of othr beer, and jin, and te, and cofee, and wat not, that floed at him, and alredy broke upon th gret windos behind him in an impure mist and rain.

   Th object of al this staring and blaring, was a yung man of about five-and-twenty, wel-grown and wel-lookng, with a sunburnt cheek and a dark y. This condition was that of a yung jentlman. He was plainly dresd in blak, or very dark gray, and his hair, wich was long and dark, was gathrd in a ribn at th bak of his nek; mor to be out of his way than for ornmnt. As an emotion of th mind wil express itself thru any covrng of th body, so th paleness wich his situation enjendrd came thru th brown upon his cheek, shoing th sol to be strongr than th sun. He was othrwise quite self-posesd, bowd to th Juj, and stood quiet.

   Th sort of intrest with wich this man was stared and brethed at, was not a sort that elevated humanity. Had he stood in peril of a less horibl sentnce -- had ther been a chance of any one of its savaj details being spared -- by just so much wud he hav lost in his fasnation. Th form that was to be doomd to be so shamefuly mangld, was th


Paje 65

syt; th imortl creatur that was to be so buchrd and torn asundr, yieldd th sensation. Watevr gloss th varius spectators put upon th intrest, acordng to ther sevrl arts and powrs of self-deceit, th intrest was, at th root of it, Ogreish.

   Silence in th cort! Charls Darnay had yestrday pleadd Not Gilty to an indictmnt denouncing him (with infnit jingl and jangl) for that he was a false traitr to our serene, ilustrius, exlnt, and so forth, prince, our Lord th King, by reasn of his havng, on divers ocasions, and by divers means and ways, asistd Lewis, th French King, in his wars against our said serene, ilustrius, exlnt, and so forth; that was to say, by comng and going, between th dominions of our said serene, ilustrius, exlnt, and so forth, and those of th said French Lewis, and wikedly, falsly, traitorously, and othrwise evil -- adverbiously, revealng to th said French Lewis wat forces our said serene, ilustrius, exlnt, and so forth, had in prepration to send to Canada and North America. This much, Jerry, with his hed becomng mor and mor spiky as th law terms brisld it, made out with huje satisfaction, and so arived circuitously at th undrstandng that th aforsaid, and over and over again aforsaid, Charls Darnay, stood ther befor him upon his trial; that th jury wer swerng in; and that Mr. Atorny-Jenrl was making redy to speak.

   Th acused, ho was (and ho new he was) being mently hangd, behedd, and quartrd, by evrybody ther, neithr flinchd from th situation, nor asumed any theatricl air in it. He was quiet and atentiv; wachd th openng proceedngs with a grave intrest; and stood with his hands restng on th slab of wood befor him, so composedly, that they had not displaced a leaf of th herbs with wich it was strewn. Th cort was al bestrewn with herbs and sprinkld with vinegr, as a precaution against jail air and jail fever.

   Over th prisoner's hed ther was a mirr, to thro th lyt down upon him. Crowds of th wiked and th reched had been reflectd in it, and had pasd from its surface and this earth's togethr. Hauntd in a most gastly manr that abomnbl place wud hav been, if th glass cud evr hav rendrd bak its reflections, as th ocen is one day to giv up its ded. Som pasng thot of th infmy and disgrace for wich it had been reservd, may hav struk th prisoner's mind. Be that as it may, a chanje in his position making him concius of a bar of lyt across his face, he lookd up; and wen he saw th glass his face flushd, and his ryt hand pushd th herbs away.


Paje 66

   It hapnd, that th action turnd his face to that side of th cort wich was on his left. About on a levl with his ys, ther sat, in that cornr of th Judge's bench, two persns upon hom his look imediatly restd; so imediatly, and so much to th chanjing of his aspect, that al th ys that wer tamed upon him, turnd to them.

   Th spectators saw in th two figrs, a yung lady of litl mor than twenty, and a jentlman ho was evidntly her fathr; a man of a very remarkbl apearnce in respect of th abslute witeness of his hair, and a certn indescribebl intensity of face: not of an activ kind, but pondrng and self-communing. Wen this expression was upon him, he lookd as if he wer old; but wen it was stird and broken up -- as it was now, in a moment, on his speakng to his dautr -- he became a hansm man, not past th prime of life.

   His dautr had one of her hands drawn thru his arm, as she sat by him, and th othr presd upon it. She had drawn close to him, in her dred of th sene, and in her pity for th prisnr. Her forhed had been strikingly expressiv of an engrosng terr and compassion that saw nothing but th peril of th acused. This had been so very noticebl, so very powrfuly and natrly shown, that starers ho had had no pity for him wer tuchd by her; and th wispr went about, "Ho ar they?"

   Jerry, th mesnjr, ho had made his own obsrvations, in his own manr, and ho had been sukng th rust off his fingrs in his absorption, strechd his nek to hear ho they wer. Th crowd about him had presd and pasd th inquiry on to th nearst atendnt, and from him it had been mor sloly presd and pasd bak; at last it got to Jerry:

   "Witnesses."

   "For wich side?"

   "Against."

   "Against wat side?"

   "Th prisoner's."

   Th Juj, hos ys had gon in th jenrl direction, recald them, leand bak in his seat, and lookd stedily at th man hos life was in his hand, as Mr. Atorny-Jenrl rose to spin th rope, grind th ax, and hamr th nails into th scafld.


Paje 67

A DISAPOINTMNT

   MR. ATORNY-JENRL had to inform th jury, that th prisnr befor them, tho yung in years, was old in th treasnbl practises wich claimd th forfit of his life. That this corespondnce with th public enmy was not a corespondnce of to-day, or of yestrday, or even of last year, or of th year befor. That, it was certn th prisnr had, for longr than that, been in th habit of pasng and repassing between France and England, on secret busness of wich he cud giv no onest acount. That, if it wer in th natur of traitorous ways to thrive (wich happily it nevr was), th real wikedness and gilt of his busness myt hav remaind undiscovrd. That Providnce, howevr, had put it into th hart of a persn ho was beyond fear and beyond reproach, to feret out th natur of th prisoner's scemes, and, struk with horr, to disclose them to his Majesty's Chief Secretry of State and most onrbl Privy Council. That, this patriot wud be produced befor them. That, his position and atitude wer, on th hole, sublime. That, he had been th prisoner's frend, but, at once in an auspicius and an evil our detectng his infmy, had resolvd to immolate th traitr he cud no longr cherish in his bosm, on th sacred altr of his cuntry. That, if status wer decreed in Britn, as in ancient Grece and Rome, to public benefactrs, this shining citizn wud asuredly hav had one. That, as they wer not so decreed, he probbly wud not hav one. That, Virtu, as had been observd by th poets (in many passajs wich he wel new th jury wud hav, word for word, at th tips of ther tongs; wherat th jury's countenances displayd a gilty conciusness that they new nothing about th passajs),


Paje 68

was in a manr contajus; mor especialy th bryt virtu nown as patriotism, or lov of cuntry. That, th lofty exampl of this imaculat and unimpeachbl witness for th Crown, to refer to hom howevr unworthily was an onr, had comunicated itself to th prisoner's servnt, and had enjendrd in him a holy determnation to examn his master's table-drawrs and pokets, and secrete his papers. That, he (Mr. Atorny-Jenrl) was prepared to hear som disparajmnt atemtd of this admrbl servnt; but that, in a jenrl way, he preferd him to his (Mr. Atorny-General's) brothrs and sistrs, and onrd him mor than his (Mr. Atorny-General's) fathr and mothr. That, he cald with confidnce on th jury to com and do likewise. That, th evidnce of these two witnesses, cupld with th documnts of ther discovrng that wud be produced, wud sho th prisnr to hav been furnishd with lists of his Majesty's forces, and of ther disposition and prepration, both by se and land, and wud leve no dout that he had habituly conveyd such infrmation to a hostl powr. That, these lists cud not be proved to be in th prisoner's handriting; but that it was al th same; that, indeed, it was rathr th betr for th prosecution, as shoing th prisnr to be artful in his precautions. That, th proof wud go bak five years, and wud sho th prisnr alredy engajed in these pernicius missions, within a few weeks befor th date of th very first action fot between th British troops and th Americns. That, for these reasns, th jury, being a loyl jury (as he new they wer), and being a responsbl jury (as they new they wer), must positivly find th prisnr Gilty, and make an end of him, wethr they liked it or not. That, they nevr cud lay ther heds upon ther pilos; that, they nevr cud tolrate th idea of ther wives layng ther heds upon ther pilos; that, they nevr cud endure th notion of ther children layng ther heds upon ther pilos; in short, that ther nevr mor cud be, for them or thers, any layng of heds upon pilos at al, unless th prisoner's hed was taken off. That hed Mr. Atorny-Jenrl concluded by demandng of them, in th name of everything he cud think of with a round turn in it, and on th faith of his solem asseveration that he alredy considrd th prisnr as good as ded and gon.

   Wen th Atorny-Jenrl cesed, a buz arose in th cort as if a cloud of gret blu-flys wer swarmng about th prisnr, in anticipation of wat he was soon to becom. Wen toned down again, th unimpeachbl patriot apeard in th witness-box.


Paje 69

   Mr. Solicitr-Jenrl then, foloing his leader's lead , examnd th patriot: Jon Barsad, jentlman, by name. Th story of his pure sol was exactly wat Mr. Atorny-Jenrl had described it to be -- perhaps, if it had a falt, a litl too exactly. Havng relesed his noble bosm of its burdn, he wud hav modestly withdrawn himself, but that th wigged jentlman with th papers befor him, sitng not far from Mr. Lorry, begd to ask him a few questions. Th wigged jentlman sitng oposit, stil lookng at th celing of th cort.

   Had he evr been a spy himself? No, he scornd th base insinuation. Wat did he liv upon? His proprty. Wher was his proprty? He didnt precisely remembr wher it was. Wat was it? No busness of anybody's. Had he inheritd it? Yes, he had. From hom? Distnt relation. Very distnt? Rathr. Evr been in prisn? Certnly not. Nevr in a debtors' prisn? Didnt se wat that had to do with it. Nevr in a debtors' prisn? -- Com, once again. Nevr? Yes. How many times? Two or thre times. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of wat profession? Jentlman. Evr been kikd? Myt hav been. Frequently? No. Evr kikd downstairs? Decidedly not; once receved a kik on th top of a staircase, and fel down-stairs of his own acord. Kikd on that ocasion for cheatng at dice? Somthing to that efect was said by th intoxicated liar ho comitd th asalt, but it was not tru. Swer it was not tru? Positivly. Evr liv by cheatng at play? Nevr. Evr liv by play? Not mor than othr jentlmen do. Evr boro mony of th prisnr? Yes. Evr pay him? No. Was not this intmacy with th prisnr, in reality a very slyt one, forced upon th prisnr in coachs, ins, and pakets? No. Sure he saw th prisnr with these lists? Certn. New no mor about th lists? No. Had not procured them himself, for instnce? No. Expect to get anything by this evidnce? No. Not in regulr govrnmnt pay and employmnt, to lay traps? O dear no. Or to do anything? O dear no. Swer that? Over and over again. No motivs but motivs of sheer patriotism? Non watevr.

   Th virtuus servnt, Rojr Cly, swor his way thru th case at a gret rate. He had taken service with th prisnr, in good faith and simplicity, four years ago. He had askd th prisnr, abord th Calais paket, if he wantd a handy felo, and th prisnr had engajed him. He had not askd th prisnr to take th handy felo as an act of charity -- nevr thot of such a thing. He began to hav suspicions of th prisnr, and to keep an y upon him, soon aftrwrds. In aranjing his clothes, wile travlng, he had seen simlr lists to these in th


Paje 70

prisoner's pokets, over and over again. He had taken these lists from th drawr of th prisoner's desk. He had not put them ther first. He had seen th prisnr sho these identicl lists to French jentlmen at Calais, and simlr lists to French jentlmen, both at Calais and Boulogne. He lovd his cuntry, and cudnt ber it, and had givn infrmation. He had nevr been suspectd of stealng a silvr te-pot; he had been malynd respectng a mustrd-pot, but it turnd out to be only a plated one. He had nown th last witness sevn or eit years; that was merely a coincidnce. He didnt cal it a particulrly curius coincidnce; most coincidnces wer curius. Neithr did he cal it a curius coincidnce that tru patriotism was his only motiv too. He was a tru Britn, and hoped ther wer many like him.

   Th blu-flys buzd again, and Mr. Atorny-Jenrl cald Mr. Jarvis Lorry.

   "Mr. Jarvis Lorry, ar u a clerk in Tellson's bank?"

   "I am."

   "On a certn Friday nyt in Novembr one thousnd sevn hundred and sevnty-five, did busness ocasion u to travl between Londn and Dover by th mail?"

   "It did."

   "Wer ther any othr pasnjrs in th mail?"

   "Two."

   "Did they alyt on th road in th corse of th nyt?"

   ('they did."

   "Mr. Lorry, look upon th prisnr. Was he one of those two pasnjrs?"

   "I canot undrtake to say that he was."

   "Dos he resembl eithr of these two pasnjrs?"

   "Both wer so rapd up, and th nyt was so dark, and we wer al so reservd, that I canot undrtake to say even that."

   "Mr. Lorry, look again upon th prisnr. Suposing him rapd up as those two pasnjrs wer, is ther anything in his bulk and statur to rendr it unlikely that he was one of them?"

   "No."

   "U wil not swer, Mr. Lorry, that he was not one of them?"

   "No."

   "So at least u say he may hav been one of them?"

   "Yes. Exept that I remembr them both to hav been -- like myself -- timrus of hywaymen, and th prisnr has not a timrus air."


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   "Did u evr se a countrfit of timidity, Mr. Lorry?"

   "I certnly hav seen that."

   "Mr. Lorry, look once mor upon th prisnr. Hav u seen him, to yr certn nolej, befor?"

   "I hav."

   "Wen?"

   "I was returng from France a few days aftrwrds, and, at Calais, th prisnr came on bord th paket-ship in wich I returnd, and made th voyaj with me."

   "At wat our did he com on bord?"

   "At a litl aftr midnyt."

   "In th ded of th nyt. Was he th only pasnjr ho came on bord at that untimely our?"

   "He hapnd to be th only one."

   "Nevr mind about 'happening,' Mr. Lorry. He was th only pasnjr ho came on bord in th ded of th nyt?"

   "He was."

   "Wer u travlng alone, Mr. Lorry, or with any companion?"

   "With two companions. A jentlman and lady. They ar here."

   "They ar here. Had u any convrsation with th prisnr?"

   "Hardly any. Th wethr was stormy, and th passaj long and ruf, and I lay on a sofa, almost from shor to shor."

   "Miss Manette!"

   Th yung lady, to hom al ys had been turnd befor, and wer now turnd again, stood up wher she had sat. Her fathr rose with her, and kept her hand drawn thru his arm.

   "Miss Manette, look upon th prisnr."

   To be confrontd with such pity, and such ernest yuth and buty, was far mor tryng to th acused than to be confrontd with al th crowd. Standng, as it wer, apart with her on th ej of his grave, not al th staring curiosity that lookd on, cud, for th moment, nerv him to remain quite stil. His hurrid ryt hand parceld out th herbs befor him into imajnry beds of flowrs in a gardn; and his efrts to control and stedy his brething shook th lips from wich th color rushd to his hart. Th buz of th gret flys was loud again.

   "Miss Manette, hav u seen th prisnr befor?"

   "Yes, sir."

   "Wher?"


Paje 72

   "On bord of th paket-ship just now referd to, sir, and on th same ocasion."

   "U ar th yung lady just now referd to?"

   "O! most unhappily, I am!"

   Th plaintiv tone of her compassion merjd into th less musicl voice of th Juj, as he said somthing fiercely: "Ansr th questions put to u, and make no remark upon them."

   "Miss Manette, had u any convrsation with th prisnr on that passaj across th Chanl?"

   "Yes, sir."

   "Recal it."

   In th midst of a profound stilness, she faintly began:

   "Wen th jentlman came on bord -- "

   "Do u mean th prisnr?" inquired th Juj, nitng his brows.

   "Yes, my Lord."

   "Then say th prisnr."

   "Wen th prisnr came on bord, he noticed that my fathr," turnng her ys lovngly to him as he stood beside her, "was much fatiged and in a very weak state of helth. My fathr was so reduced that I was afraid to take him out of th air, and I had made a bed for him on th dek near th cabn steps, and I sat on th dek at his side to take care of him. Ther wer no othr pasnjrs that nyt, but we four. Th prisnr was so good as to beg permission to advise me how I cud sheltr my fathr from th wind and wethr, betr than I had don. I had not nown how to do it wel, not undrstandng how th wind wud set wen we wer out of th harbr. He did it for me. He expresd gret jentlness and kindness for my father's state, and I am sure he felt it. That was th manr of our beginng to speak togethr."

   "Let me intrupt u for a moment. Had he com on bord alone?"

   "No."

   "How many wer with him?"

   "Two French jentlmen."

   "Had they conferd togethr?"

   "They had conferd togethr until th last moment, wen it was necesry for th French jentlmen to be landd in ther boat."

   "Had any papers been handd about among them, simlr to these lists?"

   "Som papers had been handd about among them, but I dont no wat papers."


Paje 73

   "Like these in shape and size?"

   "Posbly, but indeed I dont no, altho they stood wisprng very near to me: because they stood at th top of th cabn steps to hav th lyt of th lamp that was hangng ther; it was a dul lamp, and they spoke very lo, and I did not hear wat they said, and saw only that they lookd at papers."

   "Now, to th prisoner's convrsation, Miss Manette."

   "Th prisnr was as open in his confidnce with me -- wich arose out of my helpless situation -- as he was kind, and good, and useful to my fathr. I hope," burstng into tears, "I may not repay him by doing him harm to-day."

   Buzng from th blu-flys.

   "Miss Manette, if th prisnr dos not perfectly undrstand that u giv th evidnce wich it is yr duty to giv -- wich u must giv -- and wich u canot escape from givng -- with gret unwilngness, he is th only persn presnt in that condition. Plese to go on."

   "He told me that he was travlng on busness of a delicat and dificlt natur, wich myt get peple into trubl, and that he was therfor travlng undr an asumed name. He said that this busness had, within a few days, taken him to France, and myt, at intrvls, take him bakwrds and forwrds between France and England for a long time to com."

   "Did he say anything about America, Miss Manette? Be particulr."

   "He tryd to explain to me how that quarel had arisn, and he said that, so far as he cud juj, it was a rong and foolish one on England's part. He add, in a jestng way, that perhaps Jorj Washngtn myt gain almost as gret a name in histry as Jorj th Third. But ther was no harm in his way of sayng this: it was said lafngly, and to beguile th time."

   Any strongly markd expression of face on th part of a chief actr in a sene of gret intrest to hom many ys ar directd, wil be unconciusly imitated by th spectators. Her forhed was painfuly anxius and intent as she gave this evidnce, and, in th pauses wen she stopd for th Juj to rite it down, wachd its efect upon th counsl for and against. Among th lookers-on ther was th same expression in al quartrs of th cort; insomuch, that a gret majority of th forheds ther, myt hav been mirrs reflectng th witness, wen th Juj lookd up from his notes to glare at that tremendus heresy about Jorj Washngtn.


Paje 74

   Mr. Atorny-Jenrl now signifyd to my Lord, that he deemd it necesry, as a matr of precaution and form, to cal th yung lady's fathr, Doctr Manette. Ho was cald acordngly.

   "Doctr Manette, look upon th prisnr. Hav u evr seen him befor?"

   "Once. Wen he cajed at my lojngs in Londn. Som thre years, or thre years and a half ago."

   "Can u identify him as yr felo-pasnjr on bord th paket, or speak to his convrsation with yr dautr?"

   "Sir, I can do neithr."

   "Is ther any particulr and special reasn for yr being unable to do eithr?"

   He ansrd, in a lo voice, "Ther is."

   "Has it been yr misfortune to undrgo a long imprisnmnt, without trial, or even acusation, in yr nativ cuntry, Doctr Manette?"

   He ansrd, in a tone that went to evry hart, "A long imprisnmnt."

   "Wer u newly relesed on th ocasion in question?"

   "They tel me so."

   "Hav u no remembrnce of th ocasion?"

   "Non. My mind is a blank, from som time -- I canot even say wat time -- wen I employd myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to th time wen I found myself livng in Londn with my dear dautr here. She had becom familir to me, wen a gracius God restord my facltis; but, I am quite unable even to say how she had becom familir. I hav no remembrnce of th process."

   Mr. Atorny-Jenrl sat down, and th fathr and dautr sat down togethr.

   A singulr circmstnce then arose in th case. Th object in hand being to sho that th prisnr went down, with som felo-plotter untracked, in th Dover mail on that Friday nyt in Novembr five years ago, and got out of th mail in th nyt, as a blind, at a place wher he did not remain, but from wich he travld bak som dozn miles or mor, to a garisn and dokyard, and ther colectd infrmation; a witness was cald to identify him as havng been at th precise time required, in th cofee-room of an hotel in that garisn-and-dokyard town, waitng for anothr persn. Th prisoner's counsl was cross- examnng this witness with no result, exept that he had nevr seen th prisnr on any othr ocasion, wen th wigged jentlman ho had


Paje 75

al this time been lookng at th celing of th cort, rote a word or two on a litl pece of paper, screwd it up, and tosd it to him. Openng this pece of paper in th next pause, th counsl lookd with gret atention and curiosity at th prisnr.

   "U say again u ar quite sure that it was th prisnr?"

   Th witness was quite sure.

   "Did u evr se anybody very like th prisnr?"

   Not so like (th witness said) as that he cud be mistaken.

   "Look wel upon that jentlman, my lernd frend ther," pointng to him ho had tosd th paper over, "and then look wel upon th prisnr. How say u? Ar they very like each othr?"

   Alowng for my lernd friend's apearnce being careless and slovnly if not debauchd, they wer suficiently like each othr to surprise, not only th witness, but evrybody presnt, wen they wer thus brot into comparisn. My Lord being prayd to bid my lernd frend lay aside his wig, and givng no very gracius consent, th likeness became much mor remarkbl. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver (th prisoner's counsl), wethr they wer next to try Mr. Cartn (name of my lernd frend) for treasn? But, Mr. Stryver replyd to my Lord, no; but he wud ask th witness to tel him wethr wat hapnd once, myt hapn twice; wethr he wud hav been so confidnt if he had seen this ilustration of his rashness soonr, wethr he wud be so confidnt, havng seen it; and mor. Th upshot of wich, was, to smash this witness like a crokry vesl, and shivr his part of th case to useless lumbr.

   Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off his fingrs in his foloing of th evidnce. He had now to atend wile Mr. Stryver fitd th prisoner's case on th jury, like a compact suit of clothes; shoing them how th patriot, Barsad, was a hired spy and traitr, an unblushing trafficker in blod, and one of th gretst scoundrls upon erth since acursed Judas -- wich he certnly did look rathr like. How th virtuus servnt, Cly, was his frend and partnr, and was worthy to be; how th wachful ys of those forgers and false swearers had restd on th prisnr as a victm, because som famly afairs in France, he being of French extraction, did require his making those passajs across th Chanl -- tho wat those afairs wer, a considration for othrs ho wer near and dear to him, forbad him, even for his life, to disclose. How th evidnce that had been warpd and restd from th yung lady, hos anguish in givng it they had


Paje 76

witnesd, came to nothing, involvng th mere litl inocent gallantries and politenesses likely to pass between any yung jentlman and yung lady so thrown togethr; -- with th exeption of that refrnce to Jorj Washngtn, wich was altogethr too extravagnt and imposbl to be regardd in any othr lyt than as a monstrus joke. How it wud be a weakness in th govrnmnt to brek down in this atemt to practis for popularity on th loest nationl antipathies and fears, and therfor Mr. Atorny-Jenrl had made th most of it; how, nevrthless, it restd upon nothing, save that vile and infmus caractr of evidnce too ofn disfigrng such cases, and of wich th State Trials of this cuntry wer ful. But, ther my Lord intrposed (with as grave a face as if it had not been tru), sayng that he cud not sit upon that Bench and sufr those alusions.

   Mr. Stryver then cald his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next to atend wile Mr. Atorny-Jenrl turnd th hole suit of clothes Mr. Stryver had fitd on th jury, inside out; shoing how Barsad and Cly wer even a hundred times betr than he had thot them, and th prisnr a hundred times worse. Lastly, came my Lord himself, turnng th suit of clothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on th hole decidedly trimng and shaping them into grave-clothes for th prisnr.

   And now, th jury turnd to considr, and th gret flys swarmd again.

   Mr. Cartn, ho had so long sat lookng at th celing of th cort, chanjed neithr his place nor his atitude, even in this exitemnt. Wile his teamd frend, Mr. Stryver, masng his papers befor him, wisprd with those ho sat near, and from time to time glanced anxiusly at th jury; wile al th spectators moved mor or less, and groupd themselvs anew; wile even my Lord himself arose from his seat, and sloly paced up and down his platform, not unatendd by a suspicion in th minds of th audience that his state was feverish; this one man sat leanng bak, with his torn gown half off him, his untidy wig put on just as it had hapnd to fyt on his hed aftr its removal, his hands in his pokets, and his ys on th celing as they had been al day. Somthing especialy rekless in his demeanr, not only gave him a disreputbl look, but so diminishd th strong resemblnce he undoutdly bor to th prisnr (wich his momentry ernestness, wen they wer compared togethr, had strengthnd), that many of th lookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one anothr they wud hardly hav thot


Paje 77

th two wer so alike. Mr. Cruncher made th obsrvation to his next neibr, and add, "I'd hold half a ginea that he dont get no law- work to do. Dont look like th sort of one to get any, do he?"

   Yet, this Mr. Cartn took in mor of th details of th sene than he apeard to take in; for now, wen Miss Manette's hed dropd upon her father's brest, he was th first to se it, and to say audbly: "Oficer! look to that yung lady. Help th jentlman to take her out. Dont u se she wil fal!"

   Ther was much comisration for her as she was removed, and much sympathy with her fathr. It had evidntly been a gret distress to him, to hav th days of his imprisnmnt recald. He had shown strong internl ajitation wen he was questiond, and that pondrng or broodng look wich made him old, had been upon him, like a hevy cloud, evr since. As he pasd out, th jury, ho had turnd bak and pausd a moment, spoke, thru ther forman.

   They wer not agreed, and wishd to retire. My Lord (perhaps with Jorj Washngtn on his mind) showd som surprise that they wer not agreed, but signifyd his plesur that they shud retire undr wach and ward, and retired himself. Th trial had lastd al day, and th lamps in th cort wer now being lytd. It began to be rumord that th jury wud be out a long wile. Th spectators dropd off to get refreshmnt, and th prisnr withdrew to th bak of th dok, and sat down.

   Mr. Lorry, ho had gon out wen th yung lady and her fathr went out, now reapeard, and beknd to Jerry: ho, in th slaknd intrest, cud esily get near him.

   "Jerry, if u wish to take somthing to eat, u can. But, keep in th way. U wil be sure to hear wen th jury com in. Dont be a moment behind them, for I want u to take th verdict bak to th bank. U ar th quikst mesnjr I no, and wil get to Templ Bar long befor I can."

   Jerry had just enuf forhed to nukl, and he knuckled it in aknolejmnt of this comunication and a shilng. Mr. Cartn came up at th moment, and tuchd Mr. Lorry on th arm.

   "How is th yung lady?"

   "She is gretly distresd; but her fathr is comfrtng her, and she feels th betr for being out of cort."

   "I'l tel th prisnr so. It wont do for a respectbl bank jentlman like u, to be seen speakng to him publicly, u no."


Paje 78

   Mr. Lorry rednd as if he wer concius of havng debated th point in his mind, and Mr. Cartn made his way to th outside of th bar. Th way out of cort lay in that direction, and Jerry folod him, al ys, ears, and spikes.

   "Mr. Darnay!"

   Th prisnr came forwrd directly.

   "U wil natrly be anxius to hear of th witness, Miss Manette. She wil do very wel. U hav seen th worst of her ajitation."

   "I am deeply sorry to hav been th cause of it. Cud u tel her so for me, with my fervnt aknolejmnts?"

   "Yes, I cud. I wil, if u ask it."

   Mr. Carton's manr was so careless as to be almost inslnt. He stood, half turnd from th prisnr, lounjng with his elbo against th bar.

   "I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks."

   "Wat," said Cartn, stil only half turnd towards him, "do u expect, Mr. Darnay?"

   "Th worst."

   "It's th wisest thing to expect, and th likeliest. But I think ther withdrawng is in yr favor."

   Loitrng on th way out of cort not being alowd, Jerry herd no mor: but left them -- so like each othr in featur, so unlike each othr in manr -- standng side by side, both reflectd in th glass abov them.

   An our and a half limpd hevily away in th thief-and-rascl crowdd passajs belo, even tho asistd off with mutn pies and ale. Th horse mesnjr, uncomfrtbly seatd on a form aftr taking that refection, had dropd into a doze, wen a loud murmr and a rapid tide of peple setng up th stairs that led to th cort, carrid him along with them.

   "Jerry! Jerry!" Mr. Lorry was alredy calng at th dor wen he got ther.

   "Here, sir! It's a fyt to get bak again. Here I am, sir!"

   Mr. Lorry handd him a paper thru th throng. "Quik! Hav u got it?"

   "Yes, sir."

   Hastily ritn on th paper was th word "AQUITTED."

   "If u had sent th messaj, 'recalled to Life,' again," mutrd Jerry, as he turnd, "I shud hav nown wat u ment, this time."

   He had no oprtunity of sayng, or so much as thinkng, anything


Paje 79

else, until he was clear of th Old Baily; for, th crowd came porng out with a vehemnce that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buz swept into th street as if th bafld blu-flys wer dispersng in serch of othr carion.

CONGRATULATORY

   FROM th dimly-lytd passajs of th cort, th last sedmnt of th human stew that had been boilng ther al day, was strainng off, wen Doctr Manette, Lucie Manette, his dautr, Mr. Lorry, th solicitr for th defense, and its counsl, Mr. Stryver, stood gathrd round Mr. Charls Darnay -- just relesed -- congratulating him on his escape from deth.

   It wud hav been dificlt by a far brytr lyt, to recognize in Doctr Manette, intlectul of face and upryt of berng, th shoemaker of th garet in Paris. Yet, no one cud hav lookd at him twice, without lookng again: even tho th oprtunity of obsrvation had not extendd to th mornful cadence of his lo grave voice, and to th abstraction that overclouded him fitfuly, without any aparent reasn. Wile one externl cause, and that a refrnce to his long lingrng agny, wud always -- as on th trial -- evoke this condition from th depths of his sol, it was also in its natur to arise of itself, and to draw a gloom over him, as incomprehensbl to those unaquaintd with his story as if they had seen th shado of th actul Bastile thrown upon him by a sumr sun, wen th substnce was thre hundred miles away.


Paje 80

   Only his dautr had th powr of charmng this blak broodng from his mind. She was th goldn thred that united him to a Past beyond his misry, and to a Presnt beyond his misry: and th sound of her voice, th lyt of her face, th tuch of her hand, had a strong beneficial influence with him almost always. Not abslutely always, for she cud recal som ocasions on wich her powr had faild; but they wer few and slyt, and she beleved them over.

   Mr. Darnay had kisd her hand fervntly and gratefuly, and had turnd to Mr. Stryver, hom he warmly thankd. Mr. Stryver, a man of litl mor than thirty, but lookng twenty years oldr than he was, stout, loud, red, bluf, and fre from any drawbak of delicacy, had a pushng way of sholdrng himself (moraly and fysicly) into compnis and convrsations, that argud wel for his sholdrng his way up in life.

   He stil had his wig and gown on, and he said, squaring himself at his late client to that degree that he squezed th inocent Mr. Lorry clean out of th group: "I am glad to hav brot u off with onr, Mr. Darnay. It was an infmus prosecution, grosly infmus; but not th less likely to succeed on that acount."

   "U hav laid me undr an obligation to u for life -- in two senses," said his late client, taking his hand.

   "I hav don my best for u, Mr. Darnay; and my best is as good as anothr man's, I beleve."

   It clearly being incumbnt on som one to say, "Much betr," Mr. Lorry said it; perhaps not quite disinterestedly, but with th intrestd object of squezing himself bak again.

   "U think so?" said Mr. Stryver. "Wel! u hav been presnt al day, and u ot to no. U ar a man of busness, too."

   "And as such," quoth Mr. Lorry, hom th counsl lernd in th law had now sholdrd bak into th group, just as he had previusly sholdrd him out of it -- "as such I wil apeal to Doctr Manette, to brek up this confrnce and ordr us al to our homes. Miss Lucie looks il, Mr. Darnay has had a teribl day, we ar worn out."

   "Speak for yrself, Mr. Lorry," said Stryver; "I hav a night's work to do yet. Speak for yrself."

   "I speak for myself," ansrd Mr. Lorry, "and for Mr. Darnay, and for Miss Lucie, and -- Miss Lucie, do u not think I may speak for us al?" He askd her th question pointdly, and with a glance at her fathr.

   His face had becom frozen, as it wer, in a very curius look at


Paje 81

Darnay: an intent look, deepnng into a frown of dislike and distrust, not even unmixd with fear. With this stranje expression on him his thots had wandrd away.

   "My fathr," said Lucie, softly layng her hand on his.

   He sloly shook th shado off, and turnd to her.

   "Shal we go home, my fathr?"

   With a long breth, he ansrd "Yes."

   Th frends of th aquitd prisnr had dispersd, undr th impression -- wich he himself had orijnated -- that he wud not be relesed that nyt. Th lyts wer nearly al extinguishd in th passajs, th iron gates wer being closed with a jar and a ratl, and th disml place was desertd until to-moro morning's intrest of galos, pilry, wipng-post, and branding-iron, shud repeople it. Walkng between her fathr and Mr. Darnay, Lucie Manette pasd into th open air. A hakny-coach was cald, and th fathr and dautr departd in it.

   Mr. Stryver had left them in th passajs, to sholdr his way bak to th robing-room. Anothr persn, ho had not joind th group, or interchanged a word with any one of them, but ho had been leanng against th wal wher its shado was darkst, had silently strold out aftr th rest, and had lookd on until th coach drove away. He now stepd up to wher Mr. Lorry and Mr. Darnay stood upon th pavemnt.

   "So, Mr. Lorry! Men of busness may speak to Mr. Darnay now?"

   Nobody had made any aknolejmnt of Mr. Carton's part in th day's proceedngs; nobody had nown of it. He was unrobed, and was non th betr for it in apearnce.

   "If u new wat a conflict gos on in th busness mind, wen th busness mind is divided between good-naturd impulse and busness apearnces, u wud be amused, Mr. Darnay."

   Mr. Lorry rednd, and said, warmly, "U hav mentiond that befor, sir. We men of busness, ho serv a House, ar not our own mastrs. We hav to think of th House mor than ourselvs."

   "I no, I no," rejoind Mr. Cartn, carelesly. "Dont be netld, Mr. Lorry. U ar as good as anothr, I hav no dout: betr, I dare say."

   "And indeed, sir," pursud Mr. Lorry, not mindng him, "I realy dont no wat u hav to do with th matr. If u'l excuse me, as very much yr eldr, for sayng so, I realy dont no that it is yr busness."


Paje 82

   "Busness! Bless u, I hav no busness," said Mr. Cartn.

   "It is a pity u hav not, sir."

   "I think so, too."

   "If u had," pursud Mr. Lorry, "perhaps u wud atend to it."

   "Lord lov u, no! -- I shudnt," said Mr. Cartn.

   "Wel, sir!" cryd Mr. Lorry, thoroly heatd by his indifrnce, "busness is a very good thing, and a very respectbl thing. And, sir, if busness imposes its restraints and its silences and impedmnts, Mr. Darnay as a yung jentlman of jenrosity nos how to make alownce for that circmstnce. Mr. Darnay, good nyt, God bless u, sir! I hope u hav been this day preservd for a prosprus and happy life. -- Chair ther!"

   Perhaps a litl angry with himself, as wel as with th baristr, Mr. Lorry busld into th chair, and was carrid off to Tellson's. Cartn, ho smelt of port wine, and did not apear to be quite sober, lafd then, and turnd to Darnay:

   "This is a stranje chance that thros u and me togethr. This must be a stranje nyt to u, standng alone here with yr countrpart on these street stones?"

   "I hardly seem yet," returnd Charls Darnay, "to belong to this world again."

   "I dont wondr at it; it's not so long since u wer pretty far advanced on yr way to anothr. U speak faintly."

   "I begin to think I am faint."

   "Then wy th devl dont u dine? I dined, myself, wile those numskulls wer delibrating wich world u shud belong to -- this, or som othr. Let me sho u th nearst tavrn to dine wel at."

   Drawng his arm thru his own, he took him down Ludgate-hil to Fleet-street, and so, up a covrd way, into a tavrn. Here, they wer shown into a litl room, wher Charls Darnay was soon recruitng his strength with a good plan dinr and good wine: wile Cartn sat oposit to him at th same table, with his seprate botl of port befor him, and his fuly half-inslnt manr upon him.

   "Do u feel, yet, that u belong to this terestrial sceme again, Mr. Darnay?"

   "I am frytfuly confused regardng time and place; but I am so far mendd as to feel that."

   "It must be an imense satisfaction!"

   He said it bitrly, and fild up his glass again: wich was a larj one.


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   "As to me, th gretst desire I hav, is to forget that I belong to it. It has no good in it for me -- exept wine like this -- nor I for it. So we ar not much alike in that particulr. Indeed, I begin to think we ar not much alike in any particulr, u and l."

   Confused by th emotion of th day, and feelng his being ther with this Dubl of corse deportmnt, to be like a dream, Charls Darnay was at a loss how to ansr; finaly, ansrd not at al.

   "Now yr dinr is don," Cartn presntly said, "wy dont u cal a helth, Mr. Darnay; wy dont u giv yr toast?"

   "Wat helth? Wat toast?"

   "Wy, it's on th tip of yr tong. It ot to be, it must be, I'l swer it's ther."

   "Miss Manette, then!"

   "Miss Manette, then!"

   Lookng his companion ful in th face wile he drank th toast, Cartn flung his glass over his sholdr against th wal, wher it shivrd to peces; then, rang th bel, and ordrd in anothr.

   "That's a fair yung lady to hand to a coach in th dark, Mr. Darnay!" he said, ruing his new goblet.

   A slyt frown and a laconic "Yes," wer th ansr.

   "That's a fair yung lady to be pitid by and wept for by! How dos it feel? Is it worth being tryd for one's life, to be th object of such sympathy and compassion, Mr. Darnay?"

   Again Darnay ansrd not a word.

   "She was mytily plesed to hav yr messaj, wen I gave it her. Not that she showd she was plesed, but I supose she was."

   Th alusion servd as a timely remindr to Darnay that this disagreeabl companion had, of his own fre wil, asistd him in th strait of th day. He turnd th dialog to that point, and thankd him for it.

   "I neithr want any thanks, nor merit any," was th careless rejoindr. "It was nothing to do, in th first place; and I dont no wy I did it, in th secnd. Mr. Darnay, let me ask u a question."

   "Wilngly, and a smal return for yr good ofices."

   "Do u think I particulrly like u?"

   "Realy, Mr. Cartn," returnd th othr, odly disconcertd, "I hav not askd myself th question."

   "But ask yrself th question now."

   "U hav actd as if u do; but I dont think u do."


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   "I dont think I do," said Cartn. "I begin to hav a very good opinion of yr undrstandng."

   "Nevrthless," pursud Darnay, rising to ring th bel, "ther is nothing in that, I hope, to prevent my calng th reknng, and our partng without il-blod on eithr side."

   Cartn rejoinng, "Nothing in life!" Darnay rang. "Do u cal th hole reknng?" said Cartn. On his ansrng in th afirmativ, "Then bring me anothr pint of this same wine, drawr, and com and wake me at ten."

   Th bil being paid, Charls Darnay rose and wishd him good nyt. Without returng th wish, Cartn rose too, with somthing of a thret of defiance in his manr, and said, "A last word, Mr. Darnay: u think I am drunk?"

   "I think u hav been drinkng, Mr. Cartn."

   "Think? U no I hav been drinkng."

   "Since I must say so, I no it."

   "Then u shal likewise no wy. I am a disapointd druj, sir. I care for no man on erth, and no man on erth cares for me."

   "Much to be regretd. U myt hav used yr talents betr."

   "May be so, Mr. Darnay; may be not. Dont let yr sober face elate u, howevr; u dont no wat it may com to. Good nyt!"

   Wen he was left alone, this stranje being took up a candl, went to a glass that hung against th wal, and surveyd himself minutely in it.

   "Do u particulrly like th man?" he mutrd, at his own imaj; "wy shud u particulrly like a man ho resembls u? Ther is nothing in u to like; u no that. Ah, confound u! Wat a chanje u hav made in yrself! A good reasn for taking to a man, that he shos u wat u hav falen away from, and wat u myt hav been! Chanje places with him, and wud u hav been lookd at by those blu ys as he was, and commiserated by that ajitated face as he was? Com on, and hav it out in plan words! U hate th felo."

   He resortd to his pint of wine for conslation, drank it al in a few minuts, and fel asleep on his arms, with his hair straglng over th table, and a long windng-sheet in th candl dripng down upon him.


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TH JAKL

   THOSE WER drinkng days, and most men drank hard. So very gret is th improvemnt Time has brot about in such habits, that a modrat statemnt of th quantity of wine and punch wich one man wud swalo in th corse of a nyt, without any detrmnt to his reputation as a perfect jentlman, wud seem, in these days, a ridiculus exajration. Th lernd profession of th law was certnly not behind any othr lernd profession in its Bacchanalian propensitis; neithr was Mr. Stryver, alredy fast sholdrng his way to a larj and lucrativ practis, behind his compeers in this particulr, any mor than in th dryr parts of th legal race.

   A favorit at th Old Baily, and eke at th Sessions, Mr. Stryver had begun cautiusly to hew away th loer staves of th ladr on wich he mountd. Sessions and Old Baily had now to sumn ther favorit, specialy, to ther longng arms; and sholdrng itself towards th visaj of th Lord Chief Justice in th Cort of King's Bench, th florid countnnce of Mr. Stryver myt be daily seen, burstng out of th bed of wigs, like a gret sunflowr pushng its way at th sun from among a rank gardn-ful of flaring companions.

   It had once been noted at th Bar, that wile Mr. Stryver was a glib man, and an unscrupulus, and a redy, and a bold, he had not that faclty of extractng th esnce from a heap of statemnts, wich is among th most striking and necesry of th advocat's acomplishmnts. But, a remarkbl improvemnt came upon him as to this. Th mor busness he got, th gretr his powr seemd to gro of getng at its pith and maro; and howevr late at nyt he sat carousng with


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Sydny Cartn, he always had his points at his fingers' ends in th mornng.

   Sydny Cartn, idlest and most unpromisng of men, was Stryver's gret aly. Wat th two drank togethr, between Hilry Term and Miclmas, myt hav floatd a king's ship. Stryver nevr had a case in hand, anywher, but Cartn was ther, with his hands in his pokets, staring at th celing of th cort; they went th same Circuit, and even ther they prolongd ther usul orjis late into th nyt, and Cartn was rumord to be seen at brod day, going home stelthily and unstedily to his lojngs, like a disipated cat. At last, it began to get about, among such as wer intrestd in th matr, that altho Sydny Cartn wud nevr be a lion, he was an amazingly good jakl, and that he rendrd suit and service to Stryver in that humbl capacity.

   "Ten oclok, sir," said th man at th tavrn, hom he had charjd to wake him -- "ten oclok, sir."

   "Wat's th matr?"

   "Ten oclok, sir."

   "Wat do u mean? Ten oclok at nyt?"

   "Yes, sir. Yr onr told me to cal u."

   "O! I remembr. Very wel, very wel."

   Aftr a few dul efrts to get to sleep again, wich th man dexterously combatd by stirng th fire continuusly for five minuts, he got up, tosd his hat on, and walkd out. He turnd into th Templ, and, havng revived himself by twice pacing th pavemnts of King's Bench-walk and Paper-bildngs, turnd into th Stryver chambers.

   Th Stryver clerk, ho nevr asistd at these confrnces, had gon home, and th Stryver principl opend th dor. He had his sliprs on, and a loose bed-gown, and his throat was bare for his gretr ese. He had that rathr wild, straind, seard markng about th ys, wich may be observd in al fre livrs of his class, from th portrit of Jeffries downwrd, and wich can be traced, undr varius disgises of Art, thru th portrits of evry Drinkng Aje.

   "U ar a litl late, Memry," said Stryver.

   "About th usul time; it may be a quartr of an our later."

   They went into a dinjy room lined with books and litrd with papers, wher ther was a blazing fire. A ketl steamd upon th hob, and in th midst of th rek of papers a table shon, with plenty of wine upon it, and brandy, and rum, and sugr, and lemns.

   "U hav had yr botl, I perceve, Sydny."


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   "Two to-nyt, I think. I hav been dining with th day's client; or seing him dine -- it's al one!"

   "That was a rare point, Sydny, that u brot to ber upon th identification. How did u com by it? Wen did it strike u?"

   "I thot he was rathr a hansm felo, and I thot I shud hav been much th same sort of felo, if I had had any luk."

   Mr. Stryver lafd til he shook his precocius paunch.

   "U and yr luk, Sydny! Get to work, get to work."

   Sulenly enuf, th jakl loosnd his dress, went into an ajoinng room, and came bak with a larj jug of cold watr, a basin, and a towl or two. Steeping th towls in th watr, and partialy ringng them out, he foldd them on his hed in a manr hideus to behold, sat down at th table, and said, "Now I am redy!"

   "Not much boilng down to be don to-nyt, Memry," said Mr. Stryver, gaily, as he lookd among his papers.

   "How much?"

   "Only two sets of them."

   "Giv me th worst first."

   "Ther they ar, Sydny. Fire away!"

   Th lion then composed himself on his bak on a sofa on one side of th drinkng-table, wile th jakl sat at his own paper-bestrewn table propr, on th othr side of it, with th botls and glasses redy to his hand. Both resortd to th drinkng-table without stint, but each in a difrnt way; th lion for th most part reclining with his hands in his waistband, lookng at th fire, or ocasionly flirtng with som lytr documnt; th jakl, with nitd brows and intent face, so deep in his task, that his ys did not even folo th hand he strechd out for his glass -- wich ofn groped about, for a minut or mor, befor it found th glass for his lips. Two or thre times, th matr in hand became so notty, that th jakl found it imperativ on him to get up, and steep his towls anew. From these pilgrmajs to th jug and basin, he returnd with such eccentricitis of damp hedgear as no words can describe; wich wer made th mor ludicrus by his anxius gravity.

   At length th jakl had got togethr a compact repast for th lion, and proceedd to ofr it to him. Th lion took it with care and caution, made his selections from it, and his remarks upon it, and th jakl asistd both. Wen th repast was fuly discusd, th lion put his hands in his waistband again, and lay down to mediate. Th jakl then invigorated himself with a bumpr for his throtl, and a fresh aplication


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to his hed, and aplyd himself to th colection of a secnd meal; this was administrd to th lion in th same manr, and was not disposed of until th cloks struk thre in th mornng.

   "And now we hav don, Sydny, fil a bumpr of punch," said Mr. Stryver.

   Th jakl removed th towls from his hed, wich had been steamng again, shook himself, yawnd, shivrd, and complyd.

   "U wer very sound, Sydny, in th matr of those crown witnesses to-day. Evry question told."

   "I always am sound; am I not?"

   "I dont gainsay it. Wat has rufnd yr tempr? Put som punch to it and smooth it again."

   With a deprecatory grunt, th jakl again complyd.

   "Th old Sydny Cartn of old Shrewsbry Scool," said Stryver, nodng his hed over him as he revewd him in th presnt and th past, "th old sesaw Sydny. Up one minut and down th next; now in spirits and now in despondncy!"

   "Ah!" returnd th othr, syng: "yes! Th same Sydny, with th same luk. Even then, I did exrcises for othr boys, and seldm did my own.))

   "And wy not?"

   "God nos. It was my way, I supose."

   He sat, with his hands in his pokets and his legs strechd out befor him, lookng at th fire.

   "Cartn," said his frend, squaring himself at him with a bullying air, as if th fire-grate had been th furnace in wich sustaind endevr was forjd, and th one delicat thing to be don for th old Sydny Cartn of old Shrewsbry Scool was to sholdr him into it, "yr way is, and always was, a lame way. U sumn no enrjy and purpos. Look at me."

   "O, botheration!" returnd Sydny, with a lytr and mor good- humord laf, "dont u be moral!"

   "How hav I don wat I hav don?" said Stryver; "how do I do wat I do?"

   "Partly thru payng me to help u, I supose. But it's not worth yr wile to apostrophise me, or th air, about it; wat u want to do, u do. U wer always in th front rank, and I was always behind."

   "I had to get into th front rank; I was not born ther, was I?"


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   "I was not presnt at th ceremny; but my opinion is u wer," said Cartn. At this, he lafd again, and they both lafd.

   "Befor Shrewsbry, and at Shrewsbry, and evr since Shrewsbry," pursud Cartn, "u hav falen into yr rank, and I hav falen into mine. Even wen we wer felo-students in th Student-Quartr of Paris, pikng up French, and French law, and othr French crums that we didnt get much good of, u wer always somwher, and I was always -- nowher."

   "And hos falt was that?"

   "Upon my sol, I am not sure that it was not yrs. U wer always driving and riving and sholdrng and pasng, to that restless degree that I had no chance for my life but in rust and repose. It's a gloomy thing, howevr, to talk about one's own past, with th day brekng. Turn me in som othr direction befor I go."

   "Wel then! Plej me to th pretty witness," said Stryver, holdng up his glass. "Ar u turnd in a plesnt direction?"

   Aparently not, for he became gloomy again.

   "Pretty witness," he mutrd, lookng down into his glass. "I hav had enuf of witnesses to-day and to-nyt; ho's yr pretty witness?"

   "Th picturesq doctor's dautr, Miss Manette."

   "She pretty?"

   "Is she not?"

   "No."

   "Wy, man alive, she was th admration of th hole Cort!"

   "Rot th admration of th hole Cort! Ho made th Old Baily a juj of buty? She was a goldn-haird dol!"

   "Do u no, Sydny," said Mr. Stryver, lookng at him with sharp ys, and sloly drawng a hand across his florid face: "do u no, I rathr thot, at th time, that u sympathized with th goldn-haird dol, and wer quik to se wat hapnd to th goldn-haird dol?"

   "Quik to se wat hapnd! If a girl, dol or no dol, swoons within a yard or two of a man's nose, he can se it without a perspectiv-glass. I plej u, but I deny th buty. And now I'l hav no mor drink; I'l get to bed."

   Wen his host folod him out on th staircase with a candl, to lyt him down th stairs, th day was coldly lookng in thru its grimy windos. Wen he got out of th house, th air was cold and sad, th dul sky overcast, th rivr dark and dim, th hole sene like a lifeless desrt. And reaths of dust wer spinng round and round befor th mornng


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blast, as if th desrt-sand had risn far away, and th first spray of it in its advance had begun to overwelm th city.

   Waste forces within him, and a desrt al around, this man stood stil on his way across a silent terace, and saw for a moment, lyng in th wildrness befor him, a miraj of onrbl ambition, self-denial, and perseverance. In th fair city of this vision, ther wer airy galris from wich th lovs and graces lookd upon him, gardns in wich th fruits of life hung ripenng, watrs of Hope that sparkld in his syt. A moment, and it was gon. Climbng to a hy chamber in a wel of houses, he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglectd bed, and its pilo was wet with wasted tears.

   Sadly, sadly, th sun rose; it rose upon no sadr syt than th man of good abilitis and good emotions, incapabl of ther directd exrcise, incapabl of his own help and his own happiness, sensbl of th blyt on him, and resynng himself to let it eat him away.

HUNDREDS OF PEPLE

   TH QUIET LOJNGS of Doctr Manette wer in a quiet street-cornr not far from Soho-square. On th aftrnoon of a certn fine Sunday wen th waves of four months had roiled over th trial for treasn, and carrid it, as to th public intrest and memry, far out to se, Mr. Jarvis Lorry walkd along th sunny streets from Clerknwel wher he livd, on his way to dine with th Doctr. Aftr sevrl relapses into busness- absorption, Mr. Lorry had becom th Doctor's frend, and th quiet street-cornr was th sunny part of his life.


Paje 91

   On this certn fine Sunday, Mr. Lorry walkd towards Soho, erly in th aftrnoon, for thre reasns of habit. Firstly, because, on fine Sundays, he ofn walkd out, befor dinr, with th Doctr and Lucie; secndly, because, on unfavorabl Sundays, he was acustmd to be with them as th famly frend, talkng, readng, lookng out of windo, and jenrly getng thru th day; thirdly, because he hapnd to hav his own litl shrewd douts to solv, and new how th ways of th Doctor's houshold pointd to that time as a likely time for solvng them.

   A quainter cornr than th cornr wher th Doctr livd, was not to be found in Londn. Ther was no way thru it, and th front windos of th Doctor's lojngs comandd a plesnt litl vista of street that had a conjenial air of retiremnt on it. Ther wer few bildngs then, north of th Oxfrd-road, and forest-tres flurishd, and wild flowrs grew, and th hawthorn blosmd, in th now vanishd fields. As a consequence, cuntry airs circulated in Soho with vigrus fredm, insted of languishng into th parish like stray pauprs without a setlmnt; and ther was many a good south wal, not far off, on wich th peachs ripend in ther seasn.

   Th sumr lyt struk into th cornr briliantly in th erlir part of th day; but, wen th streets grew hot, th cornr was in shado, tho not in shado so remote but that u cud se beyond it into a glare of brytness. It was a cool spot, staid but cheerful, a wondrful place for ecos, and a very harbr from th rajing streets.

   Ther ot to hav been a tranquil bark in such an ancraj, and ther was. Th Doctr ocupyd two flors of a larj stif house, wher sevrl callings purportd to be pursud by day, but whereof litl was audbl any day, and wich was shund by al of them at nyt. In a bildng at th bak, atainbl by a cortyard wher a plane-tre rusld its green leavs, church-orgns claimd to be made, and silvr to be chased, and likewise gold to be beatn by som mysterius jiant ho had a goldn arm startng out of th wal of th front hal -- as if he had beatn himself precius, and menaced a simlr conversion of al visitrs. Very litl of these trades, or of a lonely lojr rumord to liv up-stairs, or of a dim coach-trimng maker asertd to hav a countng-house belo, was evr herd or seen. Ocasionly, a stray workman putng his coat on, traversd th hal, or a stranjer peerd about ther, or a distnt clink was herd across th cortyard, or a thump from th goldn jiant. These, howevr, wer only th exeptions required to prove th


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rule that th sparos in th plane-tre behind th house, and th ecos in th cornr befor it, had ther own way from Sunday mornng unto Satrday nyt.

   Doctr Manette receved such patients here as his old reputation, and its revival in th floatng wisprs of his story, brot him. His sientific nolej, and his vijlnce and skil in conductng injenius experimnts, brot him othrwise into modrat request, and he ernd as much as he wantd.

   These things wer within Mr. Jarvis Lorry's nolej, thots, and notice, wen he rang th dor-bel of th tranquil house in th cornr, on th fine Sunday aftrnoon.

   "Doctr Manette at home?"

   Expectd home.

   "Miss Lucie at home?"

   Expectd home.

   "Miss Pross at home?"

   Posbly at home, but of a certnty imposbl for handmaid to anticipate intentions of Miss Pross, as to admission or denial of th fact.

   "As I am at home myself," said Mr. Lorry, "I'l go upstairs."

   Altho th Doctor's dautr had nown nothing of th cuntry of her birth, she apeard to hav inately derived from it that ability to make much of litl means, wich is one of its most useful and most agreeabl caractristics. Simpl as th furnitur was, it was set off by so many litl adornmnts, of no valu but for ther taste and fancy, that its efect was delytful. Th disposition of everything in th rooms, from th larjst object to th least; th aranjemnt of colors, th elegnt variety and contrast obtaind by thrift in trifles, by delicat hands, clear ys, and good sense; wer at once so plesnt in themselvs, and so expressiv of ther orijnator, that, as Mr. Lorry stood lookng about him, th very chairs and tables seemd to ask him, with somthing of that peculir expression wich he new so wel by this time, wethr he aproved?

   Ther wer thre rooms on a flor, and, th dors by wich they comunicated being put open that th air myt pass frely thru them al, Mr. Lorry, smilingly observnt of that fanciful resemblnce wich he detectd al around him, walkd from one to anothr. Th first was th best room, and in it wer Lucie's birds, and flowrs, and books, and desk, and work-table, and box of watr-colors; th secnd was th Doctor's consultng-room, used also as th dining-room; th third, changingly spekld by th rusl of th plane-tre in th yard, was th Doctor's bedroom,


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and ther, in a cornr, stood th disused shoemaker's bench and tray of tools, much as it had stood on th fifth flor of th disml house by th wine-shop, in th suburb of Saint Antoine in Paris.

   "I wondr," said Mr. Lorry, pausng in his lookng about, "that he keeps that remindr of his sufrngs about him!"

   "And wy wondr at that?" was th abrupt inquiry that made him start.

   It proceedd from Miss Pross, th wild red womn, strong of hand, ,hos aquaintnce he had first made at th Royl Jorj Hotel at Dover, and had since improved.

   "I shud hav thot -- " Mr. Lorry began.

   "Pooh! U'd hav thot!" said Miss Pross; and Mr. Lorry left off.

   "How do u do?" inquired that lady then -- sharply, and yet as if to express that she bor him no malice.

   "I am pretty wel, I thank u," ansrd Mr. Lorry, with meekness; "how ar u?"

   "Nothing to boast of," said Miss Pross.

   "Indeed?"

   "Ah! indeed!" said Miss Pross. "I am very much put out about my Ladybird."

   "Indeed?"

   "For gracius sake say somthing else besides 'indeed,' or u'l fijet me to deth," said Miss Pross: hos caractr (disociated from statur) was shortness.

   "Realy, then?" said Mr. Lorry, as an amendmnt.

   "Realy, is bad enuf," returnd Miss Pross, "but betr. Yes, I am very much put out."

   "May I ask th cause?"

   "I dont want dozns of peple ho ar not at al worthy of Ladybird, to com here lookng aftr her," said Miss Pross.

   "Do dozns com for that purpos?"

   "Hundreds," said Miss Pross.

   It was caractristic of this lady (as of som othr peple befor her time and since) that wenevr her orijnl proposition was questiond, she exajrated it.

   "Dear me!" said Mr. Lorry, as th safest remark he cud think of.

   "I hav livd with th darlng -- or th darlng has livd with me, and paid me for it; wich she certnly shud nevr hav don, u may take yr afidavit, if I cud hav afordd to keep eithr myself or her for


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nothing -- since she was ten years old. And it's realy very hard," said Miss Pross.

   Not seing with precision wat was very hard, Mr. Lorry shook his hed; using that importnt part of himself as a sort of fairy cloak that wud fit anything.

   "Al sorts of peple ho ar not in th least degree worthy of th pet, ar always turnng up," said Miss Pross. "Wen u began it -- "

   "I began it, Miss Pross?"

   "Didnt u? Ho brot her fathr to life?"

   "O! If that was beginng it -- " said Mr. Lorry.

   "It wasnt endng it, I supose? I say, wen u began it, it was hard enuf; not that I hav any falt to find with Doctr Manette, exept that he is not worthy of such a dautr, wich is no imputation on him, for it was not to be expectd that anybody shud be, undr any circmstnces. But it redy is dubly and trebly hard to hav crowds and multitudes of peple turnng up aftr him (I cud hav forgivn him), to take Ladybird's afections away from me."

   Mr. Lorry new Miss Pross to be very jelus, but he also new her by this time to be, beneath th service of her eccentricity, one of those unselfish creaturs -- found only among women -- ho wil, for pure lov and admration, bind themselvs wilng slaves, to yuth wen they hav lost it, to buty that they nevr had, to acomplishmnts that they wer nevr fortunat enuf to gain, to bryt hopes that nevr shon upon ther own sombr lives. He new enuf of th world to no that ther is nothing in it betr than th faithful service of th hart; so rendrd and so fre from any mercenry taint, he had such an exaltd respect for it, that in th retributive aranjemnts made by his own mind -- we al make such aranjemnts, mor or less -- he stationd Miss Pross much nearr to th loer Anjels than many ladis imesurably betr got up both by Natur and Art, ho had balances at Tellson's.

   "Ther nevr was, nor wil be, but one man worthy of Ladybird," said Miss Pross; "and that was my brothr Solomn, if he hadnt made a mistake in life."

   Here again: Mr. Lorry's inquiris into Miss Pross's persnl histry had establishd th fact that her brothr Solomn was a hartless scoundrl ho had stripd her of everything she posesd, as a stake to speculate with, and had abandnd her in her povrty for evermore, with no tuch of compunction. Miss Pross's fidelity of belief in Solomn (deductng a mere trifle for this slyt mistake) was quite a serius matr with Mr. Lorry, and had its weit in his good opinion of her.


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   "As we hapn to be alone for th moment, and ar both peple of busness," he said, wen they had got bak to th drawng-room and had sat down ther in frendly relations, "let me ask u -- dos th Doctr, in talkng with Lucie, nevr refer to th shoemaking time, yet?"

   "Nevr."

   "And yet keeps that bench and those tools beside him?"

   "Ah!" returnd Miss Pross, shaking her hed. "But I dont say he dont refer to it within himself."

   "Do u beleve that he thinks of it much?"

   "I do," said Miss Pross.

   "Do u imajn -- " Mr. Lorry had begun, wen Miss Pross took him up short with:

   "Nevr imajn anything. Hav no imajnation at al."

   "I stand corectd; do u supose -- u go so far as to supose, somtimes?"

   "Now and then," said Miss Pross.

   "Do u supose," Mr. Lorry went on, with a lafng twinkl in his bryt y, as it lookd kindly at her, "that Doctr Manette has any theory of his own, preservd thru al those years, relativ to th cause of his being so opresd; perhaps, even to th name of his opresr?"

   "I dont supose anything about it but wat Ladybird tels me."

   "And that is -- ?"

   "That she thinks he has."

   "Now dont be angry at my askng al these questions; because I am a mere dul man of busness, and u ar a womn of busness."

   "Dul?" Miss Pross inquired, with placidity.

   Rathr wishng his modest ajectiv away, Mr. Lorry replyd, "No, no, no. Surely not. To return to busness: -- Is it not remarkbl that Doctr Manette, unquestionbly inocent of any crane as we ar al wel asured he is, shud nevr tuch upon that question? I wil not say with me, tho he had busness relations with me many years ago, and we ar now intmat; I wil say with th fair dautr to hom he is so devotedly atachd, and ho is so devotedly atachd to him? Beleve me, Miss Pross, I dont aproach th topic with u, out of curiosity, but out of zelus intrest."

   "Wel! To th best of my undrstandng, and bad's th best, u'l tel me," said Miss Pross, sofnd by th tone of th apolojy, "he is afraid of th hole subject."

   "Afraid?"

   "It's plan enuf, I shud think, wy he may be. It's a dredful remembrnce.


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Besides that, his loss of himself grew out of it. Not noing how he lost himself, or how he recovrd himself, he may nevr feel certn of not losing himself again. That alone wudnt make th subject plesnt, I shud think."

   It was a profounder remark than Mr. Lorry had lookd for. "Tru," said he, "and fearful to reflect upon. Yet, a dout lurks in my mind, Miss Pross, wethr it is good for Doctr Manette to hav that supression always shut up within him. Indeed, it is this dout and th unesiness it somtimes causes me that has led me to our presnt confidnce."

   "Cant be helpd," said Miss Pross, shaking her hed. "Tuch that string, and he instntly chanjes for th worse. Betr leve it alone. In short, must leve it alone, like or no like. Somtimes, he gets up in th ded of th nyt, and wil be herd, by us overhed ther, walkng up and down, walkng up and down, in his room. Ladybird has lernt to no then that his mind is walkng up and down, walkng up and down, in his old prisn. She hurris to him, and they go on togethr, walkng up and down, walkng up and down, until he is composed. But he nevr says a word of th tru reasn of his restlesness, to her, and she finds it best not to hint at it to him. In silence they go walkng up and down togethr, walkng up and down togethr, til her lov and compny hav brot him to himself."

   Notwithstandng Miss Pross's denial of her own imajnation, ther was a perception of th pain of being monotnusly hauntd by one sad idea, in her repetition of th frase, walkng up and down, wich testifyd to her posesng such a thing.

   Th cornr has been mentiond as a wondrful cornr for ecos; it had begun to eco so resoundingly to th tred of comng feet, that it seemd as tho th very mention of that weary pacing to and fro had set it going.

   "Here they ar!" said Miss Pross, rising to brek up th confrnce; "and now we shal hav hundreds of peple pretty soon!"

   It was such a curius cornr in its acusticl proprtis, such a peculir Ear of a place, that as Mr. Lorry stood at th open windo, lookng for th fathr and dautr hos steps he herd, he fancid they wud nevr aproach. Not only wud th ecos die away, as tho th steps had gon; but, ecos of othr steps that nevr came wud be herd in ther sted, and wud die away for good wen they seemd close at hand. Howevr, fathr and dautr did at last apear, and Miss Pross was redy at th street dor to receve them.


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   Miss Pross was a plesnt syt, albeit wild, and red, and grim, taking off her darling's bonet wen she came up-stairs, and tuchng it up with th ends of her hankrchief, and bloing th dust off it, and foldng her mantl redy for layng by, and smoothng her rich hair with as much pride as she cud posbly hav taken in her own hair if she had been th vainest and hansmst of women. Her darlng was a plesnt syt too, embracing her and thankng her, and protestng against her taking so much trubl for her -- wich last she only dared to do playfuly, or Miss Pross, sorly hurt, wud hav retired to her own chamber and cryd. Th Doctr was a plesnt syt too, lookng on at them, and telng Miss Pross how she spoilt Lucie, in accents and with ys that had as much spoilng in them as Miss Pross had, and wud hav had mor if it wer posbl. Mr. Lorry was a plesnt syt too, beamng at al this in his litl wig, and thankng his bachlr stars for havng lytd him in his declining years to a Home. But, no Hundreds of peple came to se th syts, and Mr. Lorry lookd in vain for th fulfilmnt of Miss Pross's prediction.

   Dinr-time, and stil no Hundreds of peple. In th aranjemnts of th litl houshold, Miss Pross took charj of th loer rejons, and always aquitd herself marvlusly. Her dinrs, of a very modest quality, wer so wel cookd and so wel servd, and so neat in ther contrivances, half English and half French, that nothing cud be betr. Miss Pross's frendship being of th thoroly practicl kind, she had ravajd Soho and th ajacent provnces, in serch of impovrishd French, ho, temtd by shilngs and half-crowns, wud impart culinry mystris to her. From these decayd sons and dautrs of Gaul, she had aquired such wondrful arts, that th womn and girl ho formd th staf of domestics regardd her as quite a Sorceress, or Cinderella's Godmothr: ho wud send out for a fowl, a rabit, a vejtbl or two from th gardn, and chanje them into anything she plesed.

   On Sundays, Miss Pross dined at th Doctor's table, but on othr days persistd in taking her meals at unown periods, eithr in th loer rejons, or in her own room on th secnd flor -- a blu chamber, to wich no one but her Ladybird evr gaind admitnce. On this ocasion, Miss Pross, respondng to Ladybird's plesnt face and plesnt efrts to plese her, unbent exeedngly; so th dinr was very plesnt, too.

   It was an opressiv day, and, aftr dinr, Lucie proposed that th wine shud be carrid out undr th plane-tre, and they shud sit ther in th air. As everything turnd upon her, and revolvd about her, they


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went out undr th plane-tre, and she carrid th wine down for th special benefit of Mr. Lorry. She had instald herself, som time befor, as Mr. Lorry's cup-berr; and wile they sat undr th plane-tre, talkng, she kept his glass replenishd. Mysterius baks and ends of houses peepd at them as they talkd, and th plane-tre wisprd to them in its own way abov ther heds.

   Stil, th Hundreds of peple did not presnt themselvs. Mr. Darnay presentd himself wile they wer sitng undr th plane-tre, but he was only One.

   Doctr Manette receved him kindly, and so did Lucie. But, Miss Pross sudnly became aflictd with a twichng in th hed and body, and retired into th house. She was not unfrequently th victm of this disordr, and she cald it, in familir convrsation, "a fit of th jerks."

   Th Doctr was in his best condition, and lookd specialy yung. Th resemblnce between him and Lucie was very strong at such times, and as they sat side by side, she leanng on his sholdr, and he restng his arm on th bak of her chair, it was very agreeabl to trace th likeness.

   He had been talkng al day, on many subjects, and with unusul vivacity. "Pray, Doctr Manette," said Mr. Darnay, as they sat undr th plane-tre -- and he said it in th natrl pursuit of th topic in hand, wich hapnd to be th old bildngs of Londn -- "hav u seen much of th Towr?"

   "Lucie and I hav been ther; but only casuly. We hav seen enuf of it, to no that it teems with intrest; litl mor."

   "I hav been ther, as u remembr," said Darnay, with a smile, tho rednng a litl angrily, "in anothr caractr, and not in a caractr that givs facilitis for seing much of it. They told me a curius thing wen I was ther."

   "Wat was that?" Lucie askd.

   "In making som altrations, th workmen came upon an old dunjn, wich had been, for many years, bilt up and forgotn. Evry stone of its inr wal was covrd by inscriptions wich had been carvd by prisnrs -- dates, names, complaints, and prayrs. Upon a cornr stone in an angl of th wal, one prisnr, ho seemd to hav gon to execution, had cut as his last work, thre letrs. They wer don with som very poor instrumnt, and hurridly, with an unstedy hand. At first, they wer red as D. I. C.; but, on being mor carefuly examnd, th last letr was found to be G. Ther was no record or lejnd of any prisnr with those initials, and many fruitless gesses wer made wat th name


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cud hav been. At length, it was sujestd that th letrs wer not initials, but th complete word, DIG. Th flor was examnd very carefuly undr th inscription, and, in th erth beneath a stone, or tile, or som fragmnt of paving, wer found th ashs of a paper, mingld with th ashs of a smal leathern case or bag. Wat th unown prisnr had ritn wil nevr be red, but he had ritn somthing, and hidn it away to keep it from th gaoler."

   "My fathr," exclaimd Lucie, "u ar il!"

   He had sudnly startd up, with his hand to his hed. His manr and his look quite terifyd them al.

   "No, my dear, not il. Ther ar larj drops of rain falng, and they made me start. We had betr go in."

   He recovrd himself almost instntly. Rain was realy falng in larj drops, and he showd th bak of his hand with rain-drops on it. But, he said not a singl word in refrnce to th discovry that had been told of, and, as they went into th house, th busness y of Mr. Lorry eithr detectd, or fancid it detectd, on his face, as it turnd towards Charls Darnay, th same singulr look that had been upon it wen it turnd towards him in th passajs of th Cort House.

   He recovrd himself so quikly, howevr, that Mr. Lorry had douts of his busness y. Th arm of th goldn jiant in th hal was not mor stedy than he was, wen he stopd undr it to remark to them that he was not yet proof against slyt surprises (if he evr wud be), and that th rain had startld him.

   Te-time, and Miss Pross making te, with anothr fit of th jerks upon her, and yet no Hundreds of peple. Mr. Cartn had lounjd in, but he made only Two.

   Th nyt was so very sultry, that altho they sat with dors and windos open, they wer overpowrd by heat. Wen th te-table was don with, they al moved to one of th windos, and lookd out into th hevy twilyt. Lucie sat by her fathr; Darnay sat beside her; Cartn leand against a windo. Th curtns wer long and wite, and som of th thundr-gusts that wirld into th cornr, caut them up to th celing, and waved them like spectrl wings.

   "Th rain-drops ar stil falng, larj, hevy, and few," said Doctr Manette. "It coms sloly."

   "It coms surely," said Cartn.

   They spoke lo, as peple wachng and waitng mostly do; as peple in a dark room, wachng and waitng for Lytnng, always do.


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   Ther was a gret hurry in th streets of peple speedng away to get sheltr befor th storm broke; th wondrful cornr for ecos resoundd with th ecos of footsteps comng and going, yet not a footstep was ther.

   "A multitude of peple, and yet a solitude!" said Darnay, wen they had lisnd for a wile.

   "Is it not impressiv, Mr. Darnay?" askd Lucie. "Somtimes, I hav sat here of an evenng, until I hav fancid -- but even th shade of a foolish fancy makes me shudr to-nyt, wen al is so blak and solem -- "

   "Let us shudr too. We may no wat it is."

   "It wil seem nothing to u. Such wims ar only impressiv as we orijnate them, I think; they ar not to be comunicated. I hav somtimes sat alone here of an evenng, lisnng, until I hav made th ecos out to be th ecos of al th footsteps that ar comng by-and-by into our lives."

   "Ther is a gret crowd comng one day into our lives, if that be so," Sydny Cartn struk in, in his moody way.

   Th footsteps wer incesnt, and th hurry of them became mor and mor rapid. Th cornr ecod and re-ecod with th tred of feet; som, as it seemd, undr th windos; som, as it seemd, in th room; som comng, som going, som brekng off, som stopng altogethr; al in th distnt streets, and not one within syt.

   "Ar al these footsteps destnd to com to al of us, Miss Manette, or ar we to divide them among us?"

   "I dont no, Mr. Darnay; I told u it was a foolish fancy, but u askd for it. Wen I hav yieldd myself to it, I hav been alone, and then I hav imajnd them th footsteps of th peple ho ar to com into my life, and my father's."

   "I take them into mine!" said Cartn. "I ask no questions and make no stipulations. Ther is a gret crowd berng down upon us, Miss Manette, and I se them -- by th Lytnng." He add th last words, aftr ther had been a vivid flash wich had shown him lounjng in th windo.

   "And I hear them!" he add again, aftr a peal of thundr. "Here they com, fast, fierce, and furius!"

   It was th rush and ror of rain that he typifyd, and it stopd him, for no voice cud be herd in it. A memrbl storm of thundr and lytnng broke with that sweep of watr, and ther was not a moment's intrvl in crash, and fire, and rain, until aftr th moon rose at midnyt.


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   Th gret bel of Saint Paul's was striking one in th cleard air, wen Mr. Lorry, escortd by Jerry, hy-bootd and berng a lantrn, set forth on his return-passaj to Clerknwel. Ther wer solitry pachs of road on th way between Soho and Clerknwel, and Mr. Lorry, mindful of foot-pads, always retaind Jerry for this service: tho it was usuly performd a good two ours erlir.

   "Wat a nyt it has been! Almost a nyt, Jerry," said Mr. Lorry, "to bring th ded out of ther graves."

   "I nevr se th nyt myself, mastr -- nor yet I dont expect to -- wat wud do that," ansrd Jerry.

   "Good nyt, Mr. Cartn," said th man of busness. "Good nyt, Mr. Darnay. Shal we evr se such a nyt again, togethr!"

   Perhaps. Perhaps, se th gret crowd of peple with its rush and ror, berng down upon them, too.

MONSEIGNEUR IN TOWN

   MONSEIGNEUR, one of th gret lords in powr at th Cort, held his fortnytly reception in his grand hotel in Paris. Monseigneur was in his inr room, his sanctury of sancturis, th Holiest of Holiests to th crowd of worshiprs in th suite of rooms without. Monseigneur was about to take his choclat. Monseigneur cud swalo a gret many things with ese, and was by som few sulen minds suposed to be rathr rapidly swaloing France; but, his morning's choclat cud not so much as get into th throat of Monseigneur, without th aid of four strong men besides th Cook.


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   Yes. It took four men, al four ablaze with gorjus decration, and th Chief of them unable to exist with fewr than two gold wachs in his poket, emulative of th noble and chaste fashn set by Monseigneur, to conduct th happy choclat to Monseigneur's lips. One lacquey carrid th choclat-pot into th sacred presnce; a secnd, milld and frothed th choclat with th litl instrumnt he bor for that function; a third, presentd th favord napkn; a fourth (he of th two gold wachs), pord th choclat out. It was imposbl for Monseigneur to dispense with one of these atendnts on th choclat and hold his hy place undr th admiring Hevns. Deep wud hav been th blot upon his escutcheon if his choclat had been ignobly waitd on by only thre men; he must hav died of two.

   Monseigneur had been out at a litl supr last nyt, wher th Comedy and th Grand Opra wer charmngly representd. Monseigneur was out at a litl supr most nyts, with fasnating compny. So polite and so impressible was Monseigneur, that th Comedy and th Grand Opra had far mor influence with him in th tiresm articls of state afairs and state secrets, than th needs of al France. A happy circmstnce for France, as th like always is for al cuntris simlrly favord! -- always was for England (by way of exampl), in th regretd days of th merry Stuart ho sold it.

   Monseigneur had one truly noble idea of jenrl public busness, wich was, to let everything go on in its own way; of particulr public busness, Monseigneur had th othr truly noble idea that it must al go his way -- tend to his own powr and poket. Of his plesurs, jenrl and particulr, Monseigneur had th othr truly noble idea, that th world was made for them. Th text of his ordr (altrd from th orijnl by only a pronoun, wich is not much) ran: "Th erth and th fulness therof ar mine, saith Monseigneur."

   Yet, Monseigneur had sloly found that vulgr embarasmnts crept into his afairs, both privat and public; and he had, as to both classes of afairs, alyd himself perforce with a Farmr-Jenrl. As to finances public, because Monseigneur cud not make anything at al of them, and must consequently let them out to sombody ho cud; as to finances privat, because Farmr-Jenrls wer rich, and Monseigneur, aftr jenrations of gret luxury and expense, was groing poor. Hence Monseigneur had taken his sistr from a convnt, wile ther was yet time to ward off th impendng veil, th cheapst garmnt she cud wer, and had bestod her as a prize upon a very rich Farmr-Jenrl, poor in


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famly. Wich Farmr-Jenrl, carrying an apropriat cane with a goldn apl on th top of it, was now among th compny in th outr rooms, much prostrated befor by mankind -- always exeptng superir mankind of th blod of Monseigneur, ho, his own wife included, lookd down upon him with th loftiest contemt.

   A sumtuus man was th Farmr-Jenrl. Thirty horses stood in his stables, twenty-four male domestics sat in his hals, six body-women waitd on his wife. As one ho pretendd to do nothing but plundr and foraj wher he cud, th Farmr-Jenrl -- howsoever his matrimonial relations conduced to social morality -- was at least th gretst reality among th persnajs ho atendd at th hotel of Monseigneur that day.

   For, th rooms, tho a butiful sene to look at, and adornd with evry device of decration that th taste and skil of th time cud acheve, wer, in truth, not a sound busness; considrd with any refrnce to th scarecrows in th rags and nightcaps elswher (and not so far off, eithr, but that th wachng towrs of Notre Dame, almost equidistnt from th two extremes, cud se them both), they wud hav been an exeedngly uncomfrtbl busness -- if that cud hav been anybody's busness, at th house of Monseigneur. Militry oficers destitute of militry nolej; naval oficers with no idea of a ship; civl oficers without a notion of afairs; brazen ecclesiastics, of th worst world worldly, with sensul ys, loose tongs, and loosr lives; al totaly unfit for ther sevrl callings, al lyng horibly in pretendng to belong to them, but al nearly or remotely of th ordr of Monseigneur, and therfor foistd on al public employments from wich anything was to be got; these wer to be told off by th scor and th scor. Peple not imediatly conectd with Monseigneur or th State, yet equaly unconectd with anything that was real, or with lives pasd in travlng by any strait road to any tru erthly end, wer no less abundnt. Doctrs ho made gret fortunes out of dainty remedis for imajnry disordrs that nevr existd, smiled upon ther cortly patients in th ante-chambers of Monseigneur. Projectrs ho had discovrd evry kind of remedy for th litl evils with wich th State was tuchd, exept th remedy of setng to work in ernest to root out a singl sin, pord ther distractng babl into any ears they cud lay hold of, at th reception of Monseigneur. Unbeleving Filosofrs ho wer remodelling th world with words, and making card-towrs of Babel to scale th skys with, talkd with Unbeleving Chemists ho had


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an y on th transmutation of metls, at this wondrful gathrng acumulated by Monseigneur. Exquisit jentlmen of th finest breedng, wich was at that remarkbl time -- and has been since -- to be nown by its fruits of indifrnce to evry natrl subject of human intrest, wer in th most exemplry state of exaustion, at th hotel of Monseigneur. Such homes had these varius notabilities left behind them in th fine world of Paris, that th spys among th asembld devotes of Monseigneur -- formng a goodly half of th polite compny -- wud hav found it hard to discovr among th anjels of that sfere one solitry wife, ho, in her manrs and apearnce, ownd to being a Mothr. Indeed, exept for th mere act of bringng a trublsm creatur into this world -- wich dos not go far towards th realization of th name of mothr -- ther was no such thing nown to th fashn. Pesnt women kept th unfashionbl babis close, and brot them up, and charmng, grandmammas of sixty dresd and supped as at twenty.

   Th leprosy of unreality disfigrd evry human creatur in atendnce upon Monseigneur. In th outrmost room wer half a dozn exeptionl peple ho had had, for a few years, som vage misgivng in them that things in jenrl wer going rathr rong. As a promisng way of setng them ryt, half of th half-dozn had becom membrs of a fantastic sect of Convulsionists, and wer even then considrng within themselvs wethr they shud foam, raje, ror, and turn cataleptic on th spot -- therby setng up a hyly intelijbl fingr-post to th Futur, for Monseigneur's gidance. Besides these Dervishs, wer othr thre ho had rushd into anothr sect, wich mendd matrs with a jargn about "th Centr of Truth:" holdng that Man had got out of th Centr of Truth -- wich did not need much demnstration -- but had not got out of th Circumfrnce, and that he was to be kept from flyng out of th Circumfrnce, and was even to be shovd bak into th Centr, by fastng and seing of spirits. Among these, acordngly, much discoursing with spirits went on -- and it did a world of good wich nevr became manifest.

   But, th comfrt was, that al th compny at th grand hotel of Monseigneur wer perfectly dresd. If th Day of Jujmnt had only been acertaind to be a dress day, evrybody ther wud hav been eternly corect. Such frizzling and powdrng and stikng up of hair, such delicat complexions artificialy preservd and mendd, such galant sords to look at, and such delicat onr to th sense of smel, wud surely keep anything going, for evr and evr. Th exquisit jentlmen


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of th finest breedng wor litl pendnt trinkets that chinked as they languidly moved; these goldn fetrs rang like precius litl bels; and wat with that ringng, and with th rusl of silk and brocade and fine linn, ther was a flutr in th air that fand Saint Antoine and his devourng hungr far away.

   Dress was th one unfailng talismn and charm used for keepng al things in ther places. Evrybody was dresd for a Fancy Bal that was nevr to leve off. From th Palace of th Tuileries, thru Monseigneur and th hole Cort, thru th Chambers, th Tribunals of Justice, and al society (exept th scarecrows), th Fancy Bal desendd to th Comn Executionr: ho, in pursuance of th charm, was required to officiate "frizzled, powdrd, in a gold-laced coat, pumps, and wite silk stokngs." At th galos and th weel -- th ax was a rarity -- Mosier Paris, as it was th episcopl mode among his brothr Profesrs of th provnces, Mosier Orleans, and th rest, to cal him, presided in this dainty dress. And ho among th compny at Monseigneur's reception in that sevnteen hundred and eitieth year of our Lord, cud posbly dout, that a systm rootd in a frizzled hangman, powdrd, gold-laced, pumpd, and wite-silk stokngd, wud se th very stars out!

   Monseigneur havng esed his four men of ther burdns and taken his choclat, causd th dors of th Holiest of Holiests to be thrown open, and isud forth. Then, wat submission, wat crinjng and fawnng, wat servility, wat abject humiliation! As to bowng down in body and spirit, nothing in that way was left for Hevn -- wich may hav been one among othr reasns wy th worshiprs of Monseigneur nevr trubld it.

   Bestoing a word of promis here and a smile ther, a wispr on one happy slave and a wave of th hand on anothr, Monseigneur afbly pasd thru his rooms to th remote rejon of th Circumfrnce of Truth. Ther, Monseigneur turnd, and came bak again, and so in du corse of time got himself shut up in his sanctury by th choclat sprites, and was seen no mor.

   Th sho being over, th flutr in th air became quite a litl storm, and th precius litl bels went ringng down-stairs. Ther was soon but one persn left of al th crowd, and he, with his hat undr his arm and his snuf-box in his hand, sloly pasd among th mirrs on his way out.


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   "I devote u," said this persn, stopng at th last dor on his way, and turnng in th direction of th sanctury, "to th Devl!"

   With that, he shook th snuf from his fingrs as if he had shaken th dust from his feet, and quietly walkd down-stairs.

   He was a man of about sixty, hansmly dresd, hauty in manr, and with a face like a fine mask. A face of a transparent paleness; evry featur in it clearly defined; one set expression on it. Th nose, butifuly formd othrwise, was very slytly pinchd at th top of each nostril. In those two compressions, or dints, th only litl chanje that th face evr showd, resided. They persistd in chanjing color somtimes, and they wud be ocasionly dilated and contractd by somthing like a faint pulsation; then, they gave a look of trechry, and cruelty, to th hole countnnce. Examnd with atention, its capacity of helpng such a look was to be found in th line of th mouth, and th lines of th orbits of th ys, being much too horizontl and thin; stil, in th efect of th face made, it was a hansm face, and a remarkbl one.

   Its ownr went down-stairs into th cortyard, got into his carrij, and drove away. Not many peple had talkd with him at th reception; he had stood in a litl space apart, and Monseigneur myt hav been warmr in his manr. It apeard, undr th circmstnces, rathr agreeabl to him to se th comn peple dispersd befor his horses, and ofn barely escaping from being run down. His man drove as if he wer charjng an enmy, and th furius reklesness of th man brot no chek into th face, or to th lips, of th mastr. Th complaint had somtimes made itself audbl, even in that def city and dum aje, that, in th naro streets without footways, th fierce patrician custm of hard driving endanjerd and maimd th mere vulgr in a barbrus manr. But, few cared enuf for that to think of it a secnd time, and, in this matr, as in al othrs, th comn rechs wer left to get out of ther dificltis as they cud.

   With a wild ratl and clatr, and an inhuman abandnmnt of considration not esy to be undrstood in these days, th carrij dashd thru streets and swept round cornrs, with women screamng befor it, and men cluchng each othr and cluchng children out of its way. At last, swoopng at a street cornr by a fountn, one of its weels came to a siknng litl jolt, and ther was a loud cry from a numbr of voices, and th horses reard and plunjd.

   But for th latr inconvenience, th carrij probbly wud not


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hav stopd; carrijs wer ofn nown to drive on, and leve ther woundd behind, and wy not? But th frytnd valet had got down in a hurry, and ther wer twenty hands at th horses' bridles.

   "Wat has gon rong?" said Mosier, calmly lookng out.

   A tal man in a nytcap had caut up a bundl from among th feet of th horses, and had laid it on th basemnt of th fountn, and was down in th mud and wet, howlng over it like a wild anml.

   "Pardn, Mosier th Marquis!" said a raged and submissiv man, "it is a child."

   "Wy dos he make that abomnbl noise? Is it his child?"

   "Excuse me, Mosier th Marquis -- it is a pity -- yes."

   Th fountn was a litl removed; for th street opend, wher it was, into a space som ten or twelv yards square. As th tal man sudnly got up from th ground, and came runng at th carrij, Mosier th Marquis clapd his hand for an instnt on his sord-hilt.

   "Kild!" shriekd th man, in wild despration, extendng both arms at ther length abov his hed, and staring at him. "Ded!"

   Th peple closed round, and lookd at Mosier th Marquis. Ther was nothing reveald by th many ys that lookd at him but wachfulness and eagrness; ther was no visbl menacing or angr. Neithr did th peple say anything; aftr th first cry, they had been silent, and they remaind so. Th voice of th submissiv man ho had spoken, was flat and tame in its extreme submission. Mosier th Marquis ran his ys over them al, as if they had been mere rats com out of ther holes.

   He took out his purse.

   "It is extrordnry to me," said he, "that u peple canot take care of yrselvs and yr children. One or th othr of u is for evr in th, way. How do I no wat injry u hav don my horses. Se! Giv him that."

   He threw out a gold coin for th valet to pik up, and al th heds craned forwrd that al th ys myt look down at it as it fel. Th tal man cald out again with a most unerthly cry, "Ded!"

   He was arestd by th quik arival of anothr man, for hom th rest made way. On seing him, th misrbl creatur fel upon his sholdr, sobng and cryng, and pointng to th fountn, wher som women wer stoopng over th motionless bundl, and moving jently about it. They wer as silent, howevr, as th men.

   "I no al, I no al," said th last comr. "Be a brave man, my Gaspard! It is betr for th poor litl plaything to die so, than to liv.


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It has died in a moment without pain. Cud it hav livd an our as happily?"

   "U ar a filosofr, u ther," said th, Marquis, smiling. "How do they cal u?"

   "They cal me Defarge."

   "Of wat trade?"

   "Mosier th Marquis, vendr of wine."

   "Pik up that, filosofr and vendr of wine," said th Marquis, throing him anothr gold coin, "and spend it as u wil. Th horses ther; ar they ryt?"

   Without deigning to look at th asemblaj a secnd time, Mosier th Marquis leand bak in his seat, and was just being drivn away with th air of a jentlman ho had accidently broke som comn thing, and had paid for it, and cud aford to pay for it; wen his ese was sudnly disturbd by a coin flyng into his carrij, and ringng on its flor.

   "Hold!" said Mosier th Marquis. "Hold th horses! Ho threw that?"

   He lookd to th spot wher Defarge th vendr of wine had stood, a moment befor; but th reched fathr was grovlng on his face on th pavemnt in that spot, and th figr that stood beside him was th figr of a dark stout womn, nitng.

   "U dogs!" said th Marquis, but smoothly, and with an unchanjed front, exept as to th spots on his nose: "I wud ride over any of u very wilngly, and extermnate u from th erth. If I new wich rascl threw at th carrij, and if that brignd wer suficiently near it, he shud be crushd undr th weels."

   So cowd was ther condition, and so long and hard ther experience of wat such a man cud do to them, within th law and beyond it, that not a voice, or a hand, or even an y was rased. Among th men, not one. But th womn ho stood nitng lookd up stedily, and lookd th Marquis in th face. It was not for his dignity to notice it; his contemtuus ys pasd over her, and over al th othr rats; and he leand bak in his seat again, and gave th word "Go on!"

   He was drivn on, and othr carrijs came wirlng by in quik succession; th Ministr, th State-Projectr, th Farmr-Jenrl, th Doctr, th Lawyr, th Ecclesiastic, th Grand Opra, th Comedy, th hole Fancy Bal in a bryt continuus flo, came wirlng by. Th rats had crept out of ther holes to look on, and they remaind


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lookng on for ours; soldirs and police ofn pasng between them and th spectacl, and making a barir behind wich they slunk, and thru wich they peepd. Th fathr had long ago taken up his bundl and bidn himself away with it, wen th women ho had tendd th bundl wile it lay on th base of th fountn, sat ther wachng th runng of th watr and th rolng of th Fancy Bal -- wen th one womn ho had stood conspicuus, nitng, stil nitd on with th stedfastness of Fate. Th watr of th fountn ran, th swift rivr ran, th day ran into evenng, so much life in th city ran into deth acordng to rule, time and tide waitd for no man, th rats wer sleepng close togethr in ther dark holes again, th Fancy Bal was lytd up at supr, al things ran ther corse.

MONSEIGNEUR IN TH CUNTRY

   A BUTIFUL LANDSCAPE, with th corn bryt in it, but not abundnt. Pachs of poor ry wher com shud hav been, pachs of poor pes and beans, pachs of most corse vejtbl substitutes for weat. On inanmat natur, as on th men and women ho cultivated it, a prevlnt tendncy towards an apearnce of vegetating unwilngly -- a dejectd disposition to giv up, and withr away.

   Mosier th Marquis in his travlng carrij (wich myt hav been lytr), conductd by four post-horses and two postilions, fagd up a steep hil. A blush on th countnnce of Mosier th Marquis was no impeachmnt of his hy breedng; it was not from within; it was ocasiond by an externl circmstnce beyond his control -- th setng sun.


Paje 110

   Th sunset struk so briliantly into th travlng carrij wen it gaind th hil-top, that its ocupnt was steepd in crimsn. "It wil die out," said Mosier th Marquis, glancing at his hands, "directly."

   In efect, th sun was so lo that it dipd at th moment. Wen th hevy drag had been ajustd to th weel, and th carrij slid down hil, with a cinderous smel, in a cloud of dust, th red glo departd quikly; th sun and th Marquis going down togethr, ther was no glo left wen th drag was taken off.

   But, ther remaind a broken cuntry, bold and open, a litl vilaj at th botm of th hil, a brod sweep and rise beyond it, a church- towr, a windmil, a forest for th chase, and a crag with a fortress on it used as a prisn. Round upon al these darknng objects as th nyt drew on, th Marquis lookd, with th air of one ho was comng near home.

   Th vilaj had its one poor street, with its poor brewry, poor tanry, poor tavrn, poor stable-yard for relays of post-horses, poor fountn, al usul poor apointmnts. It had its poor peple too. Al its peple wer poor, and many of them wer sitng at ther dors, shredng spare onions and th like for supr, wile many wer at th fountn, washng leavs, and grasses, and any such smal yieldings of th erth that cud be eatn. Expressiv sips of wat made them poor, wer not wantng; th tax for th state, th tax for th church, th tax for th lord, tax local and tax jenrl, wer to be paid here and to be paid ther, acordng to solem inscription in th litl vilaj, until th wondr was, that ther was any vilaj left unswallowed.

   Few children wer to be seen, and no dogs. As to th men and women, ther choice on erth was stated in th prospect -- Life on th loest terms that cud sustain it, down in th litl vilaj undr th mil; or captivity and Deth in th domnnt prisn on th crag.

   Heraldd by a courir in advance, and by th crakng of his postilions' wips, wich twined snake-like about ther heds in th evenng air, as if he came atendd by th Furis, Mosier th Marquis drew up in his travlng carrij at th postng-house gate. It was hard by th fountn, and th pesnts suspendd ther oprations to look at him. He lookd at them, and saw in them, without noing it, th slo sure filing down of misry-worn face and figr, that was to make th meagreness of Frenchmen an English superstition wich shud survive th truth thru th best part of a hundred years.

   Mosier th Marquis cast his ys over th submissiv faces that


Paje 111

droopd befor him, as th like of himself had droopd befor Monseigneur of th Cort -- only th difrnce was, that these faces droopd merely to sufr and not to propitiate -- wen a grizld mender of th roads joind th group.

   "Bring me hithr that felo!" said th Marquis to th courir.

   Th felo was brot, cap in hand, and th othr felos closed round to look and lisn, in th manr of th peple at th Paris fountn.

   "I pasd u on th road?"

   "Monseigneur, it is tru. I had th onr of being pasd on th road."

   "Comng up th hil, and at th top of th hil, both?"

   "Monseigneur, it is tru."

   "Wat did u look at, so fixedly?"

   "Monseigneur, I lookd at th man."

   He stoopd a litl, and with his tatrd blu cap pointd undr th carrij. Al his felos stoopd to look undr th carrij.

   "Wat man, pig? And wy look ther?"

   "Pardn, Monseigneur; he swung by th chain of th shoe -- th drag."

   "Ho?" demandd th travlr.

   "Monseigneur, th man."

   "May th Devl carry away these idiots! How do u can th man? U no al th men of this part of th cuntry. Ho was he?"

   "Yr clemncy, Monseigneur! He was not of this part of th cuntry. Of al th days of my life, I nevr saw him."

   "Swingng by th chain? To be sufocated?"

   "With yr gracius permission, that was th wondr of it, Monseigneur. His hed hangng over -- like this!"

   He turnd himself sideways to th carrij, and leand bak, with his face thrown up to th sky, and his hed hangng down; then recovrd himself, fumbld with his cap, and made a bo.

   "Wat was he like?"

   "Monseigneur, he was witer than th milr. Al covrd with dust, wite as a spectr, tal as a spectr!"

   Th pictur produced an imense sensation in th litl crowd; but al ys, without comparing notes with othr ys, lookd at Mosier th Marquis. Perhaps, to observ wethr he had any spectr on his concience.


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   "Truly, u did wel," said th Marquis, felicitously sensbl that such vermn wer not to rufl him, "to se a thief acompnying my carrij, and not open that gret mouth of yrs. Ba! Put him aside, Mosier Gabelle!"

   Mosier Gabelle was th Postmastr, and som othr taxng functionry united; he had com out with gret obsequiousness to asist at this examnation, and had held th examnd by th drapery of his arm in an oficial manr.

   "Ba! Go aside!" said Mosier Gabelle.

   "Lay hands on this stranjer if he seeks to loj in yr vilaj to- nyt, and be sure that his busness is onest, Gabelle."

   "Monseigneur, I am flatrd to devote myself to yr ordrs."

   "Did he run away, felo? -- wher is that Acursed?"

   Th acursed was alredy undr th carrij with som half-dozn particulr frends, pointng out th chain with his blu cap. Som half- dozn othr particulr frends promtly hauld him out, and presentd him brethless to Mosier th Marquis.

   "Did th man run away, Dolt, wen we stopd for th drag?"

   "Monseigneur, he precipitated himself over th hil-side, hed first, as a persn plunjs into th rivr."

   "Se to it, Gabelle. Go on!"

   Th half-dozn ho wer peerng at th chain wer stil among th weels, ne sheep; th weels turnd so sudnly that they wer lucky to save ther skins and bones; they had very litl else to save, or they myt not hav been so fortunat.

   Th burst with wich th carrij startd out of th vilaj and up th rise beyond, was soon chekd by th steepness of th hil. Graduly, it subsided to a foot pace, swingng and lumbrng upwrd among th many sweet sents of a sumr nyt. Th postilions, with a thousnd gosmr nats circlng about them in lu of th Furis, quietly mendd th points to th lashs of ther wips; th valet walkd by th horses; th courir was audbl, trotng on ahed into th dun distnce.

   At th steepst point of th hil ther was a litl burial-ground, with a Cross and a new larj figr of Our Savir on it; it was a poor figr in wood, don by som inexperienced rustic carvr, but he had studid th figr from th life -- his own life, maybe -- for it was dredfuly spare and thin.

   To this distressful emblm of a gret distress that had long been groing worse, and was not at its worst, a womn was neelng. She


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turnd her hed as th carrij came up to her, rose quikly, and presentd herself at th carrij-dor.

   "It is u, Monseigneur! Monseigneur, a petition."

   With an exclmation of impatience, but with his unchangeable face, Monseigneur lookd out.

   "How, then! Wat is it? Always petitions!"

   "Monseigneur. For th lov of th gret God! My husbnd, th forestr. "

   "Wat of yr husbnd, th forestr? Always th same with u peple. He canot pay somthing?"

   "He has paid al, Monseigneur. He is ded."

   "Wel! He is quiet. Can I restor him to u?"

   "Alas, no, Monseigneur! But he lies yondr, undr a litl heap of poor grass."

   "Wel?"

   "Monseigneur, ther ar so many litl heaps of poor grass?"

   "Again, wel?"

   She lookd an old womn, but was yung. Her manr was one of passionat grief; by turns she claspd her veinous and notd hands togethr with wild enrjy, and laid one of them on th carrij-dor -- tendrly, caressingly, as if it had been a human brest, and cud be expectd to feel th apealng tuch.

   "Monseigneur, hear me! Monseigneur, hear my petition! My husbnd died of want; so many die of want; so many mor wil die of want."

   "Again, wel? Can I feed them?"

   "Monseigneur, th good God nos; but I dont ask it. My petition is, that a morsl of stone or wood, with my husband's name, may be placed over him to sho wher he lies. Othrwise, th place wil be quikly forgotn, it wil nevr be found wen I am ded of th same malady, I shal be laid undr som othr heap of poor grass. Monseigneur, they ar so many, they increse so fast, ther is so much want. Monseigneur! Monseigneur!"

   Th valet had put her away from th dor, th carrij had broken into a brisk trot, th postilions had quiknd th pace, she was left far behind, and Monseigneur, again escortd by th Furis, was rapidly diminishng th leag or two of distnce that remaind between him and his chatau.

   Th sweet sents of th sumr nyt rose al around him, and rose, as th rain fals, impartialy, on th dusty, raged, and toil-worn group


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at th fountn not far away; to hom th mender of roads, with th aid of th blu cap without wich he was nothing, stil enlarjd upon his man like a spectr, as long as they cud ber it. By degrees, as they cud ber no mor, they dropd off one by one, and lyts twinkld in litl casements; wich lyts, as th casements darknd, and mor stars came out, seemd to hav shot up into th sky insted of havng been extinguishd.

   Th shado of a larj hy-roofd house, and of many over-hangng tres, was upon Mosier th Marquis by that time; and th shado was exchanjed for th lyt of a flambeau, as his carrij stopd, and th gret dor of his chatau was opend to him.

   "Mosier Charls, hom I expect; is he arived from England?"

   "Monseigneur, not yet."

TH GORGON'S HED

   IT WAS a hevy mass of bildng, that chatau of Mosier th Marquis, with a larj stone cortyard befor it, and two stone sweeps of staircase meetng in a stone terace befor th principl dor. A stony busness altogethr, with hevy stone balustrades, and stone urns, and stone flowrs, and stone faces of men, and stone heds of lions, in al directions. As if th Gorgon's hed had surveyd it, wen it was finishd, two centuris ago.

   Up th brod flyt of shalo steps, Mosier th Marquis, flambeau preceded, went from his carrij, suficiently disturbng th darkns to elicit loud remonstrance from an owl in th roof of th gret pile of


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stable bildng away among th tres. Al else was so quiet, that th flambeau carrid up th steps, and th othr flambeau held at th gret dor, burnt as if they wer in a close room of state, insted of being in th open nyt-air. Othr sound than th owl's voice ther was non, save th failng of a fountn into its stone basin; for, it was one of those dark nyts that hold ther breth by th our togethr, and then heve a long lo sy, and hold ther breth again.

   Th gret dor clangd behind him, and Mosier th Marquis crosd a hal grim with certn old bor-spears, sords, and nives of th chase; grimr with certn hevy riding-rods and riding-wips, of wich many a pesnt, gon to his benefactr Deth, had felt th weit wen his lord was angry.

   Avoidng th larjr rooms, wich wer dark and made fast for th nyt, Mosier th Marquis, with his flambeau-berr going on befor, went up th staircase to a dor in a coridr. This thrown open, admitd him to his own privat apartmnt of thre rooms: his bed-chamber and two othrs. Hy valtd rooms with cool uncarpetd flors, gret dogs upon th harths for th burnng of wood in wintr time, and al luxuris befitng th state of a marquis in a luxurius aje and cuntry. Th fashn of th last Lui but one, of th line that was nevr to brek -- th forteenth Lui -- was conspicuus in ther rich furnitur; but, it was diversifyd by many objects that wer ilustrations of old pajes in th histry of France.

   A supr-table was laid for two, in th third of th rooms; a round room, in one of th chateau's four extinguishr-topd towrs. A smal lofty room, with its windo wide open, and th woodn jalousie-blinds closed, so that th dark nyt only showd in slyt horizontl lines of blak, altrnating with ther brod lines of stone color.

   "My nefew," said th Marquis, glancing at th supr prepration; "they said he was not arived."

   Nor was he; but, he had been expectd with Monseigneur.

   "Ah! It is not probbl he wil arive to-nyt; nevrthless, leve th table as it is. I shal be redy in a quartr of an our."

   In a quartr of an our Monseigneur was redy, and sat down alone to his sumtuus and choice supr. His chair was oposit to th windo, and he had taken his soup, and was rasing his glass of Bordeaux to his lips, wen he put it down.

   "Wat is that?" he calmly askd, lookng with atention at th horizontl lines of blak and stone color.


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   "Monseigneur? That?"

   "Outside th blinds. Open th blinds."

   It was don.

   "Wel?"

   "Monseigneur, it is nothing. Th tres and th nyt ar al that ar here."

   Th servnt ho spoke, had thrown th blinds wide, had lookd out into th vacant darkns, and stood with that blank behind him, lookng round for instructions.

   "Good," said th imperturbbl mastr. "Close them again."

   That was don too, and th Marquis went on with his supr. He was half way thru it, wen he again stopd with his glass in his hand, hearng th sound of weels. It came on briskly, and came up to th front of th chatau.

   "Ask ho is arived."

   It was th nefew of Monseigneur. He had been som few leags behind Monseigneur, erly in th aftrnoon. He had diminishd th distnce rapidly, but not so rapidly as to com up with Monseigneur on th road. He had herd of Monseigneur, at th postng-houses, as being befor him.

   He was to be told (said Monseigneur) that supr awaitd him then and ther, and that he was prayd to com to it. In a litl wile he came. He had been nown in England as Charls Darnay.

   Monseigneur receved him in a cortly manr, but they did not shake hands.

   "U left Paris yestrday, sir?" he said to Monseigneur, as he took his seat at table.

   "Yestrday. And u?"

   "I com direct."

   "From Londn?"

   "Yes."

   "U hav been a long time comng," said th Marquis, with a smile.

   "On th contry; I com direct."

   "Pardn me! I mean, not a long time on th jurny; a long time intendng th jurny."

   "I hav been detaind by" -- th nefew stopd a moment in his ansr -- "varius busness."

   "Without dout," said th polishd uncl.


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   So long as a servnt was presnt, no othr words pasd between them. Wen cofee had been servd and they wer alone togethr, th nefew, lookng at th uncl and meetng th ys of th face that was like a fine mask, opend a convrsation.

   "I hav com bak, sir, as u anticipate, pursuing th object that took me away. It carrid me into gret and unexpectd peril; but it is a sacred object, and if it had carrid me to deth I hope it wud hav sustaind me."

   "Not to deth," said th uncl; "it is not necesry to say, to deth."

   "I dout, sir," returnd th nefew, "wethr, if it had carrid me to th utmost brink of deth, u wud hav cared to stop me ther."

   Th deepnd marks in th nose, and th lengthnng of th fine strait lines in th cruel face, lookd omnus as to that; th uncl made a graceful jestur of protest, wich was so clearly a slyt form of good breedng that it was not reasuring.

   "Indeed, sir," pursud th nefew, "for anything I no, u may hav expresly workd to giv a mor suspicius apearnce to th suspicius circmstnces that suroundd me."

   "No, no, no," said th uncl, plesntly.

   "But, howevr that may be," resumed th nefew, glancing at him with deep distrust, "I no that yr diplomacy wud stop me by any means, and wud no no scruple as to means."

   "My frend, I told u so," said th uncl, with a fine pulsation in th two marks. "Do me th favor to recal that I told u so, long ago."

   "I recal it."

   "Thank u," said th Marquis -- very sweetly indeed.

   His tone lingrd in th air, almost like th tone of a musicl instrumnt.

   "In efect, sir," pursud th nefew, "I beleve it to be at once yr bad fortune, and my good fortune, that has kept me out of a prisn in France here."

   "I do not quite undrstand," returnd th uncl, sipng his cofee. "Dare I ask u to explain?"

   "I beleve that if u wer not in disgrace with th Cort, and had not been overshadod by that cloud for years past, a letr de cachet wud hav sent me to som fortress indefnitly."

   "It is posbl," said th uncl, with gret calmness. "For th onr of th famly, I cud even resolv to incommode u to that extent. Pray excuse me!"


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   "I perceve that, happily for me, th Reception of th day befor yestrday was, as usul, a cold one," observd th nefew.

   "I wud not say happily, my frend," returnd th uncl, with refined politeness; "I wud not be sure of that. A good oprtunity for considration, suroundd by th advantajs of solitude, myt influence yr destny to far gretr advantaj than u influence it for yrself. But it is useless to discuss th question. I am, as u say, at a disadvantaj. These litl instrumnts of corection, these jentl aids to th powr and onr of famlis, these slyt favors that myt so incommode u, ar only to be obtaind now by intrest and importunity. They ar sot by so many, and they ar grantd (comparativly) to so few! It used not to be so, but France in al such things is chanjed for th worse. Our not remote ancestrs held th ryt of life and deth over th suroundng vulgr. From this room, many such dogs hav been taken out to be hangd; in th next room (my bedroom), one felo, to our nolej, was poniarded on th spot for profesng som inslnt delicacy respectng his dautr -- his dautr? We hav lost many privlejs; a new filosofy has becom th mode; and th asertion of our station, in these days, myt (I do not go so far as to say wud, but myt) cause us real inconvenience. Al very bad, very bad!"

   Th Marquis took a jentl litl pinch of snuf, and shook his hed; as elegntly despondnt as he cud becomingly be of a cuntry stil containng himself, that gret means of rejenration.

   "We hav so asertd our station, both in th old time and in th modrn time also," said th nefew, gloomily, "that I beleve our name to be mor detestd than any name in France."

   "Let us hope so," said th uncl. "Detestation of th hy is th involuntry homaj of th lo."

   "Ther is not," pursud th nefew, in his formr tone, "a face I can look at, in al this cuntry round about us, wich looks at me with any defrnce on it but th dark defrnce of fear and slavery."

   "A complmnt," said th Marquis, "to th grandur of th famly, meritd by th manr in wich th famly has sustaind its grandur. Ha!" And he took anothr jentl litl pinch of snuf, and lytly crosd his legs.

   But, wen his nefew, leanng an elbo on th table, covrd his ys thotfuly and dejectdly with his hand, th fine mask lookd at him sideways with a strongr concentration of keeness, closeness, and


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dislike, than was comportable with its wearer's asumtion of indifrnce.

   "Repression is th only lastng filosofy. Th dark defrnce of fear and slavery, my frend," observd th Marquis, "wil keep th dogs obedient to th wip, as long as this roof," lookng up to it, "shuts out th sky."

   That myt not be so long as th Marquis suposed. If a pictur of th chatau as it was to be a very few years hence, and of fifty like it as they too wer to be a very few years hence, cud hav been shown to him that nyt, he myt hav been at a loss to claim his own from th gastly, fire-chard, plundr-rekd rains. As for th roof he vauntd, he myt hav found that shutng out th sky in a new way -- to wit, for evr, from th ys of th bodis into wich its led was fired, out of th barels of a hundred thousnd muskets.

   "Meanwile," said th Marquis, "I wil preserv th onr and repose of th famly, if u wil not. But u must be fatiged. Shal we termnate our confrnce for th nyt?"

   "A moment mor."

   "An our, if u plese."

   "Sir," said th nefew, "we hav don rong, and ar reapng th fruits of rong."

   "We hav don rong?" repeatd th Marquis, with an inquiring smile, and delicatly pointng, first to his nefew, then to himself.

   "Our famly; our onrbl famly, hos onr is of so much acount to both of us, in such difrnt ways. Even in my father's time, we did a world of rong, injrng evry human creatur ho came between us and our plesur, watevr it was. Wy need I speak of my father's time, wen it is equaly yrs? Can I seprate my father's twin- brothr, joint inheritor, and next succesr, from himself?"

   "Deth has don that!" said th Marquis.

   "And has left me," ansrd th nefew, "bound to a systm that is frytful to me, responsbl for it, but powrless in it; seekng to execute th last request of my dear mother's lips, and obey th last look of my dear mother's ys, wich implord me to hav mercy and to redress; and torturd by seekng asistnce and powr in vain."

   "Seekng them from me, my nefew," said th Marquis, tuchng him on th brest with his forfingr -- they wer now standng by th harth -- "u wil for evr seek them in vain, be asured."


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   Evry fine strait line in th clear witeness of his face, was cruely, craftily, and closely compresd, wile he stood lookng quietly at his nefew, with his snuf-box in his hand. Once again he tuchd him on th brest, as tho his fingr wer th fine point of a smal sord, with wich, in delicat finess, he ran him thru th body, and said,

   "My frend, I wil die, perpetuating th systm undr wich I hav livd."

   Wen he had said it, he took a culmnating pinch of snuf, and put his box in his poket.

   "Betr to be a rationl creatur," he add then, aftr ringng a smal bel on th table, "and accept yr natrl destny. But u ar lost, Mosier Charls, I se."

   "This proprty and France ar lost to me," said th nefew, sadly; "I renounce them."

   "Ar they both yrs to renounce? France may be, but is th proprty? It is scarcely worth mentionng; but, is it yet?"

   "I had no intention, in th words I used, to claim it yet. If it pasd to me from u, to-moro -- "

   "Wich I hav th vanity to hope is not probbl."

   " -- or twenty years hence -- "

   "U do me too much onr," said th Marquis; "stil, I prefer that suposition."

   " -- I wud abandn it, and liv othrwise and elswher. It is litl to relinquish. Wat is it but a wildrness of misry and ruin!"

   "Ha!" said th Marquis, glancing round th luxurius room.

   "To th y it is fair enuf, here; but seen in its integrity, undr th sky, and by th daylyt, it is a crumblng towr of waste, mismanajmnt, extortion, det, morgaj, opression, hungr, nakedness, and sufrng."

   "Ha!" said th Marquis again, in a wel-satisfyd manr.

   "If it evr becoms mine, it shal be put into som hands betr qualifyd to fre it sloly (if such a thing is posbl) from th weit that drags it down, so that th misrbl peple ho canot leve it and ho hav been long rung to th last point of endurance, may, in anothr jenration, sufr less; but it is not for me. Ther is a curse on it, and on al this land."

   "And u?" said th uncl. "Forgiv my curiosity; do u, undr yr new filosofy, graciusly intend to liv?"


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   "I must do, to liv, wat othrs of my cuntrymen, even with nobility at ther baks, may hav to do som day-work."

   "In England, for exampl?"

   "Yes. Th famly onr, sir, is safe from me in this cuntry. Th famly name can sufr from me in no othr, for I ber it in no othr."

   Th ringng of th bel had causd th ajoinng bed-chamber to be lytd. It now shon brytly, thru th dor of comunication. Th Marquis lookd that way, and lisnd for th retreatng step of his valet.

   "England is very atractiv to u, seing how indifrntly u hav prosprd ther," he observd then, turnng his calm face to his nefew with a smile.

   "I hav alredy said, that for my prosprng ther, I am sensbl I may be indetd to u, sir. For th rest, it is my Refuje."

   "They say, those boastful English, that it is th Refuje of many. U no a compatriot ho has found a Refuje ther? A Doctr?"

   "Yes."

   "With a dautr?"

   "Yes."

   "Yes," said th Marquis. "U ar fatiged. Good nyt!"

   As he bent his hed in his most cortly manr, ther was a secrecy in his smiling face, and he conveyd an air of mystry to those words, wich struk th ys and ears of his nefew forcibly. At th same time, th thin strait lines of th setng of th ys, and th thin strait lips, and th markngs in th nose, curvd with a sarcasm that lookd hansmly diabolic.

   "Yes," repeatd th Marquis. "A Doctr with a dautr. Yes. So comences th new filosofy! U ar fatiged. Good nyt!"

   It wud hav been of as much avail to interogate any stone face outside th chatau as to interogate that face of his. Th nefew lookd at him, in vain, in pasng on to th dor.

   "Good nyt!" said th uncl. "I look to th plesur of seing u again in th mornng. Good repose! Lyt Mosier my nefew to his chamber ther! -- And burn Mosier my nefew in his bed, if u wil," he add to himself, befor he rang his litl ben again, and sumnd his valet to his own bedroom.

   Th valet com and gon, Mosier th Marquis walkd to and fro in his loose chamber-robe, to prepare himself jently for sleep, that hot stil nyt. Ruslng about th room, his softly-sliprd feet making no noise on th flor, he moved like a refined tiger: -- lookd like som enchantd


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marquis of th impenitently wiked sort, in story, hos periodicl chanje into tiger form was eithr just going off, or just comng on.

   He moved from end to end of his voluptuus bedroom, lookng again at th scraps of th day's jurny that came unbidn into his mind; th slo toil up th hil at sunset, th setng sun, th desent, th mil, th prisn on th crag, th litl vilaj in th holo, th pesnts at th fountn, and th mender of roads with his blu cap pointng out th chain undr th carrij. That fountn sujestd th Paris fountn, th litl bundl lyng on th step, th women bendng over it, and th tal man with his arms up, cryng, "Ded!"

   "I am cool now," said Mosier th Marquis, "and may go to bed."

   So, leving only one lyt burnng on th larj harth, he let his thin gauz curtns fa]J around him, and herd th nyt brek its silence with a long sy as he composed himself to sleep.

   Th stone faces on th outr wails stared blindly at th blak nyt for thre hevy ours; for thre hevy ours, th horses in th stables ratld at ther raks, th dogs barkd, and th owl made a noise with very litl resemblnce in it to th noise conventionly asynd to th owl by men- poets. But it is th obstnat custm of such creaturs hardly evr to say wat is set down for them.

   For thre hevy ours, th stone faces of th chatau, lion and human, stared blindly at th nyt. Ded darkns lay on al th landscape, ded darkns add its own hush to th hushing dust on al th roads. Th burial-place had got to th pass that its litl heaps of poor grass wer undistinguishable from one anothr; th figr on th Cross myt hav com down, for anything that cud be seen of it. In th vilaj, taxers and taxd wer fast asleep. Dreamng, perhaps, of banquets, as th starvd usuly do, and of ese and rest, as th drivn slave and th yoked ox may, its lean inhabitnts slept soundly, and wer fed and freed.

   Th fountn in th vilaj floed unseen and unherd, and th fountn at th chatau dropd unseen and unherd -- both meltng away, like th minuts that wer falng from th spring of Time -- thru thre dark ours. Then, th gray watr of both began to be gostly in th lyt, and th ys of th stone faces of th chatau wer opend.

   Lytr and lytr, until at last th sun tuchd th tops of th stil tres, and pord its radiance over th hil. In th glo, th watr of th chatau fountn seemd to turn to blod, and th stone faces crimsoned. Th carol of th birds was loud and hy, and, on th wethr-beatn sil of th gret windo of th bed-chamber of Mosier th Marquis, one


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litl bird sang its sweetst song with al its myt. At this, th nearst stone face seemd to stare amazed, and, with open mouth and dropd undr-jaw, lookd aw-strikn.

   Now, th sun was ful up, and movemnt began in th vilaj. Casemnt windos opend, crazy dors wer unbard, and peple came forth shivrng -- chilld, as yet, by th new sweet air. Then began th rarely lytnd toil of th day among th vilaj population. Som, to th fountn; som, to th fields; men and women here, to dig and delv; men and women ther, to se to th poor liv stok, and led th bony cows out, to such pastur as cud be found by th roadside. In th church and at th Cross, a neelng figr or two; atendnt on th latr prayrs, th lead cow, tryng for a brekfast among th weeds at its foot.

   Th chatau awoke later, as became its quality, but awoke graduly and surely. First, th lonely bor-spears and nives of th chase had been rednd as of old; then, had gleamd trenchnt in th mornng sunshine; now, dors and windos wer thrown open, horses in ther stables lookd round over ther sholdrs at th lyt and freshness porng in at dorways, leavs sparkld and rusld at iron-grated windos, dogs puld hard at ther chains, and reard impatient to be loosd.

   Al these trivial incidnts belongd to th rutine of life, and th return of mornng. Surely, not so th ringng of th gret bel of th chatau, nor th runng up and down th stairs; nor th hurrid figrs on th terace; nor th booting and trampng here and ther and evrywher, nor th quik saddling of horses and riding away?

   Wat winds conveyd this hurry to th grizld mender of roads, alredy at work on th hil-top beyond th vilaj, with his day's dinr (not much to carry) lyng in a bundl that it was worth no crow's wile to pek at, on a heap of stones? Had th birds, carrying som grains of it to a distnce, dropd one over him as they so chance seeds? Wethr or no, th mender of roads ran, on th sultry mornng, as if for his life, down th hil, ne-hy in dust, and nevr stopd til he got to th fountn.

   Al th peple of th vilaj wer at th fountn, standng about in ther depresd manr, and wisprng lo, but shoing no othr emotions than grim curiosity and surprise. Th lead cows, hastily brot in and tethrd to anything that wud hold them, wer lookng stupidly on, or lyng down chewng th cud of nothing particulrly repayng ther trubl, wich they had pikd up in ther intruptd sauntr. Som of th peple of th chatau, and som of those of th postng-house, and


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al th taxng authoritis, wer armd mor or less, and wer crowdd on th othr side of th litl street in a purposless way, that was hyly fraut with nothing. Alredy, th mender of roads had penetrated into th midst of a group of fifty particulr frends, and was smiting himself in th brest with his blu cap. Wat did al this portend, and wat portended th swift hoistng-up of Mosier Gabelle behind a servnt on horsbak, and th conveyng away of th said Gabelle (dubl-laden tho th horse was), at a galop, like a new version of th Jermn balad of Leonora?

   It portended that ther was one stone face too many, up at th chatau.

   Th Gorgon had surveyd th bildng again in th nyt, and had add th one stone face wantng; th stone face for wich it had waitd thru about two hundred years.

   It lay bak on th pilo of Mosier th Marquis. It was like a fine mask, sudnly startld, made angry, and petrifyd. Drivn home into th hart of th stone figr atachd to it, was a nife. Round its hilt was a fril of paper, on wich was scrawld:

   "Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from JAQUES."

TWO PROMISES

   MOR MONTHS, to th numbr of twelv, had com and gon, and Mr. Charls Darnay was establishd in England as a hyr teachr of th French languaj ho was conversnt with French litratur. In this aje, he wud hav been a Profesr; in that aje, he was a Tutor. He red with yung men ho cud find any lesur and intrest for th study of a livng tong spoken al over th world, and he cultivated a taste for its


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stors of nolej and fancy. He cud rite of them, besides, in sound English, and rendr them into sound English. Such mastrs wer not at that time esily found; Princes that had been, and Kings that wer to be, wer not yet of th Teachr class, and no ruind nobility had dropd out of Tellson's lejrs, to turn cooks and carpntrs. As a tutor, hos atainmnts made th student's way unusuly plesnt and profitbl, and as an elegnt translator ho brot somthing to his work besides mere dictionry nolej, yung Mr. Darnay soon became nown and encurajd. He was wel aquaintd, morover, with th circmstnces of his cuntry, and those wer of evr-groing intrest. So, with gret perseverance and untiring industry, he prosprd.

   In Londn, he had expectd neithr to walk on pavemnts of gold, nor to lie on beds of roses; if he had had any such exaltd expectation, he wud not hav prosprd. He had expectd labor, and he found it, and did it and made th best of it. In this, his prosperity consistd.

   A certn portion of his time was pasd at Cambrij, wher he red with undrgraduats as a sort of tolrated smuglr ho drove a contraband trade in European languajs, insted of conveyng Greek and Latn thru th Custm-house. Th rest of his time he pasd in Londn.

   Now, from th days wen it was always sumr in Eden, to these days wen it is mostly wintr in falen latitudes, th world of a man has invaribly gon one way -- Charls Darnay's way -- th way of th lov of a womn.

   He had lovd Lucie Manette from th our of his danjer. He had nevr herd a sound so sweet and dear as th sound of her compassionat voice; he had nevr seen a face so tendrly butiful, as hers wen it was confrontd with his own on th ej of th grave that had been dug for him. But, he had not yet spoken to her on th subject; th asasnation at th desertd chatau far away beyond th heving watr and th long, tong, dusty roads -- th solid stone chatau wich had itself becom th mere mist of a dream -- had been don a year, and he had nevr yet, by so much as a singl spoken word, disclosed to her th state of his hart.

   That he had his reasns for this, he new ful wel. It was again a sumr day wen, lately arived in Londn from his colej ocupation, he turnd into th quiet cornr in Soho, bent on seekng an oprtunity of openng his mind to Doctr Manette. It was th close of th sumr day, and he new Lucie to be out with Miss Pross.

   He found th Doctr readng in his arm-chair at a windo. Th enrjy


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wich had at once suportd him undr his old sufrngs and agravated ther sharpness, had been graduly restord to him. He was now a very enrjetic man indeed, with gret firmness of purpos, strength of reslution, and vigr of action. In his recovrd enrjy he was somtimes a litl fitful and sudn, as he had at first been in th exrcise of his othr recovrd facltis; but, this had nevr been frequently observbl, and had grown mor and mor rare.

   He studid much, slept litl, sustaind a gret deal of fatige with ese, and was equably cheerful. To him, now entrd Charls Darnay, at syt of hom he laid aside his book and held out his hand.

   "Charls Darnay! I rejoice to se u. We hav been countng on yr return these thre or four days past. Mr. Stryver and Sydny Cartn wer both here yestrday, and both made u out to be mor than du."

   "I am oblijed to them for ther intrest in th matr," he ansrd, a litl coldly as to them, tho very warmly as to th Doctr. "Miss Manette -- "

   "Is wel," said th Doctr, as he stopd short, "and yr return wil delyt us al. She has gon out on som houshold matrs, but wil soon be home. "

   "Doctr Manette, I new she was from home. I took th oprtunity of her being from home, to beg to speak to u."

   Ther was a blank silence.

   "Yes?" said th Doctr, with evidnt constraint. "Bring yr chair here, and speak on."

   He complyd as to th chair, but apeard to find th speakng on less esy.

   "I hav had th happiness, Doctr Manette, of being so intmat here," so he at length began, "for som year and a half, that I hope th topic on wich I am about to tuch may not -- "

   He was stayd by th Doctor's putng out his hand to stop him. Wen he had kept it so a litl wile, he said, drawng it bak:

   "Is Lucie th topic?"

   "She is."

   "It is hard for me to speak of her at any time. It is very hard for me to hear her spoken of in that tone of yrs, Charls Darnay."

   "It is a tone of fervnt admration, tru homaj, and deep lov, Doctr Manette!" he said defrentialy.

   Ther was anothr blank silence befor her fathr rejoind:

   "I beleve it. I do u justice; I beleve it."


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   His constraint was so manifest, and it was so manifest, too, that it orijnated in an unwilngness to aproach th subject, that Charls Darnay hesitated.

   "Shal I go on, sir?"

   Anothr blank.

   "Yes, go on."

   "U anticipate wat I wud say, tho u canot no how ernestly I say it, how ernestly I feel it, without noing my secret hart, and th hopes and fears and anxietis with wich it has long been laden. Dear Doctr Manette, I lov yr dautr fondly, dearly, disinterestedly, devotedly. If evr ther wer lov in th world, I lov her. U hav lovd yrself; let yr old lov speak for me!"

   Th Doctr sat with his face turnd away, and his ys bent on th ground. At th last words, he strechd out his hand again, hurridly, and cryd:

   "Not that, sir! Let that be! I adjure u, do not recal that!"

   His cry was so like a cry of actul pain, that it rang in Charls Darnay's ears long aftr he had cesed. He motiond with th hand he had extendd, and it seemd to be an apeal to Darnay to pause. Th latr so receved it, and remaind silent.

   "I ask yr pardn," said th Doctr, in a subdud tone, aftr som moments. "I do not dout yr lovng Lucie; u may be satisfyd of it."

   He turnd towards him in his chair, but did not look at him, or rase his ys. His chin dropd upon his hand, and his wite hair overshadod his face:

   "Hav u spoken to Lucie?"

   "No."

   "Nor ritn?"

   "Nevr."

   "It wud be unjenrus to afect not to no that yr self-denial is to be referd to yr considration for her fathr. Her fathr thanks u.))

   He ofrd his hand; but his ys did not go with it.

   "I no," said Darnay, respectfuly, "how can I fail to no, Doctr Manette, I ho hav seen u togethr from day to day, that between u and Miss Manette ther is an afection so unusul, so tuchng, so belongng to th circmstnces in wich it has been nurturd, that it can hav few paralels, even in th tendrness between a fathr and child. I no, Doctr Manette -- how can I fail to no -- that, mingld with th


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afection and duty of a dautr ho has becom a womn, ther is, in her hart, towards u, al th lov and relyance of infncy itself. I no that, as in her childhood she had no parent, so she is now devoted to u with al th constncy and fervr of her presnt years and caractr, united to th trustfulness and atachmnt of th erly days in wich u wer lost to her. I no perfectly wel that if u had been restord to her from th world beyond this life, u cud hardly be investd, in her syt, with a mor sacred caractr than that in wich u ar always with her. I no that wen she is clingng to u, th hands of baby, girl, and womn, al in one, ar round yr nek. I no that in lovng u she ses and lovs her mothr at her own aje, ses and lovs u at my aje, lovs her mothr broken-hartd, lovs u thru yr dredful trial and in yr blesd restration. I hav nown this, nyt and day, since I hav nown u in yr home."

   Her fathr sat silent, with his face bent down. His brething was a litl quiknd; but he represd al othr syns of ajitation.

   "Dear Doctr Manette, always noing this, always seing her and u with this hallod lyt about u, I hav forborne, and forborne, as long as it was in th natur of man to do it. I hav felt, and do even now feel, that to bring my lov -- even mine -- between u, is to tuch yr histry with somthing not quite so good as itself. But I lov her. Hevn is my witness that I lov her!"

   "I beleve it," ansrd her fathr, mornfuly. "I hav thot so befor now. I beleve it."

   "But, do not beleve," said Darnay, upon hos ear th mornful voice struk with a reproachful sound, "that if my fortune wer so cast as that, being one day so happy as to make her my wife, I must at any time put any sepration between her and u, I cud or wud brethe a word of wat I now say. Besides that I shud no it to be hopeless, I shud no it to be a baseness. If I had any such posbility, even at a remote distnce of years, harbrd in my thots, and hidn in my hart -- if it evr had been ther -- if it evr cud be ther -- I cud not now tuch this onrd hand."

   He laid his own upon it as he spoke.

   "No, dear Doctr Manette. Like u, a voluntry exile from France; like u, drivn from it by its distractions, oppressions, and misris; like u, striving to liv away from it by my own exertions, and trustng in a happir futur; I look only to sharing yr fortunes, sharing yr life and home, and being faithful to u to th deth. Not to divide with


Paje 129

Lucie her privlej as yr child, companion, and frend; but to com in aid of it, and bind her closer to u, if such a thing can be."

   His tuch stil lingrd on her father's hand. Ansrng th tuch for a moment, but not coldly, her fathr restd his hands upon th arms of his chair, and lookd up for th first time since th beginng of th confrnce. A strugl was evidntly in his face; a strugl with that ocasionl look wich had a tendncy in it to dark dout and dred.

   "U speak so feelngly and so manfuly, Charls Darnay, that I thank u with al my hart, and wil open al my hart -- or nearly so. Hav u any reasn to beleve that Lucie lovs u?"

   "Non. As yet, non."

   "Is it th imediat object of this confidnce, that u may at once acertain that, with my nolej?"

   "Not even so. I myt not hav th hopefulness to do it for weeks; I myt (mistaken or not mistaken) hav that hopefulness to-moro."

   "Do u seek any gidance from me?"

   "I ask non, sir. But I hav thot it posbl that u myt hav it in yr powr, if u shud deem it ryt, to giv me som."

   "Do u seek any promis from me?"

   "I do seek that."

   "Wat is it?"

   "I wel undrstand that, without u, I cud hav no hope. I wel undrstand that, even if Miss Manette held me at this moment in her inocent hart -- do not think I hav th presumtion to asume so much -- I cud retain no place in it against her lov for her fathr."

   "If that be so, do u se wat, on th othr hand, is involvd in it?"

   "I undrstand equaly wel, that a word from her fathr in any suitor's favor, wud outwei herself and al th world. For wich reasn, Doctr Manette," said Darnay, modestly but firmly, "I wud not ask that word, to save my life."

   "I am sure of it. Charls Darnay, mystris arise out of close lov, as wel as out of wide division; in th formr case, they ar sutl and delicat, and dificlt to penetrate. My dautr Lucie is, in this one respect, such a mystry to me; I can make no gess at th state of her hart."

   "May I ask, sir, if u think she is -- " As he hesitated, her fathr suplyd th rest.

   "Is sot by any othr suitr?"

   "It is wat I ment to say."

   Her fathr considrd a litl befor he ansrd:


Paje 130

   "U hav seen Mr. Cartn here, yrself. Mr. Stryver is here too, ocasionly. If it be at al, it can only be by one of these."

   "Or both," said Darnay.

   "I had not thot of both; I shud not think eithr, likely. U want a promis from me. Tel me wat it is."

   "It is, that if Miss Manette shud bring to u at any time, on her own part, such a confidnce as I hav venturd to lay befor u, u wil ber testmny to wat I hav said, and to yr belief in it. I hope u may be able to think so wel of me, as to urj no influence against me. I say nothing mor of my stake in this; this is wat I ask. Th condition on wich I ask it, and wich u hav an undoutd ryt to require, I wil observ imediatly."

   "I giv th promis," said th Doctr, "without any condition. I beleve yr object to be, purely and truthfuly, as u hav stated it. I beleve yr intention is to perpetuate, and not to weakn, th ties between me and my othr and far dearr self. If she shud evr tel me that u ar esential to her perfect happiness, I wil giv her to u. If ther wer -- Charls Darnay, if ther wer -- "

   Th yung man had taken his hand gratefuly; ther hands wer joind as th Doctr spoke:

   " -- any fancis, any reasns, any aprehensions, anything watsoevr, new or old, against th man she realy lovd -- th direct responsbility therof not lyng on his hed -- they shud al be oblitrated for her sake. She is everything to me; mor to me than sufrng, mor to me than rong, mor to me -- Wel! This is idle talk."

   So stranje was th way in wich he faded into silence, and so stranje his fixd look wen he had cesed to speak, that Darnay felt his own hand turn cold in th hand that sloly relesed and dropd it.

   "U said somthing to me," said Doctr Manette, brekng into a smile. "Wat was it u said to me?"

   He was at a loss how to ansr, until he remembrd havng spoken of a condition. Releved as his mind revertd to that, he ansrd:

   "Yr confidnce in me ot to be returnd with ful confidnce on my part. My presnt name, tho but slytly chanjed from my mother's, is not, as u wil remembr, my own. I wish to tel u wat that is, and wy I am in England."

   "Stop!" said th Doctr of Bauvai.

   "I wish it, that I may th betr deserv yr confidnce, and hav no secret from u."


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   "Stop!"

   For an instnt, th Doctr even had his two hands at his ears; for anothr instnt, even had his two hands laid on Darnay's lips.

   "Tel me wen I ask u, not now. If yr suit shud prospr, if Lucie shud lov u, u shal tel me on yr marrij mornng. Do u promis?"

   "Wilngly.

   "Giv me yr hand. She wil be home directly, and it is betr she shud not se us togethr to-nyt. Go! God bless u!"

   It was dark wen Charls Darnay left him, and it was an our later and darkr wen Lucie came home; she hurrid into th room alone -- for Miss Pross had gon strait up-stairs -- and was surprised to find his readng-chair emty.

   "My fathr!" she cald to him. "Fathr dear!"

   Nothing was said in ansr, but she herd a lo hamrng sound in his bedroom. Pasng lytly across th intrmediat room, she lookd in at his dor and came runng bak frytnd, cryng to herself, with her blod al chilld, "Wat shal I do! Wat shal I do!"

   Her uncertnty lastd but a moment; she hurrid bak, and tapd at his dor, and softly cald to him. Th noise cesed at th sound of her voice, and he presntly came out to her, and they walkd up and down togethr for a long time.

   She came down from her bed, to look at him in his sleep that nyt. He slept hevily, and his tray of shoemaking tools, and his old unfinishd work, wer al as usul.


Paje 132

A COMPANION PICTUR

   "SYDNY," said Mr. Stryver, on that selfsame nyt, or mornng, to his jakl; "mix anothr bol of punch; I hav somthing to say to u."

   Sydny had been workng dubl tides that nyt, and th nyt befor, and th nyt befor that, and a good many nyts in succession, making a grand clearnce among Mr. Stryver's papers befor th setng in of th long vacation. Th clearnce was efectd at last; th Stryver arears wer hansmly fechd up; everything was got rid of until Novembr shud com with its fogs atmosferic, and fogs legal, and bring grist to th mil again.

   Sydny was non th livelir and non th soberer for so much aplication. It had taken a deal of extra wet-towlng to pul him thru th nyt; a corespondngly extra quantity of wine had preceded th towlng; and he was in a very damajd condition, as he now puld his turbn off and threw it into th basin in wich he had steepd it at intrvls for th last six ours.

   "Ar u mixng that othr bol of punch?" said Stryver th portly, with his hands in his waistband, glancing round from th sofa wher he lay on his bak.

   "I am."

   "Now, look here! I am going to tel u somthing that wil rathr surprise u, and that perhaps wil make u think me not quite as shrewd as u usuly do think me. I intend to marry."

   "Do u?"

   "Yes. And not for mony. Wat do u say now?"

   "I dont feel disposed to say much. Ho is she?"


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   "Gess."

   "Do I no her?"

   "Gess."

   "I am not going to gess, at five oclok in th mornng, with my brains fryng and sputrng in my hed. if u want me to gess, u must ask me to dinr."

   "Wel then, I'l tel u, said Stryver, comng sloly into a sitng postur. "Sydny, I rathr despair of making myself intelijbl to u, because u ar such an insensbl dog.

   "And u," returnd Sydny, busy concoctng th punch, "ar such a sensitiv and poeticl spirit -- "

   "Com!" rejoind Stryver, lafng boastfully, "tho I dont prefer any claim to being th sol of Romance (for I hope I no betr), stil I am a tenderer sort of felo than u."

   "U ar a luckir, if u mean that."

   "I dont mean that. I mean I am a man of mor -- mor -- "

   "Say galantry, wile u ar about it," sujestd Cartn.

   "Wel! I'l say galantry. My meanng is that I am a man," said Stryver, inflating himself at his frend as he made th punch, t(ho cares mor to be agreeabl, ho takes mor pains to be agreeabl, ho nos betr how to be agreeabl, in a woman's society, than u do."

   "Go on," said Sydny Cartn.

   "No; but befor I go on," said Stryver, shaking his hed in his bullying way, I'l hav this out with u. U'v been at Doctr Manette's house as much as I hav, or mor than I hav. Wy, I hav been ashamed of yr moroseness ther! Yr manrs hav been of that silent and sulen and hangdog kind, that, upon my life and sol, I hav been ashamed of u, Sydny!"

   "It shud be very beneficial to a man in yr practis at th bar, to be ashamed of anything," returnd Sydny; "u ot to be much oblijed to me."

   "U shal not get off in that way," rejoind Stryver, sholdrng th rejoindr at him; "no, Sydny, it's my duty to tel u -- and I tel u to yr face to do u good -- that u ar a devlish il-conditiond felo in that sort of society. U ar a disagreeabl felo."

   Sydny drank a bumpr of th punch he had made, and lafd.

   "Look at me!" said Stryver, squaring himself; "I hav less need to make myself agreeabl than u hav, being mor independnt in circmstnces. Wy do I do it?"


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   "I nevr saw u do it yet," mutrd Cartn.

   "I do it because it's politic; I do it on principl. And look at me! I get on."

   "U dont get on with yr acount of yr matrimonial intentions," ansrd Cartn, with a careless air; "I wish u wud keep to that. As to me -- wil u nevr undrstand that I am incorijbl?"

   He askd th question with som apearnce of scorn.

   "U hav no busness to be incorijbl," was his friend's ansr, delivrd in no very soothing tone.

   "I hav no busness to be, at al, that I no of," said Sydny Cartn. "Ho is th lady?"

   "Now, dont let my anouncemnt of th name make u uncomfrtbl, Sydny," said Mr. Stryver, preparing him with ostntatius frendliness for th disclosur he was about to make, "because I no u dont mean half u say; and if u ment it al, it wud be of no importnce. I make this litl preface, because u once mentiond th yung lady to me in slighting terms."

   "I did?"

   "Certnly; and in these chambers."

   Sydny Cartn lookd at his punch and lookd at his complacent frend; drank his punch and lookd at his complacent frend.

   "U made mention of th yung lady as a goldn-haird dol. Th yung lady is Miss Manette. If u had been a felo of any sensitiveness or delicacy of feelng in that kind of way, Sydny, I myt hav been a litl resentful of yr employng such a designation; but u ar not. U want that sense altogethr; therfor I am no mor anoyd wen I think of th expression, than I shud be anoyd by a man's opinion of a pictur of mine, ho had no y for picturs: or of a pece of music of mine, ho had no ear for music."

   Sydny Cartn drank th punch at a gret rate; drank it by bumprs, lookng at his frend.

   "Now u no al about it, Syd," said Mr. Stryver. "I dont care about fortune: she is a charmng creatur, and I hav made up my mind to plese myself: on th hole, I think I can aford to plese myself. She wil hav in me a man alredy pretty wel off, and a rapidly rising man, and a man of som distinction: it is a pece of good fortune for her, but she is worthy of good fortune. Ar u astonishd?"

   Cartn, stil drinkng th punch, rejoind, "Wy shud I be astonishd?"


Paje 135

   "U aprove?"

   Cartn, stil drinkng th punch, rejoind, "Wy shud I not aprove?"

   "Wel!" said his frend Stryver, "u take it mor esily than I fancid u wud, and ar less mercenry on my behalf than I thot u wud be; tho, to be sure, u no wel enuf by this time that yr ancient chum is a man of a pretty strong wil. Yes, Sydny, I hav had enuf of this styl of life, with no othr as a chanje from it; I feel that it is a plesnt thing for a man to hav a home wen he feels inclined to go to it (wen he dosnt, he can stay away), and I feel that Miss Manette wil tel wel in any station, and wil always do me credit. So I hav made up my mind. And now, Sydny, old boy, I want to say a word to u about yr prospects. U ar in a bad way, u no; u realy ar in a bad way. U dont no th valu of mony, u Eve hard, u'l nok up one of these days, and be il and poor; u realy ot to think about a nurse."

   Th prosprus patronaj with wich he said it, made him look twice as big as he was, and four times as ofensiv.

   "Now, let me recmend u," pursud Stryver, "to look it in th face. I hav lookd it in th face, in my difrnt way; look it in th face, u, in yr difrnt way. Marry. Provide sombody to take care of u. Nevr mind yr havng no enjoymnt of women's society, nor undrstandng of it, nor tact for it. Find out sombody. Find out som respectbl womn with a litl proprty -- sombody in th landlady way, or lojng-letng way -- and marry her, against a rainy day. That's th kind of thing for u. Now think of it, Sydny."

   "I'l think of it," said Sydny.


Paje 136

TH FELO OF DELICACY

   MR. STRYVER havng made up his mind to that magnanmus bestowal of good fortune on th Doctor's dautr, resolvd to make her happiness nown to her befor he left town for th Long Vacation. Aftr som mentl debating of th point, he came to th conclusion that it wud be as wel to get al th prelimnris don with, and they cud then aranje at ther lesur wethr he shud giv her his hand a week or two befor Miclmas Term, or in th litl Crismas vacation between it and Hilry.

   As to th strength of his case, he had not a dout about it, but clearly saw his way to th verdict. Argud with th jury on substantial worldly grounds -- th only grounds evr worth taking into acount -- it was a plan case, and had not a weak spot in it. He cald himself for th plaintif, ther was no getng over his evidnce, th counsl for th defendnt threw up his brief, and th jury did not even turn to considr. Aftr tryng it, Stryver, C. J., was satisfyd that no plainr case cud be.

   Acordngly, Mr. Stryver inaugurated th Long Vacation with a forml proposal to take Miss Manette to Vauxal Gardns; that failng, to Ranelagh; that unacountbly failng too, it behoved him to presnt himself in Soho, and ther declare his noble mind.

   Towards Soho, therfor, Mr. Stryver sholdrd his way from th Templ, wile th bloom of th Long Vacation's infncy was stil upon it. Anybody ho had seen him projectng himself into Soho wile he was yet on Saint Dunstan's side of Templ Bar, burstng in his ful-blown way along th pavemnt, to th jostlement of al weakr peple, myt hav seen how safe and strong he was.


Paje 137

   His way taking him past Tellson's, and he both bankng at Tellson's and noing Mr. Lorry as th intmat frend of th Manettes, it entrd Mr. Stryver's mind to entr th bank, and reveal to Mr. Lorry th brytness of th Soho horizon. So, he pushd open th dor with th weak ratl in its throat, stumbld down th two steps, got past th two ancient cashirs, and sholdrd himself into th musty bak closet wher Mr. Lorry sat at gret books ruled for figrs, with perpndiculr iron bars to his windo as if that wer ruled for figrs too, and everything undr th clouds wer a sum.

   "Halloa!" said Mr. Stryver. "How do u do? I hope u ar wel!"

   It was Stryver's grand peculiarity that he always seemd too big for any place, or space. He was so much too big for Tellson's, that old clerks in distnt cornrs lookd up with looks of remonstrance, as tho he squezed them against th wal. Th House itself, magnificently readng th paper quite in th far-off perspectiv, loerd displesed, as if th Stryver hed had been butd into its responsbl waistcoat.

   Th discreet Mr. Lorry said, in a sampl tone of th voice he wud recmend undr th circmstnces, "How do u do, Mr. Stryver? How do u do, sir?" and shook hands. Ther was a peculiarity in his manr of shaking hands, always to be seen in any clerk at Tellson's ho shook hands with a custmr wen th House pervaded th air. He shook in a self-abnegating way, as one ho shook for Tellson and Co.

   "Can I do anything for u, Mr. Stryver?" askd Mr. Lorry, in his busness caractr.

   "Wy, no, thank u; this is a privat visit to yrself, Mr. Lorry; I hav com for a privat word."

   "O indeed!" said Mr. Lorry, bendng down his ear, wile his y strayd to th House afar off.

   "I am going," said Mr. Stryver, leanng his arms confidentialy on th desk: wherupon, altho it was a larj dubl one, ther apeard to be not half desk enuf for him: "I am going to make an ofr of myself in marrij to yr agreeabl litl frend, Miss Manette, Mr. Lorry."

   "O dear me!" cryd Mr. Lorry, rubng his chin, and lookng at his visitr dubiusly.

   "O dear me, sir?" repeatd Stryver, drawng bak. "O dear u, sir? Wat may yr meanng be, Mr. Lorry?"

   "My meanng," ansrd th man of busness, "is, of corse, frendly and apreciativ, and that it dos u th gretst credit, and -- in short, my meanng is everything u cud desire. But -- realy, u no, Mr.


Paje 138

Stryver -- " Mr. Lorry pausd, and shook his hed at him in th odst manr, as if he wer compeld against his wil to ad, internly, "u no ther realy is so much too much of u!"

   "Wel!" said Stryver, slapng th desk with his contentius hand, openng his ys wider, and taking a long breth, "if I undrstand u, Mr. Lorry, I'l be hangd!"

   Mr. Lorry ajustd his litl wig at both ears as a means towards that end, and bit th fethr of a pen.

   "D -- n it al, sir!" said Stryver, staring at him, "am I not elijbl?"

   "O dear yes! Yes. O yes, u'r elijbl!" said Mr. Lorry. "If u say elijbl, u ar elijbl."

   "Am I not prosprus?" askd Stryver.

   "O! if u com to prosprus, u ar prosprus," said Mr. Lorry.

   "And advancing?"

   "If u com to advancing u no," said Mr. Lorry, delytd to be able to make anothr admission, "nobody can dout that."

   "Then wat on erth is yr meanng, Mr. Lorry?" demandd Stryver, perceptbly crestfalen.

   "Wel! I -- Wer u going ther now?" askd Mr. Lorry.

   "Strait!" said Stryver, with a plump of his fist on th desk.

   "Then I think I wudnt, if I was u."

   "Wy?" said Stryver. "Now, I'l put u in a cornr," forensically shaking a forfingr at him. "U ar a man of busness and bound to hav a reasn. State yr reasn. Wy wudnt u go?"

   "Because," said Mr. Lorry, "I wudnt go on such an object without havng som cause to beleve that I shud succeed."

   "D -- n ME!" cryd Stryver, "but this beats everything."

   Mr. Lorry glanced at th distnt House, and glanced at th angry Stryver.

   "Here's a man of busness -- a man of years -- a man of experience -- in a Bank," said Stryver; "and havng sumd up thre leadng reasns for complete success, he says ther's no reasn at al! Says it with his hed on!" Mr. Stryver remarkd upon th peculiarity as if it wud hav been infnitly less remarkbl if he had said it with his hed off.

   "Wen I speak of success, I speak of success with th yung lady; and wen I speak of causes and reasns to make success probbl, I speak of causes and reasns that wil tel as such with th yung lady. Th yung lady, my good sir," said Mr. Lorry, mildly tapng th Stryver arm, "th yung lady. Th yung lady gos befor al."


Paje 139

   "Then u mean to tel me, Mr. Lorry," said Stryver, squaring his elbos, "that it is yr delibrat opinion that th yung lady at presnt in question is a mincing Fool?"

   "Not exactly so. I mean to tel u, Mr. Stryver," said Mr. Lorry, rednng, "that I wil hear no disrespectful word of that yung lady from any lips; and that if I new any man -- wich I hope I do not -- hos taste was so corse, and hos tempr was so overberng, that he cud not restrain himself from speakng disrespectfully of that yung lady at this desk, not even Tellson's shud prevent my givng him a pece of my mind."

   Th necessity of being angry in a supresd tone had put Mr. Stryver's blod-vesls into a danjerus state wen it was his turn to be angry; Mr. Lorry's veins, methodicl as ther corses cud usuly be, wer in no betr state now it was his turn.

   "That is wat I mean to tel u, sir," said Mr. Lorry. "Pray let ther be no mistake about it."

   Mr. Stryver sukd th end of a ruler for a litl wile, and then stood hitng a tune out of his teeth with it, wich probbly gave him th toothache. He broke th awkwrd silence by sayng:

   "This is somthing new to me, Mr. Lorry. U delibratly advise me not to go up to Soho and ofr myself -- myself, Stryver of th King's Bench bar?"

   "Do u ask me for my advice, Mr. Stryver?"

   "Yes, I do."

   "Very good. Then I giv it, and u hav repeatd it corectly."

   "And al I can say of it is," lafd Stryver with a vexd laf, "that this -- ha, ha! -- beats everything past, presnt, and to com."

   "Now undrstand me," pursud Mr. Lorry. "As a man of busness, I am not justifyd in sayng anything about this matr, for, as a man of busness, I no nothing of it. But, as an old felo, ho has carrid Miss Manette in his arms, ho is th trustd frend of Miss Manette and of her fathr too, and ho has a gret afection for them both, I hav spoken. Th confidnce is not of my seekng, reclect. Now, u think I may not be ryt?"

   "Not I!" said Stryver, wislng. "I cant undrtake to find third partis in comn sense; I can only find it for myself. I supose sense in certn quartrs; u supose mincing bred-and-butr nonsnse. It's new to me, but u ar ryt, I dare say."

   "Wat I supose, Mr. Stryver, I claim to caractrize for myself -- And


Paje 140

undrstand me, sir," said Mr. Lorry, quikly flushng again, "I wil not -- not even at Tellson's -- hav it caractrized for me by any jentlman brething."

   "Ther! I beg yr pardn!" said Stryver.

   "Grantd. Thank u. Wel, Mr. Stryver, I was about to say: -- it myt be painful to u to find yrself mistaken, it myt be painful to Doctr Manette to hav th task of being explicit with u, it myt be very painful to Miss Manette to hav th task of being explicit with u. U no th terms upon wich I hav th onr and happiness to stand with th famly. If u plese, comitng u in no way, representng u in no way, I wil undrtake to corect my advice by th exrcise of a litl new obsrvation and jujmnt expresly brot to ber upon it. If u shud then be disatisfyd with it, u can but test its soundness for yrself; if, on th othr hand, u shud be satisfyd with it, and it shud be wat it now is, it may spare al sides wat is best spared. Wat do u say?"

   "How long wud u keep me in town?"

   "O! It is only a question of a few ours. I cud go to Soho in th, evenng, and com to yr chambers aftrwrds."

   "Then I say yes," said Stryver: "I wont go up ther now, I am not so hot upon it as that coms to; I say yes, and I shal expect u to look in to-nyt. Good mornng."

   Then Mr. Stryver turnd and burst out of th Bank, causng such a concussion of air on his passaj thru, that to stand up against it bowng behind th two countrs, required th utmost remainng strength of th two ancient clerks. Those venrbl and feebl persns wer always seen by th public in th act of bowng, and wer populrly beleved, wen they had bowd a custmr out, stil to keep on bowng in th emty ofice until they bowd anothr custmr in.

   Th baristr was keen enuf to divine that th bankr wud not hav gon so far in his expression of opinion on any less solid ground than moral certnty. Unprepared as he was for th larj pil he had to swalo, he got it down. "And now," said Mr. Stryver, shaking his forensic forfingr at th Templ in jenrl, wen it was down, "my way out of this, is, to put u al in th rong."

   It was a bit of th art of an Old Baily tactician, in wich he found gret relief. "U shal not put me in th rong, yung lady," said Mr. Stryver; "I'l do that for u."

   Acordngly, wen Mr. Lorry cald that nyt as late as ten oclok,


Paje 141

Mr. Stryver, among a quantity of books and papers litrd out for th purpos, seemd to hav nothing less on his mind than th subject of th mornng. He even showd surprise wen he saw Mr. Lorry, and was altogethr in an absnt and preocupyd state.

   "Wel!" said that good-naturd emisry, aftr a ful half-our of bootless atemts to bring him round to th question. "I hav been to Soho."

   "To Soho?" repeatd Mr. Stryver, coldly. "O, to be sure! Wat am I thinkng of!"

   "And I hav no dout," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was ryt in th convrsation we had. My opinion is confirmd, and I reitrate my advice."

   "I asure u," returnd Mr. Stryver, in th frendliest way, "that I am sorry for it on yr acount, and sorry for it on th poor father's acount. I no this must always be a sor subject with th famly; let us say no mor about it."

   "I dont undrstand u," said Mr. Lorry.

   "I dare say not," rejoind Stryver, nodng his hed in a smoothng and final way; "no matr, no matr."

   "But it dos matr," Mr. Lorry urjd.

   "No it dosnt; I asure u it dosnt. Havng suposed that ther was sense wher ther is no sense, and a laudbl ambition wher ther is not a laudbl ambition, I am wel out of my mistake, and no harm is don. Yung women hav comitd simlr follis ofn befor, and hav repentd them in povrty and obscurity ofn befor. In an unselfish aspect, I am sorry that th thing is dropd, because it wud hav been a bad thing for me in a worldly point of vew; in a selfish aspect, I am glad that th thing has dropd, because it wud hav been a bad thing for me in a worldly point of vew -- it is hardly necesry to say I cud hav gaind nothing by it. Ther is no harm at al don. I hav not proposed to th yung lady, and, between ourselvs, I am by no means certn, on reflection, that I evr shud hav comitd myself to that extent. Mr. Lorry, u canot control th mincing vanitis and giddinesses of emty-hedd girls; u must not expect to do it, or u wil always be disapointd. Now, pray say no mor about it. I tel u, I regret it on acount of othrs, but I am satisfyd on my own acount. And I am realy very much oblijed to u for alowng me to sound u, and for givng me yr advice; u no th yung lady betr than I do; u wer ryt, it nevr wud hav don."

   Mr. Lorry was so taken abak, that he lookd quite stupidly at Mr.


Paje 142

Stryver sholdrng him towards th dor, with an apearnce of showrng jenrosity, forbernce, and goodwil, on his erng hed. "Make th best of it, my dear sir," said Stryver; "say no mor about it; thank u again for alowng me to sound u; good nyt!"

   Mr. Lorry was out in th nyt, befor he new wher he was. Mr. Stryver was lyng bak on his sofa, winkng at his celing.

TH FELO OF NO DELICACY

   IF SYDNY CARTN evr shon anywher, he certnly nevr shon in th house of Doctr Manette. He had been ther ofn, during a hole year, and had always been th same moody and morose lounger ther. Wen he cared to talk, he talkd wel; but, th cloud of caring for nothing, wich overshadod him with such a fatal darkns, was very rarely pierced by th lyt within him.

   And yet he did care somthing for th streets that environed that house, and for th sensless stones that made ther pavemnts. Many a nyt he vagely and unhappily wandrd ther, wen wine had brot no transitry gladness to him; many a dreary daybrek reveald his solitry figr lingrng ther, and stil lingrng ther wen th first beams of th sun brot into strong relief, removed butis of architectur in spires of churchs and lofty bildngs, as perhaps th quiet time brot som sense of betr things, else forgotn and unatainbl, into his mind. Of late, th neglectd bed in th Templ Cort had nown him mor scantily than evr; and ofn wen he had thrown himself upon it no longr than a few minuts, he had got up again, and hauntd that neibrhood.


Paje 143

   On a day in August, wen Mr. Stryver (aftr notifyng to his jakl that "he had thot betr of that marrying matr") had carrid his delicacy into Devnshr, and wen th syt and sent of flowrs in th City streets had som waifs of goodness in them for th worst, of helth for th sickliest, and of yuth for th oldst, Sydney's feet stil trod those stones. From being ireslute and purposless, his feet became anmated by an intention, and, in th workng out of that intention, they took him to th Doctor's dor.

   He was shown up-stairs, and found Lucie at her work, alone. She had nevr been quite at her ese with him, and receved him with som litl embarasmnt as he seatd himself near her table. But, lookng up at his face in th interchange of th first few comn-places, she observd a chanje in it.

   "I fear u ar not wel, Mr. Cartn!"

   "No. But th life I led, Miss Manette, is not conduciv to helth. Wat is to be expectd of, or by, such profligates?"

   "Is it not -- forgiv me; I hav begun th question on my lips -- a pity to liv no betr life?"

   "God nos it is a shame!"

   "Then wy not chanje it?"

   Lookng jently at him again, she was surprised and sadnd to se that ther wer tears in his ys. Ther wer tears in his voice too, as he ansrd:

   "It is too late for that. I shal nevr be betr than I am. I shal sink loer, and be worse."

   He leand an elbo on her table, and covrd his ys with his hand. Th table trembld in th silence that folod.

   She had nevr seen him sofnd, and was much distresd. He new her to be so, without lookng at her, and said:

   "Pray forgiv me, Miss Manette. I brek down befor th nolej of wat I want to say to u. Wil u hear me?"

   "If it wil do u any good, Mr. Cartn, if it wud make u happir, it wud make me very glad!"

   "God bless u for yr sweet compassion!"

   He unshaded his face aftr a litl wile, and spoke stedily.

   "Dont be afraid to hear me. Dont shrink from anything I say. I am like one ho died yung. Al my life myt hav been."

   "No, Mr. Cartn. I am sure that th best part of it myt stil be; I am sure that u myt be much, much worthier of yrself."


Paje 144

   "Say of u, Miss Manette, and altho I no betr -- altho in th mystry of my own reched hart I no betr -- I shal nevr forget it!"

   She was pale and tremblng. He came to her relief with a fixd despair of himself wich made th intrvew unlike any othr that cud hav been holden.

   "If it had been posbl, Miss Manette, that u cud hav returnd th lov of th man u se befor u -- self-flung away, wasted, drunkn, poor creatur of misuse as u no him to be -- he wud hav been concius this day and our, in spite of his happiness, that he wud bring u to misry, bring u to soro and repentnce, blyt u, disgrace u, pul u down with him. I no very wel that u can hav no tendrness for me; I ask for non; I am even thankful that it canot be."

   "Without it, can I not save u, Mr. Cartn? Can I not recal u -- forgiv me again! -- to a betr corse? Can I in no way repay yr confidnce? I no this is a confidnce," she modestly said, aftr a litl hesitation, and in ernest tears, "I no u wud say this to no one else. Can I turn it to no good acount for yrself, Mr. Cartn?"

   He shook his hed.

   "To non. No, Miss Manette, to non. If u wil hear me thru a very litl mor, al u can evr do for me is don. I wish u to no that u hav been th last dream of my sol. In my degradation I hav not been so degraded but that th syt of u with yr fathr, and of this home made such a home by u, has stird old shados that I thot had died out of me. Since I new u, I hav been trubld by a remorse that I thot wud nevr reproach me again, and hav herd wisprs from old voices impelling me upwrd, that I thot wer silent for evr. I hav had unformd ideas of striving afresh, beginng anew, shaking off sloth and sensuality, and fytng out th abandnd fyt. A dream, al a dream, that ends in nothing, and leavs th sleepr wher he lay down, but I wish u to no that u inspired it."

   "Wil nothing of it remain? O Mr. Cartn, think again! Try again!"

   "No, Miss Manette; al thru it, I hav nown myself to be quite undeserving. And yet I hav had th weakness, and hav stil th weakness, to wish u to no with wat a sudn mastry u kindld me, heap of ashs that I am, into fire -- a fire, howevr, inseprbl in its natur from myself, quiknng nothing, lytng nothing, doing no service, idly burnng away."


Paje 145

   "Since it is my misfortune, Mr. Cartn, to hav made u mor unhappy than u wer befor u new me -- "

   "Dont say that, Miss Manette, for u wud hav reclaimd me, if anything cud. u wil not be th cause of my becomng worse."

   "Since th state of yr mind that u describe, is, at al events, atributebl to som influence of mine -- this is wat I mean, if I can make it plan -- can I use no influence to serv u? Hav I no powr for good, with u, at al?"

   "Th utmost good that I am capabl of now, Miss Manette, I hav com here to realize. Let me carry thru th, rest of my misdirectd life, th remembrnce that I opend my hart to u, last of al th world; and that ther was somthing left in me at this time wich u cud deplor and pity."

   "Wich I entreated u to beleve, again and again, most fervntly, with al my hart, was capabl of betr things, Mr. Cartn!"

   "Entreat me to beleve it no mor, Miss Manette. I hav proved myself, and I no betr. I distress u; I draw fast to an end. Wil u let me beleve, wen I recal this day, that th last confidnce of my life was reposed in yr pure and inocent brest, and that it lies ther alone, and wil be shared by no one?"

   "If that wil be a conslation to u, yes."

   "Not even by th dearst one evr to be nown to u?"

   "Mr. Cartn," she ansrd, aftr an ajitated pause, "th secret is yrs, not mine; and I promis to respect it."

   "Thank u. And again, God bless u."

   He put her hand to his lips, and moved towards th dor.

   "Be undr no aprehension, Miss Manette, of my evr resuming this convrsation by so much as a pasng word. I wil nevr refer to it again. If I wer ded, that cud not be surer than it is henceforth. in th our of my deth, I shal hold sacred th one good remembrnce -- and shal thank and bless u for it -- that my last avowl of myself was made to u, and that my name, and falts, and misris wer jently carrid in yr hart. May it othrwise be lyt and happy!"

   He was so unlike wat he had evr shown himself to be, and it was so sad to think how much he had thrown away, and how much he evry day kept down and pervertd, that Lucie Manette wept mornfuly for him as he stood lookng bak at her.

   "Be comfrtd!" he said, "I am not worth such feelng, Miss Manette. An our or two hence, and th lo companions and lo habits that I


Paje 146

scorn but yield to, wil rendr me less worth such tears as those, than any rech ho creeps along th streets. Be comfrtd! But, within myself, I shal always be, towards u, wat I am now, tho outwrdly I shal be wat u hav heretofor seen me. Th last suplication but one I make to u, is, that u wil beleve this of me."

   "I wil, Mr. Cartn."

   "My last suplication of al, is this; and with it, I wil releve u of a visitr with hom I wel no u hav nothing in unisn, and between hom and u ther is an impasbl space. It is useless to say it, I no, but it rises out of my sol. For u, and for any dear to u, I wud do anything. If my career wer of that betr kind that ther was any oprtunity or capacity of sacrifice in it, I wud embrace any sacrifice for u and for those dear to u. Try to hold me in yr mind, at som quiet times, as ardnt and sincere in this one thing. Th time wil com, th time wil not be long in comng, wen new ties wil be formd about u -- ties that wil bind u yet mor tendrly and strongly to th home u so adorn -- th dearst ties that wil evr grace and gladden u. O Miss Manette, wen th litl pictur of a happy father's face looks up in yrs, wen u se yr own bryt buty springng up anew at yr feet, think now and then that ther is a man ho wud giv his life, to keep a life u lov beside u!"

   He said, "Farewel!" said a last "God bless u!" and left her.

TH ONEST TRADESMAN

   TO TH YS of Mr. Jeremia Cruncher, sitng on his stool in Fleet- street with his grisly urchn beside him, a vast numbr and variety of objects in movemnt wer evry day presentd. Ho cud sit upon anything in Fleet-street during th busy ours of th day, and not be dazed


Paje 147

and defnd by two imense processions, one evr tendng westwrd with th sun, th othr evr tendng eastwrd from th sun, both evr tendng to th plains beyond th ranje of red and purpl wher th sun gos down!

   With his straw in his mouth, Mr. Cruncher sat wachng th two streams, like th heathn rustic ho has for sevrl centuris been on duty wachng one stream -- saving that Jerry had no expectation of ther evr runng dry. Nor wud it hav been an expectation of a hopeful kind, since a smal part of his incm was derived from th pilotage of timid women (mostly of a ful habit and past th midl term of life) from Tellson's side of th tides to th oposit shor. Brief as such companionship was in evry seprate instnce, Mr. Cruncher nevr faild to becom so intrestd in th lady as to express a strong desire to hav th onr of drinkng her very good helth. And it was from th gifts bestod upon him towards th execution of this benevlnt purpos, that he recruitd his finances, as just now observd.

   Time was, wen a poet sat upon a stool in a public place, and mused in th syt of men. Mr. Cruncher, sitng on a stool in a public place, but not being a poet, mused as litl as posbl, and lookd about him.

   It fel out that he was thus engajed in a seasn wen crowds wer few, and belated women few, and wen his afairs in jenrl wer so unprosperous as to awaken a strong suspicion in his brest that Mrs. Cruncher must hav been "flopng" in som pointd manr, wen an unusul concorse porng down Fleet-street westwrd, atractd his atention. Lookng that way, Mr. Cruncher made out that som kind of funeral was comng along, and that ther was populr objection to this funeral, wich enjendrd upror.

   "Yung Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, turnng to his offspring, "it's a buryin'."

   "Hooroar, fathr!" cryd Yung Jerry.

   Th yung jentlman utrd this exultnt sound with mysterius significnce. Th eldr jentlman took th cry so HI, that he wachd his oprtunity, and smote th yung jentlman on th ear.

   "Wat d'ye mean? Wat ar u hooroaring at? Wat do u want to conwey to yr own fathr, u yung Rip? This boy is a getng too many for me!" said Mr. Cruncher, surveyng him. "Him and his hooroars! Dont let me hear no mor of u, or u shal feel som mor of me. D'ye hear?"

   "I warn't doing no harm," Yung Jerry protestd, rubng his cheek.


Paje 148

   "Drop it then," said Mr. Cruncher; "I wont hav non of yr no harms. Get a top of that ther seat, and look at th crowd."

   His son obeyd, and th crowd aproachd; they wer bawlng and hisng round a dinjy herse and dinjy mornng coach, in wich mornng coach ther was only one mornr, dresd in th dinjy trapngs that wer considrd esential to th dignity of th position. Th position apeard by no means to plese him, howevr, with an incresing rabl suroundng th coach, deriding him, making grimaces at him, and incesntly groanng and calng out: "Ya! Spys! Tst! Yaha! Spys!" with many complmnts too numerus and forcibl to repeat.

   Funerals had at al times a remarkbl atraction for Mr. Cruncher; he always prikd up his senses, and became exited, wen a funeral pasd Tellson's. Natrly, therfor, a funeral with this uncomn atendnce exited him gretly, and he askd of th first man ho ran against him:

   "Wat is it, brothr? Wat's it about?"

   "I dont no," said th man. "Spys! Yaha! Tst! Spys!"

   He askd anothr man. "Ho is it?"

   "I dont no," returnd th man, clapng his hands to his mouth nevrthless, and vociferating in a surprising heat and with th gretst ardr, "Spys! Yaha! Tst, tst! Spi-ies!"

   At length, a persn betr informd on th merits of th case, tumbld against him, and from this persn he lernd that th funeral was th funeral of one Rojr Cly.

   "Was He a spy?" askd Mr. Cruncher.

   "Old Baily spy," returnd his informnt. "Yaha! Tst! Ya! Old Baily Spi-i-ies!"

   "Wy, to be sure!" exclaimd Jerry, recalng th Trial at wich he had asistd. "I'v seen him. Ded, is he?"

   "Ded as mutn," returnd th othr, "and cant be too ded. Hav 'em out, ther! Spys! Pul 'em out, ther! Spys!"

   Th idea was so acceptbl in th prevlnt absnce of any idea, that th crowd caut it up with eagrness, and loudly repeatng th sujestion to hav 'em out, and to pul 'em out, mobd th two vehicls so closely that they came to a stop. On th crowd's openng th coach dors, th one mornr scufld out of himself and was in ther bands for a moment; but he was so alert, and made such good use of his time, that in anothr moment he was scourng away up a by-street, aftr shedng


Paje 149

his cloak, hat, long hatband, wite poket-hankrchief, and othr symbolical tears.

   These, th peple tor to peces and scatrd far and wide with gret enjoymnt, wile th tradesmen hurridly shut up ther shops; for a crowd in those times stopd at nothing, and was a monstr much dredd. They had alredy got th length of openng th herse to take th cofn out, wen som brytr jenius proposed insted, its being escortd to its destnation amidst jenrl rejoicing. Practicl sujestions being much needd, this sujestion, too, was receved with aclmation, and th coach was imediatly fild with eit inside and a dozn out, wile as many peple got on th roof of th herse as cud by any exrcise of injnuity stik upon it. Among th first of these volunteers was Jerry Cruncher himself, ho modestly conceald his spiky hed from th obsrvation of Tellson's, in th furthr cornr of th mornng coach.

   Th oficiating undertakers made som protest against these chanjes in th ceremnis; but, th rivr being alarmngly near, and sevrl voices remarkng on th eficacy of cold imersion in bringng refractry membrs of th profession to reasn, th protest was faint and brief. Th remodld procession startd, with a chimny-sweep driving th herse -- advised by th regulr driver, ho was perchd beside him, undr close inspection, for th purpos -- and with a pieman, also atendd by his cabnet ministr, driving th mornng coach. A ber-leadr, a populr street caractr of th time, was impresd as an aditionl ornmnt, befor th cavlcade had gon far down th Strand; and his ber, ho was blak and very manjy, gave quite an Undrtaking air to that part of th procession in wich he walkd.

   Thus, with beer-drinkng, pipe-smoking, song-rorng, and infnit caricaturing of wo, th disordrly procession went its way, recruitng at evry step, and al th shops shutng up befor it. Its destnation was th old church of Saint Pancras, far off in th fields. It got ther in corse of time; insistd on porng into th burial-ground; finaly, acomplishd th interment of th decesed Rojr Cly in its own way, and hyly to its own satisfaction.

   Th ded man disposed of, and th crowd being undr th necessity of providing som othr entrtainmnt for itself, anothr brytr jenius (or perhaps th same) conceved th humor of impeaching casul passersby, as Old Baily spys, and wreaking venjnce on them. Chase was givn to som scors of inofensiv persns ho had nevr been


Paje 150

near th Old Baily in ther lives, in th realization of this fancy, and they wer rufly husld and maltreatd. Th transition to th sport of windo-brekng, and thence to th plundrng of public-houses, was esy and natrl. At last, aftr sevrl ours, wen sundry sumr- houses had been puld down, and som area-railngs had been torn up, to arm th mor belijrnt spirits, a rumor got about that th Gards wer comng. Befor this rumor, th crowd graduly meltd away, and perhaps th Gards came, and perhaps they nevr came, and this was th usul progress of a mob.

   Mr. Cruncher did not asist at th closing sports, but had remaind behind in th churchyard, to confer and condole with th undertakers. Th place had a soothing influence on him. He procured a pipe from a neibrng public-house, and smoked it, lookng in at th railngs and maturely considrng th spot.

   "Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, apostrophising himself in his usul way, "u se that ther Cly that day, and u se with yr own ys that he was a yung 'un and a strait made 'un."

   Havng smoked his pipe out, and ruminated a litl longr, he turnd himself about, that he myt apear, befor th our of closing, on his station at Tellson's. Wethr his meditations on mortality had tuchd his livr, or wethr his jenrl helth had been previusly at al amiss, or wethr he desired to sho a litl atention to an emnnt man, is not so much to th purpos, as that he made a short cal upon his medicl adviser -- a distinguishd surjn -- on his way bak.

   Yung Jerry releved his fathr with dutiful intrest, and reportd No job in his absnce. Th bank closed, th ancient clerks came out, th usul wach was set, and Mr. Cruncher and his son went home to te.

   "Now, I tel u wher it is!" said Mr. Cruncher to his wife, on entrng. "If, as a onest tradesman, my wenturs gos rong to-nyt, I shal make sure that u'v been prayng again me, and I shal work u for it just th same as if I seen u do it."

   Th dejectd Mrs. Cruncher shook her hed.

   "Wy, u'r at it afor my face!" said Mr. Cruncher, with syns of angry aprehension.

   "I am sayng nothing."

   "Wel, then; dont meditate nothing. U myt as wel flop as meditate. U may as wel go again me one way as anothr. Drop it altogethr."

   "Yes, Jerry."


Paje 151

   "Yes, Jerry," repeatd Mr. Cruncher sitng down to te. "Ah! It is yes, Jerry. That's about it. U may say yes, Jerry."

   Mr. Cruncher had no particulr meanng in these sulky corroborations, but made use of them, as peple not unfrequently do, to express jenrl ironicl disatisfaction.

   "U and yr yes, Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out of his bred-and-butr, and seemng to help it down with a larj invisbl oystr out of his saucer. "Ah! I think so. I beleve u."

   "U ar going out to-nyt?" askd his decent wife, wen he took anothr bite.

   "Yes, I am."

   "May I go with u, fathr?" askd his son, briskly.

   "No, u mayn't. I'm a going -- as yr mothr nos -- a fishng. That's wher I'm going to. Going a fishng."

   "Yr fishng-rod gets rayther rusty; dont it, fathr?"

   "Nevr u mind."

   "Shal u bring any fish home, fathr?"

   "If I dont, u'l hav short comns, to-moro," returnd that jentlman, shaking his hed; "that's questions enuf for u; I aint a going out, til u'v been long abed."

   He devoted himself during th remaindr of th evenng to keepng a most vijlnt wach on Mrs. Cruncher, and sulenly holdng her in convrsation that she myt be preventd from meditating any petitions to his disadvantaj. With this vew, he urjd his son to hold her in convrsation also, and led th unfortunat womn a hard life by dwelng on any causes of complaint he cud bring against her, rathr than he wud leve her for a moment to her own reflections. Th devoutest persn cud hav rendrd no gretr homaj to th eficacy of an onest prayr than he did in this distrust of his wife. It was as if a profesd unbelever in gosts shud be frytnd by a gost story.

   "And mind u!" said Mr. Cruncher. "No games to-moro! If I, as a onest tradesman, succeed in providing a jinte of meat or two, non of yr not tuchng of it, and stikng to bred. If I, as a onest tradesman, am able to provide a litl beer, non of yr declaring on watr. Wen u go to Rome, do as Rome dos. Rome wil be a ugly custmr to u, if u dont. I'm yr Rome, u no."

   Then he began grumblng again:

   "With yr flyng into th face of yr own wittles and drink! I dont no how scarce u mayn't make th wittles and drink here, by yr


Paje 152

flopng triks and yr unfeelng conduct. Look at yr boy: he is your'n, aint he? He's as thin as a lath. Do u cal yrself a mothr, and not no that a mother's first duty is to blo her boy out?"

   This tuchd Yung Jerry on a tendr place; ho ajured his mothr to perform her first duty, and, watevr else she did or neglectd, abov al things to lay especial stress on th discharj of that maternl function so affectingly and delicatly indicated by his othr parent.

   Thus th evenng wor away with th Cruncher famly, until Yung Jerry was ordrd to bed, and his mothr, laid undr simlr injunctions, obeyd them. Mr. Cruncher begiled th erlir wachs of th nyt with solitry pipes, and did not start upon his excursion until nearly one oclok. Towards that smal and gostly our, he rose up from his chair, took a ke out of his poket, opend a lokd cubrd, and brot forth a sak, a crobar of convenient size, a rope and chain, and othr fishng takl of that natur. Disposing these articls about him in skilful manr, he bestod a partng defiance on Mrs. Cruncher, extinguishd th lyt, and went out.

   Yung Jerry, ho had only made a feint of undresng wen he went to bed, was not long aftr his fathr. Undr covr of th darkns he folod out of th room, folod down th stairs, folod down th cort, folod out into th streets. He was in no unesiness concernng his getng into th house again, for it was ful of lojrs, and th dor stood ajar al nyt.

   Impeld by a laudbl ambition to study th art and mystry of his father's onest calng, Yung Jerry, keepng as close to house fronts, walls, and dorways, as his ys wer close to one anothr, held his onrd parent in vew. Th onrd parent steerng Northwrd, had not gon far, wen he was joind by anothr disiple of Izaak Walton, and th two trujd on togethr.

   Within half an our from th first startng, they wer beyond th winkng lamps, and th mor than winkng wachmen, and wer out upon a lonely road. Anothr fishrman was pikd up here -- and that so silently, that if Yung Jerry had been superstitius, he myt hav suposed th secnd foloer of th jentl craft to hav, al of a sudn, split himself into two.

   Th thre went on, and Yung Jerry went on, until th thre stopd undr a bank overhangng th road. Upon th top of th bank was a lo brik wal, surmountd by an iron railng. In th shado of bank and wal th thre turnd out of th road, and up a blind lane, of wich


Paje 153

th wal -- ther, risn to som eit or ten feet hy -- formd one side. Crouchng down in a cornr, peepng up th lane, th next object that Yung Jerry saw, was th form of his onrd parent, pretty wel defined against a watry and cloudd moon, nimbly scaling an iron gate. He was soon over, and then th secnd fishrman got over, and then th third. They al dropd softly on th ground within th gate, and lay ther a litl -- lisnng perhaps. Then, they moved away on ther hands and nes.

   It was now Yung Jerry's turn to aproach th gate: wich he did, holdng his breth. Crouchng down again in a cornr ther, and lookng in, he made out th thre fishrmen creepng thru som rank grass! and al th gravestones in th churchyard -- it was a larj churchyard that they wer in -- lookng on like gosts in wite, wile th church towr itself lookd on Eke th gost of a monstrus jiant. They did not creep far, befor they stopd and stood upryt. And then they began to fish.

   They fishd with a spade, at first. Presntly th onrd parent apeard to be ajustng som instrumnt like a gret corkscrew. Watevr tools they workd with, they workd hard, until th awful striking of th church clok so terifyd Yung Jerry, that he made off, with his hair as stif as his father's.

   But, his long-cherishd desire to no mor about these matrs, not only stopd him in his runng away, but lured him bak again. They wer stil fishng perseveringly, wen he peepd in at th gate for th secnd time; but, now they seemd to hav got a bite. Ther was a screwng and complainng sound down belo, and ther bent figrs wer straind, as if by a weit. By slo degrees th weit broke away th erth upon it, and came to th surface. Yung Jerry very wel new wat it wud be; but, wen he saw it, and saw his onrd parent about to rench it open, he was so frytnd, being new to th syt, that he made off again, and nevr stopd until he had run a mile or mor.

   He wud not hav stopd then, for anything less necesry than breth, it being a spectrl sort of race that he ran, and one hyly desirebl to get to th end of. He had a strong idea that th cofn he had seen was runng aftr him; and, picturd as hopng on behind him, bolt upryt, upon its naro end, always on th point of overtaking him and hopng on at his side -- perhaps taking his arm -- it was a pursur to shun. It was an inconsistnt and ubiquitus fiend too, for,


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wile it was making th hole nyt behind him dredful, be dartd out into th roadway to avoid dark allis, fearful of its comng hopng out of them like a dropsical boy's-Kite without tail and wings. It hid in dorways too, rubng its horibl sholdrs against dors, and drawng them up to its ears, as if it wer lafng. It got into shados on th road, and lay cunngly on its bak to trip him up. Al this time it was incesntly hopng on behind and gainng on him, so that wen th boy got to his own dor he had reasn for being half ded. And even then it wud not leve him, but folod him upstairs with a bump on evry stair, scrambld into bed with him, and bumpd down, ded and hevy, on his brest wen he fel asleep.

   From his opresd slumbr, Yung Jerry in his closet was awakend aftr daybrek and befor sunrise, by th presnce of his fathr in th famly room. Somthing had gon rong with him; at least, so Yung Jerry inferd, from th circmstnce of his holdng Mrs. Cruncher by th cars, and nokng th bak of her hed against th hed-bord of th bed.

   "I told u I wud," said Mr. Cruncher, "and I did."

   "Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!" his wife implord.

   "U opose yrself to th profit of th busness," said Jerry, "and me and my partnrs sufr. U was to onr and obey; wy th devl dont u?"

   "I try to be a good wife, Jerry," th poor womn protestd, with tears.

   "Is it being a good wife to opose yr husband's busness? Is it onrng yr husbnd to disonr his busness? Is it obeyng yr husbnd to disobey him on th wital subject of his busness?"

   "U hadnt taken to th dredful busness then, Jerry."

   "It's enuf for u," retortd Mr. Cruncher, "to be th wife of a onest tradesman, and not to ocupy yr female mind with calculations wen he took to his trade or wen he didnt. A onrng and obeyng wife wud let his trade alone altogethr. Cal yrself a relijus womn? If u'r a relijus womn, giv me a irelijus one! U hav no mor nat'ral sense of duty than th bed of this here Tams rivr has of a pile, and simlrly it must be nokd into u."

   Th altrcation was conductd in a lo tone of voice, and termnated in th onest tradesman's kikng off his clay-soild boots, and lyng down at his length on th flor. Aftr taking a timid peep at him lyng


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on his bak, with his rusty hands undr his hed for a pilo, his son lay down too, and fel asleep again.

   Ther was no fish for brekfast, and not much of anything else. Mr. Cruncher was out of spirits, and out of tempr, and kept an iron pot-lid by him as a projectl for th corection of Mrs. Cruncher, in case he shud observ any symtms of her sayng Grace. He was brushd and washd at th usul our, and set off with his son to pursu his ostensbl calng.

   Yung Jerry, walkng with th stool undr his arm at his father's side along sunny and crowdd Fleet-street, was a very difrnt Yung Jerry from him of th previus nyt, runng home thru darkns and solitude from his grim pursur. His cunng was fresh with th day, and his qualms wer gon with th nyt -- in wich particulrs it is not improbbl that he had compeers in Fleet-street and th City of Londn, that fine mornng.

   "Fathr," said Yung Jerry, as they walkd along: taking care to keep at arm's length and to hav th stool wel between them: "wat's a Resrection-Man?"

   Mr. Cruncher came to a stop on th pavemnt befor he ansrd, "How shud I no?"

   "I thot u noed everything, fathr," said th artless boy.

   "Hem! Wel," returnd Mr. Cruncher, going on again, and liftng off his hat to giv his spikes fre play, "he's a tradesman."

   "Wat's his goods, fathr?" askd th brisk Yung Jerry.

   "Ins goods," said Mr. Cruncher, aftr turnng it over in his mind, "is a branch of Sientific goods."

   "Persons' bodis, aint it, fathr?" askd th lively boy.

   "I beleve it is somthing of that sort," said Mr. Cruncher.

   "O, fathr, I shud so like to be a Resrection-Man wen I'm quite growed up!"

   Mr. Cruncher was soothed, but shook his hed in a dubius and moral way. "It depends upon how u dewelop yr talents. Be careful to dewelop yr talents, and nevr to say no mor than u can help to nobody, and ther's no telng at th presnt time wat u may not com to be fit for." As Yung Jerry, thus encurajd, went on a few yards in advance, to plant th stool in th shado of th Bar, Mr. Cruncher add to himself: "Jerry, u onest tradesman, ther's hopes wot that boy wil yet be a blesng to u, and a recmpense to u for his mothr!"


Paje 156

NITNG

   THER HAD BEEN erlir drinkng than usul in th wine-shop of Mosier Defarge. As erly as six oclok in th mornng, salo faces peepng thru its bard windos had descried othr faces within, bendng over mesurs of wine. Mosier Defarge sold a very thin wine at th best of times, but it wud seem to hav been an unusuly thin wine that he sold at this time. A sour wine, morover, or a sourng, for its influence on th mood of those ho drank it was to make them gloomy. No vivacius Bacchanalian flame leapd out of th presd grape of Mosier Defarge: but, a smoldrng fire that burnt in th dark, lay hidn in th dregs of it.

   This had been th third mornng in succession, on wich ther had been erly drinkng at th wine-shop of Mosier Defarge. It had begun on Monday, and here was Wensday com. Ther had been mor of erly broodng than drinkng; for, many men had lisnd and wisprd and slunk about ther from th time of th openng of th dor, ho cud not hav laid a pece of mony on th countr to save ther sols. These wer to th ful as intrestd in th place, howevr, as if they cud hav comandd hole barels of wine; and they glided from seat to seat, and from cornr to cornr, swaloing talk in lu of drink, with greedy looks.

   Notwithstandng an unusul flo of compny, th mastr of th wine- shop was not visbl. He was not misd; for, nobody ho crosd th threshold lookd for him, nobody askd for him, nobody wondrd to se only Madame Defarge in her seat, presiding over th distribution of wine, with a bol of batrd smal coins befor her, as much defaced


Paje 157

and beatn out of ther orijnl impress as th smal coinaj of humanity from hos raged pokets they had com.

   A suspendd intrest and a prevlnt absnce of mind, wer perhaps observd by th spys ho lookd in at th wine-shop, as they lookd in at evry place, hy and lo, from th kings palace to th criminal's jail. Games at cards languishd, playrs at dominos musingly bilt towrs with them, drinkrs drew figrs on th tables with spilt drops of wine, Madame Defarge herself pikd out th patrn on her sleve with her toothpik, and saw and herd somthing inaudbl and invisbl a long way off.

   Thus, Saint Antoine in this vinous featur of his, until miday. It was hy noontide, wen two dusty men pasd thru his streets and undr his swingng lamps: of hom, one was Mosier Defarge: th othr a mender of roads in a blu cap. Al adust and athirst, th two entrd th wine-shop. Ther arival had lytd a kind of fire in th brest of Saint Antoine, fast spredng as they came along, wich stird and flikrd in flames of faces at most dors and windos. Yet, no one had folod them, and no man spoke wen they entrd th wine-shop, tho th ys of evry man ther wer turnd upon them.

   "Good day, jentlmen!" said Mosier Defarge.

   It may hav been a signl for loosnng th jenrl tong. It elicitd an ansrng corus of "Good day!"

   "It is bad wethr, jentlmen," said Defarge, shaking his hed.

   Upon wich, evry man lookd at his neibr, and then an cast down ther ys and sat silent. Exept one man, ho got up and went out.

   "My wife," said Defarge aloud, adresng Madame Defarge: "I hav travld certn leags with this good mender of roads, cald Jaques. I met him -- by accidnt -- a day and half's jurny out of Paris. He is a good child, this mender of roads, cald Jaques. Giv him to drink, my wife!"

   A secnd man got up and went out. Madame Defarge set wine befor th mender of roads cald Jaques, ho doffed his blu cap to th compny, and drank. In th brest of his blouse he carrid som corse dark bred; he ate of this between whiles, and sat munchng and drinkng near Madame Defarge's countr. A third man got up and went out.

   Defarge refreshd himself with a draft of wine -- but, he took less than was givn to th stranjer, as being himself a man to hom it was no rarity -- and stood waitng until th cuntryman had made his brekfast. He lookd at no one presnt, and no one now lookd at him; not even Madame Defarge, ho had taken up her nitng, and was at work.


Paje 158

   "Hav u finishd yr repast, frend?" he askd, in du seasn.

   "Yes, thank u."

   "Com, then! U shal se th apartmnt that I told u u cud ocupy. It wil suit u to a marvl."

   Out of th wine-shop into th street, out of th street into a cortyard, out of th cortyard up a steep staircase, out of th staircase into a garet, -- formrly th garet wher a wite-haird man sat on a lo bench, stoopng forwrd and very busy, making shoes.

   No wite-haird man was ther now; but, th thre men wer ther ho had gon out of th wine-shop singly. And between them and th wite-haird man afar off, was th one smal link, that they had once lookd in at him thru th chinks in th wal.

   Defarge closed th dor carefuly, and spoke in a subdud voice:

   "Jaques One, Jaques Two, Jaques Thre! This is th witness encountrd by apointmnt, by me, Jaques Four. He wil tel u al. Speak, Jaques Five!"

   Th mender of roads, blu cap in hand, wiped his swarthy forhed with it, and said, "Wher shal I comence, mosier?"

   "Comence," was Mosier Defarge's not unreasnbl reply, "at th comencemnt."

   "I saw him then, messieurs," began th mender of roads, "a year ago this runng sumr, undrneath th carrij of th Marquis, hangng by th chain. Behold th manr of it. I leving my work on th road, th sun going to bed, th carrij of th Marquis sloly asendng th hil, he hangng by th chain -- like this."

   Again th mender of roads went thru th hole performnce; in wich he ot to hav been perfect by that time, seing that it had been th infalbl resorce and indispensbl entrtainmnt of his vilaj during a hole year.

   Jaques One struk in, and askd if he had evr seen th man befor?

   "Nevr," ansrd th mender of roads, recovrng his perpndiculr.

   Jaques Thre demandd how he aftrwrds recognized him then?

   "By his tal figr," said th mender of roads, softly, and with his fingr at his nose. "Wen Mosier th Marquis demands that evenng, 'say, wat is he like?' I make response, 'tall as a spectr.'"

   "U shud hav said, short as a dwarf," returnd Jaques Two.

   "But wat did I no? Th deed was not then acomplishd, neithr did he confide in me. Observ! Undr those circmstnces even, I do not ofr my testmny. Mosier th Marquis indicates me with his fingr,


Paje 159

standng near our litl fountn, and says, 'to me! Bring that rascl!' My faith, messieurs, I ofr nothing."

   "He is ryt ther, Jaques," murmrd Defarge, to him ho had intruptd. "Go on!"

   "Good!" said th mender of roads, with an air of mystry. "Th tal man is lost, and he is sot -- how many months? Nine, ten, elevn?"

   "No matr, th numbr," said Defarge. "He is wel hidn, but at last he is unluckily found. Go on!"

   "I am again at work upon th hil-side, and th sun is again about to go to bed. I am colectng my tools to desend to my cotaj down in th vilaj belo, wher it is alredy dark, wen I rase my ys, and se comng over th hil six soldirs. In th midst of them is a tal man with his arms bound -- tied to his sides -- like this!"

   With th aid of his indispensbl cap, he representd a man with his elbos bound fast at his hips, with cords that wer notd behind him.

   "I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of stones, to se th soldirs and ther prisnr pass (for it is a solitry road, that, wher any spectacl is wel worth lookng at), and at first, as they aproach, I se no mor than that they ar six soldirs with a tal man bound, and that they ar almost blak to my syt -- exept on th side of th sun going to bed, wher they hav a red ej, messieurs. Also, I se that ther long shados ar on th holo rij on th oposit side of th road, and ar on th hil abov it, and ar like th shados of jiants. Also, I se that they ar covrd with dust, and that th dust moves with them as they com, tramp, tramp! But wen they advance quite near to me, I recognize th tal man, and he recognizes me. Ah, but he wud be wel content to precipitate himself over th hil-side once again, as on th evenng wen he and I first encountrd, close to th same spot!"

   He described it as if he wer ther, and it was evidnt that he saw it vividly; perhaps he had not seen much in his life.

   "I do not sho th soldirs that I recognize th tal man; he dos not sho th soldirs that he recognizes me; we do it, and we no it, with our ys. 'come on!' says th chief of that compny, pointng to th vilaj, 'bring him fast to his tomb!' and they bring him fastr. I folo. His arms ar sweld because of being bound so tyt, his woodn shoes ar larj and clumsy, and he is lame. Because he is lame, and consequently slo, they drive him with ther guns -- like this!"

   He imitated th action of a man's being impeld forwrd by th but-ends of muskets.


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   "As they desend th hil like madmen runng a race, he fals. They laf and pik him up again. His face is bleedng and covrd with dust, but he canot tuch it; therupon they laf again. They bring him into th vilaj; al th vilaj runs to look; they take him past th mil, and up to th prisn; al th vilaj ses th prisn gate open in th darkns of th nyt, and swalo him -- like this!"

   He opend his mouth as wide as he cud, and shut it with a soundng snap of his teeth. Observnt of his unwilngness to mar th efect by openng it again, Defarge said, "Go on, Jaques."

   "Al th vilaj," pursud th mender of roads, on tiptoe and in a lo voice, "withdraws; al th vilaj wisprs by th fountn; al th vilaj sleeps; al th vilaj dreams of that unhappy one, within th loks and bars of th prisn on th crag, and nevr to com out of it, exept to perish. In th mornng, with my tools upon my sholdr, eatng my morsl of blak bred as I go, I make a circuit by th prisn, on my way to my work. Ther I se him, hy up, behind th bars of a lofty iron caje, blody and dusty as last nyt, lookng thru. He has no hand fre, to wave to me; I dare not cal to him; he regards me like a ded man."

   Defarge and th thre glanced darkly at one anothr. Th looks of al of them wer dark, represd, and revengeful, as they lisnd to th countryman's story; th manr of al of them, wile it was secret, was authoritativ too. They had th air of a ruf tribunal; Jaques One and Two sitng on th old palet-bed, each with his chin restng on his hand, and his ys intent on th road-mender; Jaques Thre, equaly intent, on one ne behind them, with his ajitated hand always gliding over th network of fine nervs about his mouth and nose; Defarge standng between them and th narator, hom he had stationd in th lyt of th windo, by turns lookng from him to them, and from them to him.

   "Go on, Jaques," said Defarge.

   "He remains up ther in his iron caje som days. Th vilaj looks at him by stelth. for it is afraid. But it always looks up, from a distnce, at th prisn on th crag; and in th evenng, wen th work of th day is acheved and it assembles to gosip at th fountn, al faces ar turnd towards th prisn. Formrly, they wer turnd towards th postng-house; now, they ar turnd towards th prisn. They wispr at th fountn, that altho condemd to deth he wil not be executed; they say that petitions hav been presentd in Paris, shoing that


Paje 161

he was enrajed and made mad by th deth of his child; they say that a petition has been presentd to th King himself. Wat do I no? It is posbl. Perhaps yes, perhaps no."

   "Lisn then, Jaques," Numbr One of that name sternly intrposed. "No that a petition was presentd to th King and Queen. Al here, yrself exeptd, saw th King take it, in his carrij in th street, sitng beside th Queen. It is Defarge hom u se here, ho, at th hazrd of his life, dartd out befor th horses, with th petition in his hand."

   "And once again lisn, Jaques!" said th neelng Numbr Thre: his fingrs evr wandrng over and over those fine nervs, with a strikingly greedy air, as if he hungrd for somthing -- that was neithr food nor drink; "th gard, horse and foot, suroundd th petitioner, and struk him blos. U hear?"

   "I hear, messieurs."

   "Go on then," said Defarge.

   "Again; on th othr hand, they wispr at th fountn," resumed th cuntryman, "that he is brot down into our cuntry to be executed on th spot, and that he wil very certnly be executed. They even wispr that because he has slain Monseigneur, and because Monseigneur was th fathr of his tennts -- serfs -- wat u wil -- he wil -- be executed as a parricide. One old man says at th fountn, that his ryt hand, armd with th nife, wil be burnt off befor his face; that, into wounds wich wil be made in his arms, his brest, and his legs, ther wil be pord boilng oil, meltd led, hot resn, wax, and sulfr; finaly, that he wil be tom lim from lim by four strong horses. That old man says, al this was actuly don to a prisnr ho made an atemt on th life of th late King, Lui Fifteen. But how do I no if he lies? I am not a scolr."

   "Lisn once again then, Jaques!" said th man with th restless hand and th craving air. "Th name of that prisnr was Damiens, and it was al don in open day, in th open streets of this city of Paris; and nothing was mor noticed in th vast concorse that saw it don, than th crowd of ladis of quality and fashn, ho wer ful of eagr atention to th last -- to th last, Jaques, prolongd until nytfal, wen he had lost two legs and an arm, and stil brethed! And it was don -- wy, how old ar u?"

   "Thirty-five," said th mender of roads, ho lookd sixty.


Paje 162

   "It was don wen u wer mor than ten years old; u myt hav seen it. "

   "Enuf!" said Defarge, with grim impatience. "Long liv th Devl! Go on."

   "Wel! Som wispr this, som wispr that; they speak of nothing else; even th fountn apears to fal to that tune. At length, on Sunday nyt wen al th vilaj is asleep, com soldirs, windng down from th prisn, and ther guns ring on th stones of th litl street. Workmen dig, workmen hamr, soldirs laf and sing; in th mornng, by th fountn, ther is rased a galos forty feet hy, poisnng th watr."

   Th mender of roads lookd thru rathr than at th lo celing, and pointd as if he saw th galos somwher in th sky.

   "Al work is stopd, al asembl ther, nobody leads th cows out, th cows ar ther with th rest. At miday, th rol of drums. Soldirs hav marchd into th prisn in th nyt, and he is in th midst of many soldirs. He is bound as befor, and in his mouth ther is a gag -- tied so, with a tyt string, making him look almost as if he lafd." He sujestd it, by cresing his face with his two thums, from th cornrs of his mouth to his ears. "On th top of th galos is fixd th nife, blade upwrds, with its point in th air. He is hangd ther forty feet hy -- and is left hangng, poisnng th watr."

   They lookd at one anothr, as he used his blu cap to wipe his face, on wich th perspration had startd afresh wile he recald th spectacl.

   "It is frytful, messieurs. How can th women and th children draw watr! Ho can gosip of an evenng, undr that shado! Undr it, hav I said? Wen I left th vilaj, Monday evenng as th sun was going to bed, and lookd bak from th hil, th shado struk across th church, across th mil, across th prisn -- seemd to strike across th erth, messieurs, to wher th sky rests upon it!"

   Th hungry man nawd one of his fingrs as he lookd at th othr thre, and his fingr quivrd with th craving that was on him.

   "That's al, messieurs. I left at sunset (as I had been warnd to do), and I walkd on, that nyt and half next day, until I met (as I was warnd I shud) this comrad. With him, I came on, now riding and now walkng, thru th rest of yestrday and thru last nyt. And here u se me!"

   Aftr a gloomy silence, th first Jaques said, "Good! U hav actd and recountd faithfuly. Wil u wait for us a litl, outside th dor?"


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   "Very wilngly," said th mender of roads. Hom Defarge escortd to th top of th stairs, and, leving seatd ther, returnd.

   Th thre had risn, and ther heds wer togethr wen he came bak to th garet.

   "How say u, Jaques?" demandd Numbr One. "To be rejistrd?"

   "To be rejistrd, as doomd to destruction," returnd Defarge.

   "Magnificent!" croakd th man with th craving.

   "Th chatau, and al th race?" inquired th first.

   "Th chatau and al th race," returnd Defarge. "Extermnation."

   Th hungry man repeatd, in a rapturus croak, "Magnificent!" and began nawng anothr fingr.

   "Ar u sure," askd Jaques Two, of Defarge, "that no embarasmnt can arise from our manr of keepng th rejistr? Without dout it is safe, for no one beyond ourselvs can decyfr it; but shal we always be able to decyfr it -- or, I ot to say, wil she?"

   "Jaques," returnd Defarge, drawng himself up, "if madame my wife undrtook to keep th rejistr in her memry alone, she wud not lose a word of it -- not a sylabl of it. Nitd, in her own stichs and her own symbls, it wil always be as plan to her as th sun. Confide in Madame Defarge. It wud be esir for th weakst poltroon that lives, to erase himself from existnce, than to erase one letr of his name or crimes from th nitd rejistr of Madame Defarge."

   Ther was a murmr of confidnce and aproval, and then th man ho hungrd, askd: "Is this rustic to be sent bak soon? I hope so. He is very simpl; is he not a litl danjerus?"

   "He nos nothing," said Defarge; "at least nothing mor than wud esily elevate himself to a galos of th same hyt. I charj myself with him; let him remain with me; I wil take care of him, and set him on his road. He wishs to se th fine world -- th King, th Queen, and Cort; let him se them on Sunday."

   "Wat?" exclaimd th hungry man, staring. "Is it a good syn, that he wishs to se Roylty and Nobility?"

   "Jaques," said Defarge; "judiciusly sho a cat milk, if u wish her to thirst for it. Judiciusly sho a dog his natrl prey, if u wish him to bring it down one day."

   Nothing mor was said, and th mender of roads, being found alredy dozing on th topmost stair, was advised to lay himself down on th palet-bed and take som rest. He needd no persuasion, and was soon asleep.


Paje 164

   Worse quartrs than Defarge's wine-shop, cud esily hav been found in Paris for a provincial slave of that degree. Saving for a mysterius dred of madame by wich he was constntly hauntd, his life was very new and agreeabl. But, madame sat al day at her countr, so expresly unconcius of him, and so particulrly determnd not to perceve that his being ther had any conection with anything belo th surface, that he shook in his woodn shoes wenevr his y lytd on her. For, he contendd with himself that it was imposbl to forse wat that lady myt pretend next; and he felt asured that if she shud take it into her brytly ornmentd hed to pretend that she had seen him do a murdr and aftrwrds flay th victm, she wud infallibly go thru with it until th play was playd out.

   Therfor, wen Sunday came, th mender of roads was not enchantd (tho he said he was) to find that madame was to acompny mosier and himself to Versails. It was aditionly disconcertng to hav madame nitng al th way ther, in a public conveynce; it was aditionly disconcertng yet, to hav madame in th crowd in th aftrnoon, stil with her nitng in her hands as th crowd waitd to se th carrij of th King and Queen.

   "U work hard, madame," said a man near her.

   "Yes," ansrd Madame Defarge; "I hav a good deal to do."

   "Wat do u make, madame?"

   "Many things."

   "For instnce -- "

   "For instnce," returnd Madame Defarge, composedly, "shrouds."

   Th man moved a litl furthr away, as soon as he cud, and th mender of roads fand himself with his blu cap: feelng it mytily close and opressiv. If he needd a King and Queen to restor him, he was fortunat in havng his remedy at hand; for, soon th larj-faced King and th fair-faced Queen came in ther goldn coach, atendd by th shining Bull's Y of ther Cort, a glitrng multitude of lafng ladis and fine lords; and in jewls and silks and powdr and splendr and elegntly spurning figrs and hansmly disdainful faces of both sexs, th mender of roads bathd himself, so much to his tempry intoxication, that he cryd Long liv th King, Long liv th Queen, Long liv evrybody and everything! as if he had nevr herd of ubiquitus Jaques in his time. Then, ther wer gardns, cortyards, teraces, fountns, green banks, mor King and Queen, mor Bull's Y, mor lords and ladis, mor Long liv they al! until he abslutely wept


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with sentmnt. During th hole of this sene, wich lastd som thre ours, he had plenty of shoutng and weepng and sentmentl compny, and thruout Defarge held him by th colr, as if to restrain him from flyng at th objects of his brief devotion and terng them to peces.

   "Bravo!" said Defarge, clapng him on th bak wen it was over, like a patron; "u ar a good boy!"

   Th mender of roads was now comng to himself, and was mistrustful of havng made a mistake in his late demnstrations; but no.

   "U ar th felo we want," said Defarge, in his ear; "u make these fools beleve that it wil last for evr. Then, they ar th mor inslnt, and it is th nearr endd."

   "Hey!" cryd th mender of roads, reflectivly; "that's tru."

   "These fools no nothing. Wile they despise yr breth, and wud stop it for evr and evr, in u or in a hundred like u rathr than in one of ther own horses or dogs, they only no wat yr breth tels them. Let it deceve them, then, a litl longr; it canot deceve them too much."

   Madame Defarge lookd superciliously at th client, and nodd in confrmation.

   "As to u," said she, "u wud shout and shed tears for anything, if it made a sho and a noise. Say! Wud u not?"

   "Truly, madame, I think so. For th moment."

   "If u wer shown a gret heap of dols, and wer set upon them to pluk them to peces and despoil them for yr own advantaj, u wud pik out th richst and gayst. Say! Wud u not?"

   "Truly yes, madame."

   "Yes. And if u wer shown a flok of birds, unable to fly, and wer set upon them to strip them of ther fethrs for yr own advantaj, u wud set upon th birds of th finest fethrs; wud u not?"

   "It is tru, madame."

   "U hav seen both dols and birds to-day," said Madame Defarge, with a wave of her hand towards th place wher they had last been aparent; "now, go home!"


Paje 166

STIL NITNG

   MADAME DEFARGE and mosier her husbnd returnd amicbly to th bosm of Saint Antoine, wile a spek in a blu cap toild thru th darkns, and thru th dust, and down th weary miles of avnu by th wayside, sloly tendng towards that point of th compas wher th chatau of Mosier th Marquis, now in his grave, lisnd to th wisprng tres. Such ampl lesur had th stone faces, now, for lisnng to th tres and to th fountn, that th few vilaj scarecrows ho, in ther quest for herbs to eat and fragmnts of ded stik to bum, strayd within syt of th gret stone cortyard and terace staircase, had it born in upon ther starvd fancy that th expression of th faces was altrd. A rumor just livd in th vilaj -- had a faint and bare existnce ther, as its peple had -- that wen th nife struk home, th faces chanjed, from faces of pride to faces of angr and pain; also, that wen that danglng figr was hauld up forty feet abov th fountn, they chanjed again, and bor a cruel look of being avenjd, wich they wud henceforth ber for evr. In th stone face over th gret windo of th bed-chamber wher th murdr was don, two fine dints wer pointd out in th sculpturd nose, wich evrybody recognized, and wich nobody had seen of old; and on th scarce ocasions wen two or thre raged pesnts emerjd from th crowd to take a hurrid peep at Mosier th Marquis petrifyd, a skinny fingr wud not hav pointd to it for a minut, befor they al startd away among th moss and leavs, like th mor fortunat hares ho cud find a livng ther.

   Chatau and hut, stone face and danglng figr, th red stain on


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th stone flor, and th pure watr in th vilaj wel -- thousnds of acres of land -- a hole provnce of France -- al France itself -- lay undr th nyt sky, concentrated into a faint hair-bredth line. So dos a hole world, with al its greatnesses and littlenesses, he in a twinklng star. And as mere human nolej can split a ray of lyt and anlyz th manr of its composition, so, sublimer intelijnces may red in th feebl shining of this erth of ours, evry thot and act, evry vice and virtu, of evry responsbl creatur on it.

   Th Defarges, husbnd and wife, came lumbrng undr th starlyt, in ther public vehicl, to that gate of Paris whereunto ther jurny natrly tendd. Ther was th usul stopaj at th barir gard- house, and th usul lantrns came glancing forth for th usul examnation and inquiry. Mosier Defarge alytd; noing one or two of th soldiery ther, and one of th police. Th latr he was intmat with, and afectionatly embraced.

   Wen Saint Antoine had again enfoldd th Defarges in his dusky wings, and they, havng finaly alytd near th Saint's boundris, wer pikng ther way on foot thru th blak mud and ofl of his streets, Madame Defarge spoke to her husbnd:

   "Say then, my frend; wat did Jaques of th police tel thee?"

   "Very litl to-nyt, but al he nos. Ther is anothr spy comissiond for our quartr. Ther may be many mor, for al that he can say, but he nos of one."

   "Eh wel!" said Madame Defarge, rasing her ybrows with a cool busness air. "It is necesry to rejistr him. How do they cal that man?"

   "He is English."

   "So much th betr. His name?"

   "Barsad," said Defarge, making it French by pronunciation. But, he had been so careful to get it acuratly, that he then spelt it with perfect corectness.

   "Barsad," repeatd madame. "Good. Cristian name?"

   "Jon."

   "Jon Barsad," repeatd madame, aftr murmrng it once to herself. "Good. His apearnce; is it nown?"

   "Aje, about forty years; hyt, about five feet nine; blak hair; complexion dark; jenrly, rathr hansm visaj; ys dark, face thin, long, and salo; nose aquiline, but not strait, havng a peculir inclnation towards th left cheek; expression, therfor, sinistr."


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   "Eh my faith. It is a portrit!" said madame, lafng. "He shal be rejistrd to-moro."

   They turnd into th wine-shop, wich was closed (for it was midnyt), and wher Madame Defarge imediatly took her post at her desk, countd th smal moneys that had been taken during her absnce, examnd th stok, went thru th entris in th book, made othr entris of her own, chekd th servng man in evry posbl way, and finaly dismisd him to bed. Then she turnd out th contents of th bol of mony for th secnd time, and began notng them up in her hankrchief, in a chain of seprate nots, for safe keepng thru th nyt. Al this wile, Defarge, with his pipe in his mouth, walkd up and down, complacently admiring, but nevr intrfering; in wich condition, indeed, as to th busness and his domestic afairs, he walkd up and down thru life.

   Th nyt was hot, and th shop, close shut and suroundd by so foul a neibrhood, was il-smelng. Mosier Defarge's olfactry sense was by no means delicat, but th stok of wine smelt much strongr than it evr tasted, and so did th stok of rum and brandy and aniseed. He whiffed th compound of sents away, as he put down his smoked-out pipe.

   "U ar fatiged," said madame, rasing her glance as she notd th mony. "Ther ar only th usul odors."

   "I am a litl tired," her husbnd aknolejd.

   "U ar a litl depresd, too," said madame, hos quik ys had nevr been so intent on th acounts, but they had had a ray or two for him. "O, th men, th men!"

   "But my dear!" began Defarge.

   "But my dear!" repeatd madame, nodng firmly; "but my dear! U ar faint of hart to-nyt, my dear!"

   "Wel, then," said Defarge, as if a thot wer rung out of his brest, "it is a long time."

   "It is a long time," repeatd his wife; "and wen is it not a long time? Venjnce and retribution require a long time; it is th rule."

   "It dos not take a long time to strike a man with Lytnng," said Defarge.

   "How long," demandd madame, composedly, "dos it take to make and stor th lytnng? Tel me."

   Defarge rased his hed thotfuly, as if ther wer somthing in that too.


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   "It dos not take a long time," said madame, "for an erthquake to swalo a town. Eh wel! Tel me how long it takes to prepare th erthquake?"

   "A long time, I supose," said Defarge.

   "But wen it is redy, it takes place, and grinds to peces everything befor it. In th meantime, it is always preparing, tho it is not seen or herd. That is yr conslation. Keep it."

   She tied a not with flashng ys, as if it throtld a fo.

   "I tel thee," said madame, extendng her ryt hand, for emfasis, "that altho it is a long time on th road, it is on th road and comng. I tel thee it nevr retreats, and nevr stops. I tel thee it is always advancing. Look around and considr th Eves of al th world that we no, considr th faces of al th world that we no, considr th raje and discontent to wich th Jacquerie adresses itself with mor and mor of certnty evry our. Can such things last? Ba! I mok u."

   "My brave wife," returnd Defarge, standng befor her with his hed a litl bent, and his hands claspd at his bak, like a docil and atentiv pupil befor his catechist, "I do not question al this. But it has lastd a long time, and it is posbl -- u no wel, my wife, it is posbl -- that it may not com, during our lives."

   "Eh wel! How then?" demandd madame, tyng anothr not, as if ther wer anothr enmy strangld.

   "Wel!" said Defarge, with a half complainng and half apolojetic shrug. "We shal not se th triumf."

   "We shal hav helpd it," returnd madame, with her extendd hand in strong action. "Nothing that we do, is don in vain. I beleve, with al my sol, that we shal se th triumf. But even if not, even if I new certnly not, sho me th nek of an aristocrat and tyrant, and stil I wud -- "

   Then madame, with her teeth set, tied a very teribl not indeed.

   "Hold!" cryd Defarge, rednng a litl as if he felt charjd with cowrdice; "I too, my dear, wil stop at nothing."

   "Yes! But it is yr weakness that u somtimes need to se yr victm and yr oprtunity, to sustain u. Sustain yrself without that. Wen th time coms, let loose a tiger and a devl; but wait for th time with th tiger and th devl chaind -- not shown -- yet always redy."


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   Madame enforced th conclusion of this pece of advice by striking her litl countr with her chain of mony as if she nokd its brains out, and then gathrng th hevy hankrchief undr her arm in a serene manr, and observng that it was time to go to bed.

   Next noontide saw th admrbl womn in her usul place in th wine-shop, nitng away asiduusly. A rose lay beside her, and if she now and then glanced at th flowr, it was with no infraction of her usul preocupyd air. Ther wer a few custmrs, drinkng or not drinkng, standng or seatd, sprinkld about. Th day was very hot, and heaps of flys, ho wer extendng ther inquisitiv and adventurus perquisitions into al th glutinus litl glasses near madame, fel ded at th botm. Ther decease made no impression on th othr flys out promenading, ho lookd at them in th coolest manr (as if they themselvs wer elefnts, or somthing as far removed), until they met th same fate. Curius to considr how heedless flys ar! -- perhaps they thot as much at Cort that sunny sumr day.

   A figr entrng at th dor threw a shado on Madame Defarge wich she felt to be a new one. She laid down her nitng, and began to pin her rose in her hed-dress, befor she lookd at th figr.

   It was curius. Th moment Madame Defarge took up th rose, th custmrs cesed talkng, and began graduly to drop out of th wine- shop.

   "Good day, madame," said th new-comr.

   "Good day, mosier."

   She said it aloud, but add to herself, as she resumed her nitng: "Ha! Good day, aje about forty, hyt about five feet nine, blak hair, jenrly rathr hansm visaj, complexion dark, ys dark, thin, long and salo face, aquiline nose but not strait, havng a peculir inclnation towards th left cheek wich imparts a sinistr expression! Good day, one and al!"

   "Hav th goodness to giv me a litl glass of old cognac, and a mouthful of cool fresh watr, madame."

   Madame complyd with a polite air.

   "Marvlus cognac this, madame!"

   It was th first time it had evr been so complmntd, and Madame Defarge new enuf of its antecedents to no betr. She said, howevr, that th cognac was flatrd, and took up her nitng. Th visitr wachd her fingrs for a few moments, and took th oprtunity of observng th place in jenrl.


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   "U nit with gret skil, madame."

   "I am acustmd to it."

   "A pretty patrn too!"

   "U think so?" said madame, lookng at him with a smile.

   "Decidedly. May one ask wat it is for?"

   "Pastime," said madame, stil lookng at him with a smile wile her fingrs moved nimbly.

   "Not for use?"

   "That depends. I may find a use for it one day. If I do -- Wel," said madame, drawng a breth and nodng her hed with a stem kind of coquetry, "I'l use it!"

   It was remarkbl; but, th taste of Saint Antoine seemd to be decidedly oposed to a rose on th hed-dress of Madame Defarge. Two men had entrd sepratly, and had been about to ordr drink, wen, cachng syt of that novlty, they faltrd, made a pretense of lookng about as if for som frend ho was not ther, and went away. Nor, of those ho had been ther wen this visitr entrd, was ther one left. They had al dropd off. Th spy had kept his ys open, but had been able to detect no syn. They had lounjd away in a povrty- strikn, purposless, accidentl manr, quite natrl and unimpeachbl.

   "JON," thot madame, chekng off her work as her fingrs nitd, and her ys lookd at th stranjer. "Stay long enuf, and I shal nit 'BARSAD' befor u go."

   "U hav a husbnd, madame?"

   "I hav."

   "Children?"

   "No children."

   "Busness seems bad?"

   "Busness is very bad; th peple ar so poor."

   "Ah, th unfortunat, misrbl peple! So opresd, too -- as u say."

   "As u say," madame retortd, corectng him, and deftly nitng an extra somthing into his name that boded him no good.

   "Pardn me; certnly it was I ho said so, but u natrly think so. Of corse."

   "I think?" returnd madame, in a hy voice. "I and my husbnd hav enuf to do to keep this wine-shop open, without thinkng. Al


Paje 172

we think, here, is how to liv. That is th subject we think of, and it givs us, from mornng to nyt, enuf to think about, without embarasng our heds concernng othrs. I think for othrs? No, no."

   Th spy, ho was ther to pik up any crums he cud find or make, did not alow his bafld state to express itself in his sinistr face; but, stood with an air of gosipng galantry, leanng his elbo on Madame Defarge's litl countr, and ocasionly sipng his cognac.

   "A bad busness this, madame, of Gaspard's execution. Ah! th poor Gaspard!" With a sy of gret compassion.

   "My faith!" returnd madame, cooly and lytly, "if peple use nives for such purposes, they hav to pay for it. He new beforhand wat th price of his luxury was; he has paid th price."

   "I beleve," said th spy, dropng his soft voice to a tone that invited confidnce, and expresng an injrd revlutionry suseptbility in evry musl of his wiked face: "I beleve ther is much compassion and angr in this neibrhood, tuchng th poor felo? Between ourselvs."

   "Is ther?" askd madame, vacantly.

   "Is ther not?"

   " -- Here is my husbnd!" said Madame Defarge.

   As th keepr of th wine-shop entrd at th dor, th spy saluted him by tuchng his hat, and sayng, with an engajing smile, "Good day, Jaques!" Defarge stopd short, and stared at him.

   "Good day, Jaques!" th spy repeatd; with not quite so much confidnce, or quite so esy a smile undr th stare.

   "U deceve yrself, mosier," returnd th keepr of th wine- shop. "U mistake me for anothr. That is not my name. I am Ernest Defarge."

   "It is al th same," said th spy, airily, but discomfitd too: "good day!"

   "Good day!" ansrd Defarge, dryly.

   "I was sayng to madame, with hom I had th plesur of chatng wen u entrd, that they tel me ther is -- and no wondr! -- much sympathy and angr in Saint Antoine, tuchng th unhappy fate of poor Gaspard."

   "No one has told me so," said Defarge, shaking his hed. "I no nothing of it."

   Havng said it, he pasd behind th litl countr, and stood with


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his hand on th bak of his wife's chair, lookng over that barir at th persn to hom they wer both oposed, and hom eithr of them wud hav shot with th gretst satisfaction.

   Th spy, wel used to his busness, did not chanje his unconcius atitude, but draind his litl glass of cognac, took a sip of fresh watr, and askd for anothr glass of cognac. Madame Defarge pord it out for him, took to her nitng again, and humd a litl song over it.

   "U seem to no this quartr wel; that is to say, betr than I do?" observd Defarge.

   "Not at al, but I hope to no it betr. I am so profoundly intrestd in its misrbl inhabitnts."

   "Ha!" mutrd Defarge.

   "Th plesur of conversng with u, Mosier Defarge, recals to me," pursud th spy, "that I hav th onr of cherishng som intrestng asociations with yr name."

   "Indeed!" said Defarge, with much indifrnce.

   "Yes, indeed. Wen Doctr Manette was relesed, u, his old domestic, had th charj of him, I no. He was delivrd to u. U se I am informd of th circmstnces?"

   "Such is th fact, certnly," said Defarge. He had had it conveyd to him, in an accidentl tuch of his wife's elbo as she nitd and warbled, that he wud do best to ansr, but always with brevity.

   "It was to u," said th spy, "that his dautr came; and it was from yr care that his dautr took him, acompnid by a neat brown mosier; how is he cald? -- in a litl wig -- Lorry -- of th bank of Tellson and Compny -- over to England."

   "Such is th fact," repeatd Defarge.

   "Very intrestng remembrances!" said th spy. "I hav nown Doctr Manette and his dautr, in England."

   "Yes?" said Defarge.

   "U dont hear much about them now?" said th spy.

   "No," said Defarge.

   "In efect," madame struk in, lookng up from her work and her litl song, "we nevr hear about them. We receved th news of ther safe arival, and perhaps anothr letr, or perhaps two; but, since then, they hav graduly taken ther road in life -- we, ours -- and we hav held no corespondnce."

   "Perfectly so, madame," replyd th spy. "She is going to be marrid."


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   "Going?" ecod madame. "She was pretty enuf to hav been marrid long ago. U English ar cold, it seems to me."

   "O! U no I am English."

   "I perceve yr tong is," returnd madame; "and wat th tong is, I supose th man is."

   He did not take th identification as a complmnt; but he made th best of it, and turnd it off with a laf. Aftr sipng his cognac to th end, he add:

   "Yes, Miss Manette is going to be marrid. But not to an Englishman; to one ho, like herself, is French by birth. And speakng of Gaspard (ah, poor Gaspard! It was cruel, cruel!), it is a curius thing that she is going to marry th nefew of Mosier th Marquis, for hom Gaspard was exaltd to that hyt of so many feet; in othr words, th presnt Marquis. But he lives unown in England, he is no Marquis ther; he is Mr. Charls Darnay. D'aulnais is th name of his mother's famly."

   Madame Defarge nitd stedily, but th intelijnce had a palpbl efect upon her husbnd. Do wat he wud, behind th litl countr, as to th striking of a lyt and th lytng of his pipe, he was trubld, and his hand was not trustworthy. Th spy wud hav been no spy if he had faild to se it, or to record it in his mind.

   Havng made, at least, this one hit, watevr it myt prove to be worth, and no custmrs comng in to help him to any othr, Mr. Barsad paid for wat he had drunk, and took his leve: taking ocasion to say, in a jenteel manr, befor he departd, that he lookd forwrd to th plesur of seing Mosier and Madame Defarge again. For som minuts aftr he had emerjd into th outr presnce of Saint Antoine, th husbnd and wife remaind exactly as he had left them, lest he shud com bak.

   "Can it be tru," said Defarge, in a lo voice, lookng down at his wife as he stood smoking with his hand on th bak of her chair: "wat he has said of Ma'amselle Manette?"

   "As he has said it," returnd madame, liftng her ybrows a litl, "it is probbly false. But it may be tru."

   "If it is -- " Defarge began, and stopd.

   "If it is?" repeatd his wife.

   " -- And if it dos com, wile we liv to se it triumf -- I hope, for her sake, Destny wil keep her husbnd out of France."

   "Her husband's destny," said Madame Defarge, with her usul composur,


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"wil take him wher he is to go, and wil lead him to th end that is to end him. That is al I no."

   "But it is very stranje -- now, at least, is it not very stranje" -- said Defarge, rathr pleadng with his wife to induce her to admit it, "that, aftr al our sympathy for Mosier her fathr, and herself, her husband's name shud be proscribed undr yr hand at this moment, by th side of that infernl dog's ho has just left us?"

   "Stranjer things than that wil hapn wen it dos com," ansrd madame. "I hav them both here, of a certnty; and they ar both here for ther merits; that is enuf."

   She roiled up her nitng wen she had said those words, and presntly took th rose out of th hankrchief that was wound about her hed. Eithr Saint Antoine had an instinctiv sense that th objectionbl decration was gon, or Saint Antoine was on th wach for its disapearnce; howbeit, th Saint took curaj to lounj in, very shortly aftrwrds, and th wine-shop recovrd its habitul aspect.

   In th evenng, at wich seasn of al othrs Saint Antoine turnd himself inside out, and sat on dor-steps and windo-lejs, and came to th cornrs of vile streets and corts, for a breth of air, Madame Defarge with her work in her hand was acustmd to pass from place to place and from group to group: a Missionry -- ther wer many like her -- such as th world wil do wel nevr to breed again. Al th women nitd. They nitd worthless things; but, th mecanicl work was a mecanicl substitute for eatng and drinkng; th hands moved for th jaws and th dijestiv apratus: if th bony fingrs had been stil, th stomacs wud hav been mor famn-pinchd.

   But, as th fingrs went, th ys went, and th thots. And as Madame Defarge moved on from group to group, al thre went quikr and fiercer among evry litl not of women that she had spoken with, and left behind.

   Her husbnd smoked at his dor, lookng aftr her with admration. "A gret womn," said he, "a strong womn, a grand womn, a frytfuly grand womn!"

   Darkns closed around, and then came th ringng of church bels and th distnt beatng of th militry drums in th Palace Cortyard, as th women sat nitng, nitng. Darkns encompasd them. Anothr darkns was closing in as surely, wen th church bels, then ringng plesntly in many an airy steepl over France, shud be meltd into


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thundrng cann; wen th militry drums shud be beatng to drown a reched voice, that nyt al potent as th voice of Powr and Plenty, Fredm and Life. So much was closing in about th women ho sat nitng, nitng, that they ther very selvs wer closing in around a structur yet unbuilt, wher they wer to sit nitng, nitng, countng dropng heds.

ONE NYT

   NEVR DID th sun go down with a brytr glory on th quiet cornr in Soho, than one memrbl evenng wen th Doctr and his dautr sat undr th plane-tre togethr. Nevr did th moon rise with a readr radiance over gret Londn, than on that nyt wen it found them stil seatd undr th tre, and shon upon ther faces thru its leavs.

   Lucie was to be marrid to-moro. She had reservd this last evenng for her fathr, and they sat alone undr th plane-tre.

   "U ar happy, my dear fathr?"

   "Quite, my child."

   They had said litl, tho they had been ther a long time. Wen it was yet lyt enuf to work and red, she had neithr engajed herself in her usul work, nor had she red to him. She had employd herself in both ways, at his side undr th tre, many and many a time; but, this time was not quite like any othr, and nothing cud make it so.

   "And I am very happy to-nyt, dear fathr. I am deeply happy in th lov that Hevn has so blesd -- my lov for Charls, and Charles's lov for me. But, if my life wer not to be stil consecrated to u, or if


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my marrij wer so aranjed as that it wud part us, even by th length of a few of these streets, I shud be mor unhappy and self- reproachful now than I can tel u. Even as it is -- "

   Even as it was, she cud not comand her voice.

   In th sad moonlyt, she claspd him by th nek, and laid her face upon his brest. In th moonlyt wich is always sad, as th lyt of th sun itself is -- as th lyt cald human life is -- at its comng and its going.

   "Dearst dear! Can u tel me, this last time, that u feel quite, quite sure, no new afections of mine, and no new dutis of mine, wil evr intrpose between us? I no it wel, but do u no it? In yr own hart, do u feel quite certn?"

   Her fathr ansrd, with a cheerful firmness of conviction he cud scarcely hav asumed, "Quite sure, my darlng! Mor than that," he add, as he tendrly kisd her: "my futur is far brytr, Lucie, seen thru yr marrij, than it cud hav been -- nay, than it evr was -- without it."

   "If I cud hope that, my fathr! -- "

   "Beleve it, lov! Indeed it is so. Considr how natrl and how plan it is, my dear, that it shud be so. U, devoted and yung, canot fuly apreciate th anxiety I hav felt that yr life shud not be wasted -- "

   She moved her hand towards his lips, but he took it in his, and repeatd th word.

   " -- wasted, my child -- shud not be wasted, struk aside from th natrl ordr of things -- for my sake. Yr unselfishness canot entirely comprehend how much my mind has gon on this; but, only ask yrself, how cud my happiness be perfect, wile yrs was incomplete?"

   "If I had nevr seen Charls, my fathr, I shud hav been quite happy with u."

   He smiled at her unconcius admission that she wud hav been unhappy without Charls, havng seen him; and replyd:

   "My child, u did se him, and it is Charls. If it had not been Charls, it wud hav been anothr. Or, if it had been no othr, I shud hav been th cause, and then th dark part of my life wud hav cast its shado beyond myself, and wud hav falen on u."

   It was th first time, exept at th trial, of her evr hearng him refer to th period of his sufrng. It gave her a stranje and new sensation wile his words wer in her ears; and she remembrd it long aftrwrds.

   "Se!" said th Doctr of Bauvai, rasing his hand towards th


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moon. "I hav lookd at her from my prisn-windo, wen I cud not ber her lyt. I hav lookd at her wen it has been such tortur to me to think of her shining upon wat I had lost, that I hav beatn my hed against my prisn-walls. I hav lookd at her, in a state so dun and letharjic, that I hav thot of nothing but th numbr of horizontl lines I cud draw across her at th ful, and th numbr of perpndiculr lines with wich I cud intrsect them." He add in his inwrd and pondrng manr, as he lookd at th moon, "It was twenty eithr way, I remembr, and th twentieth was dificlt to squeze in."

   Th stranje thril with wich she herd him go bak to that time, deepnd as he dwelt upon it; but, ther was nothing to shok her in th manr of his refrnce. He only seemd to contrast his presnt cheerfulness and felicity with th dire endurance that was over.

   "I hav lookd at her, speculating thousnds of times upon th unborn child from hom I had been rent. Wethr it was alive. Wethr it had been born alive, or th poor mother's shok had kild it. Wethr it was a son ho wud som day avenj his fathr. (Ther was a time in my imprisnmnt, wen my desire for venjnce was unberbl.) Wethr it was a son ho wud nevr no his father's story; ho myt even liv to wei th posbility of his father's havng disapeard of his own wil and act. Wethr it was a dautr ho wud gro to be a womn."

   She drew closer to him, and kisd his cheek and his hand.

   "I hav picturd my dautr, to myself, as perfectly forgetful of me -- rathr, altogethr ignrnt of me, and unconcius of me. I hav cast up th years of her aje, year aftr year. I hav seen her marrid to a man ho new nothing of my fate. I hav altogethr perishd from th remembrnce of th livng, and in th next jenration my place was a blank."

   "My fathr! Even to hear that u had such thots of a dautr ho nevr existd, strikes to my hart as if I had been that child."

   "U, Lucie? It is out of th Conslation and restration u hav brot to me, that these remembrances arise, and pass between us and th moon on this last nyt. -- Wat did I say just now?"

   "She new nothing of u. She cared nothing for u."

   "So! But on othr moonlyt nyts, wen th sadness and th silence hav tuchd me in a difrnt way -- hav afectd me with somthing as like a soroful sense of pece, as any emotion that had pain for its foundations cud -- I hav imajnd her as comng to me in my cel, and


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leadng me out into th fredm beyond th fortress. I hav seen her imaj in th moonlyt ofn, as I now se u; exept that I nevr held her in my arms; it stood between th litl grated windo and th dor. But, u undrstand that that was not th child I am speakng of?"

   "Th figr was not; th -- th -- imaj; th fancy?"

   "No. That was anothr thing. It stood befor my disturbd sense of syt, but it nevr moved. Th fantm that my mind pursud, was anothr and mor real child. Of her outwrd apearnce I no no mor than that she was like her mothr. Th othr had that likeness too -- as u hav -- but was not th same. Can u folo me, Lucie? Hardly, I think? I dout u must hav been a solitry prisnr to undrstand these perplexd distinctions."

   His colectd and calm manr cud not prevent her blod from runng cold, as he thus tryd to anatomise his old condition.

   "In that mor peceful state, I hav imajnd her, in th moonlyt, comng to me and taking me out to sho me that th home of her marrid life was ful of her lovng remembrnce of her lost fathr. My pictur was in her room, and I was in her prayrs. Her life was activ, cheerful, useful; but my poor histry pervaded it al."

   "I was that child, my fathr, I was not half so good, but in my lov that was l."

   "And she showd me her children," said th Doctr of Bauvai, "and they had herd of me, and had been taut to pity me. Wen they pasd a prisn of th State, they kept far from its frownng walls, and lookd up at its bars, and spoke in wisprs. She cud nevr delivr me; I imajnd that she always brot me bak aftr shoing me such things. But then, blesd with th relief of tears, I fel upon my nes, and blesd her."

   "I am that child, I hope, my fathr. O my dear, my dear, wil u bless me as fervntly to-moro?"

   "Lucie, I recal these old trubls in th reasn that I hav to-nyt for lovng u betr than words can tel, and thankng God for my gret happiness. My thots, wen they wer wildst, nevr rose near th happiness that I hav nown with u, and that we hav befor us."

   He embraced her, solemly comendd her to Hevn, and humbly thankd Hevn for havng bestod her on him. By-and-by, they went into th house.

   Ther was no one bidn to th marrij but Mr. Lorry; ther was even to be no bridesmaid but th gaunt Miss Pross. Th marrij was to


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make no chanje in ther place of residnce; they had been able to extend it, by taking to themselvs th upr rooms formrly belongng to th apocryfl invisbl lojr, and they desired nothing mor.

   Doctr Manette was very cheerful at th litl supr. They wer only thre at table, and Miss Pross made th third. He regretd that Charls was not ther; was mor than half disposed to object to th lovng litl plot that kept him away; and drank to him afectionatly.

   So, th time came for him to bid Lucie good nyt, and they seprated. But, in th stilness of th third our of th mornng, Lucie came down- stairs again, and stole into his room; not fre from unshaped fears, beforhand.

   Al things, howevr, wer in ther places; al was quiet; and he lay asleep, his wite hair picturesq on th untrubld pilo, and his hands lyng quiet on th covrlet. She put her needless candl in th shado at a distnce, crept up to his bed, and put her lips to his; then, leand over him, and lookd at him.

   Into his hansm face, th bitr watrs of captivity had worn; but, he covrd up ther traks with a determnation so strong, that he held th mastry of them even in his sleep. A mor remarkbl face in its quiet, reslute, and gardd strugl with an unseen asailant, was not to be beheld in al th wide dominions of sleep, that nyt.

   She timidly laid her hand on his dear brest, and put up a prayr that she myt evr be as tru to him as her lov aspired to be, and as his soros deservd. Then, she withdrew her hand, and kisd his lips once mor, and went away. So, th sunrise came, and th shados of th leavs of th plane-tre moved upon his face, as softly as her lips had moved in prayng for him.


Paje 181

NINE DAYS

   TH MARRIJ-DAY was shining brytly, and they wer redy outside th closed dor of th Doctor's room, wher he was speakng with Charls Darnay. They wer redy to go to church; th butiful bride, Mr. Lorry, and Miss Pross -- to hom th event, thru a gradul process of reconcilement to th inevitbl, wud hav been one of abslute bliss, but for th yet lingrng considration that her brothr Solomn shud hav been th bridegroom.

   "And so," said Mr. Lorry, ho cud not suficiently admire th bride, and ho had been moving round her to take in evry point of her quiet, pretty dress; "and so it was for this, my sweet Lucie, that I brot u across th Chanl, such a baby' Lord bless me' How litl I thot wat I was doing! How lytly I valud th obligation I was conferng on my frend Mr. Charls!"

   "U didnt mean it," remarkd th matr-of-fact Miss Pross, "and therfor how cud u no it? Nonsnse!"

   "Realy? Wel; but dont cry," said th jentl Mr. Lorry.

   "I am not cryng," said Miss Pross; "u ar."

   "I, my Pross?" (By this time, Mr. Lorry dared to be plesnt with her, on ocasion.)

   "U wer, just now; I saw u do it, and I dont wondr at it. Such a presnt of plate as u hav made 'em, is enuf to bring tears into anybody's ys. Ther's not a fork or a spoon m th colection," said Miss Pross, "that I didnt cry over, last nyt aftr th box came, til I cudnt se it."

   "I am hyly gratifyd," said Mr. Lorry, "tho, upon my onr, I


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had no intention of rendrng those trifling articls of remembrnce invisbl to any one. Dear me! This is an ocasion that makes a man speculate on al he has lost. Dear, dear, dear! To think that ther myt hav been a Mrs. Lorry, any time these fifty years almost!"

   "Not at al!" From Miss Pross.

   "U think ther nevr myt hav been a Mrs. Lorry?" askd th jentlman of that name.

   "Pooh!" rejoind Miss Pross; "u wer a bachlr in yr cradle."

   "Wel!" observd Mr. Lorry, beamingly ajustng his litl wig, "that seems probbl, too."

   "And u wer cut out for a bachlr," pursud Miss Pross, "befor u wer put in yr cradle."

   "Then, I think," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was very unhandsomely delt with, and that I ot to hav had a voice in th selection of my patrn. Enuf! Now, my dear Lucie," drawng his arm soothingly round her waist, "I hear them moving in th next room, and Miss Pross and I, as two forml folks of busness, ar anxius not to lose th final oprtunity of sayng somthing to u that u wish to hear. U leve yr good fathr, my dear, in hands as ernest and as lovng as yr own; he shal be taken evry concevebl care of; during th next fortnyt, wile u ar in Warikshr and therabouts, even Tellson's shal go to th wal (comparativly speakng) befor him. And wen, at th fortnight's end, he coms to join u and yr belovd husbnd, on yr othr fortnight's trip in Wales, u shal say that we hav sent him to u in th best helth and in th happiest frame. Now, I hear Somebody's step comng to th dor. Let me kiss my dear girl with an old-fashnd bachlr blesng, befor Sombody coms to claim his own."

   For a moment, he held th fair face from him to look at th wel- remembrd expression on th forhed, and then laid th bryt goldn hair against his litl brown wig, with a jenuin tendrness and delicacy wich, if such things be old-fashnd, wer as old as Adam.

   Th dor of th Doctor's room opend, and he came out with Charls Darnay. He was so dedly pale -- wich had not been th case wen they went in togethr -- that no vestij of color was to be seen in his face. But, in th composur of his manr he was unaltrd, exept that to th shrewd glance of Mr. Lorry it disclosed som shadowy indication that th old air of avoidnce and dred had lately pasd over him, like a cold wind.

   He gave his arm to his dautr, and took her down-stairs to th


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chariot wich Mr. Lorry had hired in onr of th day. Th rest folod in anothr carrij, and soon, in a neibrng church, wher no stranje ys lookd on, Charls Darnay and Lucie Manette wer happily marrid.

   Besides th glancing tears that shon among th smiles of th litl group wen it was don, som diamnds, very bryt and sparklng, glanced on th bride's hand, wich wer newly relesed from th dark obscurity of one of Mr. Lorry's pokets. They returnd home to brekfast, and al went wel, and in du corse th goldn hair that had mingld with th poor shoemaker's wite loks in th Paris garet, wer mingld with them again in th mornng sunlyt, on th threshold of th dor at partng.

   It was a hard partng, tho it was not for long. But her fathr cheerd her, and said at last, jently disengaging himself from her enfoldng arms, "Take her, Charls! She is yrs!"

   And her ajitated hand waved to them from a chaise windo, and she was gon.

   Th cornr being out of th way of th idle and curius, and th preprations havng been very simpl and few, th Doctr, Mr. Lorry, and Miss Pross, wer left quite alone. It was wen they turnd into th welcm shade of th cool old hal, that Mr. Lorry observd a gret chanje to hav com over th Doctr; as if th goldn arm upliftd ther, had struk him a poisnd blo.

   He had natrly represd much, and som revulsion myt hav been expectd in him wen th ocasion for repression was gon. But, it was th old scared lost look that trubld Mr. Lorry; and thru his absnt manr of claspng his hed and drearily wandrng away into his own room wen they got up-stairs, Mr. Lorry was remindd of Defarge th wine-shop keepr, and th starlyt ride.

   "I think," he wisprd to Miss Pross, aftr anxius considration, "I think we had best not speak to him just now, or at al disturb him. I must look in at Tellson's; so I wil go ther at once and com bak presntly. Then, we wil take him a ride into th cuntry, and dine ther, and al wil be wel. "

   It was esir for Mr. Lorry to look in at Tellson's, than to look out of Tellson's. He was detaind two ours. Wen he came bak, he asendd th old staircase alone, havng askd no question of th servnt; going thus into th Doctor's rooms, he was stopd by a lo sound of nokng.


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   "Good God!" he said, with a start. "Wat's that?"

   Miss Pross, with a terifyd face, was at his ear. "O me, O me! Al is lost!" cryd she, ringng her hands. "Wat is to be told to Ladybird? He dosnt no me, and is making shoes!"

   Mr. Lorry said wat he cud to calm her, and went himself into th Doctor's room. Th bench was turnd towards th lyt, as it had been wen he had seen th shoemaker at his work befor, and his hed was bent down, and he was very busy.

   "Doctr Manette. My dear frend, Doctr Manette!"

   Th Doctr lookd at him for a moment -- half inquiringly, half as if he wer angry at being spoken to -- and bent over his work again.

   He had laid aside his coat and waistcoat; his shirt was open at th throat, as it used to be wen he did that work; and even th old hagrd, faded surface of face had com bak to him. He workd hard -- impatiently -- as if in som sense of havng been intruptd.

   Mr. Lorry glanced at th work in his hand, and observd that it was a shoe of th old size and shape. He took up anothr that was lyng by him, and askd wat it was.

   "A yung lady's walkng shoe," he mutrd, without lookng up. "It ot to hav been finishd long ago. Let it be."

   "But, Doctr Manette. Look at me!"

   He obeyd, in th old mecanicly submissiv manr, without pausng in his work.

   "U no me, my dear frend? Think again. This is not yr propr ocupation. Think, dear frend!"

   Nothing wud induce him to speak mor. He lookd up, for an instnt at a time, wen he was requestd to do so; but, no persuasion wud extract a word from him. He workd, and workd, and workd, in silence, and words fel on him as they wud hav falen on an eco- less wal, or on th air. Th only ray of hope that Mr. Lorry cud discovr, was, that he somtimes furtivly lookd up without being askd. In that, ther seemd a faint expression of curiosity or perplexity -- as tho he wer tryng to recncile som douts in his mind.

   Two things at once impresd themselvs on Mr. Lorry, as importnt abov al othrs; th first, that this must be kept secret from Lucie; th secnd, that it must be kept secret from al ho new him. In conjunction with Miss Pross, he took imediat steps towards th latr precaution, by givng out that th Doctr was not wel, and required a few days of complete rest. In aid of th kind deception to be practisd on his


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dautr, Miss Pross was to rite, describing his havng been cald away professionly, and referng to an imajnry letr of two or thre hurrid lines in his own hand, representd to hav been adresd to her by th same post.

   These mesurs, advisebl to be taken in any case, Mr. Lorry took in th hope of his comng to himself. If that shud hapn soon, he kept anothr corse in reserv; wich was, to hav a certn opinion that he thot th best, on th Doctor's case.

   In th hope of his recovry, and of resort to this third corse being therby rendrd practicbl, Mr. Lorry resolvd to wach him atentivly, with as litl apearnce as posbl of doing so. He therfor made aranjemnts to absnt himself from Tellson's for th first time in his life, and took his post by th windo in th same room.

   He was not long in discovrng that it was worse than useless to speak to him, since, on being presd, he became worrid. He abandnd that atemt on th first day, and resolvd merely to keep himself always befor him, as a silent protest against th delusion into wich he had falen, or was failng. He remaind, therfor, in his seat near th windo, readng and riting, and expresng in as many plesnt and natrl ways as he cud think of, that it was a fre place.

   Doctr Manette took wat was givn him to eat and drink, and workd on, that first day, until it was too dark to se -- workd on, half an our aftr Mr. Lorry cud not hav seen, for his life, to red or rite. Wen he put his tools aside as useless, until mornng, Mr. Lorry rose and said to him:

   "Wil u go out?"

   He lookd down at th flor on eithr side of him in th old manr, lookd up in th old manr, and repeatd in th old lo voice: clout?"

   "Yes; for a walk with me. Wy not?"

   He made no efrt to say wy not, and said not a word mor. But, Mr. Lorry thot he saw, as he leand forwrd on his bench in th dusk, with his elbos on his nes and his hed in his hands, that he was in som misty way askng himself, "Wy not?" Th sagacity of th man of busness perceved an advantaj here, and determnd to hold it.

   Miss Pross and he divided th nyt into two wachs, and observd him at intrvls from th ajoinng room. He paced up and down for a long time befor he lay down; but, wen he did finaly lay himself


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down, he fel asleep. In th mornng, he was up betimes, and went strait to his bench and to work.

   On this secnd day, Mr. Lorry saluted him cheerfuly by his name, and spoke to him on topics that had been of late familir to them. He returnd no reply, but it was evidnt that he herd wat was said, and that he thot about it, howevr confusedly. This encurajd Mr. Lorry to hav Miss Pross in with her work, sevrl times during th day; at those times, they quietly spoke of Lucie, and of her fathr then presnt, precisely in th usul manr, and as if ther wer nothing amiss. This was don without any demonstrativ acompnmnt, not long enuf, or ofn enuf to harass him; and it lytnd Mr. Lorry's frendly hart to beleve that he lookd up oftener, and that he apeard to be stird by som perception of inconsistncis suroundng him.

   Wen it fel dark again, Mr. Lorry askd him as befor:

   "Dear Doctr, wil u go out?"

   As befor, he repeatd, "Out?"

   "Yes; for a walk with me. Wy not?"

   This time, Mr. Lorry feind to go out wen he cud extract no ansr from him, and, aftr remainng absnt for an our, returnd. In th meanwile, th Doctr had removed to th seat in th windo, and had sat ther lookng down at th plane-tre; but, on Mr. Lorry's return, be slipd away to his bench.

   Th time went very sloly on, and Mr. Lorry's hope darknd, and his hart grew hevir again, and grew yet hevir and hevir evry day. Th third day came and went, th fourth, th fifth. Five days, six days, sevn days, eit days, nine days.

   With a hope evr darknng, and with a hart always groing hevir and hevir, Mr. Lorry pasd thru this anxius time. Th secret was wel kept, and Lucie was unconcius and happy; but he cud not fail to observ that th shoemaker, hos hand had been a litl out at first, was groing dredfuly skilful, and that he had nevr been so intent on his work, and that his hands had nevr been so nimbl and expert, as in th dusk of th ninth evenng.


Paje 187

AN OPINION

   WORN OUT by anxius wachng, Mr. Lorry fel asleep at his post. On th tenth mornng of his suspense, he was startld by th shining of th sun into th room wher a hevy slumbr had overtaken him wen it was dark nyt.

   He rubd his ys and rousd himself; but he doutd, wen he had don so, wethr he was not stil asleep. For, going to th dor of th Doctor's room and lookng in, he perceved that th shoemaker's bench and tools wer put aside again, and that th Doctr himself sat readng at th windo. He was in his usul mornng dress, and his face (wich Mr. Lorry cud distinctly se), tho stil very pale, was calmly studius and atentiv.

   Even wen he had satisfyd himself that he was awake, Mr. Lorry felt giddily uncertn for som few moments wethr th late shoemaking myt not be a disturbd dream of his own; for, did not his ys sho him his frend befor him in his acustmd clothing and aspect, and employd as usul; and was ther any syn within ther ranje, that th chanje of wich he had so strong an impression had actuly hapnd?

   It was but th inquiry of his first confusion and astonishmnt, th ansr being obvius. If th impression wer not produced by a real corespondng and suficient cause, how came he, Jarvis Lorry, ther? How came he to hav falen asleep, in his clothes, on th sofa in Doctr Manette's consultng-room, and to be debating these points outside th Doctor's bedroom dor in th erly mornng?

   Within a few minuts, Miss Pross stood wisprng at his side. If he had had any particl of dout left, her talk wud of necessity hav resolvd


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it; but he was by that time clear-hedd, and had non. He advised that they shud let th time go by until th regulr brekfast-our, and shud then meet th Doctr as if nothing unusul had ocurd. If he apeard to be in his custmry state of mind, Mr. Lorry wud then cautiusly proceed to seek direction and gidance from th opinion he had been, in his anxiety, so anxius to obtain.

   Miss Pross, submitng herself to his jujmnt, th sceme was workd out with care. Havng abundnce of time for his usul methodicl toilet, Mr. Lorry presentd himself at th brekfast-our in his usul wite linn, and with his usul neat leg. Th Doctr was sumnd in th usul way, and came to brekfast.

   So far as it was posbl to comprehend him without overstepping those delicat and gradul aproachs wich Mr. Lorry felt to be th only safe advance, he at first suposed that his daughter's marrij had taken place yestrday. An incidentl alusion, purposly thrown out, to th day of th week, and th day of th month, set him thinkng and countng, and evidntly made him unesy. In al othr respects, howevr, he was so composedly himself, that Mr. Lorry determnd to hav th aid he sot. And that aid was his own.

   Therfor, wen th brekfast was don and cleard away, and he and th Doctr wer left togethr, Mr. Lorry said, feelngly:

   "My dear Manette, I am anxius to hav yr opinion, in confidnce, on a very curius case in wich I am deeply intrestd; that is to say, it is very curius to me; perhaps, to yr betr infrmation it may be less so."

   Glancing at his hands, wich wer discolord by his late work, th Doctr lookd trubld, and lisnd atentivly. He had alredy glanced at his hands mor than once.

   "Doctr Manette," said Mr. Lorry, tuchng him afectionatly on th arm, "th case is th case of a particulrly dear frend of mine. Pray giv yr mind to it, and advise me wel for his sake -- and abov al, for his daughter's -- his daughter's, my dear Manette."

   "If I undrstand," said th Doctr, in a subdud tone, "som mentl shok -- ?"

   "Yes!"

   "Be explicit," said th Doctr. "Spare no detail."

   Mr. Lorry saw that they undrstood one anothr, and proceedd.

   "My dear Manette, it is th case of an old and a prolongd shok, of gret acuteness and severity to th afections, th feelngs, th -- th -- as


Paje 189

u express it -- th mind. Th mind. It is th case of a shok undr wich th sufrr was born down, one canot say for how long, because I beleve he canot calculate th time himself, and ther ar no othr means of getng at it. It is th case of a shok from wich th sufrr recovrd, by a process that he canot trace himself -- as I once herd him publicly relate in a striking manr. It is th case of a shok from wich he has recovrd, so completely, as to be a hyly intelijnt man, capabl of close aplication of mind, and gret exertion of body, and of constntly making fresh aditions to his stok of nolej, wich was alredy very larj. But, unfortunatly, ther has been," he pausd and took a deep breth -- "a slyt relapse."

   Th Doctr, in a lo voice, askd, "Of how long duration?"

   "Nine days and nyts."

   "How did it sho itself? I infer," glancing at his hands again, "in th resumtion of som old pursuit conectd with th shok?"

   "That is th fact."

   "Now, did u evr se him," askd th Doctr, distinctly and collectedly, tho in th same lo voice, "engajed in that pursuit orijnly?"

   "Once."

   "And wen th relapse fel on him, was he in most respects -- or in al respects -- as he was then?"

   "I think in al respects."

   "U spoke of his dautr. Dos his dautr no of th relapse?"

   "No. It has been kept from her, and I hope wil always be kept from her. It is nown only to myself, and to one othr ho may be trustd."

   Th Doctr graspd his band, and murmrd, "That was very kind. That was very thotful!" Mr. Lorry graspd his hand in return, and neithr of th two spoke for a litl wile.

   "Now, my dear Manette," said Mr. Lorry, at length, in his most considrat and most afectionat way, "I am a mere man of busness, and unfit to cope with such intricat and dificlt matrs. I do not posess th kind of infrmation necesry; I do not posess th kind of intelijnce; I want giding. Ther is no man in this world on hom I cud so rely for ryt gidance, as on u. Tel me, how dos this relapse com about? Is ther danjer of anothr? Cud a repetition of it be preventd? How shud a repetition of it be treatd? How dos it com about at al? Wat can I do for my frend? No man evr can hav been mor desirus in his hart to serv a frend, than I am to serv mine, if I new how.


Paje 190

But I dont no how to orijnate, in such a case. If yr sagacity, nolej, and experience, cud put me on th ryt trak, I myt be able to do so much; unenlytnd and undirectd, I can do so litl. Pray discuss it with me; pray enable me to se it a litl mor clearly, and teach me how to be a litl mor useful."

   Doctr Manette sat meditating aftr these ernest words wer spoken, and Mr. Lorry did not press him.

   "I think it probbl," said th Doctr, brekng silence with an efrt, "that th relapse u hav described, my dear frend, was not quite unforseen by its subject."

   "Was it dredd by him?" Mr. Lorry venturd to ask.

   "Very much." He said it with an involuntry shudr.

   "U hav no idea how such an aprehension weis on th sufferer's mind, and how dificlt -- how almost imposbl -- it is, for him to force himself to utr a word upon th topic that oppresses him."

   "Wud he," askd Mr. Lorry, "be sensbly releved if he cud prevail upon himself to impart that secret broodng to any one, wen it is on him?"

   "I think so. But it is, as I hav told u, next to imposbl. I even beleve it -- in som cases -- to be quite imposbl."

   "Now," said Mr. Lorry, jently layng his hand on th Doctor's arm again, aftr a short silence on both sides, "to wat wud u refer this atak? "

   "I beleve," returnd Doctr Manette, "that ther had been a strong and extrordnry revival of th train of thot and remembrnce that was th first cause of th malady. Som intense asociations of a most distresng natur wer vividly recald, I think. It is probbl that ther had long been a dred lurkng in his mind, that those asociations wud be recald -- say, undr certn circmstnces -- say, on a particulr ocasion. He tryd to prepare himself in vain; perhaps th efrt to prepare himself made him less able to ber it."

   "Wud he remembr wat took place in th relapse?" askd Mr. Lorry, with natrl hesitation.

   Th Doctr lookd desolately round th room, shook his hed, and ansrd, in a lo voice, "Not at al."

   "Now, as to th futur," hintd Mr. Lorry.

   "As to th futur," said th Doctr, recovrng firmness, "I shud hav gret hope. As it plesed Hevn in its mercy to restor him so soon, I shud hav gret hope. He, yieldng undr th pressur of a


Paje 191

complicated somthing, long dredd and long vagely forseen and contendd against, and recovrng aftr th cloud had burst and pasd, I shud hope that th worst was over."

   "Wel, wel! That's good comfrt. I am thankful!" said Mr. Lorry.

   "I am thankful!" repeatd th Doctr, bendng his hed with revrnce.

   "Ther ar two othr points," said Mr. Lorry, "on wich I am anxius to be instructd. I may go on?"

   "U canot do yr frend a betr service." Th Doctr gave him his hand.

   "To th first, then. He is of a studius habit, and unusuly enrjetic; he aplys himself with gret ardr to th aquisition of professionl nolej, to th conductng of experimnts, to many things. Now, dos he do too much?"

   "I think not. It may be th caractr of his mind, to be always in singulr need of ocupation. That may be, in part, natrl to it; in part, th result of afliction. Th less it was ocupyd with helthy things, th mor it wud be in danjer of turnng in th unhelthy direction. He may hav observd himself, and made th discovry."

   "U ar sure that he is not undr too gret a strain?"

   "I think I am quite sure of it."

   "My dear Manette, if he wer overworkd now -- "

   "My dear Lorry, I dout if that cud esily be. Ther has been a violent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight."

   "Excuse me, as a persistnt man of busness. Asuming for a moment, that he was overworkd; it wud sho itself in som renewl of this disordr?"

   "I do not think so. I do not think," said Doctr Manette with th firmness of self-conviction, "that anything but th one train of asociation wud renew it. I think that, henceforth, nothing but som extrordnry jarng of that cord cud renew it. Aftr wat has hapnd, and aftr his recovry, I find it dificlt to imajn any such violent soundng of that string again. I trust, and I almost beleve, that th circmstnces likely to renew it ar exaustd."

   He spoke with th difidnce of a man ho new how slyt a thing wud overset th delicat orgnization of th mind, and yet with th confidnce of a man ho had sloly won his asurance out of persnl endurance and distress. It was not for his frend to abate that confidnce. He profesd himself mor releved and encurajd than he realy was,


Paje 192

and aproachd his secnd and last point. He felt it to be th most dificlt of al; but, remembrng his old Sunday mornng convrsation with Miss Pross, and remembrng wat he had seen in th last nine days, he new that he must face it.

   "Th ocupation resumed undr th influence of this pasng afliction so happily recovrd from," said Mr. Lorry, clearng his throat, "we wil cal -- Blacksmith's work, Blacksmith's work. We wil say, to put a case and for th sake of ilustration, that he had been used, in his bad time, to work at a litl forj. We wil say that he was unexpectdly found at his forj again. Is it not a pity that he shud keep it by him?"

   Th Doctr shaded his forhed with his hand, and beat his foot nervusly on th ground.

   "He has always kept it by him," said Mr. Lorry, with an anxius look at his frend. "Now, wud it not be betr that he shud let it go?"

   Stil, th Doctr, with shaded forhed, beat his foot nervusly on th ground.

   "U do not find it esy to advise me?" said Mr. Lorry. "I quite undrstand it to be a nice question. And yet I think -- " And ther he shook his hed, and stopd.

   "U se," said Doctr Manette, turnng to him aftr an unesy pause, "it is very hard to explain, consistntly, th inrmost workngs of this poor man's mind. He once yernd so frytfuly for that ocupation, and it was so welcm wen it came; no dout it releved his pain so much, by substituting th perplexity of th fingrs for th perplexity of th brain, and by substituting, as he became mor practisd, th injnuity of th hands, for th injnuity of th mentl tortur; that he has nevr been able to ber th thot of putng it quite out of his reach. Even now, wen I beleve he is mor hopeful of himself than he has evr been, and even speaks of himself with a kind of confidnce, th idea that he myt need that old employmnt, and not find it, givs him a sudn sense of terr, like that wich one may fancy strikes to th hart of a lost child."

   He lookd like his ilustration, as he rased his ys to Mr. Lorry's face.

   "But may not -- mind! I ask for infrmation, as a plodng man of busness ho only deals with such material objects as gineas, shilngs, and bank-notes -- may not th retention of th thing involv th retention of th idea? If th thing wer gon, my dear Manette, myt not th fear


Paje 193

go with it? In short, is it not a concession to th misgivng, to keep th forj?"

   Ther was anothr silence.

   "U se, too," said th Doctr, tremulusly, "it is such an old companion."

   "I wud not keep it," said Mr. Lorry, shaking his hed; for he gaind in firmness as he saw th Doctr disquieted. "I wud recmend him to sacrifice it. I only want yr authority. I am sure it dos no good. Com! Giv me yr authority, like a dear good man. For his daughter's sake, my dear Manette!"

   Very stranje to se wat a strugl ther was within him!

   "In her name, then, let it be don; I sanction it. But, I wud not take it away wile he was presnt. Let it be removed wen he is not ther; let him miss his old companion aftr an absnce."

   Mr. Lorry redily engajed for that, and th confrnce was endd. They pasd th day in th cuntry, and th Doctr was quite restord. On th thre foloing days he remaind perfectly wel, and on th forteenth day he went away to join Lucie and her husbnd. Th precaution that had been taken to acount for his silence, Mr. Lorry had previusly explaind to him, and he had ritn to Lucie in acordnce with it, and she had no suspicions.

   On th nyt of th day on wich he left th house, Mr. Lorry went into his room with a chopr, saw, chisl, and hamr, atendd by Miss Pross carrying a lyt. Ther, with closed dors, and in a mysterius and gilty manr, Mr. Lorry hakd th shoemaker's bench to peces, wile Miss Pross held th candl as if she wer asistng at a murdr -- for wich, indeed, in her grimness, she was no unsuitbl figr. Th burnng of th body (previusly reduced to peces convenient for th purpos) was comenced without delay in th kichn fire; and th tools, shoes, and lethr, wer burid in th gardn. So wiked do destruction and secrecy apear to onest minds, that Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross, wile engajed in th comission of ther deed and in th removal of its traces, almost felt, and almost lookd, like acomplices in a horibl crime.


Paje 194

A PLE

   WEN th newly-marrid pair came home, th first persn ho apeard, to ofr his congratulations, was Sydny Cartn. They had not been at home many ours, wen he presentd himself. He was not improved in habits, or in looks, or in manr; but ther was a certn ruged air of fidelity about him, wich was new to th obsrvation of Charls Darnay.

   He wachd his oprtunity of taking Darnay aside into a windo, and of speakng to him wen no one overherd.

   "Mr. Darnay," said Cartn, "I wish we myt be frends."

   "We ar alredy frends, I hope."

   "U ar good enuf to say so, as a fashn of speech; but, I dont mean any fashn of speech. Indeed, wen I say I wish we myt be frends, I scarcely mean quite that, eithr."

   Charls Darnay -- as was natrl -- askd him, in al good-humor and good-feloship, wat he did mean?

   "Upon my life," said Cartn, smiling, "I find that esir to comprehend in my own mind, than to convey to yrs. Howevr, let me try. U remembr a certn famus ocasion wen I was mor drunk than -- than usul?"

   "I remembr a certn famus ocasion wen u forced me to confess that u had been drinkng."

   "I remembr it too. Th curse of those ocasions is hevy upon me, for I always remembr them. I hope it may be taken into acount one day, wen al days ar at an end for me! Dont be alarmd; I am not going to preach."


Paje 195

   "I am not at al alarmd. Ernestness in u, is anything but alarmng to me."

   "Ah!" said Cartn, with a careless wave of his hand, as if he waved that away. "On th drunkn ocasion in question (one of a larj numbr, as u no), I was insufrbl about liking u, and not liking u. I wish u wud forget it."

   "I forgot it long ago."

   "Fashn of speech again! But, Mr. Darnay, oblivion is not so esy to me, as u represent it to be to u. I hav by no means forgotn it, and a lyt ansr dos not help me to forget it."

   "If it was a lyt ansr," returnd Darnay, "I beg yr forgivness for it. I had no othr object than to turn a slyt thing, wich, to my surprise, seems to trubl u too much, aside. I declare to u, on th faith of a jentlman, that I hav long dismisd it from my mind. Good Hevn, wat was ther to dismiss! Hav I had nothing mor importnt to remembr, in th gret service u rendrd me that day?"

   "As to th gret service," said Cartn, "I am bound to avow to u, wen u speak of it in that way, that it was mere professionl claptrap, I dont no that I cared wat became of u, wen I rendrd it. -- Mind! I say wen I rendrd it; I am speakng of th past."

   "U make lyt of th obligation," returnd Darnay, "but I wil not quarel with yr lyt ansr."

   "Jenuin truth, Mr. Darnay, trust me! I hav gon aside from my purpos; I was speakng about our being frends. Now, u no me; u no I am incapabl of al th hyr and betr flyts of men. If u dout it, ask Stryver, and he'l tel u so."

   "I prefer to form my own opinion, without th aid of his."

   "Wel! At any rate u no me as a dislute dog, ho has nevr don any good, and nevr wil."

   "I dont no that u 'never wil.'"

   "But I do, and u must take my word for it. Wel! If u cud endure to hav such a worthless felo, and a felo of such indifrnt reputation, comng and going at od times, I shud ask that I myt be permitd to com and go as a privlejd persn here; that I myt be regardd as an useless (and I wud ad, if it wer not for th resemblnce I detectd between u and me, an unornamental) pece of furnitur, tolrated for its old service, and taken no notice of. I dout if I shud abuse th permission. It is a hundred to one if I shud avail myself


Paje 196

of it four times in a year. It wud satisfy me, I dare say, to no that I had it."

   "Wil u try?"

   "That is anothr way of sayng that I am placed on th footng I hav indicated. I thank u, Darnay. I may use that fredm with yr name?"

   "I think so, Cartn, by this time."

   They shook hands upon it, and Sydny turnd away. Within a minut aftrwrds, he was, to al outwrd apearnce, as unsubstantial as evr.

   Wen he was gon, and in th corse of an evenng pasd with Miss Pross, th Doctr, and Mr. Lorry, Charls Darnay made som mention of this convrsation in jenrl terms, and spoke of Sydny Cartn as a problm of carelesness and reklesness. He spoke of him, in short, not bitrly or meanng to ber hard upon him, but as anybody myt ho saw him as he showd himself.

   He had no idea that this cud dwel in th thots of his fair yung wife; but, wen he aftrwrds joind her in ther own rooms, he found her waitng for him with th old pretty liftng of th forhed strongly markd.

   "We ar thotful to-nyt!" said Darnay, drawng his arm about her.

   "Yes, dearst Charls," with her hands on his brest, and th inquiring and atentiv expression fixd upon him; "we ar rathr thotful to- nyt, for we hav somthing on our mind to-nyt."

   "Wat is it, my Lucie?"

   "Wil u promis not to press one question on me, if I beg u not to ask it?"

   "Wil I promis? Wat wil I not promis to my Lov?"

   Wat, indeed, with his hand putng aside th goldn hair from th cheek, and his othr hand against th hart that beat for him!

   "I think, Charls, poor Mr. Cartn deservs mor considration and respect than u expresd for him to-nyt."

   "Indeed, my own? Wy so?"

   "That is wat u ar not to ask me. But I think -- I no -- he dos."

   "If u no it, it is enuf. N"at wud u hav me do, my Life?"

   "I wud ask u, dearst, to be very jenrus with him always, and very lenient on his falts wen he is not by. I wud ask u to beleve that he has a hart he very, very seldm reveals, and that ther ar deep wounds in it. My dear, I hav seen it bleedng."

   "It is a painful reflection to me," said Charls Darnay, quite astoundd,


Paje 197

"that I shud hav don him any rong. I nevr thot this of him."

   "My husbnd, it is so. I fear he is not to be reclaimd; ther is scarcely a hope that anything in his caractr or fortunes is reparable now. But, I am sure that he is capabl of good things, jentl things, even magnanmus things."

   She lookd so butiful in th purity of her faith in this lost man, that her husbnd cud hav lookd at her as she was for ours.

   "And, O my dearst Lov!" she urjd, clingng nearr to him, layng her hed upon his brest, and rasing her ys to his, "remembr how strong we ar in our happiness, and how weak he is in his misry!"

   Th suplication tuchd him home. "I wil always remembr it, dear Hart! I wil remembr it as long as I liv."

   He bent over th goldn hed, and put th rosy lips to his, and foldd her in his arms. If one forlorn wandrr then pacing th dark streets, cud hav herd her inocent disclosur, and cud hav seen th drops of pity kisd away by her husbnd from th soft blu ys so lovng of that husbnd, he myt hav cryd to th nyt -- and th words wud not hav partd from his lips for th first time --

   "God bless her for her sweet compassion!"

ECOING FOOTSTEPS

   A WONDRFUL CORNR for ecos, it has been remarkd, that cornr wher th Doctr livd. Evr busily windng th goldn thred wich bound her husbnd, and her fathr, and herself, and her old directress


Paje 198

and companion, in a life of quiet bliss, Lucie sat in th stil house in th tranquilly resoundng cornr, lisnng to th ecoing footsteps of years.

   At first, ther wer times, tho she was a perfectly happy yung wife, wen her work wud sloly fal from her hands, and her ys wud be dimd. For, ther was somthing comng in th ecos, somthing lyt, afar off, and scarcely audbl yet, that stird her hart too much. Flutrng hopes and douts -- hopes, of a lov as yet unown to her: douts, of her remainng upon erth, to enjoy that new delyt -- divided her brest. Among th ecos then, ther wud arise th sound of footsteps at her own erly grave; and thots of th husbnd ho wud be left so desolate, and ho wud morn for her so much, sweld to her ys, and broke like waves.

   That time pasd, and her litl Lucie lay on her bosm. Then, among th advancing ecos, ther was th tred of her tiny feet and th sound of her prattling words. Let gretr ecos resound as they wud, th yung mothr at th cradle side cud always hear those comng. They came, and th shady house was sunny with a child's laf, and th Divine frend of children, to hom in her trubl she had confided hers, seemd to take her child in his arms, as He took th child of old, and made it a sacred joy to her.

   Evr busily windng th goldn thred that bound them al togethr, weving th service of her happy influence thru th tissu of al ther lives, and making it predominate nowher, Lucie herd in th ecos of years non but frendly and soothing sounds. Her husband's step was strong and prosprus among them; her father's firm and equal. Lo, Miss Pross, in harness of string, awakenng th ecos, as an unruly charjr, wip-corectd, snortng and pawng th erth undr th plane-tre in th gardn!

   Even wen ther wer sounds of soro among th rest, they wer not harsh nor cruel. Even wen goldn hair, like her own, lay in a halo on a pilo round th worn face of a litl boy, and he said, with a radiant smile, "Dear papa and mama, I am very sorry to leve u both, and to leve my pretty sistr; but I am cald, and I must go!" those wer not tears al of agny that wetd his yung mother's cheek, as th spirit departd from her embrace that had been entrustd to it. Sufr them and forbid them not. They se my Father's face. O Fathr, blesd words!

   Thus, th ruslng of an Angel's wings got blendd with th othr ecos, and they wer not holy of erth, but had in them that breth of Hevn. Sys of th winds that blew over a litl gardn-tomb wer


Paje 199

mingld with them also, and both wer audbl to Lucie, in a hushd murmr -- like th brething of a sumr se asleep upon a sandy shor -- as th litl Lucie, comicly studius at th task of th mornng, or dresng a dol at her mother's footstool, chatrd in th tongs of th Two Citis that wer blendd in her life.

   Th Ecos rarely ansrd to th actul tred of Sydny Cartn. Som half-dozn times a year, at most, he claimd his privlej of comng in uninvited, and wud sit among them thru th evenng, as he had once don ofn. He nevr came ther heatd with wine. And one othr thing regardng him was wisprd in th ecos, wich has been wisprd by al tru ecos for ajes and ajes.

   No man evr realy lovd a womn, lost her, and new her with a blameless tho an unchanjed mind, wen she was a wife and a mothr, but her children had a stranje sympathy with him -- an instinctiv delicacy of pity for him. Wat fine hidn sensbilitis ar tuchd in such a case, no ecos tel; but it is so, and it was so here. Cartn was th first stranjer to hom litl Lucie held out her chubby arms, and he kept his place with her as she grew. Th litl boy had spoken of him, almost at th last. "Poor Cartn! Kiss him for me!"

   Mr. Stryver sholdrd his way thru th law, like som gret enjn forcing itself thru turbid watr, and dragd his useful frend in his wake, like a boat towd astern. As th boat so favord is usuly in a ruf plyt, and mostly undr watr, so, Sydny had a swampd life of it. But, esy and strong custm, unhappily so much esir and strongr in him than any stimulating sense of desrt or disgrace, made it th life he was to lead ; and he no mor thot of emerjng from his state of lion's jakl, than any real jakl may be suposed to think of rising to be a lion. Stryver was rich; had marrid a florid wido with proprty and thre boys, ho had nothing particulrly shining about them but th strait hair of ther dumplng heds.

   These thre yung jentlmen, Mr. Stryver, exuding patronaj of th most ofensiv quality from evry por, had walkd befor him like thre sheep to th quiet cornr in Soho, and had ofrd as pupils to Lucie's husbnd: delicatly sayng "Halloa! here ar thre lumps of bred-and- chese towards yr matrimonial picnic, Darnay!" Th polite rejection of th thre lumps of bred-and-chese had quite bloatd Mr. Stryver with indignation, wich he aftrwrds turnd to acount in th trainng of th yung jentlmen, by directng them to beware of th pride of Begrs, like that tutor-felo. He was also in th habit of declaimng to


Paje 200

Mrs. Stryver, over his ful-bodid wine, on th arts Mrs. Darnay had once put in practis to "cach" him, and on th diamnd-cut-diamnd arts in himself, madm, wich had rendrd him "not to be caut." Som of his King's Bench familirs, ho wer ocasionly partis to th ful-bodid wine and th lie, excused him for th latr by sayng that he had told it so ofn, that he beleved it himself -- wich is surely such an incorijbl agravation of an orijnly bad ofense, as to justify any such offender's being carrid off to som suitbly retired spot, and ther hangd out of th way.

   These wer among th ecos to wich Lucie, somtimes pensiv, somtimes amused and lafng, lisnd in th ecoing cornr, until her litl dautr was six years old. How near to her hart th ecos of her child's tred came, and those of her own dear father's, always activ and self-posesd, and those of her dear husband's, need not be told. Nor, how th lytst eco of ther united home, directd by herself with such a wise and elegnt thrift that it was mor abundnt than any waste, was music to her. Nor, how ther wer ecos al about her, sweet in her ears, of th many times her fathr had told her that he found her mor devoted to him marrid (if that cud be) than singl, and of th many times her husbnd had said to her that no cares and dutis seemd to divide her lov for him or her help to him, and askd her "Wat is th majic secret, my darlng, of yr being everything to al of us, as if ther wer only one of us, yet nevr seemng to be hurrid, or to hav too much to do?"

   But, ther wer othr ecos, from a distnce, that rumbld menacingly in th cornr al thru this space of time. And it was now, about litl Lucie's sixth birthday, that they began to hav an awful sound, as of a gret storm in France with a dredful se rising.

   On a nyt in mid-July, one thousnd sevn hundred and eity-nine, Mr. Lorry came in late, from Tellson's, and sat himself down by Lucie and her husbnd in th dark windo. It was a hot, wild nyt, and they wer al thre remindd of th old Sunday nyt wen they had lookd at th lytnng from th same place.

   "I began to think," said Mr. Lorry, pushng his brown wig bak, "that I shud hav to pass th nyt at Tellson's. We hav been so ful of busness al day, that we hav not nown wat to do first, or wich way to turn. Ther is such an unesiness in Paris, that we hav actuly a run of confidnce upon us! Our custmrs over ther, seem not to be able to confide ther proprty to us fast enuf. Ther is positivly a mania among som of them for sendng it to England."


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   "That has a bad look," said Darnay --

   "A bad look, u say, my dear Darnay? Yes, but we dont no wat reasn ther is in it. Peple ar so unreasnbl! Som of us at Tellson's ar getng old, and we realy cant be trubld out of th ordnry corse without du ocasion."

   "Stil," said Darnay, "u no how gloomy and thretnng th sky is."

   "I no that, to be sure," asentd Mr. Lorry, tryng to persuade himself that his sweet tempr was sourd, and that he grumbld, "but I am determnd to be pevish aftr my long day's botheration. Wher is Manette?"

   "Here he is," said th Doctr, entrng th dark room at th moment.

   "I am quite glad u ar at home; for these hurris and forbodings by wich I hav been suroundd al day long, hav made me nervus without reasn. U ar not going out, I hope?"

   "No; I am going to play bakgamn with u, if u like," said th Doctr.

   "I dont think I do like, if I may speak my mind. I am not fit to be pitd against u to-nyt. Is th teaboard stil ther, Lucie? I cant se."

   "Of corse, it has been kept for u."

   "Thank ye, my dear. Th precius child is safe in bed?"

   "And sleepng soundly."

   "That's ryt; al safe and wel! I dont no wy anything shud be othrwise than safe and wel here, thank God; but I hav been so put out al day, and I am not as yung as I was! My te, my dear! Thank ye. Now, com and take yr place in th circl, and let us sit quiet, and hear th ecos about wich u hav yr theory."

   "Not a theory; it was a fancy."

   "A fancy, then, my wise pet," said Mr. Lorry, patng her hand. "They ar very numerus and very loud, tho, ar they not? Only hear them!"

   Hedlong, mad, and danjerus footsteps to force ther way into anybody's life, footsteps not esily made clean again if once staind red, th footsteps rajing in Saint Antoine afar off, as th litl circl sat in th dark Londn windo.

   Saint Antoine had been, that mornng, a vast dusky mass of scarecrows heving to and fro, with frequent gleams of lyt abov th billowy heds, wher steel blades and baynets shon in th sun. A tremendus ror arose from th throat of Saint Antoine, and a forest of naked arms


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strugld in th air like shrivld branchs of tres in a wintr wind: al th fingrs convulsivly cluchng at evry wepn or semblnce of a wepn that was thrown up from th depths belo, no matr how far off.

   Ho gave them out, wence they last came, wher they began, thru wat ajency they crookedly quivrd and jerkd, scors at a time, over th heds of th crowd, like a kind of lytnng, no y in th throng cud hav told; but, muskets wer being distributed -- so wer cartrijs, powdr, and bal, bars of iron and wood, nives, axs, pikes, evry wepn that distractd injnuity cud discovr or devise. Peple ho cud lay hold of nothing else, set themselvs with bleedng hands to force stones and briks out of ther places in walls. Evry pulse and hart in Saint Antoine was on hy-fever strain and at hy-fever heat. Evry livng creatur ther held life as of no acount, and was dementd with a passionat rediness to sacrifice it.

   As a wirlpool of boilng watrs has a centr point, so, al this rajing circld round Defarge's wine-shop, and evry human drop in th caldron had a tendncy to be sukd towards th vortex wher Defarge himself, alredy begrimed with gunpowdr and swet, isud ordrs, isud arms, thrust this man bak, dragd this man forwrd, disarmd one to arm anothr, labord and strove in th thikst of th upror.

   "Keep near to me, Jaques Thre," cryd Defarge; "and do u, Jaques One and Two, seprate and put yrselvs at th hed of as many of these patriots as u can. Wher is my wife?"

   "Eh, wel! Here u se me!" said madame, composed as evr, but not nitng to-day. Madame's reslute ryt hand was ocupyd with an ax, in place of th usul softr implmnts, and in her girdl wer a pistl and a cruel nife.

   "Wher do u go, my wife?"

   "I go," said madame, "with u at presnt. U shal se me at th hed of women, by-and-by."

   "Com, then!" cryd Defarge, in a resoundng voice. "Patriots and frends, we ar redy! Th Bastile!"

   With a ror that soundd as if al th breth in France had been shaped into th detestd word, th livng se rose, wave on wave, depth on depth, and overfloed th city to that point. Alarm-bels ringng, drums beatng, th se rajing and thundrng on its new beach, th atak began.

   Deep dichs, dubl drawbrij, massiv stone walls, eit gret towrs, cann, muskets, fire and smoke. Thru th fire and thru th


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smoke -- in th fire and in th smoke, for th se cast him up against a cann, and on th instnt he became a cannonier -- Defarge of th wine- shop workd like a manful soldir, Two fierce ours.

   Deep dich, singl drawbrij, massiv stone walls, eit gret towrs, cann, muskets, fire and smoke. One drawbrij down! "Work, comrads al, work! Work, Jaques One, Jaques Two, Jaques One Thousnd, Jaques Two Thousnd, Jaques Five-and-Twenty Thousnd; in th name of al th Anjels or th Devls -- wich u prefer -- work!" Thus Defarge of th wine-shop, stil at his gun, wich had long gown hot.

   "To me, women!" cryd madame his wife. "Wat! We can kil as wel as th men wen th place is taken!" And to her, with a shril thirsty cry, troopng women variusly armd, but al armd aje in hungr and revenj.

   Cann, muskets, fire and smoke; but, stil th deep dich, th singl drawbrij, th massiv stone wails, and th eit gret towrs. Slyt displacements of th rajing se, made by th falng woundd. Flashng wepns, blazing torchs, smoking waggonloads of wet straw, hard work at neibrng baricades in al directions, shrieks, volleys, execrations, bravery without stint, boom smash and ratl, and th furius soundng of th livng se; but, stil th deep dich, and th singl drawbrij, and th massiv stone walls, and th eit gret towrs, and stil Defarge of th wine-shop at his gun, grown dubly hot by th service of Four fierce ours.

   A wite flag from within th fortress, and a parley -- this dimly perceptbl thru th rajing storm, nothing audbl in it -- sudnly th se rose imesurably wider and hyr, and swept Defarge of th wine-shop over th loerd drawbrij, past th massiv stone outr walls, in among th eit gret towrs surendrd!

   So resistless was th force of th ocen berng him on, that even to draw his breth or turn his hed was as impracticbl as if he had been struglng in th surf at th South Se, until he was landd in th outr cortyard of th Bastile. Ther, against an angl of a wal, he made a strugl to look about him. Jaques Thre was nearly at his side; Madame Defarge, stil hedng som of her women, was visbl in th inr distnce, and her nife was in her hand. Evrywher was tumult, exltation, defnng and maniacl bewildrmnt, astoundng noise, yet furius dum-sho.

   "Th Prisnrs!"

   "Th Records!"


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   "Th secret cels!"

   "Th instrumnts of tortur!"

   "Th Prisnrs!"

   Of al these crys, and ten thousnd incoherences, "Th Prisnrs!" was th cry most taken up by th se that rushd in, as if ther wer an eternity of peple, as wel as of time and space. Wen th formost billows rold past, berng th prisn oficers with them, and thretnng them al with instnt deth if any secret nook remaind undisclosed, Defarge laid his strong hand on th brest of one of these men -- a man with a gray hed, ho had a lytd torch in his hand -- seprated him from th rest, and got him between himself and th wal.

   "Sho me th North Towr!" said Defarge. "Quik!"

   "I wil faithfuly," replyd th man, "if u wil com with me. But ther is no one ther."

   "Wat is th meanng of One Hundred and Five, North Towr?" askd Defarge. "Quik!"

   "Th meanng, mosier?"

   "Dos it mean a captiv, or a place of captivity? Or do u mean that I shal strike u ded?"

   "Kil him!" croakd Jaques Thre, ho had com close up.

   "Mosier, it is a cel."

   "Sho it me!"

   "Pass this way, then."

   Jaques Thre, with his usul craving on him, and evidntly disapointd by th dialog taking a turn that did not seem to promis blodshed, held by Defarge's arm as he held by th turnkey's. Ther thre heds had been close togethr during this brief discorse, and it had been as much as they cud do to hear one anothr, even then: so tremendus was th noise of th livng ocen, in its irruption into th Fortress, and its inundation of th corts and passajs and staircases. Al around outside, too, it beat th walls with a deep, horse ror, from wich, ocasionly, som partial shouts of tumult broke and leapd into th air like spray.

   Thru gloomy valts wher th lyt of day had nevr shon, past hideus dors of dark dens and cajes, down cavrnus flyts of steps, and again up steep ruged asents of stone and brik, mor like dry watrfals than staircases, Defarge, th turnkey, and Jaques Thre, linkd hand and arm, went with al th speed they cud make. Here and ther, especialy at first, th inundation startd on them and swept by; but wen


Paje 205

they had don desendng, and wer windng and climbng up a towr, they wer alone. Hemd in here by th massiv thikness of walls and archs, th storm within th fortress and without was only audbl to them in a dul, subdud way, as if th noise out of wich they had com had almost destroyd ther sense of hearng.

   Th turnkey stopd at a lo dor, put a ke in a clashng lok, swung th dor sloly open, and said, as they al bent ther heds and pasd in:

   "One hundred and five, North Towr!"

   Ther was a smal, hevily-grated, unglazed windo hy in th wal, with a stone screen befor it, so that th sky cud be only seen by stoopng lo and lookng up. Ther was a smal chimny, hevily bard across, a few feet within. Ther was a heap of old fethry wood-ashs on th harth. Ther was a stool, and table, and a straw bed. Ther wer th four blaknd walls, and a rustd iron ring in one of them.

   "Pass that torch sloly along these walls, that I may se them," said Defarge to th turnkey.

   Th man obeyd, and Defarge folod th lyt closely with his ys.

   "Stop! -- Look here, Jaques!"

   "A. M.!" croakd Jaques Thre, as he red greedily.

   "Alexandr Manette," said Defarge in his ear, foloing th letrs with his swart forfingr, deeply engrained with gunpowdr. "And here he rote 'a poor fysician.' And it was he, without dout, ho scrachd a calendr on this stone. Wat is that in yr hand? A crobar? Giv it me!"

   He had stil th linstock of his gun in his own hand. He made a sudn exchanje of th two instrumnts, and turnng on th worm-eatn stool and table, beat them to peces in a few blos.

   "Hold th lyt hyr!" he said, rathfuly, to th turnkey. "Look among those fragmnts with care, Jaques. And se! Here is my nife," throing it to him; "rip open that bed, and serch th straw. Hold th lyt hyr, u!"

   With a menacing look at th turnkey he crawld upon th harth, and, peerng up th chimny, struk and prised at its sides with th crobar, and workd at th iron grating across it. In a few minuts, som mortr and dust came dropng down, wich he avertd his face to avoid; and in it, and in th old wood-ashs, and in a crevice in th chimny into wich his wepn had slipd or rot itself, he groped with a cautius tuch.


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   "Nothing in th wood, and nothing in th straw, Jaques?"

   "Nothing."

   "Let us colect them togethr, in th midl of th cel. So! Lyt them, u!"

   Th turnkey fired th litl pile, wich blazed hy and hot. Stoopng again to com out at th lo-archd dor, they left it burnng, and retraced ther way to th cortyard; seemng to recovr ther sense of hearng as they came down, until they wer in th rajing flod once mor.

   They found it surjng and tosng, in quest of Defarge himself. Saint Antoine was clamrus to hav its wine-shop keepr formost in th gard upon th govrnr ho had defendd th Bastile and shot th peple. Othrwise, th govrnr wud not be marchd to th Hotel de Ville for jujmnt. Othrwise, th govrnr wud escape, and th people's blod (sudnly of som valu, aftr many years of worthlesness) be unavenged.

   In th howlng universe of passion and contention that seemd to encompass this grim old oficer conspicuus in his gray coat and red decration, ther was but one quite stedy figr, and that was a woman's. "Se, ther is my husbnd!" she cryd, pointng him out. "Se Defarge!" She stood imovebl close to th grain old oficer, and remaind imovebl close to him; remaind imovebl close to him thru th streets, as Defarge and th rest bor him along; remaind imovebl close to him wen he was got near his destnation, and began to be struk at from behind; remaind imovebl close to him wen th long-gathrng rain of stabs and blos fel hevy; was so close to him wen he dropd ded undr it, that, sudnly anmated, she put her foot upon his nek, and with her cruel nife -- long redy -- hewed off his hed.

   Th our was com, wen Saint Antoine was to execute his horibl idea of hoistng up men for lamps to sho wat he cud be and do. Saint Antoine's blod was up, and th blod of tyrany and domnation by th iron hand was down -- down on th steps of th Hotel de Ville wher th governor's body lay -- down on th sole of th shoe of Madame Defarge wher she had trodn on th body to stedy it for mutilation. "Loer th lamp yondr!" cryd Saint Antoine, aftr glaring round for a new means of deth; "here is one of his soldirs to be left on gard!" Th swingng sentnl was postd, and th se rushd on.

   Th se of blak and thretnng watrs, and of destructiv upheaving of wave against wave, hos depths wer yet unfathomed and hos forces wer yet unown. Th remorsless se of turbulently swayng


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shapes, voices of venjnce, and faces hardnd in th furnaces of sufrng until th tuch of pity cud make no mark on them.

   But, in th ocen of faces wher evry fierce and furius expression was in vivid life, ther wer two groups of faces -- each sevn in numbr -- so fixedly contrastng with th rest, that nevr did se rol wich bor mor memrbl reks with it. Sevn faces of prisnrs, sudnly relesed by th storm that had burst ther tomb, wer carrid hy overhed: al scared, al lost, al wondrng and amazed, as if th Last Day wer com, and those ho rejoiced around them wer lost spirits. Othr sevn faces ther wer, carrid hyr, sevn ded faces, hos droopng ylids and half-seen ys awaitd th Last Day. Impassiv faces, yet with a suspendd -- not an abolishd -- expression on them; faces, rathr, in a fearful pause, as havng yet to rase th dropd lids of th ys, and ber witness with th blodless lips, "THOU DIDST IT!"

   Sevn prisnrs relesed, sevn gory heds on pikes, th kes of th acursed fortress of th eit strong towrs, som discovrd letrs and othr memorials of prisnrs of old time, long ded of broken harts, -- such, and such-like, th loudly ecoing footsteps of Saint Antoine escort thru th Paris streets in mid-July, one thousnd sevn hundred and eity-nine. Now, Hevn defeat th fancy of Lucie Darnay, and keep these feet far out of her life! For, they ar hedlong, mad, and danjerus; and in th years so long aftr th brekng of th cask at Defarge's wine-shop dor, they ar not esily purifyd wen once staind red.


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TH SE STIL RISES

   HAGRD SAINT ANTOINE had had only one exultnt week, in wich to sofn his modicm of hard and bitr bred to such extent as he cud, with th relish of fraternl embraces and congratulations, wen Madame Defarge sat at her countr, as usul, presiding over th custmrs. Madame Defarge wor no rose in her hed, for th gret brothrhood of Spys had becom, even in one short week, extremely chary of trustng themselvs to th saint's mercis. Th lamps across his streets had a portentusly elastic swing with them.

   Madame Defarge, with her arms foldd, sat in th mornng lyt and heat, contmplating th wine-shop and th street. In both, ther wer sevrl nots of lounjrs, squalid and misrbl, but now with a manifest sense of powr enthroned on ther distress. Th raggedest nytcap, ary on th wretchedest hed, had this crooked significnce in it: "I no how hard it has grown for me, th werr of this, to suport life in myself; but do u no how esy it has grown for me, th werr of this, to destroy life in u?" Evry lean bare arm, that bad been without work befor, had this work always redy for it now, that it cud strike. Th fingrs of th nitng women wer vicius, with th experience that they cud ter. Ther was a chanje in th apearnce of Saint Antoine; th imaj had been hamrng into this for hundreds of years, and th last finishng blos had told mytily on th expression.

   Madame Defarge sat observng it, with such supresd aproval as was to be desired in th leadr of th Saint Antoine women. One of her sistrhood nitd beside her. Th short, rathr plump wife of a starvd


Paje 209

grocer, and th mothr of two children withal, this leutennt had alredy ernd th complmentry name of Th Venjnce.

   "Hark!" said Th Venjnce. "Lisn, then! Ho coms?"

   As if a train of powdr laid from th outrmost bound of Saint Antoine Quartr to th wine-shop dor, had been sudnly fired, a fast-spredng murmr came rushng along.

   "It is Defarge," said madame. "Silence, patriots!"

   Defarge came in brethless, puld off a red cap he wor, and lookd around him! "Lisn, evrywher!" said madame again. "Lisn to him!" Defarge stood, pantng, against a bakground of eagr ys and open mouths, formd outside th dor; al those within th wine-shop had sprung to ther feet.

   "Say then, my husbnd. Wat is it?"

   "News from th othr world!"

   "How, then?" cryd madame, contemtuusly. "Th othr world?"

   "Dos evrybody here recal old Foulon, ho told th famishd peple that they myt eat grass, and ho died, and went to Hel?"

   "Evrybody!" from al throats.

   "Th news is of him. He is among us!"

   "Among us!" from th universl throat again. "And ded?"

   "Not ded! He feard us so much -- and with reasn -- that he causd himself to be representd as ded, and had a grand mok-funeral. But they hav found him alive, hiding in th cuntry, and hav brot him in. I hav seen him but now, on his way to th Hotel de Ville, a prisnr. I hav said that he had reasn to fear us. Say al! Had he reasn?"

   Reched old sinr of mor than threescore years and ten, if he had nevr nown it yet, he wud hav nown it in his hart of harts if he cud hav herd th ansrng cry.

   A moment of profound silence folod. Defarge and his wife lookd stedfastly at one anothr. Th Venjnce stoopd, and th jar of a drum was herd as she moved it at her feet behind th countr.

   "Patriots!" said Defarge, in a determnd voice, "ar we redy?"

   Instntly Madame Defarge's nife was in her girdl; th drum was beatng in th streets, as if it and a drumr had flown togethr by majic; and Th Venjnce, utrng terific shrieks, and flingng her arms about her hed like al th forty Furis at once, was terng from house to house, rousng th women.

   Th men wer teribl, in th blody-mindd angr with wich they lookd from windos, caut up wat arms they had, and came porng


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down into th streets; but, th women wer a syt to chil th boldst. From such houshold ocupations as ther bare povrty yieldd, from ther children, from ther ajed and ther sik crouchng on th bare ground famishd and naked, they ran out with streamng hair, urjng one anothr, and themselvs, to madness with th wildst crys and actions. Vilan Foulon taken, my sistr! Old Foulon taken, my mothr! Miscreant Foulon taken, my dautr! Then, a scor of othrs ran into th midst of these, beatng ther brests, terng ther hair, and screamng, Foulon alive! Foulon ho told th starvng peple they myt eat grass! Foulon ho told my old fathr that he myt eat grass, wen I had no bred to giv him! Foulon ho told my baby it myt suk grass, wen these brests wher dry with want! O mothr of God, this Foulon! O Hevn our sufrng! Hear me, my ded baby and my withrd fathr: I swer on my nes, on these stones, to avenj u on Foulon! Husbnds, and brothrs, and yung men, Giv us th blod of Foulon, Giv us th hed of Foulon, Giv us th hart of Foulon, Giv us th body and sol of Foulon, Rend Foulon to peces, and dig him into th ground, that grass may gro from him! With these crys, numbrs of th women, lashd into blind frenzy, wirld about, striking and terng at ther own frends until they dropd into a passionat swoon, and wer only saved by th men belongng to them from being trampld undr foot.

   Nevrthless, not a moment was lost; not a moment! This Foulon was at th Hotel de Ville, and myt be loosd. Nevr, if Saint Antoine new his own sufrngs, insults, and rongs! Armd men and women flokd out of th Quartr so fast, and drew even these last dregs aftr them with such a force of suction, that within a quartr of an our ther was not a human creatur in Saint Antoine's bosm but a few old crones and th wailng children.

   No. They wer al by that time choking th Hal of Examnation wher this old man, ugly and wiked, was, and overfloing into th ajacent open space and streets. Th Defarges, husbnd and wife, Th Venjnce, and Jaques Thre, wer in th first press, and at no gret distnce from him in th Hal.

   "Se!" cryd madame, pointng with her nife. "Se th old vilan bound with ropes. That was wel don to tie a bunch of grass upon his bak. Ha, ha! That was wel don. Let him eat it now!" Madame put her nife undr her arm, and clapd her hands as at a play.

   Th peple imediatly behind Madame Defarge, explainng th cause of her satisfaction to those behind them, and those again explainng


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to othrs, and those to othrs, th neibrng streets resoundd with th clapng of hands. Simlrly, during two or thre ours of drawl, and th winnoing of many bushls of words, Madame Defarge's frequent expressions of impatience wer taken up, with marvlus quikness, at a distnce: th mor redily, because certn men ho had by som wondrful exrcise of ajility climbd up th externl architectur to look in from th windos, new Madame Defarge wel, and actd as a telegraf between her and th crowd outside th bildng.

   At length th sun rose so hy that it struk a kindly ray as of hope or protection, directly down upon th old prisoner's hed. Th favor was too much to ber; in an instnt th barir of dust and chaf that had stood surprisingly long, went to th winds, and Saint Antoine had got him!

   It was nown directly, to th furthst confines of th crowd. Defarge had but sprung over a railng and a table, and foldd th misrbl rech in a dedly embrace -- Madame Defarge had but folod and turnd her hand in one of th ropes with wich he was tied -- Th Venjnce and Jaques Thre wer not yet up with them, and th men at th windos had not yet swoopd into th Hal, like birds of prey from ther hy perchs -- wen th cry seemd to go up, al over th city, "Bring him out! Bring him to th lamp!"

   Down, and up, and hed formost on th steps of th bildng; now, on his nes; now, on his feet; now, on his bak; dragd, and struk at, and stifled by th bunchs of grass and straw that wer thrust into his face by hundreds of hands; tom, brused, pantng, bleedng, yet always entreating and beseechng for mercy; now ful of vehemnt agny of action, with a smal clear space about him as th peple drew one anothr bak that they myt se; now, a log of ded wood drawn thru a forest of legs; he was hauld to th nearst street cornr wher one of th fatal lamps swung, and ther Madame Defarge let him go -- as a cat myt hav don to a mouse -- and silently and composedly lookd at him wile they made redy, and wile he besot her: th women passionatly screechng at him al th time, and th men sternly calng out to hav him kild with grass in his mouth. Once, he went aloft, and th rope broke, and they caut him shriekng; twice, he went aloft, and th rope broke, and they caut him shriekng; then, th rope was merciful, and held him, and his hed was soon upon a pike, with grass enuf in th mouth for al Saint Antoine to dance at th syt of.

   Nor was this th end of th day's bad work, for Saint Antoine so


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shoutd and danced his angry blod up, that it boild again, on hearng wen th day closed in that th son-in-law of th despachd, anothr of th people's enmis and insulters, was comng into Paris undr a gard five hundred strong, in cavlry alone. Saint Antoine rote his crimes on flaring sheets of paper, sezed him -- wud hav torn him out of th brest of an army to ber Foulon compny -- set his hed and hart on pikes, and carrid th thre spoils of th day, in Wolf-procession thru th streets.

   Not befor dark nyt did th men and women com bak to th children, wailng and breadless. Then, th misrbl bakers' shops wer beset by long files of them, patiently waitng to by bad bred; and wile they waitd with stomacs faint and emty, they begiled th time by embracing one anothr on th triumfs of th day, and acheving them again in gosip. Graduly, these strings of raged peple shortnd and frayd away; and then poor lyts began to shine in hy windos, and slendr fires wer made in th streets, at wich neibrs cookd in comn, aftrwrds supping at ther dors.

   Scanty and insuficient suprs those, and inocent of meat, as of most othr sauce to reched bred. Yet, human feloship infused som nurishmnt into th flinty viands, and struk som sparks of cheerfulness out of them. Fathrs and mothrs ho had had ther ful share in th worst of th day, playd jently with ther meagr children; and lovrs, with such a world around them and befor them, lovd and hoped.

   It was almost mornng, wen Defarge's wine-shop partd with its last not of custmrs, and Mosier Defarge said to madame his wife, in husky tones, wile fasnng th dor:

   "At last it is com, my dear!"

   "Eh wel!" returnd madame. "Almost."

   Saint Antoine slept, th Defarges slept: even Th Venjnce slept with her starvd grocer, and th drum was at rest. Th drum's was th only voice in Saint Antoine that blod and hurry had not chanjed. Th Venjnce, as custodian of th drum, cud hav wakend him up and had th same speech out of him as befor th Bastile fel, or old Foulon was sezed; not so with th horse tones of th men and women in Saint Antoine's bosm.


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FIRE RISES

   THER WAS a chanje on th vilaj wher th fountn fel, and wher th mender of roads went forth daily to hamr out of th stones on th hyway such morsls of bred as myt serv for pachs to hold his poor ignrnt sol and his poor reduced body togethr. Th prisn on th crag was not so domnnt as of yore; ther wer soldirs to gard it, but not many; ther wer oficers to gard th soldirs, but not one of them new wat his men wud do -- beyond this: that it wud probbly not be wat he was ordrd.

   Far and wide lay a ruind cuntry, yieldng nothing but deslation. Evry green leaf, evry blade of grass and blade of grain, was as shrivld and poor as th misrbl peple. Everything was boed down, dejectd, opresd, and broken. Habitations, fences, domesticated anmls, men, women, children, and th soil that bor them -- al worn out.

   Monseigneur (ofn a most worthy individul jentlman) was a nationl blesng, gave a chivlrus tone to things, was a polite exampl of luxurius and shining fife, and a gret deal mor to equal purpos; nevrthless, Monseigneur as a class had, somhow or othr, brot things to this. Stranje that Creation, desynd expresly for Monseigneur, shud be so soon rung dry and squezed out! Ther must be somthing short- sytd in th eternl aranjemnts, surely! Thus it was, howevr; and th last drop of blod havng been extractd from th flints, and th last screw of th rak havng been turnd so ofn that its purchas crumbld, and it now turnd and turnd with nothing to bite, Monseigneur began to run away from a fenomnn so lo and unacountbl.

   But, this was not th chanje on th vilaj, and on many a vilaj like


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it. For scors of years gon by, Monseigneur had squezed it and rung it, and had seldm graced it with his presnce exept for th plesurs of th chase -- now, found in huntng th peple; now, found in huntng th beasts, for hos presrvation Monseigneur made edifyng spaces of barbrus and baren wildrness. No. Th chanje consistd in th apearnce of stranje faces of lo cast, rathr than in th disapearnce of th hy cast, chiselled, and othrwise beautified and beautifying featurs of Monseigneur.

   For, in these times, as th mender of roads workd, solitry, in th dust, not ofn trublng himself to reflect that dust he was and to dust he must return, being for th most part too much ocupyd in thinkng how litl he had for supr and how much mor he wud eat if he bad it -- in these times, as he rased his ys from his lonely labor, and vewd th prospect, he wud se som ruf figr aproachng on foot, th like of wich was once a rarity in those parts, but was now a frequent presnce. As it advanced, th mender of roads wud disern without surprise, that it was a shaggy-haird man, of almost barbarian aspect, tal, in woodn shoes that wer clumsy even to th ys of a mender of roads, grim, ruf, swart, steepd in th mud and dust of many hyways, dank with th marshy moistur of many lo grounds, sprinkld with th thorns and leavs and moss of many byways thru woods.

   Such a man came upon him, like a gost, at noon in th July wethr, as he sat on his heap of stones undr a bank, taking such sheltr as he cud get from a showr of had.

   Th man lookd at him, lookd at th vilaj in th holo, at th mil, and at th prisn on th crag. Wen he had identifyd these objects in wat benytd mind he had, he said, in a dialect that was just intelijbl:

   "How gos it, Jaques?"

   "Al wel, Jaques."

   "Tuch then!"

   They joind hands, and th man sat down on th heap of stones.

   "No dinr?"

   "Nothing but supr now," said th mender of roads, with a hungry face.

   "It is th fashn," growld th man. "I meet no dinr anywher."

   He took out a blaknd pipe, fild it, lytd it with flint and steel, puld at it until it was in a bryt glo: then, sudnly held it from him and dropd somthing into it from between his fingr and thum, that blazed and went out in a puf of smoke.


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   "Tuch then." It was th turn of th mender of roads to say it this time, aftr observng these oprations. They again joind hands.

   "To-nyt?" said th mender of roads.

   "To-nyt," said th man, putng th pipe in his mouth.

   "Wher?"

   "Here."

   He and th mender of roads sat on th heap of stones lookng silently at one anothr, with th hail driving in between them like a pigmy charj of baynets, until th sky began to clear over th vilaj.

   "Sho me!" said th travlr then, moving to th brow of th hil.

   "Se!" returnd th mender of roads, with extendd fingr. "U go down here, and strait thru th street, and past th fountn -- "

   "To th Devl with al that!" intruptd th othr, rolng his y over th landscape. "I go thru no streets and past no fountns. Wel?"

   "Wel! About two leags beyond th sumit of that hil abov th vilaj."

   "Good. Wen do u cese to work?"

   "At sunset."

   "Wil u wake me, befor departng? I hav walkd two nyts without restng. Let me finish my pipe, and I shal sleep like a child. Wil u wake me?"

   "Surely."

   Th wayfarer smoked his pipe out, put it in his brest, slipd off his gret woodn shoes, and lay down on his bak on th heap of stones. He was fast asleep directly.

   As th road-mender plyd his dusty labor, and th hail-clouds, rolng away, reveald bryt bars and streaks of sky wich wer respondd to by silvr gleams upon th landscape, th litl man (ho wor a red cap now, in place of his blu one) seemd fasnated by th figr on th heap of stones. His ys wer so ofn turnd towards it, that he used his tools mecanicly, and, one wud hav said, to very poor acount. Th bronz face, th shaggy blak hair and beard, th corse woolen red cap, th ruf medly dress of home-spun stuf and hairy skins of beasts, th powrful frame atenuated by spare livng, and th sulen and desprat compression of th lips in sleep, inspired th mender of roads with aw. Th travlr had travld far, and his feet wer footsore, and his ankls chafed and bleedng; his gret shoes, stufd with leavs and grass, had been hevy to drag over th many long leags, and his clothes wer chafed into holes, as he himself was into sors. Stoopng down beside


Paje 216

him, th road-mender tryd to get a peep at secret wepns in his brest or wher not; but, in vain, for he slept with his arms crosd upon him, and set as reslutely as his lips. Fortifyd towns with ther stockades, gard-houses, gates, trenchs, and drawbridges, seemd to th mender of roads, to be so much air as against this figr. And wen he liftd his ys from it to th horizon and lookd around, he saw in his smal fancy simlr figrs, stopd by no obstacl, tendng to centrs al over France.

   Th man slept on, indifrnt to showrs of hail and intrvls of brytness, to sunshine on his face and shado, to th paltering lumps of dul ice on his body and th diamnds into wich th sun chanjed them, until th sun was lo in th west, and th sky was gloing. Then, th mender of roads havng got his tools togethr and al things redy to go down into th vilaj, rousd him.

   "Good!" said th sleepr, rising on his elbo. "Two leags beyond th sumit of th hil?"

   "About."

   "About. Good!"

   Th mender of roads went home, with th dust going on befor him acordng to th set of th wind, and was soon at th fountn, squezing himself in among th lean kine brot ther to drink, and apearng even to wispr to them in his wisprng to al th vilaj. Wen th vilaj had taken its poor supr, it did not creep to bed, as it usuly did, but came out of dors again, and remaind ther. A curius contajon of wisprng was upon it, and also, wen it gathrd togethr at th fountn in th dark, anothr curius contajon of lookng expectntly at th sky in one direction only. Mosier Gabelle, chief functionry of th place, became unesy; went out on his house-top alone, and lookd in that direction too; glanced down from behind his chimnis at th darknng faces by th fountn belo, and sent word to th sacristan ho kept th kes of th church, that ther myt be need to ring th tocsin by-and-by.

   Th nyt deepnd. Th tres environing th old chatau, keepng its solitry state apart, moved in a rising wind, as tho they thretnd th pile of bildng massiv and dark in th gloom. Up th two terace flyts of steps th rain ran wildly, and beat at th gret dor, like a swift mesnjr rousng those within; unesy rushs of wind went thru th hal, among th old spears and nives, and pasd lamentng up th stairs, and shook th curtns of th bed wher th last Marquis had slept. East, West, North, and South, thru th woods, four hevy-tredng, unkemt


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figrs crushd th hy grass and crakd th branchs, striding on cautiusly to com togethr in th, cortyard. Four lyts broke out ther, and moved away in difrnt directions, and al was blak again.

   But, not for long. Presntly, th chatau began to make itself stranjely visbl by som lyt of its own, as tho it wer groing luminus. Then, a flikrng streak playd behind th architectur of th front, pikng out transparent places, and shoing wher balustrades, archs, and windos wer. Then it sord hyr, and grew brodr and brytr. Soon, from a scor of th gret windos, flames burst forth, and th stone faces awakend, stared out of fire.

   A faint murmr arose about th house from th few peple ho wer left ther, and ther was a saddling of a horse and riding away. Ther was spurring and splashng thru th darkns, and bridle was drawn in th space by th vilaj fountn, and th horse in a foam stood at Mosier Gabelle's dor. "Help, Gabelle! Help, evry one!" Th tocsin rang impatiently, but othr help (if that wer any) ther was non. Th mender of roads, and two hundred and fifty particulr frends, stood with foldd arms at th fountn, lookng at th pilr of fire in th sky. "It must be forty feet hy," said they, grimly; and nevr moved.

   Th rider from th chatau, and th horse in a foam, clatrd away thru th vilaj, and galopd up th stony steep, to th prisn on th crag. At th gate, a group of oficers wer lookng at th fire; removed from them, a group of soldirs. "Help, jentlmen-oficers! Th chatau is on fire; valubl objects may be saved from th flames by timely aid! Help, help!" Th oficers lookd towards th soldirs ho lookd at th fire; gave no ordrs; and ansrd, with shrugs and biting of lips, "It must burn."

   As th rider ratld down th hil again and thru th street, th vilaj was iluminating. Th mender of roads, and th two hundred and fifty particulr frends, inspired as one man and womn by th idea of lytng up, had dartd into ther houses, and wer putng candls in evry dul litl pane of glass. Th jenrl scarcity of everything, ocasiond candls to be borod in a rathr peremtry manr of Mosier Gabelle; and in a moment of reluctnce and hesitation on that functionary's part, th mender of roads, once so submissiv to authority, had remarkd that carrijs wer good to make bonfires with, and that post-horses wud roast.

   Th chatau was left to itself to flame and burn. In th rorng and rajing of th conflagration, a red-hot wind, driving strait from th infernl


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rejons, seemd to be bloing th edifice away. With th rising and falng of th blaze, th stone faces showd as if they wer in torment. Wen gret masses of stone and timbr fel, th face with th two dints in th nose became obscured: anon strugld out of th smoke again, as if it wer th face of th cruel Marquis, burnng at th stake and contendng with th fire.

   Th chatau burnd; th nearst tres, laid hold of by th fire, scorchd and shrivld; tres at a distnce, fired by th four fierce figrs, begin th blazing edifice with a new forest of smoke. Moltn led and iron boild in th marbl basin of th fountn; th watr ran dry; th extinguishr tops of th towrs vanishd like ice befor th heat, and trikld down into four ruged wels of flame. Gret rents and splits branchd out in th solid walls, like crystallisation; stupefyd birds weeld about and dropd into th furnace; four fierce figrs trujd away, East, West, North, and South, along th nyt-enshrouded roads, gided by th beacn they had lytd, towards ther next destnation. Th iluminated vilaj had sezed hold of th tocsin, and, abolishng th lawful ringr, rang for joy.

   Not only that; but th vilaj, lyt-hedd with famn, fire, and bel- ringng, and bethinking itself that Mosier Gabelle had to do with th colection of rent and taxs -- tho it was but a smal instalmnt of taxs, and no rent at al, that Gabelle had got in those latr days -- became impatient for an intrvew with him, and, suroundng his house, sumnd him to com forth for persnl confrnce. Wherupon, Mosier Gabelle did hevily bar his dor, and retire to hold counsl with himself. Th result of that confrnce was, that Gabelle again withdrew himself to his housetop behind his stak of chimnis; this time resolvd, if his dor wer broken in (he was a smal Southern man of retaliative temprmnt), to pich himself hed formost over th parapet, and crush a man or two belo.

   Probbly, Mosier Gabelle pasd a long nyt up ther, with th distnt chatau for fire and candl, and th beatng at his dor, combined with th joy-ringng, for music; not to mention his havng an il- omened lamp slung across th road befor his postng-house gate, wich th vilaj showd a lively inclnation to displace in his favor. A tryng suspense, to be pasng a hole sumr nyt on th brink of th blak ocen, redy to take that plunj into it upon wich Mosier Gabelle had resolvd! But, th frendly dawn apearng at last, and th rush- candls of th vilaj gutrng out, th peple happily dispersd, and


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Mosier Gabelle came down bringng his life with him for that wile.

   Within a hundred miles, and in th lyt of othr fires, ther wer othr functionris less fortunat, that nyt and othr nyts, hom th rising sun found hangng across once-peceful streets, wher they had been born and bred; also, ther wer othr vilajrs and townspeople less fortunat than th mender of roads and his felos, upon hom th functionris and soldiery turnd with success, and hom they strung up in ther turn. But, th fierce figrs wer stedily wending East, West, North, and South, be that as it wud; and hosoevr hung, fire burnd. Th altitude of th galos that wud turn to watr and quench it, no functionry, by any strech of mathmatics, was able to calculate succesfuly.

DRAWN TO TH LOADSTONE ROK

   IN SUCH RISINGS of fire and risings of se -- th firm erth shaken by th rushs of an angry ocen wich had now no eb, but was always on th flo, hyr and hyr, to th terr and wondr of th beholders on th shor -- thre years of tempest wer consumed. Thre mor birthdays of litl Lucie had been woven by th goldn thred into th peceful tissu of th life of her home.

   Many a nyt and many a day had its inmates lisnd to th ecos in th cornr, with harts that faild them wen they herd th throngng feet. For, th footsteps had becom to ther minds as th footsteps of a peple, tumultuus undr a red flag and with ther cuntry declared in danjer, chanjed into wild beasts, by teribl enchantmnt long persistd in.


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   Monseigneur, as a class, had disociated himself from th fenomnn of his not being apreciated: of his being so litl wantd in France, as to incur considrbl danjer of receving his dismisl from it, and this fife togethr. Like th fabled rustic ho rased th Devl with infnit pains, and was so terifyd at th syt of him that he cud ask th Enmy no question, but imediatly fled; so, Monseigneur, aftr boldly readng th Lord's Prayr bakwrds for a gret numbr of years, and performng many othr potent spels for compelng th Evil One, no soonr beheld him in his terrs than he took to his noble heels.

   Th shining Bull's Y of th Cort was gon, or it wud hav been th mark for a huricn of nationl bulets. It had nevr been a good y to se with -- had long had th mote in it of Lucifer's pride, Sardanapalus's luxury, and a mole's blindness -- but it had dropd out and was gon. Th Cort, from that exclusiv inr circl to its outrmost rotn ring of intrige, coruption, and disimulation, was an gon togethr. Roylty was gon; had been besejed in its Palace and "suspendd," wen th last tidings came over.

   Th August of th year one thousnd sevn hundred and ninety-two was com, and Monseigneur was by this time scatrd far and wide.

   As was natrl, th hed-quartrs and gret gathrng-place of Monseigneur, in Londn, was Tellson's Bank. Spirits ar suposed to haunt th places wher ther bodis most resortd, and Monseigneur without a ginea hauntd th spot wher his gineas used to be. Morover, it was th spot to wich such French intelijnce as was most to be relyd upon, came quikst. Again: Tellson's was a munificent house, and extendd gret liberality to old custmrs ho had falen from ther hy estate. Again: those nobles ho had seen th comng storm in time, and anticipating plundr or confiscation, had made providnt remittances to Tellson's, wer always to be herd of ther by ther needy brethren. To wich it must be add that evry new-comr from France reportd himself and his tidings at Tellson's, almost as a matr of corse. For such variety of reasns, Tellson's was at that time, as to French intelijnce, a kind of Hy Exchanje; and this was so wel nown to th public, and th inquiris made ther wer in consequence so numerus, that Tellson's somtimes rote th latest news out in a line or so and postd it in th Bank windos, for al ho ran thru Templ Bar to red.

   On a steamng, misty aftrnoon, Mr. Lorry sat at his desk, and Charls Darnay stood leanng on it, talkng with him in a lo voice. Th penitential den once set apart for intrvews with th House, was now th


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news-Exchanje, and was fild to overfloing. It was within half an our or so of th time of closing.

   "But, altho u ar th yungst man that evr livd," said Charls Darnay, rathr hesitating, "I must stil sujest to u -- "

   "I undrstand. That I am too old?" said Mr. Lorry.

   "Unsetld wethr, a long jurny, uncertn means of travlng, a disorgnized cuntry, a city that may not be even safe for u."

   "My dear Charls," said Mr. Lorry, with cheerful confidnce, "u tuch som of th reasns for my going: not for my stayng away. It is safe enuf for me; nobody wil care to intrfere with an old felo of hard upon fourscore wen ther ar so many peple ther much betr worth intrfering with. As to its being a disorgnized city, if it wer not a disorgnized city ther wud be no ocasion to send sombody from our House here to our House ther, ho nos th city and th busness, of old, and is in Tellson's confidnce. As to th uncertn travlng, th long jurny, and th wintr wethr, if I wer not prepared to submit myself to a few inconveniences for th sake of Tellson's, aftr al these years, ho ot to be?"

   "I wish I wer going myself," said Charls Darnay, somwat restlesly, and like one thinkng aloud.

   "Indeed! U ar a pretty felo to object and advise!" exclaimd Mr. Lorry. "U wish u wer going yrself? And u a Frenchman born? U ar a wise counslr."

   "My dear Mr. Lorry, it is because I am a Frenchman born, that th thot (wich I did not mean to utr here, howevr) has pasd thru my mind ofn. One canot help thinkng, havng had som sympathy for th misrbl peple, and havng abandnd somthing to them," he spoke here in his formr thotful manr, "that one myt be lisnd to, and myt hav th powr to persuade to som restraint. Only last nyt, aftr u had left us, wen I was talkng to Lucie -- "

   "Wen u wer talkng to Lucie," Mr. Lorry repeatd. "Yes. I wondr u ar not ashamed to mention th name of Lucie! Wishng u wer going to France at this time of day!"

   "Howevr, I am not going," said Charls Darnay, with a smile. "It is mor to th purpos that u say u ar."

   "And I am, in plan reality. Th truth is, my dear Charls," Mr. Lorry glanced at th distnt House, and loerd his voice, "u can hav no conception of th dificlty with wich our busness is transacted, and of th peril in wich our books and papers over yondr ar involvd. Th


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Lord abov nos wat th comprmising consequences wud be to numbrs of peple, if som of our documnts wer sezed or destroyd; and they myt be, at any time, u no, for ho can say that Paris is not set afire to-day, or sakd to-moro! Now, a judicius selection from these with th least posbl delay, and th burying of them, or othrwise getng of them out of harm's way, is within th powr (without loss of precius time) of scarcely any one but myself, if any one. And shal I hang bak, wen Tellson's nos this and says this -- Tellson's, hos bred I hav eatn these sixty years -- because I am a litl stif about th joints? Wy, I am a boy, sir, to half a dozn old codgers here!"

   "How I admire th galantry of yr yuthful spirit, Mr. Lorry."

   "Tut! Nonsnse, sir! -- And, my dear Charls," said Mr. Lorry, glancing at th House again, "u ar to remembr, that getng things out of Paris at this presnt time, no matr wat things, is next to an imposbility. Papers and precius matrs wer this very day brot to us here (I speak in strict confidnce; it is not busness-like to wispr it, even to u), by th stranjest berrs u can imajn, evry one of hom had his hed hangng on by a singl hair as he pasd th Barirs. At anothr time, our parcels wud com and go, as esily as in busness-like Old England; but now, everything is stopd."

   "And do u realy go to-nyt?"

   "I realy go to-nyt, for th case has becom too presng to admit of delay."

   "And do u take no one with u?"

   "Al sorts of peple hav been proposed to me, but I wil hav nothing to say to any of them. I intend to take Jerry. Jerry has been my body- gard on Sunday nyts for a long time past and I am used to him. Nobody wil suspect Jerry of being anything but an English bul-dog, or of havng any desyn in his hed but to fly at anybody ho tuchs his mastr."

   "I must say again that I hartily admire yr galantry and youthfulness."

   "I must say again, nonsnse, nonsnse! Wen I hav executed this litl comission, I shal, perhaps, accept Tellson's proposal to retire and liv at my ese. Time enuf, then, to think about groing old."

   This dialog had taken place at Mr. Lorry's usul desk, with Monseigneur swarmng within a yard or two of it, boastful of wat he wud do to avenj himself on th rascl-peple befor long. It was too much th way of Monseigneur undr his reverses as a refujee, and it was much too much th way of nativ British orthodoxy, to talk of this teribl


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Revlution as if it wer th only harvest evr nown undr th skys that had not been sown -- as if nothing had evr been don, or omitd to be don, that had led to it -- as if observrs of th reched milions in France, and of th misused and pervertd resorces that shud hav made them prosprus, had not seen it inevitbly comng, years befor, and had not in plan words recordd wat they saw. Such vapouring, combined with th extravagnt plots of Monseigneur for th restration of a state of things that had utrly exaustd itself, and worn out Hevn and erth as wel as itself, was hard to be endured without som remonstrance by any sane man ho new th truth. And it was such vapouring al about his ears, like a trublsm confusion of blod in his own hed, add to a latent unesiness in his mind, wich had alredy made Charls Darnay restless, and wich stil kept him so.

   Among th talkrs, was Stryver, of th King's Bench Bar, far on his way to state promotion, and, therfor, loud on th theme: broachng to Monseigneur, his devices for bloing th peple up and exterminating them from th face of th erth, and doing without them: and for acomplishng many simlr objects akin in ther natur to th ablition of eagls by sprinklng salt on th tails of th race. Him, Darnay herd with a particulr feelng of objection; and Darnay stood divided between going away that he myt hear no mor, and remainng to intrpose his word, wen th thing that was to be, went on to shape itself out.

   Th House aproachd Mr. Lorry, and layng a soild and unopend letr befor him, askd if he had yet discovrd any traces of th persn to hom it was adresd? Th House laid th letr down so close to Darnay that he saw th direction -- th mor quikly because it was his own ryt name. Th adress, turnd into English, ran:

   "Very presng. To Mosier heretofor th Marquis St. Evrémond, of France. Confided to th cares of Mesrs. Tellson and Co., Bankrs, Londn, England."

   On th marrij mornng, Doctr Manette bad made it his one urjnt and express request to Charls Darnay, that th secret of this name shud be -- unless he, th Doctr, disolvd th obligation -- kept inviolat between them. Nobody else new it to be his name; his own wife had no suspicion of th fact; Mr. Lorry cud hav non.

   "No," said Mr. Lorry, in reply to th House; "I hav referd it, I think, to evrybody now here, and no one can tel me wher this jentlman is to be found."

   Th hands of th clok verjng upon th our of closing th Bank, ther was a jenrl set of th curent of talkrs past Mr. Lorry's desk. He


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held th letr out inquiringly; and Monseigneur lookd at it, in th persn of this plotng and indignnt refujee; and Monseigneur lookd at it in th persn of that plotng and indignnt refujee; and This, That, and Th Othr, al had somthing disparajng to say, in French or in English, concernng th Marquis ho was not to be found.

   "Nefew, I beleve -- but in any case dejnerat succesr -- of th polishd Marquis ho was murdrd," said one. "Happy to say, I nevr new him."

   "A craven ho abandnd his post," said anothr -- this Monseigneur had been got out of Paris, legs uprmost and half sufocated, in a load of hay -- "som years ago."

   "Infectd with th new doctrins," said a third, yng th direction thru his glass in pasng; "set himself in oposition to th last Marquis, abandnd th estates wen he inheritd them, and left them to th ruffian herd. They wil recmpense him now, I hope, as he deservs."

   "Hey?" cryd th blatant Stryver. "Did he tho? Is that th sort of felo? Let us look at his infmus name. D -- n th felo!"

   Darnay, unable to restrain himself any longr, tuchd Mr. Stryver on th sholdr, and said:

   "I no th felo."

   "Do u, by Jupitr?" said Stryver. "I am sorry for it."

   "Wy?"

   "Wy, Mr. Darnay? D'ye hear wat he did? Dont ask, wy, in these times."

   "But I do ask wy?"

   "Then I tel u again, Mr. Darnay, I am sorry for it. I am sorry to hear u putng any such extrordnry questions. Here is a felo, ho, infectd by th most pestilent and blasfmus code of devilry that evr was nown, abandnd his proprty to th vilest scum of th erth that evr did murdr by holesale, and u ask me wy I am sorry that a man ho instructs yuth nos him? Wel, but I'l ansr u. I am sorry because I beleve ther is contamnation in such a scoundrl. That's wy."

   Mindful of th secret, Darnay with gret dificlty chekd himself, and said: "U may not undrstand th jentlman."

   "I undrstand how to put u in a cornr, Mr. Darnay," said Bully Stryver, "and I'l do it. If this felo is a jentlman, I dont undrstand him. U may tel him so, with my complmnts. U may also tel him, from me, that aftr abandnng his worldly goods and position to this butcherly mob, I wondr he is not at th hed of them. But, no, jentlmen,"


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said Stryver, lookng al round, and snapng his fingrs, "I no somthing of human natur, and I tel u that u'l nevr find a felo like this felo, trustng himself to th mercis of such precius protejes. No, jentlmen; he'l always sho 'em a clean pair of heels very erly in th scufl, and sneak away."

   With those words, and a final snap of his fingrs, Mr. Stryver sholdrd himself into Fleet-street, amidst th jenrl aprobation of his hearrs. Mr. Lorry and Charls Darnay wer left alone at th desk, in th jenrl departur from th Bank.

   "Wil u take charj of th letr?" said Mr. Lorry. "U no wher to delivr it?"

   "I do."

   "Wil u undrtake to explain, that we supose it to hav been adresd here, on th chance of our noing wher to forwrd it, and that it has been here som time?"

   "I wil do so. Do u start for Paris from here?"

   "From here, at eit."

   "I wil com bak, to se u off."

   Very il at ese with himself, and with Stryver and most othr men, Darnay made th best of his way into th quiet of th Templ, opend th letr, and red it. These wer its contents: "Prisn of th Abbaye, Paris.
"June 21, 1792.

   "MOSIER HERETOFOR TH MARQUIS.

   "Aftr havng long been in danjer of my life at th bands of th vilaj, I hav been sezed, with gret violence and indignity, and brot a long jurny on foot to Paris. On th road I hav sufrd a gret deal. Nor is that al; my house has been destroyd -- razed to th ground.

   "Th crime for wich I am imprisnd, Mosier heretofor th Marquis, and for wich I shal be sumnd befor th tribunal, and shal lose my life (without yr so jenrus help), is, they tel me, treasn against th majesty of th peple, in that I hav actd against them for an emigrant. It is in vain I represent that I hav actd for them, and not against, acordng to yr comands. It is in vain I represent that, befor th sequestration of emigrant proprty, I had remitd th imposts they had cesed to pay; that I had colectd no rent; that I had had recorse to no process. Th only


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response is, that I hav actd for an emigrant, and wher is that emigrant?

   "Ah! most gracius Mosier heretofor th Marquis, wher is that emigrant? I cry in my sleep wher is he? I demand of Hevn, wil he not com to delivr me? No ansr. Ah Mosier heretofor th Marquis, I send my desolate cry across th se, hoping it may perhaps reach yr ears thru th gret bank of Tilson nown at Paris!

   "For th lov of Hevn, of justice, of jenrosity, of th onr of yr noble name, I supplicate u, Mosier heretofor th Marquis, to sucr and relese me. My falt is, that I hav been tru to u. O Mosier heretofor th Marquis, I pray u be u tru to me!

   "From this prisn here of horr, wence I evry our tend nearr and nearr to destruction, I send u, Mosier heretofor th Marquis, th asurance of my dolorous and unhappy service. "Yr aflictd,
"GABELLE."

   Th latent unesiness in Darnay's mind was rousd to vigourous life by this letr. Th peril of an old servnt and a good one, hos only crime was fidelity to himself and his famly, stared him so reproachfuly in th face, that, as he walkd to and fro in th Templ considrng wat to do, he almost hid his face from th passersby.

   He new very wel, that in his horr of th deed wich had culmnated th bad deeds and bad reputation of th old famly house, in his resentful suspicions of his uncl, and in th aversion with wich his concience regardd th crumblng fabric that he was suposed to uphold, he had actd imperfectly. He new very wel, that in his lov for Lucie, his renunciation of his social place, tho by no means new to his own mind, had been hurrid and incomplete. He new that he ot to hav systmaticly workd it out and supervised it, and that he had ment to do it, and that it had nevr been don.

   Th happiness of his own chosen English home, th necessity of being always activly employd, th swift chanjes and trubls of th time wich bad folod on one anothr so fast, that th events of this week anihilated th imature plans of last week, and th events of th week foloing made al new again; he new very wel, that to th force of these circmstnces he had yieldd: -- not without disquiet, but stil without


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continuus and acumulating resistnce. That he had wachd th times for a time of action, and that they had shiftd and strugld until th time had gon by, and th nobility wer troopng from France by evry hyway and byway, and ther proprty was in corse of confiscation and destruction, and ther very names wer blotng out, was as wel nown to himself as it cud be to any new authority in France that myt impeach him for it.

   But, he had opresd no man, he had imprisnd no man; he was so far from havng harshly exactd paymnt of his dues, that he had relinquishd them of his own wil, thrown himself on a world with no favor in it, won his own privat place ther, and ernd his own bred. Mosier Gabelle had held th impovrishd and involvd estate on ritn instructions, to spare th peple, to giv them wat litl ther was to giv -- such fuel as th hevy creditrs wud let them hav in th wintr, and such produce as cud be saved from th same grip in th sumr -- and no dout he had put th fact in ple and proof, for his own safety, so that it cud not but apear now.

   This favord th desprat reslution Charls Darnay had begun to make, that he wud go to Paris.

   Yes. Like th marinr in th old story, th winds and streams had drivn him within th influence of th Loadstone Rok, and it was drawng him to itself, and he must go. Everything that arose befor his mind driftd him on, fastr and fastr, mor and mor stedily, to th teribl atraction. His latent unesiness had been, that bad aims wer being workd out in his own unhappy land by bad instrumnts, and that he ho cud not fail to no that he was betr than they, was not ther, tryng to do somthing to stay blodshed, and asert th claims of mercy and humanity. With this unesiness half stifled, and half reproachng him, he had been brot to th pointd comparisn of himself with th brave old jentlman in hom duty was so strong; upon that comparisn (injurius to himself) had instntly folod th sneers of Monseigneur, wich had stung him bitrly, and those of Stryver, wich abov al wer corse and galng, for old reasns. Upon those, had folod Gabelle's letr: th apeal of an inocent prisnr, in danjer of deth, to his justice, onr, and good name.

   His reslution was made. He must go to Paris.

   Yes. Th Loadstone Rok was drawng him, and he must sail on, until he struk. He new of no rok; he saw hardly any danjer. Th intention with wich he had don wat he had don, even altho he had left it


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incomplete, presentd it befor him in an aspect that wud be gratefuly aknolejd in France on his presentng himself to asert it. Then, that glorius vision of doing good, wich is so ofn th sanguin miraj of so many good minds, arose befor him, and he even saw himself in th ilusion with som influence to gide this rajing Revlution that was runng so fearfuly wild.

   As he walkd to and fro with his reslution made, he considrd that neithr Lucie nor her fathr must no of it until he was gon. Lucie shud be spared th pain of sepration; and her fathr, always reluctnt to turn his thots towards th danjerus ground of old, shud com to th nolej of th step, as a step taken, and not in th balance of suspense and dout. How much of th incompleteness of his situation was referable to her fathr, thru th painful anxiety to avoid reviving old asociations of France in his mind, he did not discuss with himself. But, that circmstnce too, had had its influence in his corse.

   He walkd to and fro, with thots very busy, until it was time to return to Tellson's and take leve of Mr. Lorry. As soon as he arived in Paris he wud presnt himself to this old frend, but he must say nothing of his intention now.

   A carrij with post-horses was redy at th Bank dor, and Jerry was bootd and equipd.

   "I hav delivrd that letr," said Charls Darnay to Mr. Lorry. "I wud not consent to yr being charjd with any ritn ansr, but perhaps u wil take a verbl one?"

   "That I wil, and redily," said Mr. Lorry, "if it is not danjerus."

   "Not at al. Tho it is to a prisnr in th Abbaye."

   "Wat is his name?" said Mr. Lorry, with his open poket-book in his hand.

   "Gabelle."

   "Gabelle. And wat is th messaj to th unfortunat Gabelle in prisn?"

   "Simply, 'that he has receved th letr, and wil com.'"

   "Any time mentiond?"

   "He wil start upon his jurny to-moro nyt."

   "Any persn mentiond?"

   "No."

   He helpd Mr. Lorry to rap himself in a numbr of coats and cloaks, and went out with him from th warm atmosfere of th old Bank, into th misty air of Fleet-street. "My lov to Lucie, and to litl Lucie," said


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Mr. Lorry at partng, "and take precius care of them til I com bak." Charls Darnay shook his hed and doutfuly smiled, as th carrij rold away.

   That nyt -- it was th forteenth of August -- he sat up late, and rote two fervnt letrs; one was to Lucie, explainng th strong obligation he was undr to go to Paris, and shoing her, at length, th reasns that he had, for feelng confidnt that he cud becom involvd in no persnl danjer ther; th othr was to th Doctr, confiding Lucie and ther dear child to his care, and dwelng on th same topics with th strongst asurances. To both, he rote that he wud despach letrs in proof of his safety, imediatly aftr his arival.

   It was a hard day, that day of being among them, with th first resrvation of ther joint lives on his mind. It was a hard matr to preserv th inocent deceit of wich they wer profoundly unsuspicious. But, an afectionat glance at his wife, so happy and busy, made him reslute not to tel her wat impended (he had been half moved to do it, so stranje it was to him to act in anything without her quiet aid), and th day pasd quikly. Erly in th evenng he embraced her, and her scarcely less dear namesake, pretendng that he wud return by-and-by (an imajnry engajemnt took him out, and he had secreted a valise of clothes redy), and so he emerjd into th hevy mist of th hevy streets, with a hevir hart.

   Th unseen force was drawng him fast to itself, now, and an th tides and winds wer setng strait and strong towards it. He left his two letrs with a trusty portr, to be delivrd half an our befor midnyt, and no soonr; took horse for Dover; and began his jurny -- "For th lov of Hevn, of justice, of jenrosity, of th onr of yr noble name!" was th poor prisoner's cry with wich he strengthnd his sinkng hart, as he left al that was dear on erth behind him, and floatd away for th Loadstone Rok. TH END OF TH SECND BOOK.


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Book 3

BOOK TH THIRD -- TH TRAK OF A

STORM


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IN SECRET

   TH TRAVLR fared sloly on his way, ho fared towards Paris from England in th autm of th year one thousnd sevn hundred and ninety-two. Mor than enuf of bad roads, bad equipages, and bad horses, he wud hav encountrd to delay him, tho th falen and unfortunat King of France had been upon his throne in al his glory; but, th chanjed times wer fraut with othr obstacls than these. Evry town-gate and vilaj taxng-house had its band of citizn-patriots, with ther nationl muskets in a most explosiv state of rediness, ho stopd al comrs and goers, cross-questiond them, inspectd ther papers, lookd for ther names in lists of ther own, turnd them bak, or sent them on, or stopd them and laid them in hold, as ther capricius jujmnt or fancy deemd best for th dawnng Republic One and Indivisbl, of Librty, Equality, Fraternity, or Deth.

   A very few French leags of his jurny wer acomplishd, wen Charls Darnay began to perceve that for him along these cuntry roads ther was no hope of return until he shud hav been declared a good citizn at Paris. Watevr myt befal now, he must on to his journey's end. Not a mean vilaj closed upon him, not a comn barir dropd across th road behind him, but he new it to be anothr iron dor in th series that was bard between him and England. Th universl wachfulness so encompasd him, that if he had been taken in a net, or wer being forwrdd to his destnation in a caje, he cud not hav felt his fredm mor completely gon.

   This universl wachfulness not only stopd him on th hyway twenty times in a staje, but retardd his progress twenty times in a day,


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by riding aftr him and taking him bak, riding befor him and stopng him by anticipation, riding with him and keepng him in charj. He had been days upon his jurny in France alone, wen he went to bed tired out, in a litl town on th hy road, stil a long way from Paris.

   Nothing but th production of th aflictd Gabelle's letr from his prisn of th Abbaye wud hav got him on so far. Ms dificlty at th gard-house in this smal place had been such, that he felt his jurny to hav com to a crisis. And he was, therfor, as litl surprised as a man cud be, to find himself awakend at th smal in to wich he had been remitd until mornng, in th midl of th nyt.

   Awakend by a timid local functionry and thre armd patriots in ruf red caps and with pipes in ther mouths, ho sat down on th bed.

   "Emigrant," said th functionry, "I am going to send u on to Paris, undr an escort."

   "Citizn, I desire nothing mor than to get to Paris, tho I cud dispense with th escort."

   "Silence!" growld a red-cap, striking at th covrlet with th but-end of his musket. "Pece, aristocrat!"

   "It is as th good patriot says," observd th timid functionry. "U ar an aristocrat, and must hav an escort -- and must pay for it."

   "I hav no choice," said Charls Darnay.

   "Choice! Lisn to him!" cryd th same scowlng red-cap. "As if it was not a favor to be protectd from th lamp-iron!"

   "It is always as th good patriot says," observd th functionry. "Rise and dress yrself, emigrant."

   Darnay complyd, and was taken bak to th gard-house, wher othr patriots in ruf red caps wer smoking, drinkng, and sleepng, by a wach-fire. Here he paid a hevy price for his escort, and hence he startd with it on th wet, wet roads at thre oclok in th mornng.

   Th escort wer two mountd patriots in red caps and tri-colord cockades, armd with nationl muskets and sabers, ho rode one on eithr side of him.

   Th escortd govrnd his own horse, but a loose line was atachd to his bridle, th end of wich one of th patriots kept girdd round his rist. In this state they set forth with th sharp rain driving in ther faces: clatrng at a hevy dragoon trot over th uneven town pavemnt, and out upon th mire-deep roads. In this state they traversd without chanje, exept of horses and pace, al th mire-deep leags that lay between them and th capitl.


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   They travld in th nyt, haltng an our or two aftr daybrek, and lyng by until th twilyt fel. Th escort wer so rechedly clothed, that they twistd straw round ther bare legs, and thachd ther raged sholdrs to keep th wet off. Apart from th persnl discomfrt of being so atendd, and apart from such considrations of presnt danjer as arose from one of th patriots being cronicly drunk, and carrying his musket very reklesly, Charls Darnay did not alow th restraint that was laid upon him to awaken any serius fears in his brest; for, he reasnd with himself that it cud hav no refrnce to th merits of an individul case that was not yet stated, and of represntations, confirmable by th prisnr in th Abbaye, that wer not yet made.

   But wen they came to th town of Bauvai -- wich they did at eventide, wen th streets wer fild with peple -- he cud not conceal from himself that th aspect of afairs was very alarmng. An omnus crowd gathrd to se him dismount of th postng-yard, and many voices cald out loudly, "Down with th emigrant!"

   He stopd in th act of swingng himself out of his sadl, and, resuming it as his safest place, said:

   "Emigrant, my frends! Do u not se me here, in France, of my own wil?"

   "U ar a cursd emigrant," cryd a farrier, making at him in a furius manr thru th press, hamr in hand; "and u ar a cursd aristocrat!"

   Th postmastr intrposed himself between this man and th rider's bridle (at wich he was evidntly making), and soothingly said, "Let him be; let him be! He wil be jujd at Paris."

   "Jujd!" repeatd th farrier, swingng his hamr. "Y! and condemd as a traitr." At this th crowd rord aproval.

   Chekng th postmastr, ho was for turnng his horse's hed to th yard (th drunkn patriot sat composedly in his sadl lookng on, with th line round his rist), Darnay said, as soon as he cud make his voice herd:

   "Frends, u deceve yrselvs, or u ar deceved. I am not a traitr. "

   "He lies!" cryd th smith. "He is a traitr since th decree. His life is forfit to th peple. His cursd life is not his own!"

   At th instnt wen Darnay saw a rush in th ys of th crowd, wich anothr instnt wud hav brot upon him, th postmastr turnd his horse into th yard, th escort rode in close upon his horse's flanks, and


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th postmastr shut and bard th crazy dubl gates. Th farrier struk a blo upon them with his hamr, and th crowd groand; but, no mor was don.

   "Wat is this decree that th smith spoke of?" Darnay askd th postmastr, wen he had thankd him, and stood beside him in th yard.

   "Truly, a decree for selng th proprty of emigrants."

   "Wen pasd?"

   "On th forteenth."

   "Th day I left England!"

   "Evrybody says it is but one of sevrl, and that ther wil be othrs -- if ther ar not alredy -- banishing al emigrants, and condemng al to deth ho return. That is wat he ment wen he said yr life was not yr own."

   "But ther ar no such decrees yet?"

   "Wat do I no!" said th postmastr, shrugng his sholdrs; "ther may be, or ther wil be. It is al th same. Wat wud u hav?"

   They restd on som straw in a loft until th midl of th nyt, and then rode forwrd again wen al th town was asleep. Among th many wild chanjes observbl on familir things wich made this wild ride unreal, not th least was th seemng rarity of sleep. Aftr long and lonely spurring over dreary roads, they wud com to a clustr of poor cotajs, not steepd in darkns, but al glitrng with lyts, and wud find th peple, in a gostly manr in th ded of th nyt, circlng hand in hand round a shrivld tre of Librty, or al drawn up togethr singng a Librty song. Happily, howevr, ther was sleep in Bauvai that nyt to help them out of it and they pasd on once mor into solitude and loneliness: jinglng thru th untimely cold and wet, among impovrishd fields that had yieldd no fruits of th erth that year, diversifyd by th blaknd remains of burnt houses, and by th sudn emerjnce from ambuscade, and sharp reining up across ther way, of patriot patrols on th wach on al th roads.

   Daylyt at last found them befor th wal of Paris. Th barir was closed and strongly gardd wen they rode up to it.

   "Wher ar th papers of this prisnr?" demandd a reslute-lookng man in authority, ho was sumnd out by th gard.

   Natrly struk by th disagreeabl word, Charls Darnay requestd th speakr to take notice that he was a fre travlr and French citizn, in charj of an escort wich th disturbd state of th cuntry had imposed upon him, and wich he had paid for.


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   "Wher," repeatd th same persnaj, without taking any heed of him watevr, "ar th papers of this prisnr?"

   Th drunkn patriot had them in his cap, and produced them. Castng his ys over Gabelle's letr, th same persnaj in authority showd som disordr and surprise, and lookd at Darnay with a close atention.

   He left escort and escortd without sayng a word, howevr, and went into th gard-room; meanwile, they sat upon ther horses outside th gate. Lookng about him wile in this state of suspense, Charls Darnay observd that th gate was held by a mixd gard of soldirs and patriots, th latr far outnumbering th formr; and that wile ingress into th city for peasants' carts bringng in suplys, and for simlr trafic and traffickers, was esy enuf, egress, even for th homeliest peple, was very dificlt. A numerus medly of men and women, not to mention beasts and vehicls of varius sorts, was waitng to isu forth; but, th previus identification was so strict, that they filtrd thru th barir very sloly. Som of these peple new ther turn for examnation to be so far off, that they lay down on th ground to sleep or smoke, wile othrs talkd togethr, or loitrd about. Th red cap and tricolour cockade wer universl, both among men and women.

   Wen he had sat in his sadl som half-our, taking note of these things, Darnay found himself confrontd by th same man in authority, ho directd th gard to open th barir. Then he delivrd to th escort, drunk and sober, a receit for th escortd, and requestd him to dismount. He did so, and th two patriots, leadng his tired horse, turnd and rode away without entrng th city.

   He acompnid his conductr into a gard-room, smelng of comn wine and tobaco, wher certn soldirs and patriots, asleep and awake, drunk and sober, and in varius neutrl states between sleepng and waking, drunkness and sobriety, wer standng and lyng about. Th lyt in th gard-house, half derived from th waning oil-lamps of th nyt, and half from th overcast day, was in a corespondngly uncertn condition. Som rejistrs wer lyng open on a desk, and an oficer of a corse, dark aspect, presided over these.

   "Citizn Defarge," said he to Darnay's conductr, as he took a slip of paper to rite on. "Is this th emigrant Evrémond?"

   "This is th man."

   "Yr aje, Evrémond?"

   "Thirty-sevn."

   "Marrid, Evr&eacutemonde?"


Paje 238

   "Yes."

   "Wher marrid?"

   "In England."

   "Without dout. Wher is yr wife, Evrémond?"

   "In England."

   "Without dout. Yr ar consynd, Evrémond, to th prisn of La Force."

   "Just Hevn!" exclaimd Darnay. "Undr wat law, and for wat ofense?"

   Th oficer lookd up from his slip of paper for a moment.

   "We hav new laws, Evr&eacutemonde, and new ofenses, since u wer here." He said it with a hard smile, and went on riting.

   "I entreat u to observ that I hav com here voluntrly, in response to that ritn apeal of a felo-cuntryman wich lies befor u. I demand no mor than th oprtunity to do so without delay. Is not that my ryt?"

   "Emigrants hav no ryts, Evrémond," was th stolid reply. Th oficer rote until he had finishd, red over to himself wat he had ritn, sandd it, and handd it to Defarge, with th words "In secret."

   Defarge motiond with th paper to th prisnr that he must acompny him. Th prisnr obeyd, and a gard of two armd patriots atendd them.

   "Is it u," said Defarge, in a lo voice, as they went down th gard- house steps and turnd into Paris, "ho marrid th dautr of Doctr Manette, once a prisnr in th Bastile that is no mor?"

   "Yes," replyd Darnay, lookng at him with surprise.

   "My name is Defarge, and I keep a wine-shop in th Quartr Saint Antoine. Posbly u hav herd of me."

   "My wife came to yr house to reclaim her fathr? Yes!"

   Th word "wife" seemd to serv as a gloomy remindr to Defarge, to say with sudn impatience, "In th name of that sharp female newly- born, and cald La Gilotine, wy did u com to France?"

   "U herd me say wy, a minut ago. Do u not beleve it is th truth?"

   "A bad truth for u," said Defarge, speakng with nitd brows, and lookng strait befor him.

   "Indeed I am lost here. Al here is so unprecedentd, so chanjed, so sudn and unfair, that I am abslutely lost. Wil u rendr me a litl help?"


Paje 239

   "Non." Defarge spoke, always lookng strait befor him.

   "Wil u ansr me a singl question?"

   "Perhaps. Acordng to its natur. U can say wat it is."

   "In this prisn that I am going to so unjustly, shal I hav som fre comunication with th world outside?"

   "U wil se."

   "I am not to be burid ther, prejudged, and without any means of presentng my case?"

   "U wil se. But, wat then? Othr peple hav been simlrly burid in worse prisns, befor now."

   "But nevr by me, Citizn Defarge."

   Defarge glanced darkly at him for ansr, and walkd on in a stedy and set silence. Th deepr he sank into this silence, th faintr hope ther was -- or so Darnay thot -- of his sofnng in any slyt degree. He, therfor, made haste to say:

   "It is of th utmost importnce to me (u no, Citizn, even betr than I, of how much importnce), that I shud be able to comunicate to Mr. Lorry of Tellson's Bank, an English jentlman ho is now in Paris, th simpl fact, without coment, that I hav been thrown into th prisn of La Force. Wil u cause that to be don for me?"

   "I wil do," Defarge dogedly rejoind, "nothing for u. My duty is to my cuntry and th Peple. I am th sworn servnt of both, against u. I wil do nothing for u."

   Charls Darnay felt it hopeless to entreat him furthr, and his pride was tuchd besides. As they walkd on in silence, he cud not but se how used th peple wer to th spectacl of prisnrs pasng along th streets. Th very children scarcely noticed him. A few pasrs turnd ther heds, and a few shook ther fingrs at him as an aristocrat; othrwise, that a man in good clothes shud be going to prisn, was no mor remarkbl than that a laborr in workng clothes shud be going to work. In one naro, dark, and dirty street thru wich they pasd, an exited oratr, mountd on a stool, was adresng an exited audience on th cranes against th peple, of th king and th royl famly. Th few words that he caut from this man's lips, first made it nown to Charls Darnay that th king was in prisn, and that th foren ambassadrs had one and al left Paris. On th road (exept at Bauvai) he had herd abslutely nothing. Th escort and th universl wachfulness had completely isolated him.

   That he had falen among far gretr danjers than those wich had


Paje 240

developd themselvs wen he left England, he of corse new now. That perils had thiknd about him fast, and myt thikn fastr and fastr yet, he of corse new now. He cud not but admit to himself that he myt not hav made this jurny, if he cud hav forseen th events of a few days. And yet his misgivngs wer not so dark as, imajnd by th lyt of this later time, they wud apear. Trubld as th futur was, it was th unown futur, and in its obscurity ther was ignrnt hope. Th horibl massacr, days and nyts long, wich, within a few rounds of th clok, was to set a gret mark of blod upon th blesd garnering time of harvest, was as far out of his nolej as if it had been a hundred thousnd years away. Th "sharp female newly-born, and cald La Gilotine," was hardly nown to him, or to th jenrality of peple, by name. Th frytful deeds that wer to be soon don, wer probbly unimagined at that time in th brains of th doers. How cud they hav a place in th shadowy conceptions of a jentl mind?

   Of unjust treatmnt in detention and hardship, and in cruel sepration from his wife and child, he forshadod th likelihood, or th certnty; but, beyond this, he dredd nothing distinctly. With this on his mind, wich was enuf to carry into a dreary prisn cortyard, he arived at th prisn of La Force.

   A man with a bloatd face opend th strong wiket, to hom Defarge presentd "Th Emigrant Evr&eacutemonde."

   "Wat th Devl! How many mor of them!" exclaimd th man with th bloatd face.

   Defarge took his receit without noticing th exclmation, and withdrew, with his two felo-patriots.

   "Wat th Devl, I say again!" exclaimd th gaoler, left with his wife. "How many mor!"

   Th gaoler's wife, being provided with no ansr to th question, merely replyd, "One must hav patience, my dear!" Thre turnkeys ho entrd responsiv to a bel she rang, ecod th sentmnt, and one add, "For th lov of Librty;" wich soundd in that place like an inapropriat conclusion.

   Th prisn of La Force was a gloomy prisn, dark and filthy, and with a horibl smel of foul sleep in it. Extrordnry how soon th noism flavor of imprisnd sleep, becoms manifest in al such places that ar il cared for!

   "In secret, too," grumbld th gaoler, lookng at th ritn paper. "As if I was not alredy ful to burstng!"


Paje 241

   He stuk th paper on a file, in an il-humor, and Charls Darnay awaitd his furthr plesur for half an our: somtimes, pacing to and fro in th strong archd room: somtimes, restng on a stone seat: in eithr case detaind to be imprintd on th memry of th chief and his subordnats.

   "Com!" said th chief, at length taking up his kes, "com with me, emigrant."

   Thru th disml prisn twilyt, his new charj acompnid him by coridr and staircase, many dors clangng and lokng behind them, until they came into a larj, lo, valtd chamber, crowdd with prisnrs of both sexs. Th women wer seatd at a long table, readng and riting, nitng, sewng, and embroidrng; th men wer for th most part standng behind ther chairs, or lingrng up and down th room.

   In th instinctiv asociation of prisnrs with shameful crime and disgrace, th new-comr recoild from this compny. But th crownng unreality of his long unreal ride, was, ther al at once rising to receve him, with evry refinemnt of manr nown to th time, and with al th engajing graces and curtesis of life.

   So stranjely cloudd wer these refinemnts by th prisn manrs and gloom, so spectrl did they becom in th inapropriat squalr and misry thru wich they wer seen, that Charls Darnay seemd to stand in a compny of th ded. Gosts al! Th gost of buty, th gost of stateliness, th gost of elegnce, th gost of pride, th gost of frivolity, th gost of wit, th gost of yuth, th gost of aje, al waitng ther dismisl from th desolate shor, al turnng on him ys that wer chanjed by th deth they had died in comng ther.

   It struk him motionless. Th gaoler standng at his side, and th othr jailrs moving about, ho wud hav been wel enuf as to apearnce in th ordnry exrcise of ther functions, lookd so extravagntly corse contrastd with soroing mothrs and bloomng dautrs ho wer ther -- with th apritions of th coquette, th yung buty, and th mature womn delicatly bred -- that th inversion of al experience and likelihood wich th sene of shados presentd, was hytnd to its utmost. Surely, gosts al. Surely, th long unreal ride som progress of disese that had brot him to these gloomy shades!

   "In th name of th asembld companions in misfortune," said a jentlman of cortly apearnce and adress, comng forwrd, "I hav th onr of givng u welcm to La Force, and of condoling with u on th calamity that has brot u among us. May it soon termnate


Paje 242

happily! It wud be an impertnnce elswher, but it is not so here, to ask yr name and condition?"

   Charls Darnay rousd himself, and gave th required infrmation, in words as suitbl as he cud find.

   "But I hope," said th jentlman, foloing th chief gaoler with his ys, ho moved across th room, "that u ar not in secret?"

   "I do not undrstand th meanng of th term, but I hav herd them say so."

   "Ah, wat a pity! We so much regret it! But take curaj; sevrl membrs of our society hav been in secret, at first, and it has lastd but a short time." Then he add, rasing his voice, "I greve to inform th society -- in secret."

   Ther was a murmr of comisration as Charls Darnay crosd th room to a grated dor wher th gaoler awaitd him, and many voices -- among wich, th soft and compassionat voices of women wer conspicuus -- gave him good wishs and encurajmnt. He turnd at th grated dor, to rendr th thanks of his hart; it closed undr th gaoler's hand; and th apritions vanishd from his syt for evr.

   Th wiket opend on a stone staircase, leadng upwrd. Wen they bad asendd forty steps (th prisnr of half an our alredy countd them), th gaoler opend a lo blak dor, and they pasd into a solitry cel. It struk cold and damp, but was not dark.

   "Yrs," said th gaoler.

   "Wy am I confined alone?"

   "How do I no!"

   "I can by pen, ink, and paper?"

   "Such ar not my ordrs. U wil be visitd, and can ask then. At presnt, u may by yr food, and nothing mor."

   Ther wer in th cel, a chair, a table, and a straw matress. As th gaoler made a jenrl inspection of these objects, and of th four walls, befor going out, a wandrng fancy wandrd thru th mind of th prisnr leanng against th wal oposit to him, that this gaoler was so unwholesomely bloatd, both in face and persn, as to look like a man ho had been drownd and fild with watr. Wen th gaoler was gon, he thot in th same wandrng way, "Now am I left, as if I wer ded." Stopng then, to look down at th matress, he turnd from it with a sik feelng, and thot, "And here in these crawlng creaturs is th first condition of th body aftr deth."

   "Five paces by four and a half, five paces by four and a half, five paces


Paje 243

by four and a half." Th prisnr walkd to and fro in his cel, countng its mesurmnt, and th ror of th city arose like mufld drums with a wild swel of voices add to them. "He made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes." Th prisnr countd th mesurmnt again, and paced fastr, to draw his mind with him from that latr repetition. "Th gosts that vanishd wen th wiket closed. Ther was one among them, th apearnce of a lady dresd in blak, ho was leanng in th embrasure of a windo, and she had a lyt shining upon her goldn hair, and she lookd like * * * * Let us ride on again, for God's sake, thru th iluminated vilajs with th peple al awake! * * * * He made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes. * * * * Five paces by four and a half." With such scraps tosng and rolng upwrd from th depths of his mind, th prisnr walkd fastr and fastr, obstnatly countng and countng; and th ror of th city chanjed to this extent -- that it stil rold in like mufld drums, but with th wail of voices that he new, in th swel that rose abov them.

TH GRINDSTONE

   TELLSON'S BANK, establishd in th Saint Germain Quartr of Paris, was in a wing of a larj house, aproachd by a cortyard and shut off from th street by a hy wal and a strong gate. Th house belongd to a gret nobleman ho had livd in it until he made a flyt from th trubls, in his own cook's dress, and got across th bordrs. A mere beast of th chase flyng from huntrs, he was stil in his metempsychosis no othr than th same Monseigneur, th prepration of hos choclat for hos lips had once ocupyd thre strong men besides th cook in question.


Paje 244

   Monseigneur gon, and th thre strong men absolving themselvs from th sin of havng drawn his hy wajes, by being mor than redy and wilng to cut his throat on th altr of th dawnng Republic one and indivisbl of Librty, Equality, Fraternity, or Deth, Monseigneur's house had been first sequestrated, and then confiscated. For, al things moved so fast, and decree folod decree with that fierce precipitation, that now upon th third nyt of th autm month of Septembr, patriot emisris of th law wer in posession of Monseigneur's house, and had markd it with th tricolour, and wer drinkng brandy in its state apartmnts.

   A place of busness in Londn like Tellson's place of busness in Paris, wud soon hav drivn th House out of its mind and into th Gazet. For, wat wud staid British responsbility and respectbility hav said to oranj-tres in boxs in a Bank cortyard, and even to a Cupid over th countr? Yet such things wer. Tellson's had witewashd th Cupid, but he was stil to be seen on th celing, in th coolest linn, aimng (as he very ofn dos) at mony from mornng to nyt. Bankrupcy must inevitbly hav com of this yung Pagan, in Lombard-street, Londn, and also of a curtnd alcove in th rear of th imortl boy, and also of a lookng-glass let into th wal, and also of clerks not at al old, ho danced in public on th slytst provocation. Yet, a French Tellson's cud get on with these things exeedngly wel, and, as long as th times held togethr, no man had taken fryt at them, and drawn out his mony.

   Wat mony wud be drawn out of Tellson's henceforth, and wat wud lie ther, lost and forgotn; wat plate and jewls wud tarnish in Tellson's hiding-places, wile th depositrs rustd in prisns, and wen they shud hav violently perishd; how many acounts with Tellson's nevr to be balanced in this world, must be carrid over into th next; no man cud hav said, that nyt, any mor than Mr. Jarvis Lorry cud, tho he thot hevily of these questions. He sat by a newly-lytd wood fire (th blytd and unfruitful year was prematurely cold), and on his onest and curajus face ther was a deepr shade than th pendnt lamp cud thro, or any object in th room distortedly reflect -- a shade of horr.

   He ocupyd rooms in th Bank, in his fidelity to th House of wich he had grown to be a part, lie strong root-ivy. it chanced that they derived a kind of security from th patriotic ocupation of th main bildng, but th tru-hartd old jentlman nevr calculated about that. Al


Paje 245

such circmstnces wer indifrnt to him, so that he did his duty. On th oposit side of th cortyard, undr a colonade, was extensiv standng for carrijs -- wher, indeed, som carrijs of Monseigneur yet stood. Against two of th pilrs wer fasnd two gret flaring flambeaux, and in th lyt of these, standng out in th open air, was a larj grindstone: a rufly mountd thing wich apeard to hav hurridly been brot ther from som neibrng smithy, or othr workshop. Rising and lookng out of windo at these harmless objects, Mr. Lorry shivrd, and retired to his seat by th fire. He had opend, not only th glass windo, but th latice blind outside it, and he had closed both again, and he shivrd thru his frame.

   From th streets beyond th hy wal and th strong gate, ther came th usul nyt hum of th city, with now and then an indescribebl ring in it, weird and unerthly, as if som unwontd sounds of a teribl natur wer going up to Hevn.

   "Thank God," said Mr. Lorry, claspng his hands, "that no one near and dear to me is in this dredful town to-nyt. May He hav mercy on al ho ar in danjer!"

   Soon aftrwrds, th bel at th gret gate soundd, and he thot, "They hav com bak!" and sat lisnng. But, ther was no loud irruption into th cortyard, as he had expectd, and he herd th gate clash again, and al was quiet.

   Th nervusness and dred that wer upon him inspired that vage unesiness respectng th Bank, wich a gret chanje wud natrly awaken, with such feelngs rousd. It was wel gardd, and he got up to go among th trusty peple ho wer wachng it, wen his dor sudnly opend, and two figrs rushd in, at syt of wich he fel bak in amazemnt.

   Lucie and her fathr! Lucie with her arms strechd out to him, and with that old look of ernestness so concentrated and intensifyd, that it seemd as tho it had been stampd upon her face expresly to giv force and powr to it in this one passaj of her life.

   "Wat is this?" cryd Mr. Lorry, brethless and confused. "Wat is th matr? Lucie! Manette! Wat has hapnd? Wat has brot u here? Wat is it?"

   With th look fixd upon him, in her paleness and wildness, she pantd out in his arms, imploringly, "O my dear frend! My husbnd!"

   "Yr husbnd, Lucie?"

   "Charls."


Paje 246

   "Wat of Charls?"

   "Here.

   "Here, in Paris?"

   "Has been here som days -- thre or four -- I dont no how many -- I cant colect my thots. An erand of jenrosity brot him here unown to us; he was stopd at th barir, and sent to prisn."

   Th old man utrd an irepresbl cry. Almost at th same moment, th beg of th gret gate rang again, and a loud noise of feet and voices came porng into th cortyard.

   "Wat is that noise?" said th Doctr, turnng towards th windo.

   "Dont look!" cryd Mr. Lorry. "Dont look out! Manette, for yr life, dont tuch th blind!"

   Th Doctr turnd, with his hand upon th fasnng of th windo, and said, with a cool, bold smile:

   "My dear frend, I hav a charmd life in this city. I hav been a Bastile prisnr. Ther is no patriot in Paris -- in Paris? In France -- ho, noing me to hav been a prisnr in th Bastile, wud tuch me, exept to overwelm me with embraces, or carry me in triumf. My old pain has givn me a powr that has brot us thru th barir, and gaind us news of Charls ther, and brot us here. I new it wud be so; I new I cud help Charls out of al danjer; I told Lucie so. -- Wat is that noise?" His hand was again upon th windo.

   "Dont look!" cryd Mr. Lorry, abslutely desprat. "No, Lucie, my dear, nor u!" He got his arm round her, and held her. "Dont be so terifyd, my lov. I solemly swer to u that I no of no harm havng hapnd to Charls; that I had no suspicion even of his being in this fatal place. Wat prisn is he in?"

   "La Force!"

   "La Force! Lucie, my child, if evr u wer brave and servicebl in yr life -- and u wer always both -- u wil compose yrself now, to do exactly as I bid u; for mor depends upon it than u can think, or I can say. Ther is no help for u in any action on yr part to-nyt; u canot posbly stir out. I say this, because wat I must bid u to do for Charles's sake, is th hardst thing to do of al. U must instntly be obedient, stil, and quiet. U must let me put u in a room at th bak here. U must leve yr fathr and me alone for two minuts, and as ther ar Life and Deth in th world u must not delay."

   "I wil be submissiv to u. I se in yr face that u no I can do nothing else than this. I no u ar tru."


Paje 247

   Th old man kisd her, and hurrid her into his room, and turnd th ke; then, came hurrying bak to th Doctr, and opend th windo and partly opend th blind, and put his hand upon th Doctor's arm, and lookd out with him into th cortyard.

   Lookd out upon a throng of men and women: not enuf in numbr, or near enuf, to fil th cortyard: not mor than forty or fifty in al. Th peple in posession of th house had let them in at th gate, and they had rushd in to work at th grindstone; it had evidntly been set up ther for ther purpos, as in a convenient and retired spot.

   But, such awful workrs, and such awful work!

   Th grindstone had a dubl handl, and, turnng at it madly wer two men, hos faces, as ther long hair Rapd bak wen th whirlings of th grindstone brot ther faces up, wer mor horibl and cruel than th visages of th wildst savajs in ther most barbrus disgise. False ybrows and false mustachs wer stuk upon them, and ther hideus countenances wer al blody and swety, and al ary with howlng, and al staring and glaring with beastly exitemnt and want of sleep. As these rufians turnd and turnd, ther matd loks now flung forwrd over ther ys, now flung bakwrd over ther neks, som women held wine to ther mouths that they myt drink; and wat with dropng blod, and wat with dropng wine, and wat with th stream of sparks struk out of th stone, al ther wiked atmosfere seemd gor and fire. Th y cud not detect one creatur in th group fre from th smear of blod. Sholdrng one anothr to get next at th sharpnng-stone, wer men stripd to th waist, with th stain al over ther lims and bodis; men in al sorts of rags, with th stain upon those rags; men devilishly set off with spoils of women's lace and silk and ribn, with th stain dyng those trifles thru and thru. Hatchets, nives, baynets, sords, al brot to be sharpnd, wer al red with it. Som of th hakd sords wer tied to th rists of those ho carrid them, with strips of linn and fragmnts of dress: ligatures varius in kind, but al deep of th one color. And as th frantic wielders of these wepns snachd them from th stream of sparks and tor away into th streets, th same red hu was red in ther frenzid ys; -- ys wich any unbrutalised beholdr wud hav givn twenty years of life, to petrify with a wel-directd gun.

   Al this was seen in a moment, as th vision of a drownng man, or of any human creatur at any very gret pass, cud se a world if it wer


Paje 248

ther. They drew bak from th windo, and th Doctr lookd for explnation in his friend's ashy face.

   "They ar," Mr. Lorry wisprd th words, glancing fearfuly round at th lokd room, "murdrng th prisnrs. If u ar sure of wat u say; if u realy hav th powr u think u hav -- as I beleve u hav -- make yrself nown to these devls, and get taken to La Force. It may be too late, I dont no, but let it not be a minut later!"

   Doctr Manette presd his hand, hasend barehedd out of th room, and was in th cortyard wen Mr. Lorry regaind th blind.

   His streamng wite hair, his remarkbl face, and th impetuus confidnce of his manr, as he put th wepns aside like watr, carrid him in an instnt to th hart of th concorse at th stone. For a few moments ther was a pause, and a hurry, and a murmr, and th unintelijbl sound of his voice; and then Mr. Lorry saw him, suroundd by al, and in th midst of a line of twenty men long, al linkd sholdr to sholdr, and hand to sholdr, hurrid out with crys of -- "Liv th Bastile prisnr! Help for th Bastile prisoner's kindred in La Force! Room for th Bastile prisnr in front ther! Save th prisnr Evr&eacutemonde at La Force!" and a thousnd ansrng shouts.

   He closed th latice again with a flutrng hart, closed th windo and th curtn, hasend to Lucie, and told her that her fathr was asistd by th peple, and gon in serch of her husbnd. He found her child and Miss Pross with her; but, it nevr ocurd to him to be surprised by ther apearnce until a long time aftrwrds, wen he sat wachng them in such quiet as th nyt new.

   Lucie had, by that time, falen into a stupor on th flor at his feet, clingng to his hand. Miss Pross had laid th child down on his own bed, and her hed had graduly falen on th pilo beside her pretty charj. O th long, long nyt, with th moans of th poor wife! And O th long, long nyt, with no return of her fathr and no tidings!

   Twice mor in th darkns th bel at th gret gate soundd, and th irruption was repeatd, and th grindstone wirld and splutrd. "Wat is it?" cryd Lucie, affrighted. "Hush! Th soldiers' sords ar sharpnd ther," said Mr. Lorry. "Th place is nationl proprty now, and used as a kind of armry, my lov."

   Twice mor in al; but, th last spel of work was feebl and fitful. Soon aftrwrds th day began to dawn, and he softly detachd himself from th claspng hand, and cautiusly lookd out again. A man, so besmeared that he myt hav been a sorly woundd soldir creepng bak


Paje 249

to conciusness on a field of slain, was rising from th pavemnt by th side of th grindstone, and lookng about him with a vacant air. Shortly, this worn-out murdrr descried in th imperfect lyt one of th carrijs of Monseigneur, and, stagrng to that gorjus vehicl, climbd in at th dor, and shut himself up to take his rest on its dainty cushns.

   Th gret grindstone, Erth, had turnd wen Mr. Lorry lookd out again, and th sun was red on th cortyard. But, th lesr grindstone stood alone ther in th calm mornng air, with a red upon it that th sun had nevr givn, and wud nevr take away.

TH SHADO

   ONE of th first considrations wich arose in th busness mind of Mr. Lorry wen busness ours came round, was this: -- that he had no ryt to imperil Tellson's by sheltrng th wife of an emigrant prisnr undr th Bank roof, His own posessions, safety, life, he wud hav hazrdd for Lucie and her child, without a moment's demur; but th gret trust he held was not his own, and as to that busness charj he was a strict man of busness.

   At first, his mind revertd to Defarge, and he thot of findng out th wine-shop again and taking counsl with its mastr in refrnce to th safest dwelng-place in th distractd state of th city. But, th same considration that sujestd him, repudiated him; he livd in th most violent Quartr, and doutless was influential ther, and deep in its danjerus workngs.

   Noon comng, and th Doctr not returng, and evry minute's delay tendng to comprmise Tellson's, Mr. Lorry advised with Lucie. She said


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that her fathr had spoken of hiring a lojng for a short term, in that Quartr, near th Bankng-house. As ther was no busness objection to this, and as he forsaw that even if it wer al wel with Charls, and he wer to be relesed, he cud not hope to leve th city, Mr. Lorry went out in quest of such a lojng, and found a suitbl one, hy up in a removed by-street wher th closed blinds in al th othr windos of a hy melancly square of bildngs markd desertd homes.

   To this lojng he at once removed Lucie and her child, and Miss Pross: givng them wat comfrt he cud, and much mor than he had himself. He left Jerry with them, as a figr to fil a dorway that wud ber considrbl nokng on th hed, and retaind to his own ocupations. A disturbd and doleful mind he brot to ber upon them, and sloly and hevily th day lagd on with him.

   It wor itself out, and wor him out with it, until th Bank closed. He was again alone in his room of th previus nyt, considrng wat to do next, wen he herd a foot upon th stair. In a few moments, a man stood in his presnce, ho, with a keenly observnt look at him, adresd him by his name.

   "Yr servnt," said Mr. Lorry. "Do u no me?"

   He was a strongly made man with dark curlng hair, from forty-five to fifty years of aje. For ansr he repeatd, without any chanje of emfasis, th words:

   "Do u no me?"

   "I hav seen u somwher."

   "Perhaps at my wine-shop?"

   Much intrestd and ajitated, Mr. Lorry said: "U com from Doctr Manette?"

   "Yes. I com from Doctr Manette."

   "And wat says he? Wat dos he send me?"

   Defarge gave into his anxius hand, an open scrap of paper. It bor th words in th Doctor's riting:

    "Charls is safe, but I canot safely leve this place yet. I hav

   obtaind th favor that th berr has a short note from Charls to

   his wife. Let th berr se his wife."

   It was dated from La Force, within an our.

   "Wil u acompny me," said Mr. Lorry, joyfuly releved aftr readng this note aloud, "to wher his wife resides?"


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   "Yes," returnd Defarge.

   Scarcely noticing as yet, in wat a curiusly reservd and mecanicl way Defarge spoke, Mr. Lorry put on his hat and they went down into th cortyard. Ther, they found two women; one, nitng.

   "Madame Defarge, surely!" said Mr. Lorry, ho had left her in exactly th same atitude som sevnteen years ago.

   "It is she," observd her husbnd.

   "Dos Madame go with us?" inquired Mr. Lorry, seing that she moved as they moved.

   "Yes. That she may be able to recognize th faces and no th persns. It is for ther safety."

   Beginng to be struk by Defarge's manr, Mr. Lorry lookd dubiusly at him, and led th way. Both th women folod; th secnd womn being Th Venjnce.

   They pasd thru th intrvening streets as quikly as they myt, asendd th staircase of th new domicile, wer admitd by Jerry, and found Lucie weepng, alone. She was thrown into a transport by th tidings Mr. Lorry gave her of her husbnd, and claspd th hand that delivrd his note -- litl thinkng wat it had been doing near him in th nyt, and myt, but for a chance, hav don to him.

    "DEARST, -- Take curaj. I am wel, and yr fathr has influence around me. U canot ansr this. Kiss our child for me."

   That was al th riting. It was so much, howevr, to her ho receved it, that she turnd from Defarge to his wife, and kisd one of th hands that nitd. It was a passionat, lovng, thankful, womnly action, but th hand made no response -- dropd cold and hevy, and took to its nitng again.

   Ther was somthing in its tuch that gave Lucie a chek. She stopd in th act of putng th note in her bosm, and, with her hands yet at her nek, lookd terifyd at Madame Defarge. Madame Defarge met th liftd ybrows and forhed with a cold, impassiv stare.

   "My dear," said Mr. Lorry, striking in to explain; "ther ar frequent risings in th streets; and, altho it is not likely they wil evr trubl u, Madame Defarge wishs to se those hom she has th powr to protect at such times, to th end that she may no them -- that she may identify them. I beleve," said Mr. Lorry, rathr haltng in his reasuring words, as th stony manr of al th thre impresd itself upon him mor and mor, "I state th case, Citizn Defarge?"


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   Defarge lookd gloomily at his wife, and gave no othr ansr than a gruf sound of aquiesnce.

   "U had betr, Lucie," said Mr. Lorry, doing al he cud to propitiate, by tone and manr, "hav th dear child here, and our good Pross. Our good Pross, Defarge, is an English lady, and nos no French."

   Th lady in question, hos rootd conviction that she was mor than a mach for any forenr, was not to be shaken by distress and, danjer, apeard with foldd arms, and observd in English to Th Venjnce, hom her ys first encountrd, "Wel, I am sure, Boldface! I hope u ar pretty wel!" She also bestod a British cof on Madame Defarge; but, neithr of th two took much heed of her.

   "Is that his child?" said Madame Defarge, stopng in her work for th first time, and pointng her nitng-needl at litl Lucie as if it wer th fingr of Fate.

   "Yes, madame," ansrd Mr. Lorry; "this is our poor prisoner's darlng dautr, and only child."

   Th shado atendnt on Madame Defarge and her party seemd to fal so thretnng and dark on th child, that her mothr instinctivly neeld on th ground beside her, and held her to her brest. Th shado atendnt on Madame Defarge and her party seemd then to fal, thretnng and dark, on both th mothr and th child.

   "It is enuf, my husbnd," said Madame Defarge. "I hav seen them. We may go."

   But, th supresd manr had enuf of menace in it -- not visbl and presentd, but indistinct and withheld -- to alarm Lucie into sayng, as she laid her apealng hand on Madame Defarge's dress:

   "U wil be good to my poor husbnd. U wil do him no harm. U wil help me to se him if u can?"

   "Yr husbnd is not my busness here," returnd Madame Defarge, lookng down at her with perfect composur. "It is th dautr of yr fathr ho is my busness here."

   "For my sake, then, be merciful to my husbnd. For my child's sake! She wil put her hands togethr and pray u to be merciful. We ar mor afraid of u than of these othrs."

   Madame Defarge receved it as a complmnt, and lookd at her husbnd. Defarge, ho had been unesily biting his thum-nail and lookng at her, colectd his face into a sternr expression.

   "Wat is it that yr husbnd says in that litl letr?" askd Madame


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Defarge, with a lowrng smile. "Influence; he says somthing tuchng influence?"

   "That my fathr," said Lucie, hurridly taking th paper from her brest, but with her alarmd ys on her questionr and not on it, "has much influence around him."

   "Surely it wil relese him!" said Madame Defarge. "Let it do so."

   "As a wife and mothr," cryd Lucie, most ernestly, "I implor u to hav pity on me and not to exrcise any powr that u posess, against my inocent husbnd, but to use it in his behalf. O sistr-womn, think of me. As a wife and mothr!"

   Madame Defarge lookd, coldly as evr, at th supliant, and said, turnng to her frend Th Venjnce:

   "Th wives and mothrs we hav been used to se, since we wer as litl as this child, and much less, hav not been gretly considrd? We hav nown ther husbnds and fathrs laid in prisn and kept from them, ofn enuf? Al our lives, we hav seen our sistr-women sufr, in themselvs and in ther children, povrty, nakedness, hungr, thirst, sikness, misry, opression and neglect of al kinds?"

   "We hav seen nothing else," returnd Th Venjnce.

   "We hav born this a long time," said Madame Defarge, turnng her ys again upon Lucie. "Juj u! Is it likely that th trubl of one wife and mothr wud be much to us now?"

   She resumed her nitng and went out. Th Venjnce folod. Defarge went last, and closed th dor.

   "Curaj, my dear Lucie," said Mr. Lorry, as he rased her. "Curaj, curaj! So far al gos wel with us -- much, much betr than it has of late gon with many poor sols. Cheer up, and hav a thankful hart."

   "I am not thankless, I hope, but that dredful womn seems to thro a shado on me and on al my hopes."

   "Tut, tut!" said Mr. Lorry; "wat is this despondncy in th brave litl brest? A shado indeed! No substnce in it, Lucie."

   But th shado of th manr of these Defarges was dark upon himself, for al that, and in his secret mind it trubld him gretly.


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CALM IN STORM

   DOCTR MANETTE did not return until th mornng of th fourth day of his absnce. So much of wat had hapnd in that dredful time as cud be kept from th nolej of Lucie was so wel conceald from her, that not until long aftrwrds, wen France and she wer far apart, did she no that elevn hundred defensless prisnrs of both sexs and al ajes had been kild by th populace; that four days and nyts had been darknd by this deed of horr; and that th air around her had been taintd by th slain. She only new that ther had been an atak upon th prisns, that al politicl prisnrs had been in danjer, and that som had been dragd out by th crowd and murdrd.

   To Mr. Lorry, th Doctr comunicated undr an injunction of secrecy on wich he had no need to dwel, that th crowd had taken him thru a sene of carnaj to th prisn of La Force. That, in th prisn he had found a self-apointd Tribunal sitng, befor wich th prisnrs wer brot singly, and by wich they wer rapidly ordrd to be put forth to be massacrd, or to be relesed, or (in a few cases) to be sent bak to ther cels. That, presentd by his conductrs to this Tribunal, he had anounced himself by name and profession as havng been for eiteen years a secret and unaccused prisnr in th Bastile; that, one of th body so sitng in jujmnt had risn and identifyd him, and that this man was Defarge.

   That, hereupon he had acertaind, thru th rejistrs on th table, that his son-in-law was among th livng prisnrs, and had pleadd hard to th Tribunal -- of hom som membrs wer asleep and som awake, som dirty with murdr and som clean, som sober and som


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not -- for his life and librty. That, in th first frantic greetngs lavishd on himself as a notebl sufrr undr th overthrown systm, it had been acordd to him to hav Charls Darnay brot befor th lawless Cort, and examnd. That, he seemd on th point of being at once relesed, wen th tide in his favor met with som unexplaind chek (not intelijbl to th Doctr), wich led to a few words of secret confrnce. That, th man sitng as Presidnt had then informd Doctr Manette that th prisnr must remain in custody, but shud, for his sake, be held inviolat in safe custody. That, imediatly, on a signl, th prisnr was removed to th interir of th prisn again; but, that he, th Doctr, had then so strongly pleadd for permission to remain and asure himself that his son-in-law was, thru no malice or mischance, delivrd to th concorse hos murdrus yels outside th gate had ofn drownd th proceedngs, that he had obtaind th permission, and had remaind in that Hal of Blod until th danjer was over.

   Th syts he had seen ther, with brief snachs of food and sleep by intrvls, shal remain untold. Th mad joy over th prisnrs ho wer saved, had astoundd him scarcely less than th mad ferocity against those ho wer cut to peces. One prisnr ther was, he said, ho had been discharjd into th street fre, but at hom a mistaken savaj had thrust a pike as he pasd out. Being besot to go to him and dress th wound, th Doctr had pasd out at th same gate, and had found him in th arms of a compny of Samaritns, ho wer seatd on th bodis of ther victms. With an inconsistncy as monstrus as anything in this awful nytmare, they had helpd th healr, and tendd th woundd man with th jentlst solicitude -- had made a litr for him and escortd him carefuly from th spot -- had then caut up ther wepns and plunjd anew into a buchry so dredful, that th Doctr had covrd his ys with his hands, and swoond away in th midst of it.

   As Mr. Lorry receved these confidnces, and as he wachd th face of his frend now sixty-two years of aje, a misgivng arose within him that such dred experiences wud revive th old danjer. But, he had nevr seen his frend in his presnt aspect: he had nevr at al nown him in his presnt caractr. For th first time th Doctr felt, now, that his sufrng was strength and powr. For th first time he felt that in that sharp fire, he had sloly forjd th iron wich cud brek th prisn dor of his daughter's husbnd, and delivr him. "It al tendd to a good end, my frend; it was not mere waste and ruin. As my belovd child was helpful in restorng me to myself, I wil be helpful now in restorng


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th dearst part of herself to her; by th aid of Hevn I wil do it!" Thus, Doctr Manette. And wen Jarvis Lorry saw th kindld ys, th reslute face, th calm strong look and berng of th man hos life always seemd to him to hav been stopd, like a clok, for so many years, and then set going again with an enrjy wich had lain dormnt during th cesation of its usefulness, he beleved.

   Gretr things than th Doctr had at that time to contend with, wud hav yieldd befor his persevering purpos. Wile he kept himself in his place, as a fysician, hos busness was with al degrees of mankind, bond and fre, rich and poor, bad and good, he used his persnl influence so wisely, that he was soon th inspectng fysician of thre prisns, and among them of La Force. He cud now asure Lucie that her husbnd was no longr confined alone, but was mixd with th jenrl body of prisnrs; he saw her husbnd weekly, and brot sweet messajs to her, strait from his lips; somtimes her husbnd himself sent a letr to her (tho nevr by th Doctor's hand), but she was not permitd to rite to him: for, among th many wild suspicions of plots in th prisns, th wildst of al pointd at emigrants ho wer nown to hav made frends or permnnt conections abrod.

   This new life of th Doctor's was an anxius life, no dout; stil, th sagacious Mr. Lorry saw that ther was a new sustainng pride in it. Nothing unbecomng tinjd th pride; it was a natrl and worthy one; but he observd it as a curiosity. Th Doctr new, that up to that time, his imprisnmnt had been asociated in th minds of his dautr and his frend, with his persnl afliction, deprivation, and weakness. Now that this was chanjed, and he new himself to be investd thru that old trial with forces to wich they both lookd for Charles's ultmat safety and delivrnce, he became so far exaltd by th chanje, that he took th lead and direction, and required them as th weak, to trust to him as th strong. Th preceding relativ positions of himself and Lucie wer reversd, yet only as th liveliest gratitude and afection cud reverse them, for he cud hav had no pride but in rendrng som service to her ho had rendrd so much to him. "Al curius to se," thot Mr. Lorry, in his amiably shrewd way, "but al natrl and ryt; so, take th lead , my dear frend, and keep it; it cudnt be in betr hands."

   But, tho th Doctr tryd hard, and nevr cesed tryng, to get Charls Darnay set at librty, or at least to get him brot to trial, th public curent of th time set too strong and fast for him. Th new era began; th king was tryd, doomd, and behedd; th Republic of Librty,


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Equality, Fraternity, or Deth, declared for victry or deth against th world in arms; th blak flag waved nyt and day from th gret towrs of Notre Dame; thre hundred thousnd men, sumnd to rise against th tyrants of th erth, rose from al th varying soils of France, as if th dragon's teeth had been sown brodcast, and had yieldd fruit equaly on hil and plan, on rok, in gravl, and alluvial mud, undr th bryt sky of th South and undr th clouds of th North, in fel and forest, in th vinyards and th oliv-grounds and among th cropd grass and th stubl of th com, along th fruitful banks of th brod rivrs, and in th sand of th se-shor. Wat privat solicitude cud rear itself against th deluje of th Year One of Librty -- th deluje rising from belo, not falng from abov, and with th windos of Hevn shut, not opend!

   Ther was no pause, no pity, no pece, no intrvl of relentng rest, no mesurmnt of time. Tho days and nyts circld as regulrly as wen time was yung, and th evenng and mornng wer th first day, othr count of time ther was non. Hold of it was lost in th rajing fever of a nation, as it is in th fever of one patient. Now, brekng th unatrl silence of a hole city, th executionr showd th peple th hed of th king -- and now, it seemd almost in th same breth, th bead of his fair wife wich had had eit weary months of imprisnd widohood and misry, to turn it gray.

   And yet, observng th stranje law of contradiction wich obtains in al such cases, th time was long, wile it flamed by so fast. A revlutionry tribunal in th capitl, and forty or fifty thousnd revlutionry comitees al over th land; a law of th Suspectd, wich struk away al security for librty or life, and delivrd over any good and inocent persn to any bad and gilty one; prisns gorjd with peple ho had comitd no ofense, and cud obtain no hearng; these things became th establishd ordr and natur of apointd things, and seemd to be ancient usaj befor they wer many weeks old. Abov al, one hideus figr grew as familir as if it had been befor th jenrl gaze from th foundations of th world -- th figr of th sharp female cald La Gilotine.

   It was th populr theme for jests; it was th best cure for hedache, it infallibly preventd th hair from turnng gray, it impartd a peculir delicacy to th complexion, it was th Nationl Razor wich shaved close: ho kisd La Gilotine, lookd thru th litl windo and snezed into th sak. It was th syn of th rejenration of th human race. It


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superseded th Cross. Modls of it wer worn on brests from wich th Cross was discardd, and it was bowd down to and beleved in wher th Cross was denyd.

   It sheard off heds so many, that it, and th ground it most poluted, wer a rotn red. It was taken to peces, like a toy-puzl for a yung Devl, and was put togethr again wen th ocasion wantd it. It hushd th eloquent, struk down th powrful, abolishd th butiful and good. Twenty-two frends of hy public mark, twenty-one livng and one ded, it had lopd th heds off, in one mornng, in as many minuts. Th name of th strong man of Old Scriptur had desendd to th chief functionry ho workd it; but, so armd, he was strongr than his namesake, and blinder, and tor away th gates of God's own Templ evry day.

   Among these terrs, and th brood belongng to them, th Doctr walkd with a stedy hed: confidnt in his powr, cautiusly persistnt in his end, nevr doutng that he wud save Lucie's husbnd at last. Yet th curent of th time swept by, so strong and deep, and carrid th time away so fiercely, that Charls had lain in prisn one year and thre months wen th Doctr was thus stedy and confidnt. So much mor wiked and distractd had th Revlution grown in that Decembr month, that th rivrs of th South wer encumbrd with th bodis of th violently drownd by nyt, and prisnrs wer shot in lines and squares undr th southern wintry sun. Stil, th Doctr walkd among th terrs with a stedy hed. No man betr nown than he, in Paris at that day; no man in a stranjer situation. Silent, humane, indispensbl in hospitl and prisn, using his art equaly among asasns and victms, he was a man apart. In th exrcise of his skil, th apearnce and th story of th Bastile Captiv removed him from al othr men. He was not suspectd or brot in question, any mor than if he bad indeed been recald to life som eiteen years befor, or wer a Spirit moving among mortls.


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TH WOOD-SAWYR

   ONE YEAR and thre months. During al that time Lucie was nevr sure, from our to our, but that th Gilotine wud strike off her husband's hed next day. Evry day, thru th stony streets, th tumbrels now joltd hevily, fild with Condemd. Lovly girls; bryt women, brown-haird, blak-haird, and gray; yuths; stalwrt men and old; jentl born and pesnt born; al red wine for La Gilotine, al daily brot into lyt from th dark celrs of th lothsm prisns, and carrid to her thru th streets to slake her devourng thirst. Librty, equality, fraternity, or deth; -- th last, much th esiest to besto, O Gilotine!

   If th sudness of her calamity, and th wirlng weels of th time, had stund th Doctor's dautr into awaitng th result in idle despair, it wud but hav been with her as it was with many. But, from th our wen she had taken th wite hed to her fresh yung bosm in th garet of Saint Antoine, she had been tru to her dutis. She was truest to them in th seasn of trial, as al th quietly loyl and good wil always be.

   As soon as they wer establishd in ther new residnce, and her fathr had entrd on th rutine of his avocations, she aranjed th litl houshold as exactly as if her husbnd had been ther. Everything had its apointd place and its apointd time. Litl Lucie she taut, as regulrly, as if they had al been united in ther English home. Th slyt devices with wich she cheatd herself into th sho of a belief that they wud soon be reunited -- th litl preprations for his speedy return, th setng aside of his chair and his books -- these, and th solem prayr at


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nyt for one dear prisnr especialy, among th many unhappy sols in prisn and th shado of deth -- wer almost th only outspoken reliefs of her hevy mind.

   She did not gretly altr in apearnce. Th plan dark dresses, akin to mornng dresses, wich she and her child wor, wer as neat and as wel atendd to as th brytr clothes of happy days. She lost her color, and th old and intent expression was a constnt, not an ocasionl, thing; othrwise, she remaind very pretty and comly. Somtimes, at nyt on kisng her fathr, she wud burst into th grief she had represd al day, and wud say that her sole relyance, undr Hevn, was on him. He always reslutely ansrd: "Nothing can hapn to him without my nolej, and I no that I can save him, Lucie."

   They had not made th round of ther chanjed life many weeks, wen her fathr said to her, on comng home one evenng:

   "My dear, ther is an upr windo in th prisn, to wich Charls can somtimes gain access at thre in th aftrnoon. Wen he can get to it -- wich depends on many uncertntis and incidnts -- he myt se u in th street, he thinks, if u stood in a certn place that I can sho u. But u wil not be able to se him, my poor child, and even if u cud, it wud be unsafe for u to make a syn of recognition."

   "O sho me th place, my fathr, and I wil go ther evry day."

   From that time, in al wethrs, she waitd ther two ours. As th clok struk two, she was ther, and at four she turnd resynedly away. Wen it was not too wet or inclemnt for her child to be with her, they went togethr; at othr times she was alone; but, she nevr misd a singl day.

   It was th dark and dirty cornr of a smal windng street. Th hovl of a cutr of wood into lengths for burnng, was th only house at that end; al else was wal. On th third day of her being ther, he noticed her.

   "Good day, citizeness."

   "Good day, citizn."

   This mode of adress was now prescribed by decree. It had been establishd voluntrly som time ago, among th mor thoro patriots; but, was now law for evrybody.

   "Walkng here again, citizeness?"

   "U se me, citizn!"

   Th wood-sawyr, ho was a litl man with a redundncy of jestur (he had once been a mender of roads), cast a glance at th prisn,


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pointd at th prisn, and putng his ten fingrs befor his face to represent bars, peepd thru them jocosely.

   "But it's not my busness," said he. And went on sawng his wood.

   Next day he was lookng out for her, and acostd her th moment she apeard.

   "Wat? Walkng here again, citizeness?"

   "Yes, citizn."

   "Ah! A child too! Yr mothr, is it not, my litl citizeness?"

   "Do I say yes, mama?" wisprd litl Lucie, drawng close to her.

   "Yes, dearst."

   "Yes, citizn."

   "Ah! But it's not my busness. My work is my busness. Se my saw! I cal it my Litl Gilotine. La, la, la; La, la, la! And off his hed coms!"

   Th bilet fel as he spoke, and he threw it into a basket.

   "I cal myself th Samsn of th firewood gilotine. Se here again! Loo, loo, loo; Loo, loo, loo! And off her hed coms! Now, a child. Tikl, tikl; Pikl, pikl! And off its hed coms. al th famly!"

   Lucie shudrd as he threw two mor bilets into his basket, but it was imposbl to be ther wile th wood-sawyr was at work, and not be in his syt. Thenceforth, to secure his good wil, she always spoke to him first, and ofn gave him drink-mony, wich he redily receved.

   He was an inquisitiv felo, and somtimes wen she had quite forgotn him in gazing at th prisn roof and grates, and in liftng her hart up to her husbnd, she wud com to herself to find him lookng at her, with his ne on his bench and his saw stopd in its work. "But it's not my busness!" he wud jenrly say at those times, and wud briskly fal to his sawng again.

   In al wethrs, in th sno and frost of wintr, in th bitr winds of spring, in th hot sunshine of sumr, in th rains of autm, and again in th sno and frost of wintr, Lucie pasd two ours of evry day at this place; and evry day on leving it, she kisd th prisn wal. Her husbnd saw her (so she lernd from her fathr) it myt be once in five or six times: it myt be twice or thrice runng: it myt be, not for a week or a fortnyt togethr. It was enuf that he cud and did se her wen th chances servd, and on that posbility she wud hav waitd out th day, sevn days a week.

   These ocupations brot her round to th Decembr month, wherin her fathr walkd among th terrs with a stedy hed. On a lytly-snoing aftrnoon she arived at th usul cornr. It was a day of


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som wild rejoicing, and a festivl. She had seen th houses, as she came along, decrated with litl pikes, and with litl red caps stuk upon them; also, with tricoloured ribns; also, with th standrd inscription (tricoloured letrs wer th favorit), Republic One and Indivisbl. Librty, Equality, Fraternity, or Deth!

   Th misrbl shop of th wood-sawyr was so smal, that its hole surface furnishd very indifrnt space for this lejnd. He had got sombody to scrawl it up for him, howevr, ho had squezed Deth in with most inapropriat dificlty. On his house-top, he displayd pike and cap, as a good citizn must, and in a windo he had stationd his saw inscribed as his "Litl Sainte Gilotine" -- for th gret sharp female was by that time populrly canonised. His shop was shut and he was not ther, wich was a relief to Lucie, and left her quite alone.

   But, he was not far off, for presntly she herd a trubld movemnt and a shoutng comng along, wich fild her with fear. A moment aftrwrds, and a throng of peple came porng round th cornr by th prisn wal, in th midst of hom was th wood-sawyr hand in hand with Th Venjnce. Ther cud not be fewr than five hundred peple, and they wer dancing like five thousnd demons. Ther was no othr music than ther own singng. They danced to th populr Revlution song, keepng a ferocius time that was like a nashng of teeth in unisn. Men and women danced togethr, women danced togethr, men danced togethr, as hazrd had brot them togethr. At first, they wer a mere storm of corse red caps and corse woolen rags; but, as they fild th place, and stopd to dance about Lucie, som gastly aprition of a dance-figr gon raving mad arose among them. They advanced, retreatd, struk at one another's hands, cluchd at one another's heds, spun round alone, caut one anothr and spun round in pairs, until many of them dropd. Wile those wer down, th rest linkd hand in hand, and al spun round togethr: then th ring broke, and in seprate rings of two and four they turnd and turnd until they al stopd at once, began again, struk, cluchd, and tor, and then reversd th spin, and al spun round anothr way. Sudnly they stopd again, pausd, struk out th time afresh, formd into lines th width of th public way, and, with ther heds lo down and ther hands hy up, swoopd screamng off. No fyt cud hav been half so teribl as this dance. It was so emfaticly a falen sport -- a somthing, once inocent, delivrd over to al devilry -- a helthy pastime chanjed into a means of angrng th blod, bewildrng th senses, and steeling th


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hart. Such grace as was visbl in it, made it th uglir, shoing how warpd and pervertd al things good by natur wer becom. Th maidenly bosm bared to this, th pretty almost-child's hed thus distractd, th delicat foot mincing in this slou of blod and dirt, wer typs of th disjointd time.

   This was th Carmagnole. As it pasd, leving Lucie frytnd and bewildrd in th dorway of th wood-sawyer's house, th fethry sno fel as quietly and lay as wite and soft, as if it had nevr been.

   "O my fathr!" for he stood befor her wen she liftd up th ys she had momentrily darknd with her hand; "such a cruel, bad syt."

   "I no, my dear, I no. I hav seen it many times. Dont be frytnd! Not one of them wud harm u."

   "I am not frytnd for myself, my fathr. But wen I think of my husbnd, and th mercis of these peple -- "

   "We wil set him abov ther mercis very soon. I left him climbng to th windo, and I came to tel u. Ther is no one here to se. U may kiss yr hand towards that hyest shelvng roof."

   "I do so, fathr, and I send him my Sol with it!"

   "U canot se him, my poor dear?"

   "No, fathr," said Lucie, yernng and weepng as she kisd her hand, "no."

   A footstep in th sno. Madame Defarge. "I salute u, citizeness," from th Doctr. "I salute u, citizn." This in pasng. Nothing mor. Madame Defarge gon, like a shado over th wite road.

   "Giv me yr arm, my lov. Pass from here with an air of cheerfulness and curaj, for his sake. That was wel don;" they had left th spot; "it shal not be in vain. Charls is sumnd for to-moro."

   "For to-moro! "

   "Ther is no time to lose. I am wel prepared, but ther ar precautions to be taken, that cud not be taken until he was actuly sumnd befor th Tribunal. He has not receved th notice yet, but I no that he wil presntly be sumnd for to-moro, and removed to th Conciergerie; I hav timely infrmation. U ar not afraid?"

   She cud scarcely ansr, "I trust in u."

   "Do so, implicitly. Yr suspense is nearly endd, my darlng; he shal be restord to u within a few ours; I hav encompasd him with evry protection. I must se Lorry."

   He stopd. Ther was a hevy lumbrng of weels within hearng.


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They both new too wel wat it ment. One. Two. Thre. Thre tumbrils faring away with ther dred loads over th hushing sno.

   "I must se Lorry," th Doctr repeatd, turnng her anothr way.

   Th staunch old jentlman was stil in his trust; had nevr left it. He and his books wer in frequent requisition as to proprty confiscated and made nationl. Wat he cud save for th ownrs, he saved. No betr man livng to hold fast by wat Tellson's had in keepng, and to hold his pece.

   A murky red and yelo sky, and a rising mist from th Sein, denoted th aproach of darkns. It was almost dark wen they arived at th Bank. Th stately residnce of Monseigneur was altogethr blytd and desertd. Abov a heap of dust and ashs in th cort, ran th letrs: Nationl Proprty. Republic One and Indivisbl. Librty, Equality, Fraternity, or Deth!

   Ho cud that be with Mr. Lorry -- th ownr of th riding-coat upon th chair -- ho must not be seen? From hom newly arived, did he com out, ajitated and surprised, to take his favorit in his arms? To hom did he apear to repeat her faltrng words, wen, rasing his voice and turnng his hed towards th dor of th room from wich he had isud, he said: "Removed to th Conciergerie, and sumnd for to-moro?"


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TRIUMF

   TH DRED TRIBUNAL of five Jujs, Public Prosecutor, and determnd Jury, sat evry day. Ther lists went forth evry evenng, and wer red out by th jailrs of th varius prisns to ther prisnrs. Th standrd gaoler-joke was, "Com out and lisn to th Evenng Paper, u inside ther!"

   "Charls Evrémond, cald Darnay!"

   So at last began th Evenng Paper at La Force.

   Wen a name was cald, its ownr stepd apart into a spot reservd for those ho wer anounced as being thus fataly recordd. Charls Evrémond, cald Darnay, had reasn to no th usaj; he had seen hundreds pass away so.

   His bloatd gaoler, ho wor spectacls to red with, glanced over them to asure himself that he had taken his place, and went thru th list, making a simlr short pause at each name. Ther wer twenty-thre names, but only twenty wer respondd to; for one of th prisnrs so sumnd had died in jail and been forgotn, and two had alredy been guillotined and forgotn. Th list was red, in th valtd chamber wher Darnay had seen th asociated prisnrs on th nyt of his arival. Evry one of those had perishd in th massacr; evry human creatur he had since cared for and partd with, had died on th scafld.

   Ther wer hurrid words of farewel and kindness, but th partng was soon over. It was th incidnt of evry day, and th society of La Force wer engajed in th prepration of som games of forfeits and a litl concert, for that evenng. They crowdd to th grates and shed tears ther; but, twenty places in th projectd entrtainmnts had to be


Paje 266

refild, and th time was, at best, short to th lok-up our, wen th comn rooms and coridrs wud be delivrd over to th gret dogs ho kept wach ther thru th nyt. Th prisnrs wer far from insensbl or unfeelng; ther ways arose out of th condition of th time. Simlrly, tho with a sutl difrnce, a species of fervr or intoxication, nown, without dout, to hav lead som persns to brave th gilotine unecesrily, and to die by it, was not mere boastfulness, but a wild infection of th wildly shaken public mind. In seasns of pestlnce, som of us wil hav a secret atraction to th disese -- a teribl pasng inclnation to die of it. And al of us hav like wondrs hidn in our brests, only needng circmstnces to evoke them.

   Th passaj to th Conciergerie was short and dark; th nyt in its vermn-hauntd cels was long and cold. Next day, fifteen prisnrs wer put to th bar befor Charls Darnay's name was cald. Al th fifteen wer condemd, and th trials of th hole ocupyd an our and a half.

   "Charls Evrémond, cald Darnay," was at length araind.

   His jujs sat upon th Bench in fethrd hats; but th ruf red cap and tricoloured cockade was th hed-dress othrwise prevailng. Lookng at th Jury and th turbulent audience, he myt hav thot that th usul ordr of things was reversd, and that th felons wer tryng th onest men. Th loest, cruelest, and worst populace of a city, nevr without its quantity of lo, cruel, and bad, wer th directng spirits of th sene: noisily comentng, aplaudng, disaproving, anticipating, and precipitating th result, without a chek. Of th men, th gretr part wer armd in varius ways; of th women, som wor nives, som dagrs, som ate and drank as they lookd on, many nitd. Among these last, was one, with a spare pece of nitng undr her arm as she workd. She was in a front ro, by th side of a man hom he had nevr seen since his arival at th Barir, but hom he directly remembrd as Defarge. He noticed that she once or twice wisprd in his ear, and that she seemd to be his wife; but, wat he most noticed in th two figrs was, that altho they wer postd as close to himself as they cud be, they nevr lookd towards him. They seemd to be waitng for somthing with a doged determnation, and they lookd at th Jury, but at nothing else. Undr th Presidnt sat Doctr Manette, in his usul quiet dress. As wel as th prisnr cud se, he and Mr. Lorry wer th only men ther, unconectd with th


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Tribunal, ho wor ther usul clothes, and had not asumed th corse garb of th Carmagnole.

   Charls Evrémond, cald Darnay, was acused by th public prosecutor as an emigrant, hos life was forfit to th Republic, undr th decree wich banishd al emigrants on pain of Deth. It was nothing that th decree bor date since his return to France. Ther he was, and ther was th decree; he had been taken in France, and his hed was demandd.

   "Take off his hed!" cryd th audience. "An enmy to th Republic!"

   Th Presidnt rang his bel to silence those crys, and askd th prisnr wethr it was not tru that he had livd many years in England?

   Undoutdly it was.

   Was he not an emigrant then? Wat did he cal himself?

   Not an emigrant, he hoped, within th sense and spirit of th law.

   Wy not? th Presidnt desired to no.

   Because he had voluntrly relinquishd a title that was distasteful to him, and a station that was distasteful to him, and had left his cuntry -- he submitd befor th word emigrant in th presnt acceptation by th Tribunal was in use -- to liv by his own industry in England, rathr than on th industry of th overladen peple of France.

   Wat proof had he of this?

   He handd in th names of two witnesses; Theophile Gabelle, and Alexandr Manette.

   But he had marrid in England? th Presidnt remindd him.

   Tru, but not an English womn.

   A citizeness of France?

   Yes. By birth.

   Her name and famly?

   "Lucie Manette, only dautr of Doctr Manette, th good fysician ho sits ther."

   This ansr had a happy efect upon th audience. Crys in exltation of th wel-nown good fysician rent th hal. So capriciously wer th peple moved, that tears imediatly rold down sevrl ferocius countenances wich had been glaring at th prisnr a moment befor, as if with impatience to pluk him out into th streets and kil him.

   On these few steps of his danjerus way, Charls Darnay had set his foot acordng to Doctr Manette's reitrated instructions. Th same cautius counsl directd evry step that lay befor him, and had prepared evry inch of his road.


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   Th Presidnt askd, wy had he returnd to France wen he did, and not soonr?

   He had not returnd soonr, he replyd, simply because he had no means of livng in France, save those he had resynd; wheras, in England, he livd by givng instruction in th French languaj and litratur. He had returnd wen he did, on th presng and ritn entreaty of a French citizn, ho representd that his life was endanjerd by his absnce. He had com bak, to save a citizen's life, and to ber his testmny, at watevr persnl hazrd, to th truth. Was that crimnl in th ys of th Republic?

   Th populace cryd enthusiasticly, "No!" and th Presidnt rang his bel to quiet them. Wich it did not, for they continud to cry "No!" until they left off, of ther own wil.

   Th Presidnt required th name of that citizn. Th acused explaind that th citizn was his first witness. He also referd with confidnce to th citizen's letr, wich had been taken from him at th Barir, but wich he did not dout wud be found among th papers then befor th Presidnt.

   Th Doctr had taken care that it shud be ther -- had asured him that it wud be ther -- and at this staje of th proceedngs it was produced and red. Citizn Gabelle was cald to confirm it, and did so. Citizn Gabelle hintd, with infnit delicacy and politeness, that in th pressur of busness imposed on th Tribunal by th multitude of enmis of th Republic with wich it had to deal, he had been slytly overlookd in his prisn of th Abbaye -- in fact, had rathr pasd out of th Tribunal's patriotic remembrnce -- until thre days ago; wen he had been sumnd befor it, and had been set at librty on th Jury's declaring themselvs satisfyd that th acusation against him was ansrd, as to himself, by th surendr of th citizn Evrémond, cald Darnay.

   Doctr Manette was next questiond. His hy persnl popularity, and th clearness of his ansrs, made a gret impression; but, as he proceedd, as he showd that th Acused was his first frend on his relese from his long imprisnmnt; that, th acused had remaind in England, always faithful and devoted to his dautr and himself in ther exile; that, so far from being in favor with th Aristocrat govrnmnt ther, he had actuly been tryd for his life by it, as th fo of England and frend of th United States -- as he brot these circmstnces into vew, with th gretst discretion and with th straitforwrd force


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of truth and ernestness, th Jury and th populace became one. At last, wen he apeald by name to Mosier Lorry, an English jentlman then and ther presnt, ho, like himself, had been a witness on that English trial and cud corobrate his acount of it, th Jury declared that they had herd enuf, and that they wer redy with ther votes if th Presidnt wer content to receve them.

   At evry vote (th Jurymen voted aloud and individuly), th populace set up a shout of aplause. Al th voices wer in th prisoner's favor, and th Presidnt declared him fre.

   Then, began one of those extrordnry senes with wich th populace somtimes gratifyd ther fiklness, or ther betr impulses towards jenrosity and mercy, or wich they regardd as som set-off against ther swolen acount of cruel raje. No man can decide now to wich of these motivs such extrordnry senes wer referable; it is probbl, to a blendng of al th thre, with th secnd predomnating. No soonr was th aquitl pronounced, than tears wer shed as frely as blod at anothr time, and such fraternl embraces wer bestod upon th prisnr by as many of both sexs as cud rush at him, that aftr his long and unholesm confinemnt he was in danjer of faintng from exaustion; non th less because he new very wel, that th very same peple, carrid by anothr curent, wud hav rushd at him with th very same intensity, to rend him to peces and strew him over th streets.

   His removal, to make way for othr acused persns ho wer to be tryd, rescud him from these caresses for th moment. Five wer to be tryd togethr, next, as enmis of th Republic, forasmuch as they had not asistd it by word or deed. So quik was th Tribunal to compnsate itself and th nation for a chance lost, that these five came down to him befor he left th place, condemd to die within twenty-four ours. Th first of them told him so, with th custmry prisn syn of Deth -- a rased fingr -- and they al add in words, "Long liv th Republic!"

   Th five had had, it is tru, no audience to lengthn ther proceedngs, for wen he and Doctr Manette emerjd from th gate, ther was a gret crowd about it, in wich ther seemd to be evry face he had seen in Cort -- exept two, for wich he lookd in vain. On his comng out, th concorse made at him anew, weepng, embracing, and shoutng, al by turns and al togethr, until th very tide of th rivr on th bank of wich th mad sene was actd, seemd to run mad, like th peple on th shor.


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   They put him into a gret chair they had among them, and wich they had taken eithr out of th Cort itself, or one of its rooms or passajs. Over th chair they had thrown a red flag, and to th bak of it they had bound a pike with a red cap on its top. In this car of triumf, not even th Doctor's entreatis cud prevent his being carrid to his home on men's sholdrs, with a confused se of red caps heving about him, and castng up to syt from th stormy deep such reks of faces, that he mor than once misdoubted his mind being in confusion, and that he was in th tumbrel on his way to th Gilotine.

   In wild dreamlike procession, embracing hom they met and pointng him out, they carrid him on. Rednng th snowy streets with th prevailng Republicn color, in windng and trampng thru them, as they had rednd them belo th sno with a deepr dy, they carrid him thus into th cortyard of th bildng wher he livd. Her fathr had gon on befor, to prepare her, and wen her husbnd stood upon his feet, she dropd insensbl in his arms.

   As he held her to his hart and turnd her butiful hed between his face and th brawlng crowd, so that his tears and her lips myt com togethr unseen, a few of th peple fel to dancing. Instntly, al th rest fel to dancing, and th cortyard overfloed with th Carmagnole. Then, they elevated into th vacant chair a yung womn from th crowd to be carrid as th Godess of Librty, and then swelng and overfloing out into th ajacent streets, and along th river's bank, and over th brij, th Carmagnole absorbd them evry one and wirld them away.

   Aftr graspng th Doctor's hand, as he stood victorius and proud befor him; aftr graspng th hand of Mr. Lorry, ho came pantng in brethless from his strugl against th waterspout of th Carmagnole; aftr kisng litl Lucie, ho was liftd up to clasp her arms round his nek; and aftr embracing th evr zelus and faithful Pross ho liftd her; he took his wife in his arms, and carrid her up to ther rooms.

   "Lucie! My own! I am safe."

   "O dearst Charls, let me thank God for this on my nes as I hav prayd to Him."

   They al revrntly bowd ther heds and harts. Wen she was again in his arms, he said to her:

   "And now speak to yr fathr, dearst. No othr man in al this France cud hav don wat he has don for me."


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   She laid her hed upon her father's brest, as she had laid his poor hed on her own brest, long, long ago. He was happy in th return he had made her, he was recompensed for his sufrng, be was proud of his strength. "U must not be weak, my darlng," he remnstrated; "dont trembl so. I hav saved him."

A NOK AT TH DOR

   "I HAV SAVED HIM." It was not anothr of th dreams in wich he had ofn com bak; he was realy here. And yet his wife trembld, and a vage but hevy fear was upon her.

   Al th air round was so thik and dark, th peple wer so passionatly revengeful and fitful, th inocent wer so constntly put to deth on vage suspicion and blak malice, it was so imposbl to forget that many as blameless as her husbnd and as dear to othrs as he was to her, evry day shared th fate from wich he had been cluchd, that her hart cud not be as lytnd of its load as she felt it ot to be. Th shados of th wintry aftrnoon wer beginng to fal, and even now th dredful carts wer rolng thru th streets. Her mind pursud them, lookng for him among th Condemd; and then she clung closer to his real presnce and trembld mor.

   Her fathr, cheerng her, showd a compassionat superiority to this woman's weakness, wich was wondrful to se. No garet, no shoemaking, no One Hundred and Five, North Towr, now! He had acomplishd th task he had set himself, his promis was redeemd, he had saved Charls. Let them al lean upon him.


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   Ther houskeepng was of a very frugal kind: not only because that was th safest way of life, involvng th least ofense to th peple, but because they wer not rich, and Charls, thruout his imprisnmnt, had had to pay hevily for his bad food, and for his gard, and towards th livng of th poorr prisnrs. Partly on this acount, and partly to avoid a domestic spy, they kept no servnt; th citizn and citizeness ho actd as portrs at th cortyard gate, rendrd them ocasionl service; and Jerry (almost holy transferd to them by Mr. Lorry) had becom ther daily retainr, and had his bed ther evry nyt.

   It was an ordnnce of th Republic One and Indivisbl of Librty, Equality, Fraternity, or Deth, that on th dor or doorpost of evry house, th name of evry inmate must be legibly inscribed in letrs of a certn size, at a certn convenient hyt from th ground. Mr. Jerry Cruncher's name, therfor, duly embelishd th doorpost down belo; and, as th aftrnoon shados deepnd, th ownr of that name himself apeard, from overlookng a paintr hom Doctr Manette had employd to ad to th list th name of Charls Evrémond, cald Darnay.

   In th universl fear and distrust that darknd th time, al th usul harmless ways of life wer chanjed. In th Doctor's litl houshold, as in very many othrs, th articls of daily consumtion that wer wantd wer purchasd evry evenng, in smal quantitis and at varius smal shops. To avoid atractng notice, and to giv as litl ocasion as posbl for talk and envy, was th jenrl desire.

   For som months past, Miss Pross and Mr. Cruncher had discharjd th ofice of purveyors; th formr carrying th mony; th latr, th basket. Evry aftrnoon at about th time wen th public lamps wer lytd, they fared forth on this duty, and made and brot home such purchases as wer needful. Altho Miss Pross, thru her long asociation with a French famly, myt hav nown as much of ther languaj as of her own, if she had had a mind, she had no mind in that direction; consequently she new no mor of that "nonsnse" (as she was plesed to cal it) than Mr. Cruncher did. So her manr of marketng was to plump a noun-substntiv at th hed of a shopkeepr without any introduction in th natur of an articl, and, if it hapnd not to be th name of th thing she wantd, to look round for that thing, lay hold of it, and hold on by it until th bargn was concluded. She always made a bargn for it, by holdng up, as a statemnt of its just price, one fingr less than th merchnt held up, watevr his numbr myt be.


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   "Now, Mr. Cruncher," said Miss Pross, hos ys wer red with felicity; "if u ar redy, I am."

   Jerry horsly profesd himself at Miss Pross's service. He had worn al his rust off long ago, but nothing wud file his spiky hed down.

   "Ther's al manr of things wantd," said Miss Pross, "and we shal hav a precius time of it. We want wine, among th rest. Nice toasts these Redheads wil be drinkng, wherevr we by it."

   "It wil be much th same to yr nolej, miss, I shud think," retortd Jerry, "wethr they drink yr helth or th Old Un's."

   "Ho's he?" said Miss Pross.

   Mr. Cruncher, with som difidnce, explaind himself as meanng "Old Nick's."

   "Ha!" said Miss Pross, "it dosnt need an interpretr to explain th meanng of these creaturs. They hav but one, and it's Midnyt Murdr, and Mischif."

   "Hush, dear! Pray, pray, be cautius!" cryd Lucie.

   "Yes, yes, yes, I'l be cautius," said Miss Pross; "but I may say among ourselvs, that I do hope ther wil be no oniony and tobaccoey smotherings in th form of embracings al round, going on in th streets. Now, Ladybird, nevr u stir from that fire til I com bak! Take care of th dear husbnd u hav recovrd, and dont move yr pretty hed from his sholdr as u hav it now, til u se me again! May I ask a question, Doctr Manette, befor I go?"

   "I think u may take that librty," th Doctr ansrd, smiling.

   "For gracius sake, dont talk about Librty; we hav quite enuf of that," said Miss Pross.

   "Hush, dear! Again?" Lucie remnstrated.

   "Wel, my sweet," said Miss Pross, nodng her hed emfaticly, "th short and th long of it is, that I am a subject of His Most Gracius Majesty King Jorj th Third;" Miss Pross curtseyed at th name; "and as such, my maxm is, Confound ther politics, Frustrate ther knavish triks, On him our hopes we fix, God save th King!"

   Mr. Cruncher, in an access of loylty, growlingly repeatd th words aftr Miss Pross, Re sombody at church.

   "I am glad u hav so much of th Englishman in u, tho I wish u had nevr taken that cold in yr voice," said Miss Pross, aprovingly. "But th question, Doctr Manette. Is ther" -- it was th good creature's way to afect to make lyt of anything that was a gret anxiety


Paje 274

with them al, and to com at it in this chance manr -- "is ther any prospect yet, of our getng out of this place?"

   "I fear not yet. It wud be danjerus for Charls yet."

   "Hei-ho-hum!" said Miss Pross, cheerfuly represng a sy as she glanced at her darling's goldn hair in th lyt of th fire, "then we must hav patience and wait: that's al. We must hold up our heds and fyt lo, as my brothr Solomn used to say. Now, Mr. Cruncher! -- Dont u move, Ladybird!"

   They went out, leving Lucie, and her husbnd, her fathr, and th child, by a bryt fire. Mr. Lorry was expectd bak presntly from th Bankng House. Miss Pross had lytd th lamp, but had put it aside in a cornr, that they myt enjoy th fire-lyt undisturbd. Litl Lucie sat by her granfathr with her hands claspd thru his arm: and he, in a tone not rising much abov a wispr, began to ten her a story of a gret and powrful Fairy ho had opend a prisn-wal and let out a captiv ho had once don th Fairy a service. Al was subdud and quiet, and Lucie was mor at ese than she had been.

   "Wat is that?" she cryd, al at once.

   "My dear!" said her fathr, stopng in his story, and layng his hand on hers, "comand yrself. Wat a disordrd state u ar in! Th least thing -- nothing -- startles u! U, yr father's dautr!"

   "I thot, my fathr," said Lucie, excusing herself, with a pale face and in a faltrng voice, "that I herd stranje feet upon th stairs."

   "My lov, th staircase is as stil as Deth."

   As he said th word, a blo was struk upon th dor.

   "O fathr, fathr. Wat can this be! Hide Charls. Save him!"

   "My child," said th Doctr, rising, and layng his hand upon her sholdr, "I hav saved him. Wat weakness is this, my dear! Let me go to th dor."

   He took th lamp in his hand, crosd th two intrvening outr rooms, and opend it. A rude clatrng of feet over th flor, and four ruf men in red caps, armd with sabers and pistls, entrd th room.

   "Th Citizn Evrémond, cald Darnay," said th first.

   "Ho seeks him?" ansrd Darnay.

   "I seek him. We seek him. I no u, Evrémond; I saw u befor th Tribunal to-day. U ar again th prisnr of th Republic."

   Th four suroundd him, wher he stood with his wife and child clingng to him.

   "Tel me how and wy am I again a prisnr?"


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   "It is enuf that u return strait to th Conciergerie, and wil no to-moro. U ar sumnd for to-moro."

   Doctr Manette, hom this visitation had so turnd into stone, that be stood with th lamp in his band, as if be wo a statu made to hold it, moved aftr these words wer spoken, put th lamp down, and confrontng th speakr, and taking him, not ungently, by th loose front of his red woolen shirt, said:

   "U no him, u hav said. Do u no me?"

   "Yes, I no u, Citizn Doctr."

   "We al no u, Citizn Doctr," said th othr thre.

   He lookd abstractdly from one to anothr, and said, in a loer voice, aftr a pause:

   "Wil u ansr his question to me then? How dos this hapn?"

   "Citizn Doctr," said th first, reluctntly, "he has been denounced to th Section of Saint Antoine. This citizn," pointng out th secnd ho had entrd, "is from Saint Antoine."

   Th citizn here indicated nodd his hed, and add:

   "He is acused by Saint Antoine."

   "Of wat?" askd th Doctr.

   "Citizn Doctr," said th first, with his formr reluctnce, "ask no mor. If th Republic demands sacrifices from u, without dout u as a good patriot wil be happy to make them. Th Republic gos befor al. Th Peple is supreme. Evrémond, we ar presd."

   "One word," th Doctr entreated. "Wil u tel me ho denounced him?"

   "It is against rule," ansrd th first; "but u can ask Him of Saint Antoine here."

   Th Doctr turnd his ys upon that man. Ho moved unesily on his feet, rubd his beard a litl, and at length said:

   "Wel! Truly it is against rule. But he is denounced -- and gravely -- by th Citizn and Citizeness Defarge. And by one othr."

   "Wat othr?"

   "Do u ask, Citizn Doctr?"

   "Yes."

   "Then," said he of Saint Antoine, with a stranje look, "u wil be ansrd to-moro. Now, I am dum!"


Paje 276

A HAND AT CARDS

   HAPPILY UNCONCIUS of th new calamity at home, Miss Pross thredd her way along th naro streets and crosd th rivr by th brij of th Pont-Neuf, reknng in her mind th numbr of indispensbl purchases she had to make. Mr. Cruncher, with th basket, walkd at her side. They both lookd to th ryt and to th left into most of th shops they pasd, had a wary y for al gregarius asemblajs of peple, and turnd out of ther road to avoid any very exited group of talkrs. It was a raw evenng, and th misty rivr, blurd to th y with blazing lyts and to th ear with harsh noises, showd wher th barjs wer stationd in wich th smiths workd, making guns for th Army of th Republic. Wo to th man ho playd triks with that Army, or got undeservd promotion in it! Betr for him that his beard had nevr grown, for th Nationl Razor shaved him close.

   Havng purchasd a few smal articls of grocery, and a mesur of oil for th lamp, Miss Pross bethought herself of th wine they wantd. Aftr peepng into sevrl wine-shops, she stopd at th syn of th Good Republicn Brutus of Antiquity, not far from th Nationl Palace, once (and twice) th Tuileries, wher th aspect of things rathr took her fancy. It had a quietr look than any othr place of th same description they had pasd, and, tho red with patriotic caps, was not so red as th rest. Soundng Mr. Cruncher, and findng him of her opinion, Miss Pross resortd to th Good Republicn Brutus of Antiquity, atendd by her cavlir.

   Slytly observnt of th smoky lyts; of th peple, pipe in mouth, playng with limp cards and yelo dominos; of th one bare-brestd,


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bare-armd, soot-begrimed workman readng a jurnl aloud, and of th othrs lisnng to him; of th wepns worn, or laid aside to be resumed; of th two or thre custmrs falen forwrd asleep, ho in th populr hy-sholdrd shaggy blak spencer lookd, in that atitude, like slumbrng bers or dogs; th two outlandish custmrs aproachd th countr, and showd wat they wantd.

   As ther wine was mesurng out, a man partd from anothr man in a cornr, and rose to depart. In going, he had to face Miss Pross. No soonr did he face her, than Miss Pross utrd a scream, and clapd her hands.

   In a moment, th hole compny wer on ther feet. That sombody was asasnated by sombody vindicating a difrnce of opinion was th likeliest ocurence. Evrybody lookd to se sombody fal, but only saw a man and a womn standng staring at each othr; th man with al th outwrd aspect of a Frenchman and a thoro Republicn; th womn, evidntly English.

   Wat was said in this disapointng anti-climax, by th disiples of th Good Republicn Brutus of Antiquity, exept that it was somthing very volubl and loud, wud hav been as so much Hebrew or Chaldean to Miss Pross and her protectr, tho they had been al ears. But, they bad no ears for anything in ther surprise. For, it must be recordd, that not only was Miss Pross lost in amazemnt and ajitation, but, Mr. Cruncher -- tho it seemd on his own seprate and individul acount -- was in a state of th gretst wondr.

   "Wat is th matr?" said th man ho had causd Miss Pross to scream; speakng in a vexd, abrupt voice (tho in a lo tone), and in English.

   "O, Solomn, dear Solomn!" cryd Miss Pross, clapng her hands again. "Aftr not setng ys upon u or hearng of u for so long a time, do I find u here!"

   "Dont cal me Solomn. Do u want to be th deth of me?" askd th man, in a furtiv, frytnd way.

   "Brothr, brothr!" cryd Miss Pross, burstng into tears. "Hav I evr been so hard with u that u ask me such a cruel question?"

   "Then hold yr meddlesome tong," said Solomn, "and com out, if u want to speak to me. Pay for yr wine, and com out. Ho's this man?"

   Miss Pross, shaking her lovng and dejectd hed at her by no means afectionat brothr, said thru her tears, "Mr. Cruncher."


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   "Let him com out too," said Solomn. "Dos he think me a gost?"

   Aparently, Mr. Cruncher did, to juj from his looks. He said not a word, howevr, and Miss Pross, explorng th depths of her reticule thru her tears with gret dificlty paid for her wine. As she did so, Solomn turnd to th foloers of th Good Republicn Brutus of Antiquity, and ofrd a few words of explnation in th French languaj, wich causd them al to relapse into ther formr places and pursuits.

   "Now," said Solomn, stopng at th dark street cornr, "wat do u want?"

   "How dredfuly unkind in a brothr nothing has evr turnd my lov away from!" cryd Miss Pross, "to giv me such a greetng, and sho me no afection."

   "Ther. Con-found it! Ther," said Solomn, making a dab at Miss Pross's lips with his own. "Now ar u content?"

   Miss Pross only shook her hed and wept in silence.

   "If u expect me to be surprised," said her brothr Solomn, "I am not surprised; I new u wer here; I no of most peple ho ar here. If u realy dont want to endanjer my existnce -- wich I half beleve u do -- go yr ways as soon as posbl, and let me go mine. I am busy. I am an oficial."

   "My English brothr Solomn," mornd Miss Pross, castng up her tear-fraut ys, "that had th makings in him of one of th best and gretst of men in his nativ cuntry, an oficial among forenrs, and such forenrs! I wud almost soonr hav seen th dear boy lyng in his -- "

   "I said so!" cryd her brothr, intruptng. "I new it. U want to be th deth of me. I shal be rendrd Suspectd, by my own sistr. Just as I am getng on!"

   "Th gracius and merciful Hevns forbid!" cryd Miss Pross. "Far rathr wud I nevr se u again, dear Solomn, tho I hav evr lovd u truly, and evr shal. Say but one afectionat word to me, and tel me ther is nothing angry or estranjed between us, and I wil detain u no longr."

   Good Miss Pross! As if th estranjemnt between them had com of any culpability of hers. As if Mr. Lorry had not nown it for a fact, years ago, in th quiet cornr in Soho, that this precius brothr had spent her mony and left her!


Paje 279

   He was sayng th afectionat word, howevr, with a far mor grujng condesension and patronaj than he cud hav shown if ther relativ merits and positions had been reversd (wich is invaribly th case, al th world over), wen Mr. Cruncher, tuchng him on th sholdr, horsly and unexpectdly intrposed with th foloing singulr question:

   "I say! Myt I ask th favor? As to wethr yr name is Jon Solomn, or Solomn Jon?"

   Th oficial turnd towards him with sudn distrust. He had not previusly utrd a word.

   "Com!" said Mr. Cruncher. "Speak out, u no." (Wich, by th way, was mor than he cud do himself.) "Jon Solomn, or Solomn Jon? She cals u Solomn, and she must no, being yr sistr. And I no u'r Jon, u no. Wich of th two gos first? And regardng that name of Pross, likewise. That warn't yr name over th watr."

   "Wat do u mean?"

   "Wel, I dont no al I mean, for I cant cal to mind wat yr name was, over th watr."

   "No?"

   "No. But I'l swer it was a name of two sylabls."

   "Indeed?"

   "Yes. T'other one's was one sylabl. I no u. U was a spy- witness at th Baily. Wat, in th name of th Fathr of Lies, own fathr to yrself, was u cald at that time?"

   "Barsad," said anothr voice, striking in.

   "That's th name for a thousnd pound!" cryd Jerry.

   Th speakr ho struk in, was Sydny Cartn. He had his hands behind him undr th skirts of his riding-coat, and he stood at Mr. Cruncher's elbo as neglijntly as he myt hav stood at th Old Baily itself.

   "Dont be alarmd, my dear Miss Pross. I arived at Mr. Lorry's, to his surprise, yestrday evenng; we agreed that I wud not presnt myself elswher until al was wel, or unless I cud be useful; I presnt myself here, to beg a litl talk with yr brothr. I wish u had a betr employd brothr than Mr. Barsad. I wish for yr sake Mr. Barsad was not a Sheep of th Prisns."

   Sheep was a cant word of th time for a spy, undr th jailrs. Th spy, ho was pale, turnd paler, and askd him how he dared --


Paje 280

   "I'l tel u," said Sydny. "I lytd on u, Mr. Barsad, comng out of th prisn of th Conciergerie wile I was contmplating th walls, an our or mor ago. U hav a face to be remembrd, and I remembr faces wel. Made curius by seing u in that conection, and havng a reasn, to wich u ar no stranjer, for asociating u with th misfortunes of a frend now very unfortunat, I walkd in yr direction. I walkd into th wine-shop here, close aftr u, and sat near u. I had no dificlty in deducing from yr unreserved convrsation, and th rumor openly going about among yr admirers, th natur of yr calng. And graduly, wat I had don at randm, seemd to shape itself into a purpos, Mr. Barsad."

   "Wat purpos?" th spy askd.

   "It wud be trublsm, and myt be danjerus, to explain in th street. Cud u favor me, in confidnce, with som minuts of yr compny -- at th ofice of Tellson's Bank, for instnce?"

   "Undr a thret?"

   "O! Did I say that?"

   "Then, wy shud I go ther?"

   "Realy, Mr. Barsad, I cant say, if u cant."

   "Do u mean that u wont say, sir?" th spy irresolutely askd.

   "U aprehend me very clearly, Mr. Barsad. I wont."

   Carton's neglijnt reklesness of manr came powrfuly in aid of his quikness and skil, in such a busness as be had in his secret mind, and with such a man as he had to do with. His practisd y saw it, and made th most of it.

   "Now, I told u so," said th spy, castng a reproachful look at his sistr; "if any trubl coms of this, it's yr doing."

   "Com, com, Mr. Barsad!" exclaimd Sydny. "Dont be ungrateful. But for my gret respect for yr sistr, I myt not hav lead up so plesntly to a litl proposal that I wish to make for our mutul satisfaction. Do u go with me to th Bank?"

   "I'l hear wat u hav got to say. Yes, I'l go with u."

   "I propose that we first conduct yr sistr safely to th cornr of her own street. Let me take yr arm, Miss Pross. This is not a good city, at this time, for u to be out in, unprotectd; and as yr escort nos Mr. Barsad, I wil invite him to Mr. Lorry's with us. Ar we redy? Com then! "

   Miss Pross recald soon aftrwrds, and to th end of her life remembrd, that as she presd her hands on Sydney's arm and lookd up


Paje 281

in his face, implorng him to do no hurt to Solomn, ther was a braced purpos in th arm and a kind of inspration in th ys, wich not only contradictd his lyt manr, but chanjed and rased th man. She was too much ocupyd then with fears for th brothr ho so litl deservd her afection, and with Sydney's frendly reasurances, adequatly to heed wat she observd.

   They left her at th cornr of th street, and Cartn lead th way to Mr. Lorry's, wich was within a few minutes' walk. Jon Barsad, or Solomn Pross, walkd at his side.

   Mr. Lorry had just finishd his dinr, and was sitng befor a cheery litl log or two of fire -- perhaps lookng into ther blaze for th pictur of that yungr eldrly jentlman from Tellson's, ho had lookd into th red coals at th Royl Jorj at Dover, now a good many years ago. He turnd his hed as they entrd, and showd th surprise with wich he saw a stranjer.

   "Miss Pross's brothr, sir," said Sydny. "Mr. Barsad."

   "Barsad?" repeatd th old jentlman, "Barsad? I hav an asociation with th name -- and with th face."

   "I told u u had a remarkbl face, Mr. Barsad," observd Cartn, cooly. "Pray sit down."

   As he took a chair himself, he suplyd th link that Mr. Lorry wantd, by sayng to him with a frown, "Witness at that trial." Mr. Lorry imediatly remembrd, and regardd his new visitr with an undisgised look of abhorence.

   "Mr. Barsad has been recognized by Miss Pross as th afectionat brothr u hav herd of," said Sydny, "and has aknolejd th relationship. I pass to worse news. Darnay has been arestd again."

   Struk with constrnation, th old jentlman exclaimd, "Wat do u tel me! I left him safe and fre within these two ours, and am about to return to him!"

   "Arestd for al that. Wen was it don, Mr. Barsad?"

   "Just now, if at al."

   "Mr. Barsad is th best authority posbl, sir," said Sydny, "and I hav it from Mr. Barsad's comunication to a frend and brothr Sheep over a botl of wine, that th arest has taken place. He left th mesnjrs at th gate, and saw them admitd by th portr. Ther is no erthly dout that he is retaken."

   Mr. Lorry's busness y red in th speaker's face that it was loss of time to dwel upon th point. Confused, but sensbl that somthing


Paje 282

myt depend on his presnce of mind, he comandd himself, and was silently atentiv.

   "Now, I trust," said Sydny to him, "that th name and influence of Doctr Manette may stand him in as good sted to-moro -- u said he wud be befor th Tribunal again to-moro, Mr. Barsad? -- "

   "Yes; I beleve so."

   " -- In as good sted to-moro as to-day. But it may not be so. I own to u, I am shaken, Mr. Lorry, by Doctr Manette's not havng had th powr to prevent this arest."

   "He may not hav nown of it beforhand," said Mr. Lorry.

   "But that very circmstnce wud be alarmng, wen we remembr how identifyd he is with his son-in-law."

   "That's tru," Mr. Lorry aknolejd, with his trubld hand at his chin, and his trubld ys on Cartn.

   "In short," said Sydny, "this is a desprat time, wen desprat games ar playd for desprat stakes. Let th Doctr play th winng game; I wil play th losing one. No man's life here is worth purchas. Any one carrid home by th peple to-day, may be condemd to- moro. Now, th stake I hav resolvd to play for, in case of th worst, is a frend in th Conciergerie. And th frend I purpos to myself to win, is Mr. Barsad."

   "U need hav good cards, sir," said th spy.

   "I'l run them over. I'l se wat I hold, -- Mr. Lorry, u no wat a brute I am; I wish u'd giv me a litl brandy."

   It was put befor him, and he drank off a glassful -- drank off anothr glassful -- pushd th botl thotfuly away.

   "Mr. Barsad," he went on, in th tone of one ho realy was lookng over a hand at cards: "Sheep of th prisns, emisry of Republicn comitees, now turnkey, now prisnr, always spy and secret informr, so much th mor valubl here for being English that an Englishman is less open to suspicion of subornation in those caractrs than a Frenchman, represents himself to his employrs undr a false name. That's a very good card. Mr. Barsad, now in th employ of th republicn French govrnmnt, was formrly in th employ of th aristocratic English govrnmnt, th enmy of France and fredm. That's an exlnt card. Infrnce clear as day in this rejon of suspicion, that Mr. Barsad, stil in th pay of th aristocratic English govrnmnt, is th spy of Pitt, th trechrus fo of th Republic crouchng in its bosm, th English traitr and ajent of al mischif so much spoken of and so dificlt


Paje 283

to find. That's a card not to be beatn. Hav u folod my hand, Mr. Barsad?"

   "Not to undrstand yr play," returnd th spy, somwat unesily.

   "I play my Ace, Denunciation of Mr. Barsad to th nearst Section Comitee. Look over yr hand, Mr. Barsad, and se wat u hav. Dont hurry."

   He drew th botl near, pord out anothr glassful of brandy, and drank it off. He saw that th spy was fearful of his drinkng himself into a fit state for th imediat denunciation of him. Seing it, he pord out and drank anothr glassful.

   "Look over yr hand carefuly, Mr. Barsad. Take time."

   It was a poorr hand than he suspectd. Mr. Barsad saw losing cards in it that Sydny Cartn new nothing of. Thrown out of his onrbl employmnt in England, thru too much unsuccesful hard swerng ther -- not because he was not wantd ther; our English reasns for vaunting our superiority to secrecy and spys ar of very modrn date -- he new that he had crosd th Chanl, and acceptd service in France: first, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among his own cuntrymen ther: graduly, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among th nativs. He new that undr th overthrown govrnmnt he had been a spy upon Saint Antoine and Defarge's wine-shop; had receved from th wachful police such heds of infrmation concernng Doctr Manette's imprisnmnt, relese, and histry, as shud serv him for an introduction to familir convrsation with th Defarges; and tryd them on Madame Defarge, and had broken down with them signly. He always remembrd with fear and tremblng, that that teribl womn had nitd wen he talkd with her, and had lookd omnusly at him as her fingrs moved. He had since seen her, in th Section of Saint Antoine, over and over again produce her nitd rejistrs, and denounce peple hos lives th gilotine then surely swalod up. He new, as evry one employd as he was did, that he was nevr safe; that flyt was imposbl; that he was tied fast undr th shado of th ax; and that in spite of his utmost tergiversation and trechry in furthrnce of th reinng terr, a word myt bring it down upon him. Once denounced, and on such grave grounds as had just now been sujestd to his mind, he forsaw that th dredful womn of hos unrelentng caractr he had seen many proofs, wud produce against him that fatal rejistr, and wud quash his last chance of life. Besides that al secret men ar


Paje 284

men soon terifyd, here wer surely cards enuf of one blak suit, to justify th holdr in groing rathr livid as he turnd them over.

   "U scarcely seem to like yr hand," said Sydny, with th gretst composur. "Do u play?"

   "I think, sir," said th spy, in th meanst manr, as he turnd to Mr. Lorry, "I may apeal to a jentlman of yr years and benevlnce, to put it to this othr jentlman, so much yr junir, wethr he can undr any circmstnces recncile it to his station to play that Ace of wich he has spoken. I admit that I am a spy, and that it is considrd a discreditbl station -- tho it must be fild by sombody; but this jentlman is no spy, and wy shud he so demean himself as to make himself one?"

   "I play my Ace, Mr. Barsad," said Cartn, taking th ansr on himself, and lookng at his wach, "without any scruple, in a very few minuts."

   "I shud hav hoped, jentlmen both," said th spy, always striving to hook Mr. Lorry into th discussion, "that yr respect for my sistr -- "

   "I cud not betr testify my respect for yr sistr than by finaly releving her of her brothr," said Sydny Cartn.

   "U think not, sir?"

   "I hav thoroly made up my mind about it."

   Th smooth manr of th spy, curiusly in disnnce with his ostntatiusly ruf dress, and probbly with his usul demeanr, receved such a chek from th inscrutability of Cartn, -- ho was a mystry to wiser and honester men than he, -- that it faltrd here and faild him. Wile he was at a loss, Cartn said, resuming his formr air of contmplating cards:

   "And indeed, now I think again, I hav a strong impression that I hav anothr good card here, not yet enumerated. That frend and felo-Sheep, ho spoke of himself as pasturing in th cuntry prisns; ho was he?"

   "French. U dont no him," said th spy, quikly.

   "French, eh?" repeatd Cartn, musing, and not apearng to notice him at al, tho he ecod his word. "Wel; he may be."

   "Is, I asure u," said th spy; "tho it's not importnt."

   "Tho it's not importnt," repeatd Cartn, in th same mecanicl way -- "tho it's not importnt -- No, it's not importnt. No. Yet I no th face."

   "I think not. I am sure not. It cant be," said th spy.


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   "It -- cant -- be," mutrd Sydny Cartn, retrospectivly, and idling his glass (wich fortunatly was a smal one) again. "Cant -- be. Spoke good French. Yet like a forenr, I thot?"

   "Provincial," said th spy.

   "No. Foren!" cryd Cartn, striking his open hand on th table, as a lyt broke clearly on his mind. "Cly! Disgised, but th same man. We had that man befor us at th Old Baily."

   "Now, ther u ar hasty, sir," said Barsad, with a smile that gave his aquiline nose an extra inclnation to one side; "ther u realy giv me an advantaj over u. Cly (ho I wil unreservedly admit, at this distnce of time, was a partnr of mine) has been ded sevrl years. I atendd him in his last ilness. He was burid in Londn, at th church of Saint Pancras-in-th-Fields. His unpopularity with th blagard multitude at th moment preventd my foloing his remains, but I helpd to lay him in his cofn."

   Here, Mr. Lorry became aware, from wher he sat, of a most remarkbl goblin shado on th wal. Tracing it to its sorce, he discovrd it to be causd by a sudn extrordnry rising and stifnng of al th risn and stif hair on Mr. Cruncher's hed.

   "Let us be reasnbl," said th spy, "and let us be fair. To sho u how mistaken u ar, and wat an unfoundd asumtion yrs is, I wil lay befor u a certificat of Cly's burial, wich I hapnd to hav carrid in my poket-book," with a hurrid hand he produced and opend it, "evr since. Ther it is. O, look at it, look at it! U may take it in yr hand; it's no forjry."

   Here, Mr. Lorry perceved th reflection on th wal to elongate, and Mr. Cruncher rose and stepd forwrd. His hair cud not hav been mor violently on end, if it had been that moment dresd by th Cow with th crumpld horn in th house that Jak bilt.

   Unseen by th spy, Mr. Cruncher stood at his side, and tuchd him on th sholdr like a gostly bailif.

   "That ther Rojr Cly, mastr," said Mr. Cruncher, with a tacitrn and iron-bound visaj. "So u put him in his cofn?"

   "I did."

   "Ho took him out of it?"

   Barsad leand bak in his chair, and stamrd, "Wat do u mean?"

   "I mean," said Mr. Cruncher, "that he warn't nevr in it. No! Not he! I'l hav my hed took off, if he was evr in it."

   Th spy lookd round at th two jentlmen; they both lookd in unspeakbl astonishmnt at Jerry.


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   "I tel u," said Jerry, "that u burid paving-stones and erth in that ther cofn. Dont go and tel me that u burid Cly. It was a take in. Me and two mor nos it."

   "How do u no it?"

   "Wat's that to u? Ecod!" growld Mr. Cruncher, "it's u I hav got a old gruj again, is it, with yr shameful impositions upon tradesmen! I'd cach hold of yr throat and choke u for half a ginea."

   Sydny Cartn, ho, with Mr. Lorry, had been lost in amazemnt at this turn of th busness, here requestd Mr. Cruncher to modrat and explain himself.

   "At anothr time, sir," he returnd, evasivly, "th presnt time is il- conwenient for explainin'. Wat I stand to, is, that he nos wel wot that ther Cly was nevr in that ther cofn. Let him say he was, in so much as a word of one sylabl, and I'l eithr cach hold of his throat and choke him for half a ginea;" Mr. Cruncher dwelt upon this as quite a librl ofr; "or I'l out and anounce him."

   "Humf! I se one thing," said Cartn. "I hold anothr card, Mr. Barsad. Imposbl, here in rajing Paris, with Suspicion filng th air, for u to outliv denunciation, wen u ar in comunication with anothr aristocratic spy of th same antecedents as yrself, ho, morover, has th mystry about him of havng feind deth and com to life again! A plot in th prisns, of th forenr against th Republic. A strong card -- a certn Gilotine card! Do u play?"

   "No!" returnd th spy. "I thro up. I confess that we wer so unpopulr with th outrajus mob, that I only got away from England at th risk of being dukd to deth, and that Cly was so ferreted up and down, that he nevr wud hav got away at al but for that sham. Tho how this man nos it was a sham, is a wondr of wondrs to me."

   "Nevr u trubl yr hed about this man," retortd th contentius Mr. Cruncher; "u'l hav trubl enuf with givng yr atention to that jentlman. And look here! Once mor!" -- Mr. Cruncher cud not be restraind from making rathr an ostntatius parade of his liberality -- "I'd cach hold of yr throat and choke u for half a ginea."

   Th Sheep of th prisns turnd from him to Sydny Cartn, and said, with mor decision, "It has com to a point. I go on duty soon, and cant overstay my time. U told me u had a proposal; wat is it? Now, it is of no use askng too much of me. Ask me to do anything in


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my ofice, putng my hed in gret extra danjer, and I had betr trust my life to th chances of a refusal than th chances of consent. In short, I shud make that choice. U talk of despration. We ar al desprat here. Remembr! I may denounce u if I think propr, and I can swer my way thru stone walls, and so can othrs. Now, wat do u want with me?"

   "Not very much. U ar a turnkey at th Conciergerie?"

   "I tel u once for al, ther is no such thing as an escape posbl," said th spy, firmly.

   "Wy need u tel me wat I hav not askd? U ar a turnkey at th Conciergerie?"

   "I am somtimes."

   "U can be wen u choose?"

   "I can pass in and out wen I choose."

   Sydny Cartn fild anothr glass with brandy, pord it sloly out upon th harth, and wachd it as it dropd. It being al spent, he said, rising:

   "So far, we hav spoken befor these two, because it was as wel that th merits of th cards shud not rest solely between u and me. Com into th dark room here, and let us hav one final word alone."

TH GAME MADE

   WILE SYDNY CARTN and th Sheep of th prisns wer in th ajoinng dark room, speakng so lo that not a sound was herd, Mr. Lorry lookd at Jerry in considrbl dout and mistrust. That onest tradesman's manr of receving th look, did not inspire confidnce; he


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chanjed th leg on wich he restd, as ofn as if he had fifty of those lims, and wer tryng them al; he examnd his fingr-nails with a very questionbl closeness of atention; and wenevr Mr. Lorry's y caut his, he was taken with that peculir kind of short cof requiring th holo of a hand befor it, wich is seldm, if evr, nown to be an infirmity atendnt on perfect openess of caractr.

   "Jerry," said Mr. Lorry. "Com here."

   Mr. Cruncher came forwrd sideways, with one of his sholdrs in advance of him.

   "Wat hav u been, besides a mesnjr?"

   Aftr som cogitation, acompnid with an intent look at his patron, Mr. Cruncher conceved th luminus idea of replyng, "Agicultooral caractr."

   "My mind misgives me much," said Mr. Lorry, angrily shaking a forfingr at him, "that u hav used th respectbl and gret house of Tellson's as a blind, and that u hav had an unlawful ocupation of an infmus description. If u hav, dont expect me to befrend u wen u get bak to England. If u hav, dont expect me to keep yr secret. Tellson's shal not be imposed upon."

   "I hope, sir," pleadd th abashd Mr. Cruncher, "that a jentlman like yrself wot I'v had th onr of od jobng til I'm gray at it, wud think twice about harmng of me, even if it wos so -- I dont say it is, but even if it wos. And wich it is to be took into acount that if it wos, it wudnt, even then, be al o' one side. Ther'd be two sides to it. Ther myt be medicl doctrs at th presnt our, a pikng up ther gineas wher a onest tradesman dont pik up his fardens -- fardens! no, nor yet his half fardens -- half fardens! no, nor yet his quartr -- a bankng away like smoke at Tellson's, and a cokng ther medicl ys at that tradesman on th sly, a going in and going out to ther own carrijs -- ah! equaly like smoke, if not mor so. Wel, that 'ud be imposing, too, on Tellson's. For u canot sarse th goose and not th gander. And here's Mrs. Cruncher, or leastways wos in th Old England times, and wud be to-moro, if cause givn, a floppin' again th busness to that degree as is ruinating -- stark ruinating! Wheras them medicl doctors' wives dont flop -- cach 'em at it! Or, if they flop, ther toppings gos in favor of mor patients, and how can u rytly hav one without t'other? Then, wot with undertakers, and wot with parish clerks, and wot with sextons, and wot with privat wachmen (al awaricious and al in it), a man wudnt get much by it, even if it wos so. And wot litl a man


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did get, wud nevr prospr with him, Mr. Lorry. He'd nevr hav no good of it; he'd want al along to be out of th line, if he, cud se his way out, being once in -- even if it wos so."

   "Ugh!" cryd Mr. Lorry, rathr relentng, nevrthless, "I am shokd at th syt of u."

   "Now, wat I wud humbly ofr to u, sir," pursud Mr. Cruncher, "even if it wos so, wich I dont say it is -- "

   "Dont prevaricate," said Mr. Lorry.

   "No, I wil not, sir," returnd Mr. Crunches as if nothing wer furthr from his thots or practis -- "wich I dont say it is -- wot I wud humbly ofr to u, sir, wud be this. Upon that ther stool, at that ther Bar, sets that ther boy of mine, brot up and growed up to be a man, wot wil erand u, messaj u, jenrl-lyt-job u, til yr heels is wher yr hed is, if such shud be yr wishs. If it wos so, wich I stil dont say it is (for I wil not prewaricate to u, sir), let that ther boy keep his father's place, and take care of his mothr; dont blo upon that boy's fathr -- do not do it, sir -- and let that fathr go into th line of th reg'lar diggin', and make amends for wat he wud hav undug -- if it wos so -- by diggin' of 'em in with a wil, and with conwictions respectin' th futur' keepin' of 'em safe. That, Mr. Lorry," said Mr. Cruncher, wiping his forhed with his arm, as an anouncemnt that he had arived at th perration of his discorse, "is wot I wud respectfuly ofr to u, sir. A man dont se al this here a goin' on dredful round him, in th way of Subjects without heds, dear me, plentiful enuf fur to bring th price down to porterage and hardly that, without havin' his serius thots of things. And these here wud be mine, if it wos so, entreatin' of u fur to ber in mind that wot I said just now, I up and said in th good cause wen I myt hav kep' it bak."

   "That at least is tru, said Mr. Lorry. "Say no mor now. It may be that I shal yet stand yr frend, if u deserv it, and repent in action -- not in words. I want no mor words."

   Mr. Cruncher knuckled his forhed, as Sydny Cartn and th spy returnd from th dark room. "Adiu, Mr. Barsad," said th formr; "our aranjemnt thus made, u hav nothing to fear from me.')

   He sat down in a chair on th harth, over against Mr. Lorry. Wen they wer alone, Mr. Lorry askd him wat he had don?

   "Not much. If it shud go il with th prisnr, I hav ensured access to him, once."

   Mr. Lorry's countnnce fel.


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   "It is al I cud do," said Cartn. "To propose too much, wud be to put this man's hed undr th ax, and, as he himself said, nothing worse cud hapn to him if he wer denounced. It was obviusly th weakness of th position. Ther is no help for it."

   "But access to him," said Mr. Lorry, "if it shud go il befor th Tribunal, wil not save him."

   "I nevr said it wud."

   Mr. Lorry's ys graduly sot th fire; his sympathy with his darlng, and th hevy disapointmnt of his secnd arest, graduly weaknd them; he was an old man now, overborne with anxiety of late, and his tears fel.

   "U ar a good man and a tru frend," said Cartn, in an altrd voice. "Forgiv me if I notice that u ar afectd. I cud not se my fathr weep, and sit by, careless. And I cud not respect yr soro mor, if u wer my fathr. U ar fre from that misfortune, howevr."

   Tho he said th last words, with a slip into his usul manr, ther was a tru feelng and respect both in his tone and in his tuch, that Mr. Lorry, ho had nevr seen th betr side of him, was holy unprepared for. He gave him his band, and Cartn jently presd it.

   "To return to poor Darnay," said Cartn. "Dont tel Her of this intrvew, or this aranjemnt. It wud not enable Her to go to se him. She myt think it was contrived, in case of th worse, to convey to him th means of anticipating th sentnce."

   Mr. Lorry had not thot of that, and he lookd quikly at Cartn to se if it wer in his mind. It seemd to be; he returnd th look, and evidntly undrstood it.

   "She myt think a thousnd things," Cartn said, "and any of them wud only ad to her trubl. Dont speak of me to her. As I said to u wen I first came, I had betr not se her. I can put my hand out, to do any litl helpful work for her that my hand can find to do, without that. U ar going to her, I hope? She must be very desolate to-nyt."

   "I am going now, directly."

   "I am glad of that. She has such a strong atachmnt to u and relyance on u. How dos she look?"

   "Anxius and unhappy, but very butiful."

   "Ah!"

   It was a long, greving sound, like a sy -- almost like a sob. It atractd Mr. Lorry's ys to Carton's face, wich was turnd to th fire. A lyt, or


Paje 291

a shade (th old jentlman cud not hav said wich), pasd from it as swiftly as a chanje wil sweep over a hil-side on a wild bryt day, and he liftd his foot to put bak one of th litl flaming logs, wich was tumblng forwrd. He wor th wite riding-coat and top-boots, then in voge, and th lyt of th fire tuchng ther lyt surfaces made him look very pale, with his long brown hair, al untrimmed, hangng loose about him. His indifrnce to fire was suficiently remarkbl to elicit a word of remonstrance from Mr. Lorry; his boot was stil upon th hot embrs of th flaming log, wen it had broken undr th weit of Ms foot.

   "I forgot it," he said.

   Mr. Lorry's ys wer again atractd to his face. Taking note of th wasted air wich cloudd th natrly hansm featurs, and havng th expression of prisoners' faces fresh in his mind, he was strongly remindd of that expression.

   "And yr dutis here hav drawn to an end, sir?" said Cartn, turnng to him.

   "Yes. As I was telng u last nyt wen Lucie came in so unexpectdly, I hav at length don al that I can do here. I hoped to hav left them in perfect safety, and then to hav quitted Paris. I hav my Leve to Pass. I was redy to go."

   They wer both silent.

   "Yrs is a long life to look bak upon, sir?" said Cartn, wistfuly.

   "I am in my sevnty-eith year."

   "U hav been useful al yr life; stedily and constntly ocupyd; trustd, respectd, and lookd up to?"

   "I hav been a man of busness, evr since I hav been a man. indeed, I may say that I was a man of busness wen a boy."

   "Se wat a place u fil at sevnty-eit. How many peple wil miss u wen u leve it emty!"

   "A solitry old bachlr," ansrd Mr. Lorry, shaking his hed. "Ther is nobody to weep for me."

   "How can u say that? Wudnt She weep for u? Wudnt her child?"

   "Yes, yes, thank God. I didnt quite mean wat I said."

   "It is a thing to thank God for; is it not?"

   "Surely, surely."

   "If u cud say, with truth, to yr own solitry hart, to-nyt, 'I hav secured to myself th lov and atachmnt, th gratitude or respect,


Paje 292

of no human creatur; I hav won myself a tendr place in no regard; I hav don nothing good or servicebl to be remembrd by!' yr sevnty- eit years wud be sevnty-eit hevy curses; wud they not?"

   "U say truly, Mr. Cartn; I think they wud be."

   Sydny turnd his ys again upon th fire, and, aftr a silence of a few moments, said:

   "I shud like to ask u: -- Dos yr childhood seem far off? Do th days wen u sat at yr mother's ne, seem days of very long ago?"

   Respondng to his sofnd manr, Mr. Lorry ansrd:

   "Twenty years bak, yes; at this time of my life, no. For, as I draw closer and closer to th end, I travl in th circl, nearr and nearr to th beginng. It seems to be one of th kind smoothings and preparings of th way. My hart is tuchd now, by many remembrances that had long falen asleep, of my pretty yung mothr (and I so old!), and by many asociations of th days wen wat we cal th World was not so real with me, and my falts wer not confirmd in me."

   "I undrstand th feelng!" exclaimd Cartn, with a bryt flush. "And u ar th betr for it?"

   "I hope so."

   Cartn termnated th convrsation here, by rising to help him on with his outr coat; "But u," said Mr. Lorry, revertng to th theme, "u ar yung."

   "Yes," said Cartn. "I am not old, but my yung way was nevr th way to aje. Enuf of me."

   "And of me, I am sure," said Mr. Lorry. "Ar u going out?"

   "I'l walk with u to her gate. U no my vagabond and restless habits. If I shud prowl about th streets a long time, dont be unesy; I shal reapear in th mornng. U go to th Cort to-moro?"

   "Yes, unhappily."

   "I shal be ther, but only as one of th crowd. My Spy wil find a place for me. Take my arm, sir."

   Mr. Lorry did so, and they went down-stairs and out in th streets. A few minuts brot them to Mr. Lorry's destnation. Cartn left him ther; but lingrd at a litl distnce, and turnd bak to th gate again wen it was shut, and tuchd it. He had herd of her going to th prisn evry day. "She came out here," he said, lookng about him, "turnd this way, must hav trod on these stones ofn. Let me folo in her steps."

   It was ten oclok at nyt wen he stood befor th prisn of La


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Force, wher she had stood hundreds of times. A litl wood-sawyr, havng closed his shop, was smoking his pipe at his shop-dor.

   "Good nyt, citizn," said Sydny Cartn, pausng in going by; for, th man yd him inquisitively.

   "Good nyt, citizn."

   "How gos th Republic?"

   "U mean th Gilotine. Not il. Sixty-thre to-day. We shal mount to a hundred soon. Samsn and his men complain somtimes, of being exaustd. Ha, ha, ha! He is so drol, that Samsn. Such a Barbr!"

   "Do u ofn go to se him -- "

   "Shave? Always. Evry day. Wat a barbr! U hav seen him at work?"

   "Nevr."

   "Go and se him wen he has a good bach. Figr this to yrself, citizn; he shaved th sixty-thre to-day, in less than two pipes! Less than two pipes. Word of onr!"

   As th grinng litl man held out th pipe he was smoking, to explain how he timed th executionr, Cartn was so sensbl of a rising desire to strike th life out of him, that he turnd away.

   "But u ar not English," said th wood-sawyr, "tho u wer English dress?"

   "Yes," said Cartn, pausng again, and ansrng over his sholdr.

   "U speak like a Frenchman."

   "I am an old student here."

   "Aha, a perfect Frenchman! Good nyt, Englishman."

   "Good nyt, citizn."

   "But go and se that drol dog," th litl man persistd, calng aftr him. "And take a pipe with u!"

   Sydny had not gon far out of syt, wen he stopd in th midl of th street undr a glimrng lamp, and rote with his pencil on a scrap of paper. Then, traversng with th decided step of one ho remembrd th way wel, sevrl dark and dirty streets -- much dirtir than usul, for th best public thorofares remaind uncleansed in those times of terr -- he stopd at a chemist's shop, wich th ownr was closing with his own hands. A smal, dim, crooked shop, kept in a tortuus, up-hil thorofare, by a smal, dim, crooked man.

   Givng this citizn, too, good nyt, as he confrontd him at his countr, he laid th scrap of paper befor him. "Whew!" th chemist wisld softly, as he red it. "Hi! hi! hi!"


Paje 294

   Sydny Cartn took no heed, and th chemist said:

   "For u, citizn?"

   "For me."

   "U wil be careful to keep them seprate, citizn? U no th consequences of mixng them?"

   "Perfectly."

   Certn smal pakets wer made and givn to him. He put them, one by one, in th brest of his inr coat, countd out th mony for them, and delibratly left th shop. "Ther is nothing mor to do," said he, glancing upwrd at th moon, "until to-moro. I cant sleep."

   It was not a rekless manr, th manr in wich he said these words aloud undr th fast-sailng clouds, nor was it mor expressiv of neglijnce than defiance. It was th setld manr of a tired man, ho had wandrd and strugld and got lost, but ho at length struk into his road and saw its end.

   Long ago, wen he had been famus among his erliest competitrs as a yuth of gret promis, be had folod his fathr to th grave. His mothr had died, years befor. These solem words, wich had been red at his father's grave, arose in his mind as he went down th dark streets, among th hevy shados, with th moon and th clouds sailng on hy abov him. "I am th resrection and th life, saith th Lord: he that believeth in me, tho he wer ded, yet shal he liv: and hosoevr liveth and believeth in me, shal nevr die."

   In a city domnated by th ax, alone at nyt, with natrl soro rising in him for th sixty-thre ho had been that day put to deth, and for to-morrow's victms then awaitng ther doom in th prisns, and stil of to-morrow's and to-morrow's, th chain of asociation that brot th words home, like a rusty old ship's ancr from th deep, myt hav been esily found. He did not seek it, but repeatd them and went on.

   With a solem intrest in th lytd windos wher th peple wer going to rest, forgetful thru a few calm ours of th horrs suroundng them; in th towrs of th churchs, wher no prayrs wer said, for th populr revulsion had even travld that length of self- destruction from years of priestly impostors, plunderers, and profligates; in th distnt burial-places, reservd, as they rote upon th gates, for Eternl Sleep; in th aboundng jails; and in th streets along wich th sixtis rold to a deth wich had becom so comn and material, that no soroful story of a hauntng Spirit evr arose among th peple out of al th workng of th Gilotine; with a solem intrest in th hole


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life and deth of th city setlng down to its short nytly pause in fury; Sydny Cartn crosd th Sein again for th lytr streets.

   Few coachs wer abrod, for riders in coachs wer liabl to be suspectd, and jentility hid its hed in red nightcaps, and put on hevy shoes, and trujd. But, th theatrs wer al wel fild, and th peple pord cheerfuly out as he pasd, and went chatng home. At one of th theatr dors, ther was a litl girl with a mothr, lookng for a way across th street thru th mud. He carrid th child over, and befor, th timid arm was loosd from his nek askd her for a kiss.

   "I am th resrection and th life, saith th Lord: he that believeth in me, tho he wer ded, yet shal he liv: and hosoevr liveth and believeth in me, shal nevr die."

   Now, that th streets wer quiet, and th nyt wor on, th words wer in th ecos of his feet, and wer in th air. Perfectly calm and stedy, he somtimes repeatd them to himself as he walkd; but, he herd them always.

   Th nyt wor out, and, as he stood upon th brij lisnng to th watr as it splashd th rivr-walls of th Iland of Paris, wher th picturesq confusion of houses and cathedral shon bryt in th lyt of th moon, th day came coldly, lookng like a ded face out of th sky. Then, th nyt, with th moon and th stars, turnd pale and died, and for a litl wile it seemd as if Creation wer delivrd over to Death's dominion.

   But, th glorius sun, rising, seemd to strike those words, that burdn of th nyt, strait and warm to his hart in its long bryt rays. And lookng along them, with revrntly shaded ys, a brij of lyt apeard to span th air between him and th sun, wile th rivr sparkld undr it.

   Th strong tide, so swift, so deep, and certn, was like a conjenial frend, in th mornng stilness. He walkd by th stream, far from th houses, and in th lyt and warmth of th sun fel asleep on th bank. Wen he awoke and was afoot again, he lingrd ther yet a litl longr, wachng an eddy that turnd and turnd purposless, until th stream absorbd it, and carrid it on to th se. -- "Like me!"

   A trading-boat, with a sail of th sofnd color of a ded leaf, then glided into his vew, floatd by him, and died away. As its silent trak in th watr disapeard, th prayr that had broken up out of his hart for a merciful considration of al his poor blindnesses and errs, endd in th words, "I am th resrection and th life."


Paje 296

   Mr. Lorry was alredy out wen he got bak, and it was esy to surmise wher th good old man was gon. Sydny Cartn drank nothing but a tittle cofee, ate som bred, and, havng washd and chanjed to refresh himself, went out to th place of trial.

   Th cort was al astir and a-buz, wen th blak sheep -- hom many fel away from in dred -- presd him into an obscure cornr among th crowd. Mr. Lorry was ther, and Doctr Manette was ther. She was ther, sitng beside her fathr.

   Wen her husbnd was brot in, she turnd a look upon him, so sustainng, so encurajng, so ful of admiring lov and pitying tendrness, yet so curajus for his sake, that it cald th helthy blod into his face, brytnd his glance, and anmated his hart. If ther had been any ys to notice th influence of her look, on Sydny Cartn, it wud hav been seen to be th same influence exactly.

   Befor that unjust Tribunal, ther was litl or no ordr of procedur, ensuring to any acused persn any reasnbl hearng. Ther cud hav been no such Revlution, if al laws, forms, and ceremnis, had not first been so monstrusly abused, that th suicidal venjnce of th Revlution was to scatr them al to th winds.

   Evry y was turnd to th jury. Th same determnd patriots and good republicns as yestrday and th day befor, and to-moro and th day aftr. Eagr and promnnt among them, one man with a craving face, and his fingrs perpetuly hovrng about his lips, hos apearnce gave gret satisfaction to th spectators. A life-thirsting, canibl- lookng, blody-mindd juryman, th Jaques Thre of St. Antoine. Th hole jury, as a jury of dogs empannelled to try th deer.

   Evry y then turnd to th five jujs and th public prosecutor. No favorabl leanng in that quartr to-day. A fel, uncomprmising, murdrus busness-meanng ther. Evry y then sot som othr y in th crowd, and gleamd at it aprovingly; and heds nodd at one anothr, befor bendng forwrd with a straind atention.

   Charls Evrémond, cald Darnay. Relesed yestrday. Reaccused and retaken yestrday. Indictmnt delivrd to him last nyt. Suspectd and Denounced enmy of th Republic, Aristocrat, one of a famly of tyrants, one of a race proscribed, for that they had used ther abolishd privlejs to th infmus opression of th peple. Charls Evrémond, cald Darnay, in ryt of such proscription, abslutely Ded in Law.

   To this efect, in as few or fewr words, th Public Prosecutor.

   Th Presidnt askd, was th Acused openly denounced or secretly?


Paje 297

   "Openly, Presidnt."

   "By hom?"

   "Thre voices. Ernest Defarge, wine-vendr of St. Antoine."

   "Good."

   "Therese Defarge, his wife."

   "Good."

   "Alexandr Manette, fysician."

   A gret upror took place in th cort, and in th midst of it, Doctr Manette was seen, pale and tremblng, standng wher he had been seatd.

   "Presidnt, I indignntly protest to u that this is a forjry and a fraud. U no th acused to be th husbnd of my dautr. My dautr, and those dear to her, ar far dearr to me than my life. Ho and wher is th false conspiratr ho says that I denounce th husbnd of my child!"

   "Citizn Manette, be tranquil. To fail in submission to th authority of th Tribunal wud be to put yrself out of Law. As to wat is dearr to u than life, nothing can be so dear to a good citizn as th Republic."

   Loud acclamations haild this rebuke. Th Presidnt rang his bel, and with warmth resumed.

   "If th Republic shud demand of u th sacrifice of yr child herself, u wud hav no duty but to sacrifice her. Lisn to wat is to folo. In th meanwile, be silent!"

   Frantic acclamations wer again rased. Doctr Manette sat down, with his ys lookng around, and his lips tremblng; his dautr drew closer to him. Th craving man on th jury rubd his hands togethr, and restord th usul hand to his mouth.

   Defarge was produced, wen th cort was quiet enuf to admit of his being herd, and rapidly expoundd th story of th imprisnmnt, and of his havng been a mere boy in th Doctor's service, and of th relese, and of th state of th prisnr wen relesed and delivrd to him. This short examnation folod, for th cort was quik with its work.

   "U did good service at th taking of th Bastile, citizn?"

   "I beleve so."

   Here, an exited womn screechd from th crowd: "U wer one of th best patriots ther. Wy not say so? U wer a cannoneer that day


Paje 298

ther, and u wer among th first to entr th acursed fortress wen it fel. Patriots, I speak th truth!"

   It was Th Venjnce ho, amidst th warm commendations of th audience, thus asistd th proceedngs. Th Presidnt rang his bel; but, Th Venjnce, warmng with encurajmnt, shriekd, "I defy that bel!" wherin she was likewise much comendd.

   "Inform th Tribunal of wat u did that day within th Bastile, citizn."

   "I new," said Defarge, lookng down at his wife, ho stood at th botm of th steps on wich he was rased, lookng stedily up at him; "I new that this prisnr, of hom I speak, had been confined in a cel nown as One Hundred and Five, North Towr. I new it from himself. He new himself by no othr name than One Hundred and Five, North Towr, wen he made shoes undr my care. As I serv my gun that day, I resolv, wen th place shal fal, to examn that cel. It fals. I mount to th cel, with a felo-citizn ho is one of th Jury, directd by a gaoler. I examn it, very closely. In a hole in th chimny, wher a stone has been workd out and replaced, I find a ritn paper. This is that ritn paper. I hav made it my busness to examn som specimns of th riting of Doctr Manette. This is th riting of Doctr Manette. I confide this paper, in th riting of Doctr Manette, to th hands of th Presidnt."

   "Let it be red."

   In a ded silence and stilness -- th prisnr undr trial lookng lovngly at his wife, his wife only lookng from him to look with solicitude at her fathr, Doctr Manette keepng his ys fixd on th readr, Madame Defarge nevr taking hers from th prisnr, Defarge nevr taking his from his feastng wife, and al th othr ys ther intent upon th Doctr, ho saw non of them -- th paper was red, as folos.


Paje 299

TH SUBSTNCE OF TH SHADO

   "I, ALEXANDR MANETTE, unfortunat fysician, nativ of Bauvai, and aftrwrds residnt in Paris, rite this melancly paper in my doleful cel in th Bastile, during th last month of th year, 1767. I rite it at stolen intrvls, undr evry dificlty. I desyn to secrete it in th wal of th chimny, wher I hav sloly and laboriusly made a place of concealmnt for it. Som pitying hand may find it ther, wen I and my soros ar dust.

   "These words ar formd by th rusty iron point with wich I rite with dificlty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from th chimny, mixd with blod, in th last month of th tenth year of my captivity. Hope has quite departd from my brest. I no from teribl warnngs I hav noted in myself that my reasn wil not long remain unimpaird, but I solemly declare that I am at this time in th posession of my ryt mind -- that my memry is exact and circmstantial -- and that I rite th truth as I shal ansr for these my last recordd words, wethr they be evr red by men or not, at th Eternl Jujmnt-seat.

   "One cloudy moonlyt nyt, in th third week of Decembr (I think th twenty-secnd of th month) in th year 1757, I was walkng on a retired part of th qy by th Sein for th refreshmnt of th frosty air, at an hour's distnce from my place of residnce in th Street of th Scool of Medcin, wen a carrij came along behind me, drivn very fast. As I stood aside to let that carrij pass, aprehensiv that it myt othrwise run me down, a hed was put out at th windo, and a voice cald to th driver to stop.

   "Th carrij stopd as soon as th driver cud rein in his horses,


Paje 300

and th same voice cald to me by my name. I ansrd. Th carrij was then so far in advance of me that two jentlmen had time to open th dor and alyt befor I came up with it. I observd that they wer both rapd in cloaks, and apeard to conceal themselvs. As they stood side by side near th carrij dor, I also observd that they both lookd of about my own aje, or rathr yungr, and that they wer gretly alike, in statur, manr, voice, and (as far as I cud se) face too.

   "'you ar Doctr Manette?' said one.

   "I am."

   "'doctor Manette, formrly of Bauvai,' said th othr; 'the yung fysician, orijnly an expert surjn, ho within th last year or two has made a rising reputation in Paris?'

   "'gentlemen,' I returnd, 'I am that Doctr Manette of hom u speak so graciusly.'

   "'we hav been to yr residnce,' said th first, 'and not being so fortunat as to find u ther, and being informd that u wer probbly walkng in this direction, we folod, in th hope of overtaking u. Wil u plese to entr th carrij?'

   "Th manr of both was imperius, and they both moved, as these words wer spoken, so as to place me between themselvs and th carrij dor. They wer armd. I was not.

   "'gentlemen,' said I, 'pardon me; but I usuly inquire ho dos me th onr to seek my asistnce, and wat is th natur of th case to wich I am sumnd.'

   "Th reply to this was made by him ho had spoken secnd. 'doctor, yr clients ar peple of condition. As to th natur of th case, our confidnce in yr skil asures us that u wil acertain it for yrself betr than we can describe it. Enuf. Wil u plese to entr th carrij?'

   "I cud do nothing but comply, and I entrd it in silence. They both entrd aftr me -- th last springng in, aftr putng up th steps. Th carrij turnd about, and drove on at its formr speed.

   "I repeat this convrsation exactly as it ocurd. I hav no dout that it is, word for word, th same. I describe everything exactly as it took place, constraining my mind not to wandr from th task. Wher I make th broken marks that folo here, I leve off for th time, and put my paper in its hiding-place. * * * *

   "Th carrij left th streets behind, pasd th North Barir, and


Paje 301

emerjd upon th cuntry road. At two-thirds of a leag from th Barir -- I did not estmate th distnce at that time, but aftrwrds wen I traversd it -- it struk out of th main avnu, and presntly stopd at a solitry house, We al thre alytd, and walkd, by a damp soft foot- path in a gardn wher a neglectd fountn had overfloed, to th dor of th house. It was not opend imediatly, in ansr to th ringng of th bel, and one of my two conductrs struk th man ho opend it, with his hevy riding glov, across th face.

   "Ther was nothing in this action to atract my particulr atention, for I had seen comn peple struk mor comnly than dogs. But, th othr of th two, being angry likewise, struk th man in like manr with his arm; th look and berng of th brothrs wer then so exactly alike, that I then first perceved them to be twin brothrs.

   "From th time of our alytng at th outr gate (wich we found lokd, and wich one of th brothrs had opend to admit us, and had relocked), I had herd crys proceedng from an upr chamber. I was conductd to this chamber strait, th crys groing loudr as we asendd th stairs, and I found a patient in a hy fever of th brain, lyng on a bed.

   "Th patient was a womn of gret buty, and yung; asuredly not much past twenty. Her hair was torn and raged, and her arms wer bound to her sides with sashs and hankrchiefs. I noticed that these bonds wer al portions of a gentleman's dress. On one of them, wich was a frinjd scarf for a dress of ceremny, I saw th armorial berngs of a Noble, and th letr E.

   "I saw this, within th first minut of my contmplation of th patient; for, in her restless strivings she had turnd over on her face on th ej of th bed, had drawn th end of th scarf into her mouth, and was in danjer of sufocation. My first act was to put out my hand to releve her brething; and in moving th scarf aside, th embroidry in th cornr caut my syt.

   "I turnd her jently over, placed my hands upon her brest to calm her and keep her down, and lookd into her face. Her ys wer dilated and wild, and she constntly utrd piercing shrieks, and repeatd th words, 'my husbnd, my fathr, and my brothr!' and then countd up to twelv, and said, 'hush!' For an instnt, and no mor, she wud pause to lisn, and then th piercing shrieks wud begin again, and she wud repeat th cry, 'my husbnd, my fathr, and my brothr!' and wud count up to twelv, and say, 'hush!' Ther was no variation in th


Paje 302

ordr, or th manr. Ther was no cesation, but th regulr moment's pause, in th utrnce of these sounds.

   "'how long,' I askd, 'has this lastd?'

   "To distinguish th brothrs, I wil cal them th eldr and th yungr; by th eldr, I mean him ho exrcised th most authority. It was th eldr ho replyd, 'since about this our last nyt.'

   "'she has a husbnd, a fathr, and a brothr?'

   "'A brothr.'

   "'I do not adress her brothr?'

   "He ansrd with gret contemt, 'no.'

   "'she has som recent asociation with th numbr twelv?'

   "Th yungr brothr impatiently rejoind, 'with twelv oclok?'

   "'see, jentlmen,' said I, stil keepng my hands upon her brest, 'how useless I am, as u hav brot me! If I had nown wat I was comng to se, I cud hav com provided. As it is, time must be lost. Ther ar no medcins to be obtaind in this lonely place.'

   "Th eldr brothr lookd to th yungr, ho said hautily, 'there is a case of medcins here;' and brot it from a closet, and put it on th table. * * * *

   "I opend som of th botls, smelt them, and put th stoppers to my lips. If I had wantd to use anything save narcotic medcins that wer poisns in themselvs, I wud not hav administrd any of those.

   "'do u dout them?' askd th yungr brothr.

   "'you se, mosier, I am going to use them,' I replyd, and said no mor.

   "I made th patient swalo, with gret dificlty, and aftr many efrts, th dose that I desired to giv. As I intendd to repeat it aftr a wile, and as it was necesry to wach its influence, I then sat down by th side of th bed. Ther was a timid and supresd womn in atendnce (wife of th man down-stairs), ho had retreatd into a cornr. Th house was damp and decayd, indifrntly furnishd -- evidntly, recently ocupyd and temprily used. Som thik old hangngs had been naild up befor th windos, to dedn th sound of th shrieks. They continud to be utrd in ther regulr succession, with th cry, 'my husbnd, my fathr, and my brothr!' th countng up to twelv, and 'hush!' Th frenzy was so violent, that I had not unfasnd th bandajs restrainng th arms; but, I had lookd to them, to se that they wer not painful. Th only spark of encurajmnt in th case, was, that my hand upon th sufferer's brest had this much soothing influence, that for minuts


Paje 303

at a time it tranquillised th figr. It had no efect upon th crys; no pendulum cud be mor regulr.

   "For th reasn that my hand had this efect (I asume), I had sat by th side of th bed for half an our, with th two brothrs lookng on, befor th eldr said:

   "'there is anothr patient.'

   "I was startld, and askd, 'is it a presng case?'

   "'you had betr se,' he carelesly ansrd; and took up a lyt. * * * *

   "Th othr patient lay in a bak room across a secnd staircase, wich was a species of loft over a stable. Ther was a lo plastrd celing to a part of it; th rest was open, to th rij of th tiled roof, and ther wer beams across. Hay and straw wer stord in that portion of th place, fagots for firing, and a heap of apls in sand. I had to pass thru that part, to get at th othr. My memry is circmstantial and unshaken. I try it with these details, and I se them al, in this my cel in th Bastile, near th close of th tenth year of my captivity, as I saw them al that nyt.

   "On som hay on th ground, with a cushn thrown undr his hed, lay a hansm pesnt boy -- a boy of not mor than sevnteen at th most. He lay on his bak, with his teeth set, his ryt hand clenchd on his brest, and his glaring ys lookng strait upwrd. I cud not se wher his wound was, as I neeld on one ne over him; but, I cud se that he was dyng of a wound from a sharp point.

   "'I am a doctr, my poor felo,' said I. 'let me examn it.'

   "'I do not want it examnd,' he ansrd; 'let it be.'

   "It was undr his hand, and I soothed him to let me move his hand away. Th wound was a sord-thrust, receved from twenty to twenty- four ours befor, but no skil cud hav saved him if it had been lookd to without delay. He was then dyng fast. As I turnd my ys to th eldr brothr, I saw him lookng down at this hansm boy hos life was ebng out, as if he wer a woundd bird, or hare, or rabit; not at al as if he wer a felo-creatur.

   "'how has this been don, mosier?' said I.

   "'A crazed yung comn dog! A serf! Forced my brothr to draw upon him, and has falen by my brother's sord -- like a jentlman.'

   "Ther was no tuch of pity, soro, or kindred humanity, in this ansr. Th speakr seemd to aknolej that it was inconvenient to hav that difrnt ordr of creatur dyng ther, and that it wud hav


Paje 304

been betr if he had died in th usul obscure rutine of his vermn kind. He was quite incapabl of any compassionat feelng about th boy, or about his fate.

   "Th boy's ys had sloly moved to him as he had spoken, and they now sloly moved to me.

   "'doctor, they ar very proud, these Nobles; but we comn dogs ar proud too, somtimes. They plundr us, outraje us, beat us, kil us; but we hav a litl pride left, somtimes. She -- hav u seen her, Doctr?'

   "Th shrieks and th crys wer audbl ther, tho subdud by th distnce. He referd to them, as if she wer lyng in our presnce.

   "I said, 'I hav seen her.'

   "'she is my sistr, Doctr. They hav had ther shameful ryts, these Nobles, in th modesty and virtu of our sistrs, many years, but we hav had good girls among us. I no it, and hav herd my fathr say so. She was a good girl. She was betrothed to a good yung man, too: a tennt of his. We wer al tennts of his -- that man's ho stands ther. Th othr is his brothr, th worst of a bad race.'

   "It was with th gretst dificlty that th boy gathrd bodily force to speak; but, his spirit spoke with a dredful emfasis.

   "'we wer so robd by that man ho stands ther, as an we comn dogs ar by those superir Beings -- taxd by him without mercy, oblijed to work for him without pay, oblijed to grind our com at his mil, oblijed to feed scors of his tame birds on our reched crops, and forbidn for our lives to keep a singl tame bird of our own, pilajd and plundrd to that degree that wen we chanced to hav a bit of meat, we ate it in fear, with th dor bard and th shutrs closed, that his peple shud not se it and take it from us -- I say, we wer so robd, and huntd, and wer made so poor, that our fathr told us it was a dredful thing to bring a child into th world, and that wat we shud most pray for, was, that our women myt be baren and our misrbl race die out!'

   "I had nevr befor seen th sense of being opresd, burstng forth like a fire. I had suposed that it must be latent in th peple somwher; but, I had nevr seen it brek out, until I saw it in th dyng boy.

   "'nevertheless, Doctr, my sistr marrid. He was ailng at that time, poor felo, and she marrid her lovr, that she myt tend and comfrt him in our cotaj -- our dog-hut, as that man wud cal it. She had not been marrid many weeks, wen that man's brothr saw her and admired her, and askd that man to lend her to him -- for wat ar husbnds among us! He was wilng enuf, but my sistr was good and virtuus,


Paje 305

and hated his brothr with a hatred as strong as mine. Wat did th two then, to persuade her husbnd to use his influence with her, to make her wilng?'

   "Th boy's ys, wich had been fixd on mine, sloly turnd to th looker-on, and I saw in th two faces that al he said was tru. Th two oposing kinds of pride confrontng one anothr, I can se, even in this Bastile; th gentleman's, al neglijnt indifrnce; th pesnts, al trodn-down sentmnt, and passionat revenj.

   "'you no, Doctr, that it is among th Ryts of these Nobles to harness us comn dogs to carts, and drive us. They so harnesd him and drove him. U no that it is among ther Ryts to keep us in ther grounds al nyt, quietng th frogs, in ordr that ther noble sleep may not be disturbd. They kept him out in th unholesm mists at nyt, and ordrd him bak into his harness in th day. But he was not persuaded. No! Taken out of harness one day at noon, to feed -- if he cud find food -- he sobd twelv times, once for evry stroke of th bel, and died on her bosm.'

   "Nothing human cud hav held life in th boy but his determnation to tel al his rong. He forced bak th gathrng shados of deth, as he forced his clenchd ryt hand to remain clenchd, and to covr his wound.

   "'then, with that man's permission and even with his aid, his brothr took her away; in spite of wat I no she must hav told his brothr -- and wat that is, wil not be long unown to u, Doctr, if it is now -- his brothr took her away -- for his plesur and diversion, for a litl wile. I saw her pass me on th road. Wen I took th tidings home, our father's hart burst; he nevr spoke one of th words that fined it. I took my yung sistr (for I hav anothr) to a place beyond th reach of this man, and wher, at least, she wil nevr be his vasl. Then, I trakd th brothr here, and last nyt climbd in -- a comn dog, but sord in hand. -- Wher is th loft windo? It was somwher here?'

   "Th room was darknng to his syt; th world was naroing around him. I glanced about me, and saw that th hay and straw wer trampld over th flor, as if ther had been a strugl.

   "'she herd me, and ran in. I told her not to com near us til he was ded. He came in and first tosd me som peces of mony; then struk at me with a wip. But I, tho a comn dog, so struk at him as to make him draw. Let him brek into as many peces as he wil, th sord


Paje 306

that he staind with my comn blod; he drew to defend himself -- thrust at me with al his skil for his life.'

   "My glance had falen, but a few moments befor, on th fragmnts of a broken sord, lyng among th hay. That wepn was a gentleman's. In anothr place, lay an old sord that seemd to hav been a soldier's.

   "'now, lift me up, Doctr; lift me up. Wher is he?'

   "'he is not here,' I said, suportng th boy, and thinkng that he referd to th brothr.

   "'he! Proud as these nobles ar, he is afraid to se me. Wher is th man ho was here? turn my face to him.'

   "I did so, rasing th boy's hed against my ne. But, investd for th moment with extrordnry powr, he rased himself completely: oblijing me to rise too, or I cud not hav stil suportd him.

   "'marquis,' said th boy, turnd to him with his ys opend wide, and his ryt hand rased, 'in th days wen al these things ar to be ansrd for, I sumn u and yrs, to th last of yr bad race, to ansr for them. I mark this cross of blod upon u, as a syn that I do it. In th days wen al these things ar to be ansrd for, I sumn yr brothr, th worst of th bad race, to ansr for them sepratly. I mark this cross of blod upon him, as a syn that I do it.'

   "Twice, he put his hand to th wound in his brest, and with his forfingr drew a cross in th air. He stood for an instnt with th fingr yet rased, and as it dropd, he dropd with it, and I laid him down ded. * * * *

   "Wen I returnd to th bedside of th yung womn, I found her raving in precisely th same ordr of continuity. I new that this myt last for many ours, and that it wud probbly end in th silence of th grave.

   "I repeatd th medcins I had givn her, and I sat at th side of th bed until th nyt was far advanced. She nevr abated th piercing quality of her shrieks, nevr stumbld in th distinctness or th ordr of her words. They wer always 'my husbnd, my fathr, and my brothr! One, two, thre, four, five, six, sevn, eit, nine, ten, elevn, twelv. Hush!'

   "This lastd twenty-six ours from th time wen I first saw her. I had com and gon twice, and was again sitng by her, wen she began to faltr. I did wat litl cud be don to asist that oprtunity, and by-and-by she sank into a lethrjy, and lay lie th ded.

   "It was as if th wind and rain had luld at last, aftr a long and fearful


Paje 307

storm. I relesed her arms, and cald th womn to asist me to compose her figr and th dress she had tom. It was then that I new her condition to be that of one in hom th first expectations of being a mothr hav arisn; and it was then that I lost th litl hope I had had of her.

   "'is she ded?' askd th Marquis, hom I wil stil describe as th eldr brothr, comng bootd into th room from his horse.

   "'not ded,' said I; 'but Re to die.'

   "'what strength ther is in these comn bodis!' he said, lookng down at her with som curiosity.

   "'there is prodijus strength,' I ansrd him, 'in soro and despair.'

   "He first lafd at my words, and then frownd at them. He moved a chair with his foot near to mine, ordrd th womn away, and said in a subdud voice,

   "'doctor, findng my brothr in this dificlty with these hinds, I recmendd that yr aid shud be invited. Yr reputation is hy, and, as a yung man with yr fortune to make, u ar probbly mindful of yr intrest. Th things that u se here, ar things to be seen, and not spoken of.'

   "I lisnd to th patient's brething, and avoidd ansrng.

   "'do u onr me with yr atention, Doctr?'

   "'monsieur,' said I, 'in my profession, th comunications of patients ar always receved in confidnce.' I was gardd in my ansr, for I was trubld in my mind with wat I had herd and seen.

   "Her brething was so dificlt to trace, that I carefuly tryd th pulse and th hart. Ther was life, and no mor. Lookng round as I resumed my seat, I found both th brothrs intent upon me. * * * *

   "I rite with so much dificlty, th cold is so severe, I am so fearful of being detectd and consynd to an undrground cel and total darkns, that I must abridge this narativ. Ther is no confusion or failur in my memry; it can recal, and cud detail, evry word that was evr spoken between me and those brothrs.

   "She lingrd for a week. Towards th last, I cud undrstand som few sylabls that she said to me, by placing my ear close to her lips. She askd me wher she was, and I told her; ho I was, and I told her. It was in vain that I askd her for her famly name. She faintly shook her hed upon th pilo, and kept her secret, as th boy had don.

   "I had no oprtunity of askng her any question, until I had told th


Paje 308

brothrs she was sinkng fast, and cud not liv anothr day. Until then, tho no one was evr presentd to her conciusness save th womn and myself, one or othr of them had always jelusly sat behind th curtn at th hed of th bed wen I was ther. But wen it came to that, they seemd careless wat comunication I myt hold with her; as if -- th thot pasd thru my mind -- I wer dyng too.

   "I always observd that ther pride bitrly resentd th yungr brother's (as I cal him) havng crosd sords with a pesnt, and that pesnt a boy. Th only considration that apeard to afect th mind of eithr of them was th considration that this was hyly degrading to th famly, and was ridiculus. As ofn as I caut th yungr brother's ys, ther expression remindd me that he disliked me deeply, for noing wat I new from th boy. He was smoothr and mor polite to me than th eldr; but I saw this. I also saw that I was an incumbrance in th mind of th eldr, too.

   "My patient died, two ours befor midnyt -- at a time, by my wach, ansrng almost to th minut wen I had first seen her. I was alone with her, wen her forlorn yung hed droopd jently on one side, and al her erthly rongs and soros endd.

   "Th brothrs wer waitng in a room down-stairs, impatient to ride away. I had herd them, alone at th bedside, striking ther boots with ther riding-wips, and loitrng up and down.

   "'at last she is ded?' said th eldr, wen I went in.

   "'she is ded,' said I.

   "'I congratulate u, my brothr,' wer his words as he turnd round.

   "He had befor ofrd me mony, wich I had postponed taking. He now gave me a rouleau of gold. I took it from his hand, but laid it on th table. I had considrd th question, and had resolvd to accept nothing.

   "'pray excuse me,' said I. 'under th circmstnces, no.'

   "They exchanjed looks, but bent ther heds to me as I bent mine to them, and we partd without anothr word on eithr side. * * * *

   "I am weary, weary, weary-worn down by misry. I canot red wat I hav ritn with this gaunt hand.

   "Erly in th mornng, th rouleau of gold was left at my dor in a litl box, with my name on th outside. From th first, I had anxiusly considrd wat I ot to do. I decided, that day, to rite privatly to th Ministr, stating th natur of th two cases to wich I had been sumnd, and th place to wich I had gon: in efect, stating al th


Paje 309

circmstnces. I new wat Cort influence was, and wat th imunitis of th Nobles wer, and I expectd that th matr wud nevr be herd of; but, I wishd to releve my own mind. I had kept th matr a profound secret, even from my wife; and this, too, I resolvd to state in my letr. I had no aprehension watevr of my real danjer; but I was concius that ther myt be danjer for othrs, if othrs wer comprmised by posesng th nolej that I posesd.

   "I was much engajed that day, and cud not complete my letr that nyt. I rose long befor my usul time next mornng to finish it. It was th last day of th year. Th letr was lyng befor me just completed, wen I was told that a lady waitd, ho wishd to se me. * * * *

   "I am groing mor and mor unequal to th task I hav set myself. It is so cold, so dark, my senses ar so benumbed, and th gloom upon me is so dredful.

   "Th lady was yung, engajing, and hansm, but not markd for long life. She was in gret ajitation. She presentd herself to me as th wife of th Marquis St. Evrémond. I conectd th title by wich th boy had adresd th eldr brothr, with th initial letr embroidrd on th scarf, and had no dificlty in ariving at th conclusion that I had seen that nobleman very lately.

   "My memry is stil acurat, but I canot rite th words of our convrsation. I suspect that I am wachd mor closely than I was, and I no not at wat times I may be wachd. She had in part suspectd, and in part discovrd, th main facts of th cruel story, of her husband's share in it, and my being resortd to. She did not no that th girl was ded. Her hope had been, she said in gret distress, to sho her, in secret, a woman's sympathy. Her hope had been to avert th rath of Hevn from a House that had long been hateful to th sufrng many.

   "She had reasns for beleving that ther was a yung sistr livng, and her gretst desire was, to help that sistr. I cud tel her nothing but that ther was such a sistr; beyond that, I new nothing. Her inducemnt to com to me, relyng on my confidnce, had been th hope that I cud tel her th name and place of abode. Wheras, to this reched our I am ignrnt of both. * * * *

   "These scraps of paper fail me. One was taken from me, with a warnng, yestrday. I must finish my record to-day.

   "She was a good, compassionat lady, and not happy in her marrij. How cud she be! Th brothr distrustd and disliked her, and his influence was al oposed to her; she stood in dred of him, and in dred


Paje 310

of her husbnd too. Wen I handd her down to th dor, ther was a child, a pretty boy from two to thre years old, in her carrij.

   "'for his sake, Doctr,' she said, pointng to him in tears, 'I wud do al I can to make wat poor amends I can. He wil nevr prospr in his inheritnce othrwise. I hav a presentmnt that if no othr inocent atonemnt is made for this, it wil one day be required of him. Wat I hav left to cal my own -- it is litl beyond th worth of a few jewls -- I wil make it th first charj of his life to besto, with th compassion and lamentng of his ded mothr, on this injrd famly, if th sistr can be discovrd.'

   "She kisd th boy, and said, caresng him, 'it is for thine own dear sake. Thou wilt be faithful, litl Charls?' Th child ansrd her bravely, 'yes!' I kisd her hand, and she took him in her arms, and went away caresng him. I nevr saw her mor.

   "As she had mentiond her husband's name in th faith that I new it, I add no mention of it to my letr. I seald my letr, and, not trustng it out of my own hands, delivrd it myself that day.

   "That nyt, th last nyt of th year, towards nine oclok, a man in a blak dress rang at my gate, demandd to se me, and softly folod my servnt, Ernest Defarge, a yuth, up-stairs. Wen my servnt came into th room wher I sat with my wife -- O my wife, beloved of my hart! My fair yung English wife! -- we saw th man, ho was suposed to be at th gate, standng silent behind him.

   "An urjnt case in th Rue St. Honore, he said. It wud not detain me, he had a coach in waitng.

   "It brot me here, it brot me to my grave. Wen I was clear of th house, a blak muflr was drawn tytly over my mouth from behind, and my arms wer pinioned. Th two brothrs crosd th road from a dark cornr, and identifyd me with a singl jestur. Th Marquis took from his poket th letr I had ritn, showd it me, burnt it in th lyt of a lantrn that was held, and extinguishd th ashs with his foot. Not a word was spoken. I was brot here, I was brot to my livng grave.

   "If it had plesed GOD to put it in th hard hart of eithr of th brothrs, in al these frytful years, to grant me any tidings of my dearst wife -- so much as to let me no by a word wethr alive or ded -- I myt hav thot that He had not quite abandnd them. But, now I beleve that th mark of th red cross is fatal to them, and that they hav no part in His mercis. And them and ther desendnts, to th last of


Paje 311

ther race, I, Alexandr Manette, unhappy prisnr, do this last nyt of th year 1767, in my unberbl agny, denounce to th times wen al these things shal be ansrd for. I denounce them to Hevn and to erth."

   A teribl sound arose wen th readng of this documnt was don. A sound of craving and eagrness that had nothing articulat in it but blod. Th narativ cald up th most revengeful passions of th time, and ther was not a hed in th nation but must hav dropd befor it.

   Litl need, in presnce of that tribunal and that auditry, to sho how th Defarges had not made th paper public, with th othr capturd Bastile memorials born in procession, and had kept it, biding ther time. Litl need to sho that this detestd famly name had long been anathematised by Saint Antoine, and was rot into th fatal rejistr. Th man nevr trod ground hos virtus and services wud hav sustaind him in that place that day, against such denunciation.

   And al th worse for th doomd man, that th denouncer was a wel-nown citizn, his own atachd frend, th fathr of his wife. One of th frenzid asprations of th populace was, for imitations of th questionbl public virtus of antiquity, and for sacrifices and self-immolations on th people's altr. Therfor wen th Presidnt said (else had his own hed quivrd on his sholdrs), that th good fysician of th Republic wud deserv betr stil of th Republic by rootng out an obnoxius famly of Aristocrats, and wud doutless feel a sacred glo and joy in making his dautr a wido and her child an orfn, ther was wild exitemnt, patriotic fervr, not a tuch of human sympathy.

   "Much influence around him, has that Doctr?" murmrd Madame Defarge, smiling to Th Venjnce. "Save him now, my Doctr, save him I "

   At evry juryman's vote, ther was a ror. Anothr and anothr. Ror and ror.

   Unanmusly voted. At hart and by desent an Aristocrat, an enmy of th Republic, a notorius opresr of th Peple. Bak to th Conciergerie, and Deth within four-and-twenty ours!


Paje 312

DUSK

   TH RECHED WIFE of th inocent man thus doomd to die, fel undr th sentnce, as if she had been mortly strikn. But, she utrd no sound; and so strong was th voice within her, representng that it was she of al th world ho must uphold him in his misry and not augment it, that it quikly rased her, even from that shok.

   Th Jujs havng to take part in a public demnstration out of dors, th Tribunal ajurnd. Th quik noise and movemnt of th court's emtying itself by many passajs had not cesed, wen Lucie stood strechng out her arms towards her husbnd, with nothing in her face but lov and conslation.

   "If I myt tuch him! If I myt embrace him once! O, good citizns, if u wud hav so much compassion for us!"

   Ther was but a gaoler left, along with two of th four men ho had taken him last nyt, and Barsad. Th peple had al pord out to th sho in th streets. Barsad proposed to th rest, "Let her embrace him then; it is but a moment." It was silently aquiesced in, and they pasd her over th seats in th hal to a rased place, wher he, by leanng over th dok, cud fold her in his arms.

   "Farewel, dear darlng of my sol. My partng blesng on my lov. We shal meet again, wher th weary ar at rest!"

   They wer her husband's words, as he held her to his bosm.

   "I can ber it, dear Charls. I am suportd from abov: dont sufr for me. A partng blesng for our chad."

   "I send it to her by u. I kiss her by u. I say farewel to her by u."


Paje 313

   "My husbnd. No! A moment!" He was terng himself apart from her. "We shal not be seprated long. I feel that this wil brek my hart by-and-by; but I wil do my duty wile I can, and wen I leve her, God wil rase up frends for her, as He did for me."

   Her fathr had folod her, and wud hav falen on his nes to both of them, but that Darnay put out a hand and sezed him, cryng:

   "No, no! Wat hav u don, wat hav u don, that u shud neel to us! We no now, wat a strugl u made of old. We no, now wat u undrwent wen u suspectd my desent, and wen u new it. We no now, th natrl antipathy u strove against, and conqrd, for her dear sake. We thank u with al our harts, and al our lov and duty. Hevn be with u!"

   Her father's only ansr was to draw his hands thru his wite hair, and ring them with a shriek of anguish.

   "It cud not be othrwise," said th prisnr. "Al things hav workd togethr as they hav falen out. it was th always-vain endevr to discharj my poor mother's trust that first brot my fatal presnce near u. Good cud nevr com of such evil, a happir end was not in natur to so unhappy a beginng. Be comfrtd, and forgiv me. Hevn bless u!"

   As he was drawn away, his wife relesed him, and stood lookng aftr him with her hands tuchng one anothr in th atitude of prayr, and with a radiant look upon her face, in wich ther was even a comfrtng smile. As he went out at th prisoners' dor, she turnd, laid her hed lovngly on her father's brest, tryd to speak to him, and fel at his feet.

   Then, isuing from th obscure cornr from wich he had nevr moved, Sydny Cartn came and took her up. Only her fathr and Mr. Lorry wer with her. His arm trembld as it rased her, and suportd her hed. Yet, ther was an air about him that was not al of pity -- that had a flush of pride in it.

   "Shal I take her to a coach? I shal nevr feel her weit."

   He carrid her lytly to th dor, and laid her tendrly down in a coach. Her fathr and ther old frend got into it, and he took his seat beside th driver.

   Wen they arived at th gateway wher he had pausd in th dark not many ours befor, to pictur to himself on wich of th ruf stones of th street her feet had trodn, he liftd her again, and carrid her up th staircase to ther rooms. Ther, he laid her down on a couch, wher her child and Miss Pross wept over her.


Paje 314

   "Dont recal her to herself," he said, softly, to th latr, "she is betr so. Dont revive her to conciusness, wile she only faints."

   "O, Cartn, Cartn, dear Cartn!" cryd litl Lucie, springng up and throing her arms passionatly round him, in a burst of grief. "Now that u hav com, I think u wil do somthing to help mama, somthing to save papa! O, look at her, dear Cartn! Can u, of al th peple ho lov her, ber to se her so?"

   He bent over th child, and laid her bloomng cheek against his face. He put her jently from him, and lookd at her unconcius mothr.

   "Befor I go," he said, and pausd -- "I may kiss her?"

   It was remembrd aftrwrds that wen he bent down and tuchd her face with his lips, he murmrd som words. Th child, ho was nearst to him, told them aftrwrds, and told her granchildren wen she was a hansm old lady, that she herd him say, "A life u lov."

   Wen he had gon out into th next room, he turnd sudnly on Mr. Lorry and her fathr, ho wer foloing, and said to th latr:

   "U had gret influence but yestrday, Doctr Manette; let it at least be tryd. These jujs, and al th men in powr, ar very frendly to u, and very recognisant of yr services; ar they not?"

   "Nothing conectd with Charls was conceald from me. I had th strongst asurances that I shud save him; and I did." He returnd th ansr in gret trubl, and very sloly.

   "Try them again. Th ours between this and to-moro aftrnoon ar few and short, but try."

   "I intend to try. I wil not rest a moment."

   "That's wel. I hav nown such enrjy as yrs do gret things befor now -- tho nevr," he add, with a smile and a sy togethr, "such gret things as this. But try! Of litl worth as life is wen we misuse it, it is worth that efrt. It wud cost nothing to lay down if it wer not."

   "I wil go," said Doctr Manette, "to th Prosecutor and th Presidnt strait, and I wil go to othrs hom it is betr not to name. I wil rite too, and -- But stay! Ther is a Celebration in th streets, and no one wil be accesbl until dark."

   "That's tru. Wel! It is a forlorn hope at th best, and not much th forlorner for being delayd til dark. I shud like to no how u speed; tho, mind! I expect nothing! Wen ar u likely to hav seen these dred powrs, Doctr Manette?"

   "Imediatly aftr dark, I shud hope. Within an our or two from this."


Paje 315

   "It wil be dark soon aftr four. Let us strech th our or two. If I go to Mr. Lorry's at nine, shal I hear wat u hav don, eithr from our frend or from yrself?"

   "Yes."

   "May u prospr!"

   Mr. Lorry folod Sydny to th outr dor, and, tuchng him on th sholdr as he was going away, causd him to turn.

   "I hav no hope," said Mr. Lorry, in a lo and soroful wispr.

   "Nor hav I."

   "If any one of these men, or al of these men, wer disposed to spare him -- wich is a larj suposition; for wat is his life, or any man's to them! -- I dout if they durst spare him aftr th demnstration in th cort."

   "And so do I. I herd th fal of th ax in that sound."

   Mr. Lorry leand his arm upon th dor-post, and bowd his face upon it.

   "Dont despond," said Cartn, very jently; "dont greve. I encurajd Doctr Manette in this idea, because I felt that it myt one day be consolatory to her. Othrwise, she myt think 'his life was wantnly thrown away or wasted,' and that myt trubl her."

   "Yes, yes, yes," returnd Mr. Lorry, dryng his ys, "u ar ryt. But he wil perish; ther is no real hope."

   "Yes. He wil perish: ther is no real hope," ecod Cartn. And walkd with a setld step, down-stairs.


Paje 316

DARKNS

   SYDNY CARTN pausd in th street, not quite decided wher to go. "At Tellson's bankng-house at nine," he said, with a musing face. "Shal I do wel, in th mean time, to sho myself? I think so. It is best that these peple shud no ther is such a man as I here; it is a sound precaution, and may be a necesry prepration. But care, care, care! Let me think it out!"

   Chekng his steps wich had begun to tend towards an object, he took a turn or two in th alredy darknng street, and traced th thot in his mind to its posbl consequences. His first impression was confirmd. "It is best," he said, finaly resolvd, "that these peple shud no ther is such a man as I here." And he turnd his face towards Saint Antoine.

   Defarge had described himself, that day, as th keepr of a wine-shop in th Saint Antoine suburb. It was not dificlt for one ho new th city wel, to find his house without askng any question. Havng acertaind its situation, Cartn came out of those closer streets again, and dined at a place of refreshmnt and fel sound asleep aftr dinr. For th first time in many years, he had no strong drink. Since last nyt he had taken nothing but a litl lyt thin wine, and last nyt he had dropd th brandy sloly down on Mr. Lorry's harth like a man ho had don with it.

   It was as late as sevn oclok wen he awoke refreshd, and went out into th streets again. As he pasd along towards Saint Antoine, he stopd at a shop-windo wher ther was a mirr, and slytly altrd th disordrd aranjemnt of his loose cravat, and his coat-colr, and his wild hair. This don, he went on direct to Defarge's, and went in.


Paje 317

   Ther hapnd to be no custmr in th shop but Jaques Thre, of th restless fingrs and th croakng voice. This man, hom he had seen upon th Jury, stood drinkng at th litl countr, in convrsation with th Defarges, man and wife. Th Venjnce asistd in th convrsation, like a regulr membr of th establishmnt.

   As Cartn walkd in, took his seat and askd (in very indifrnt French) for a smal mesur of wine, Madame Defarge cast a careless glance at him, and then a keenr, and then a keenr, and then advanced to him herself, and askd him wat it was he had ordrd.

   He repeatd wat he had alredy said.

   "English?" askd Madame Defarge, inquisitively rasing her dark ybrows.

   Aftr lookng at her, as if th sound of even a singl French word wer slo to express itself to him, he ansrd, in his formr strong foren accent. "Yes, madame, yes. I am English!"

   Madame Defarge returnd to her countr to get th wine, and, as he took up a Jacobin jurnl and feind to por over it puzlng out its meanng, he herd her say, "I swer to u, like Evrémond!"

   Defarge brot him th wine, and gave him Good Evenng.

   "How?"

   "Good evenng."

   "O! Good evenng, citizn," filng his glass. "Ah! and good wine. I drink to th Republic."

   Defarge went bak to th countr, and said, "Certnly, a litl like." Madame sternly retortd, "I tel u a good deal like." Jaques Thre pacifically remarkd, "He is so much in yr mind, se u, madame." Th amiabl Venjnce add, with a laf, "Yes, my faith! And u ar lookng forwrd with so much plesur to seing him once mor to-moro!"

   Cartn folod th lines and words of his paper, with a slo forfingr, and with a studius and absorbd face. They wer al leanng ther arms on th countr close togethr, speakng lo. Aftr a silence of a few moments, during wich they al lookd towards him without disturbng his outwrd atention from th Jacobin editr, they resumed ther convrsation.

   "It is tru wat madame says," observd Jaques Thre. "Wy stop? Ther is gret force in that. Wy stop?"

   "Wel, wel," reasnd Defarge, "but one must stop somwher. Aftr al, th question is stil wher?"

   "At extermnation," said madame.


Paje 318

   "Magnificent!" croakd Jaques Thre. Th Venjnce, also, hyly aproved.

   "Extermnation is good doctrin, my wife," said Defarge, rathr trubld; "in jenrl, I say nothing against it. But this Doctr has sufrd much; u hav seen him to-day; u hav observd his face wen th paper was red."

   "I hav observd his face!" repeatd madame, contemtuusly and angrily. "Yes. I hav observd his face. I hav observd his face to be not th face of a tru frend of th Republic. Let him take care of his f ace! "

   "And u hav observd, my wife," said Defarge, in a deprecatory manr, "th anguish of his dautr, wich must be a dredful anguish to him!"

   "I hav observd his dautr," repeatd madame; "yes, I hav observd his dautr, mor times than one. I hav observd her to-day, and I hav observd her othr days. I hav observd her in th cort, and I hav observd her in th street by th prisn. Let me but lift my fingr -- !" She seemd to rase it (th listener's ys wer always on his paper), and to let it fal with a ratl on th lej befor her, as if th ax had dropd.

   "Th citizeness is superb!" croakd th Juryman.

   "She is an Anjel!" said Th Venjnce, and embraced her.

   "As to thee," pursud madame, implacbly, adresng her husbnd, "if it dependd on thee -- wich, happily, it dos not -- thou wouldst rescu this man even now."

   "No!" protestd Defarge. "Not if to lift this glass wud do it! But I wud leve th matr ther. I say, stop ther."

   "Se u then, Jaques," said Madame Defarge, rathfuly; "and se u, too, my litl Venjnce; se u both! Lisn! For othr crimes as tyrants and opresrs, I hav this race a long time on my rejistr, doomd to destruction and extermnation. Ask my husbnd, is that so."

   "It is so," asentd Defarge, without being askd.

   "In th beginng of th gret days, wen th Bastile fals, he finds this paper of to-day, and he brings it home, and in th midl of th nyt wen this place is clear and shut, we red it, here on this spot, by th lyt of this lamp. Ask him, is that so."

   "It is so," asentd Defarge.

   "That nyt, I tel him, wen th paper is red thru, and th lamp is burnt out, and th day is gleamng in abov those shutrs and between


Paje 319

those iron bars, that I hav now a secret to comunicate. Ask him, is that so."

   "It is so," asentd Defarge again.

   "I comunicate to him that secret. I smite this bosm with these two hands as I smite it now, and I tel him, 'defarge, I was brot up among th fishrmen of th se-shor, and that pesnt famly so injrd by th two Evrémond brothrs, as that Bastile paper describes, is my famly. Defarge, that sistr of th mortly woundd boy upon th ground was my sistr, that husbnd was my sister's husbnd, that unborn child was ther child, that brothr was my brothr, that fathr was my fathr, those ded ar my ded, and that sumns to ansr for those things desends to me!' Ask him, is that so."

   "It is so," asentd Defarge once mor.

   "Then tel Wind and Fire wher to stop," returnd madame; "but dont tel me."

   Both her hearrs derived a horibl enjoymnt from th dedly natur of her rath -- th lisnr cud feel how wite she was, without seing her -- and both hyly comendd it. Defarge, a weak minority, intrposed a few words for th memry of th compassionat wife of th Marquis; but only elicitd from his own wife a repetition of her last reply. "Tel th Wind and th Fire wher to stop; not me!"

   Custmrs entrd, and th group was broken up. Th English custmr paid for wat he had had, perplexedly countd his chanje, and askd, as a stranjer, to be directd towards th Nationl Palace. Madame Defarge took him to th dor, and put her arm on his, in pointng out th road. Th English custmr was not without his reflections then, that it myt be a good deed to seze that arm, lift it, and strike undr it sharp and deep.

   But, he went his way, and was soon swalod up in th shado of th prisn wan. At th apointd our, he emerjd from it to presnt himself in Mr. Lorry's room again, wher he found th old jentlman walkng to and fro in restless anxiety. He said he had been with Lucie until just now, and had only left her for a few minuts, to com and keep his apointmnt. Her fathr had not been seen, since he quitted th bankng-house towards four oclok. She had som faint hopes that his mediation myt save Charls, but they wer very slyt. He had been mor than five ours gon: wher cud he be?

   Mr. Lorry waitd until ten; but, Doctr Manette not returng, and he being unwilng to leve Lucie any longr, it was aranjed that he


Paje 320

shud go bak to her, and com to th bankng-house again at midnyt. In th meanwile, Cartn wud wait alone by th fire for th Doctr.

   He waitd and waitd, and th clok struk twelv; but Doctr Manette did not com bak. Mr. Lorry returnd, and found no tidings of him, and brot non. Wher cud he be?

   They wer discusng this question, and wer almost bildng up som weak structur of hope on his prolongd absnce, wen they herd him on th stairs. Th instnt he entrd th room, it was plan that al was lost.

   Wethr he had realy been to any one, or wethr be had been al that time traversng th streets, was nevr nown. As he stood staring at them, they askd him no question, for his face told them everything.

   "I canot find it," said he, "and I must hav it. Wher is it?"

   His hed and throat wer bare, and, as he spoke with a helpless look strayng al around, he took his coat off, and let it drop on th flor.

   "Wher is my bench? I hav been lookng evrywher for my bench, and I cant find it. Wat hav they don with my work? Time presses: I must finish those shoes."

   They lookd at one anothr, and ther harts died within them.

   "Com, com!" said he, in a wimprng misrbl way; "let me get to work. Giv me my work."

   Receving no ansr, he tor his hair, and beat his feet upon th ground, like a distractd child.

   "Dont tortur a poor forlorn rech," he implord them, with a dredful cry; "but giv me my work! Wat is to becom of us, if those shoes ar not don to-nyt?"

   Lost, utrly lost!

   It was so clearly beyond hope to reasn with him, or try to restor him, -- that -- as if by agreemnt -- they each put a hand upon his sholdr, and soothed him to sit down befor th fire, with a promis that he shud hav his work presntly. He sank into th chair, and broodd over th embrs, and shed tears. As if al that had hapnd since th garet time wer a momentry fancy, or a dream, Mr. Lorry saw him shrink into th exact figr that Defarge had had in keepng.

   Afectd, and impresd with terr as they both wer, by this spectacl of ruin, it was not a time to yield to such emotions. His lonely dautr, bereft of her final hope and relyance, apeald to them both too strongly.


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Again, as if by agreemnt, they lookd at one anothr with one meanng in ther faces. Cartn was th first to speak:

   "Th last chance is gon: it was not much. Yes; he had betr be taken to her. But, befor u go, wil u, for a moment, stedily atend to me? Dont ask me wy I make th stipulations I am going to make, and exact th promis I am going to exact; I hav a reasn -- a good one."

   "I do not dout it," ansrd Mr. Lorry. "Say on."

   Th figr in th chair between them, was al th time monotnusly rokng itself to and fro, and moanng. They spoke in such a tone as they wud hav used if they had been wachng by a sik-bed in th nyt.

   Cartn stoopd to pik up th coat, wich lay almost entangling his feet. As he did so, a smal case in wich th Doctr was acustmd to carry th lists of his day's dutis, fen lytly on th flor. Cartn took it up, and ther was a foldd paper in it. "We shud look at this!" he said. Mr. Lorry nodd his consent. He opend it, and exclaimd, "Thank GOD!"

   "Wat is it?" askd Mr. Lorry, eagrly.

   "A moment! Let me speak of it in its place. First," he put his hand in his coat, and took anothr paper from it, "that is th certificat wich enables me to pass out of this city. Look at it. U se -- Sydny Cartn, an Englishman?"

   Mr. Lorry held it open in his hand, gazing in his ernest face.

   "Keep it for me until to-moro. I shal se him to-moro, u remembr, and I had betr not take it into th prisn."

   "Wy not?"

   "I dont no; I prefer not to do so. Now, take this paper that Doctr Manette has carrid about him. It is a simlr certificat, enabling him and his dautr and her child, at any time, to pass th barir and th frontir! U se?"

   "Yes!"

   "Perhaps he obtaind it as his last and utmost precaution against evil, yestrday. Wen is it dated? But no matr; dont stay to look; put it up carefuly with mine and yr own. Now, observ! I nevr doutd until within this our or two, that he had, or cud hav such a paper. It is good, until recald. But it may be soon recald, and, I hav reasn to think, wil be."

   "They ar not in danjer?"

   "They ar in gret danjer. They ar in danjer of denunciation by


Paje 322

Madame Defarge. I no it from her own lips. I hav overherd words of that woman's, to-nyt, wich hav presentd ther danjer to me in strong colors. I hav lost no time, and since then, I hav seen th spy. He confirms me. He nos that a wood-sawyr, livng by th prisn wal, is undr th control of th Defarges, and has been rehersd by Madame Defarge as to his havng seen Her" -- he nevr mentiond Lucie's name -- "making syns and signls to prisnrs. It is esy to forse that th pretense wil be th comn one, a prisn plot, and that it wil involv her life -- and perhaps her child's -- and perhaps her father's -- for both hav been seen with her at that place. Dont look so horifyd. U wil save them al."

   "Hevn grant I may, Cartn! But how?"

   "I am going to tel u how. It wil depend on u, and it cud depend on no betr man. This new denunciation wil certnly not take place until aftr to-moro; probbly not until two or thre days aftrwrds; mor probbly a week aftrwrds. U no it is a capitl crime, to morn for, or sympathize with, a victm of th Gilotine. She and her fathr wud unquestionbly be gilty of this crime, and this womn (th inveteracy of hos pursuit canot be described) wud wait to ad that strength to her case, and make herself dubly sure. U folo me?"

   "So atentivly, and with so much confidnce in wat u say, that for th moment I lose syt," tuchng th bak of th Doctor's chair, even of this distress."

   "U hav mony, and can by th means of travlng to th se- coast as quikly as th jurny can be made. Yr preprations hav been completed for som days, to return to England. Erly to-moro hav yr horses redy, so that they may be in startng trim at two oclok in th aftrnoon."

   "It shal be don!"

   His manr was so fervnt and inspiring, that Mr. Lorry caut th flame, and was as quik as yuth.

   "U ar a noble hart. Did I say we cud depend upon no betr man? Tel her, to-nyt, wat u no of her danjer as involvng her child and her fathr. Dwel upon that, for she wud lay her own fair hed beside her husband's cheerfuly." He faltrd for an instnt; then went on as befor. "For th sake of her child and her fathr, press upon her th necessity of leving Paris, with them and u, at that our. Tel her that it was her husband's last aranjemnt. Tel her that mor depends


Paje 323

upon it than she dare beleve, or hope. U think that her fathr, even in this sad state, wil submit himself to her; do u not?"

   "I am sure of it."

   "I thot so. Quietly and stedily hav al these aranjemnts made in th cortyard here, even to th taking of yr own seat in th carrij. Th moment I com to u, take me in, and drive away."

   "I undrstand that I wait for u undr al circmstnces?"

   "U hav my certificat in yr hand with th rest, u no, and wil reserv my place. Wait for nothing but to hav my place ocupyd, and then for England!"

   "Wy, then," said Mr. Lorry, graspng his eagr but so firm and stedy hand, "it dos not al depend on one old man, but I shal hav a yung and ardnt man at my side."

   "By th help of Hevn u shal! Promis me solemly that nothing wil influence u to altr th corse on wich we now stand plejd to one anothr."

   "Nothing, Cartn."

   "Remembr these words to-moro: chanje th corse, or delay in it -- for any reasn -- and no life can posbly be saved, and many lives must inevitbly be sacrificed."

   "I wil remembr them. I hope to do my part faithfuly."

   "And I hope to do mine. Now, good by!"

   Tho he said it with a grave smile of ernestness, and tho he even put th old man's hand to his lips, he did not part from him then. He helpd him so far to arouse th rokng figr befor th dyng embrs, as to get a cloak and hat put upon it, and to temt it forth to find wher th bench and work wer hidn that it stil moaningly besot to hav. He walkd on th othr side of it and protectd it to th cortyard of th house wher th aflictd hart -- so happy in th memrbl time wen he had reveald his own desolate hart to it -- out- wachd th awful nyt. He entrd th cortyard and remaind ther for a few moments alone, lookng up at th lyt in th windo of her room. Befor he went away, he brethed a blesng towards it, and a Farewel.


Paje 324

FIFTY-TWO

   IN TH BLAK PRISN Of th Conciergerie, th doomd of th day awaitd ther fate. They wer in numbr as th weeks of th year. Fifty- two wer to rol that aftrnoon on th life-tide of th city to th boundless evrlastng se. Befor ther cels wer quit of them, new ocupnts wer apointd; befor ther blod ran into th blod spild yestrday, th blod that was to mingl with thers to-moro was alredy set apart.

   Two scor and twelv wer told off. From th farmr-jenrl of sevnty, hos richs cud not by his life, to th seamstress of twenty, hos povrty and obscurity cud not save her. Fysicl diseses, enjendrd in th vices and neglects of men, wil seze on victms of al degrees; and th frytful moral disordr, born of unspeakbl sufrng, intolrbl opression, and hartless indifrnce, smote equaly without distinction.

   Charls Darnay, alone in a cel, had sustaind himself with no flatrng delusion since he came to it from th Tribunal. In evry line of th narativ he had herd, he had herd his condmnation. He had fuly comprehendd that no persnl influence cud posbly save him, that he was virtuly sentnced by th milions, and that units cud avail him nothing.

   Nevrthless, it was not esy, with th face of his belovd wife fresh befor him, to compose his mind to wat it must ber. His hold on life was strong, and it was very, very hard, to loosn; by gradul efrts and degrees unclosed a litl here, it clenchd th tytr ther; and wen he brot his strength to ber on that hand and it yieldd, this was closed again. Ther was a hurry, too, in al his thots, a turbulent and heatd workng of his hart, that contendd against resignation. If, for a moment,


Paje 325

he did feel resynd, then his wife and child ho had to liv aftr him, seemd to protest and to make it a selfish thing.

   But, al this was at first. Befor long, th considration that ther was no disgrace in th fate he must meet, and that numbrs went th same road rongfuly, and trod it firmly evry day, sprang up to stimulate him. Next folod th thot that much of th futur pece of mind enjoybl by th dear ones, dependd on his quiet fortitude. So, by degrees he calmd into th betr state, wen he cud rase his thots much hyr, and draw comfrt down.

   Befor it had set in dark on th nyt of his condmnation, he had travld thus far on his last way. Being alowd to purchas th means of riting, and a lyt, he sat down to rite until such time as th prisn lamps shud be extinguishd.

   He rote a long letr to Lucie, shoing her that he had nown nothing of her father's imprisnmnt, until he had herd of it from herself, and that he had been as ignrnt as she of his father's and uncle's responsbility for that misry, until th paper had been red. He had alredy explaind to her that his concealmnt from herself of th name he had relinquishd, was th one condition -- fuly intelijbl now -- that her fathr had atachd to ther betrothal, and was th one promis he had stil exactd on th mornng of ther marrij. He entreated her, for her father's sake, nevr to seek to no wethr her fathr had becom oblivius of th existnce of th paper, or had had it recald to him (for th moment, or for good), by th story of th Towr, on that old Sunday undr th dear old plane-tre in th gardn. If he had preservd any defnit remembrnce of it, ther cud be no dout that he had suposed it destroyd with th Bastile, wen he had found no mention of it among th relics of prisnrs wich th populace had discovrd ther, and wich had been described to al th world. He besot her -- tho he add that he new it was needless -- to console her fathr, by impresng him thru evry tendr means she cud think of, with th truth that he had don nothing for wich he cud justly reproach himself, but had uniformly forgotn himself for ther joint sakes. Next to her presrvation of his own last grateful lov and blesng, and her overcomng of her soro, to devote herself to ther dear child, he ajured her, as they wud meet in Hevn, to comfrt her fathr.

   To her fathr himself, he rote in th same strain; but, he told her fathr that he expresly confided his wife and child to his care. And he told him this, very strongly, with th hope of rousng him from any despondncy


Paje 326

or danjerus retrospect towards wich he forsaw he myt be tendng.

   To Mr. Lorry, he comendd them al, and explaind his worldly afairs. That don, with many add sentnces of grateful frendship and warm atachmnt, al was don. He nevr thot of Cartn. His mind was so ful of th othrs, that he nevr once thot of him.

   He had time to finish these letrs befor th lyts wer put out. Wen he lay down on his straw bed, he thot he had don with this world.

   But, it beknd him bak in his sleep, and showd itself in shining forms. Fre and happy, bak in th old house in Soho (tho it had nothing in it like th real house), unacountbly relesed and lyt of hart, he was with Lucie again, and she told him it was al a dream, and he had nevr gon away. A pause of forgetfulness, and then he had even sufrd, and had com bak to her, ded and at pece, and yet ther was no difrnce in him. Anothr pause of oblivion, and he awoke in th sombr mornng, unconcius wher he was or wat had hapnd, until it flashd upon his mind, "this is th day of my deth!"

   Thus, had he com thru th ours, to th day wen th fifty-two heds wer to fal. And now, wile he was composed, and hoped that he cud meet th end with quiet heroism, a new action began in his waking thots, wich was very dificlt to mastr.

   He had nevr seen th instrumnt that was to termnate his life. How hy it was from th ground, how many steps it had, wher he wud be stood, bo he wud be tuchd, wethr th tuchng hands wud be dyd red, wich way his face wud be turnd, wethr he wud be th first, or myt be th last: these and many simlr questions, in nowise directd by his wil, obtruded themselvs over and over again, countless times. Neithr wer they conectd with fear: he was concius of no fear. Rathr, they orijnated in a stranje besetng desire to no wat to do wen th time came; a desire gigantically disproportionat to th few swift moments to wich it referd; a wondrng that was mor like th wondrng of som othr spirit within his, than his own.

   Th ours went on as he walkd to and fro, and th cloks struk th numbrs he wud nevr hear again. Nine gon for evr, ten gon for evr, elevn gon for evr, twelv comng on to pass away. Aftr a hard contest with that eccentric action of thot wich had last perplexd him, he had got th betr of it. He walkd up and down, softly repeatng ther names to himself. Th worst of th strife was over. He cud walk up and down, fre from distractng fancis, prayng for himself and for them.


Paje 327

   Twelv gon for evr.

   He had been aprised that th final our was Thre, and be new he wud be sumnd som time erlir, inasmuch as th tumbrils joltd hevily and sloly thru th streets. Therfor, he resolvd to keep Two befor his mind, as th our, and so to strengthn himself in th intrvl that he myt be able, aftr that time, to strengthn othrs.

   Walkng regulrly to and fro with his arms foldd on his brest, a very difrnt man from th prisnr, ho had walkd to and fro at La Force, he herd One struk away from him, without surprise. Th our had mesurd like most othr ours. Devoutly thankful to Hevn for his recovrd self-posession, he thot, "Ther is but anothr now," and turnd to walk again.

   Footsteps in th stone passaj outside th dor. He stopd.

   Th ke was put in th lok, and turnd. Befor th dor was opend, or as it opend, a man said in a lo voice, in English: "He has nevr seen me here; I hav kept out of his way. Go u in alone; I wait near. Lose no time!"

   Th dor was quikly opend and closed, and ther stood befor him face to face, quiet, intent upon him, with th lyt of a smile on his featurs, and a cautionry fingr on his lip, Sydny Cartn.

   Ther was somthing so bryt and remarkbl in his look, that, for th first moment, th prisnr misdoubted him to be an aprition of his own imajnng. But, he spoke, and it was his voice; he took th prisoner's hand, and it was his real grasp.

   "Of al th peple upon erth, u least expectd to se me?" be said.

   "I cud not beleve it to be u. I can scarcely beleve it now. U ar not" -- th aprehension came sudnly into his mind -- "a prisnr?"

   "No. I am accidently posesd of a powr over one of th keeprs here, and in virtu of it I stand befor u. I com from her -- yr wife, dear Darnay."

   Th prisnr rung his hand.

   "I bring u a request from her."

   "Wat is it?"

   "A most ernest, presng, and emfatic entreaty, adresd to u in th most pathetic tones of th voice so dear to u, that u wel remembr."

   Th prisnr turnd his face partly aside.

   "U hav no time to ask me wy I bring it, or wat it means; I hav no time to tel u. U must comply with it -- take off those boots u wer, and draw on these of mine."


Paje 328

   Ther was a chair against th wal of th cel, behind th prisnr. Cartn, presng forwrd, had alredy, with th speed of lytnng, got him down into it, and stood over him, barefoot.

   "Draw on these boots of mine. Put yr hands to them; put yr wil to them. Quik!"

   "Cartn, ther is no escaping from this place; it nevr can be don. U wil only die with me. It is madness."

   "It wud be madness if I askd u to escape; but do I? Wen I ask u to pass out at that dor, tel me it is madness and remain here. Chanje that cravat for this of mine, that coat for this of mine. Wile u do it, let me take this ribn from yr hair, and shake out yr hair like this of mine!"

   With wondrful quikness, and with a strength both of wil and action, that apeard quite supernatrl, he forced al these chanjes upon him. Th prisnr was like a yung child in his hands.

   "Cartn! Dear Cartn! It is madness. It canot be acomplishd, it nevr can be don, it has been atemtd, and has always faild. I implor u not to ad yr deth to th bitrness of mine."

   "Do I ask u, my dear Darnay, to pass th dor? Wen I ask that, refuse. Ther ar pen and ink and paper on this table. Is yr hand stedy enuf to rite?"

   "It was wen u came in."

   "Stedy it again, and rite wat I shal dictate. Quik, frend, quik!"

   Presng his hand to his bewildrd hed, Darnay sat down at th table. Cartn, with his ryt hand in his brest, stood close beside him.

   "Rite exactly as I speak."

   "To hom do I adress it?"

   "To no one." Cartn stil had his hand in his brest.

   "Do I date it?"

   "No."

   Th prisnr lookd up, at each question. Cartn, standng over him with his hand in his brest, lookd down.

   "'if u remembr,'" said Cartn, dictating, "'the words that pasd between us, long ago, u wil redily comprehend this wen u se it. U do remembr them, I no. It is not in yr natur to forget them."'

   He was drawng his hand from his brest; th prisnr chancing to look up in his hurrid wondr as he rote, th hand stopd, closing upon somthing.

   "Hav u ritn 'forget them'?" Cartn askd.


Paje 329

   "I hav. Is that a wepn in yr hand?"

   "No; I am not armd."

   "Wat is it in yr hand?"

   "U shal no directly. Rite on; ther ar but a few words mor." He dictated again. "'I am thankful that th time has com, wen I can prove them. That I do so is no subject for regret or grief."' As he said these words with his ys fixd on th riter, his hand sloly and softly moved down close to th writer's face.

   Th pen dropd from Darnay's fingrs on th table, and he lookd about him vacantly.

   "Wat vapor is that?" he askd.

   "Vapor?"

   "Somthing that crosd me?"

   "I am concius of nothing; ther can be nothing here. Take up th pen and finish. Hurry, hurry!"

   As if his memry wer impaird, or his facltis disordrd, th prisnr made an efrt to rally his atention. As he lookd at Cartn with cloudd ys and with an altrd manr of brething, Cartn -- his hand again in his brest -- lookd stedily at him.

   "Hurry, hurry!"

   Th prisnr bent over th paper, once mor.

   "'if it had been othrwise;"' Carton's hand was again wachfuly and softly stealng down; "'I nevr shud hav used th longr oprtunity. If it had been othrwise;"' th hand was at th prisoner's face; " 'I shud but hav had so much th mor to ansr for. ff it had been othrwise -- "' Cartn lookd at th pen and saw it was trailng off into unintelijbl syns.

   Carton's hand moved bak to his brest no mor. Th prisnr sprang up with a reproachful look, but Carton's hand was close and firm at his nostrils, and Carton's left arm caut him round th waist. For a few secnds he faintly strugld with th man ho had com to lay down his life for him; but, within a minut or so, he was strechd insensbl on th ground.

   Quikly, but with hands as tru to th purpos as his hart was, Cartn dresd himself in th clothes th prisnr bad laid aside, combd bak his hair, and tied it with th ribn th prisnr had worn. Then, he softly cald, "Entr ther! Com in!" and th Spy presentd himself.

   "U se?" said Cartn, lookng up, as he neeld on one ne beside


Paje 330

th insensbl figr, putng th paper in th brest: "is yr hazrd very gret?"

   "Mr. Cartn," th Spy ansrd, with a timid snap of his fingrs, "my hazrd is not that, in th thik of busness here, if u ar tru to th hole of yr bargn."

   "Dont fear me. I wil be tru to th deth."

   "U must be, Mr. Cartn, if th tale of fifty-two is to be ryt. Being made ryt by u in that dress, I shal hav no fear."

   "Hav no fear! I shal soon be out of th way of harmng u, and th rest wil soon be far from here, plese God! Now, get asistnce and take me to th coach."

   "U?" said th Spy nervusly.

   "Him, man, with hom I hav exchanjed. U go out at th gate by wich u brot me in?"

   "Of corse."

   "I was weak and faint wen u brot me in, and I am faintr now u take me out. Th partng intrvew has overpowrd me. Such a thing has hapnd here, ofn, and too ofn. Yr life is in yr own hands. Quik! Cal asistnce!"

   "U swer not to betray me?" said th tremblng Spy, as he pausd for a last moment.

   "Man, man!" returnd Cartn, stampng his foot; "hav I sworn by no solem vow alredy, to go thru with this, that u waste th precius moments now? Take him yrself to th cortyard u no of, place him yrself in th carrij, sho him yrself to Mr. Lorry, tel him yrself to giv him no restorativ but air, and to remembr my words of last nyt, and his promis of last nyt, and drive away!"

   Th Spy withdrew, and Cartn seatd himself at th table, restng his forhed on his hands. Th Spy returnd imediatly, with two men.

   "How, then?" said one of them, contmplating th falen figr. "So aflictd to find that his frend has drawn a prize in th lotry of Sainte Gilotine?"

   "A good patriot," said th othr, "cud hardly hav been mor aflictd if th Aristocrat had drawn a blank."

   They rased th unconcius figr, placed it on a litr they had brot to th dor, and bent to carry it away.

   "Th time is short, Evrémond," said th Spy, in a warnng voice.

   "I no it wel," ansrd Cartn. "Be careful of my frend, I entreat u, and leve me."


Paje 331

   "Com, then, my children," said Barsad. "Lift him, and com away!"

   Th dor closed, and Cartn was left alone. Strainng his powrs of lisnng to th utmost, he lisnd for any sound that myt denote suspicion or alarm. Ther was non. Kes turnd, dors clashd, footsteps pasd along distnt passajs: no cry was rased, or hurry made, that seemd unusul. Brething mor frely in a litl wile, he sat down at th table, and lisnd again until th clok struk Two.

   Sounds that he was not afraid of, for he divined ther meanng, then began to be audbl. Sevrl dors wer opend in succession, and finaly his own. A gaoler, with a list in his hand, lookd in, merely sayng, "Folo me, Evrémond!" and he folod into a larj dark room, at a distnce. It was a dark wintr day, and wat with th shados within, and wat with th shados without, he cud but dimly disern th othrs ho wer brot ther to hav ther arms bound. Som wer standng; som seatd. Som wer lamentng, and in restless motion; but, these wer few. Th gret majority wer silent and stil, lookng fixedly at th ground.

   As he stood by th wal in a dim cornr, wile som of th fifty-two wer brot in aftr him, one man stopd in pasng, to embrace him, as havng a nolej of him. It thrild him with a gret dred of discovry; but th man went on. A very few moments aftr that, a yung womn, with a slyt girlish form, a sweet spare face in wich ther was no vestij of color, and larj widely opend patient ys, rose from th seat wher he had observd her sitng, and came to speak to him.

   "Citizn Evrémond," she said, tuchng him with her cold hand. "I am a poor litl seamstress, ho was with u in La Force."

   He murmrd for ansr: "Tru. I forget wat u wer acused of?"

   "Plots. Tho th just Hevn nos that I am inocent of any. Is it likely? Ho wud think of plotng with a poor litl weak creatur like me?"

   Th forlorn smile with wich she said it, so tuchd him, that tears startd from his ys.

   "I am not afraid to die, Citizn Evrémond, but I hav don nothing. I am not unwilng to die, if th Republic wich is to do so much good to us poor, wil profit by my deth; but I do not no how that can be, Citizn Evrémond. Such a poor weak litl creatur!"

   As th last thing on erth that his hart was to warm and sofn to, it warmd and sofnd to this pitiabl girl.

   "I herd u wer relesed, Citizn Evrémond. I hoped it was tru?"

   "It was. But, I was again taken and condemd."


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   "If I may ride with u, Citizn Evrémond, wil u let me hold yr hand? I am not afraid, but I am litl and weak, and it wil giv me mor curaj."

   As th patient ys wer liftd to his face, he saw a sudn dout in them, and then astonishmnt. He presd th work-worn, hungr-worn yung fingrs, and tuchd his lips.

   "Ar u dyng for him?" she wisprd.

   "And his wife and child. Hush! Yes."

   "O u wil let me hold yr brave hand, stranjer?"

   "Hush! Yes, my poor sistr; to th last."

   Th same shados that ar falng on th prisn, ar falng, in that same our of th erly aftrnoon, on th Barir with th crowd about it, wen a coach going out of Paris drives up to be examnd.

   "Ho gos here? Hom hav we within? Papers!"

   Th papers ar handd out, and red.

   "Alexandr Manette. Fysician. French. Wich is he?"

   This is he; this helpless, inarticulately murmrng, wandrng old man pointd out.

   "Aparently th Citizn-Doctr is not in his ryt mind? Th Revlution- fever wil hav been too much for him?"

   Gretly too much for him.

   "Ha! Many sufr with it. Lucie. His dautr. French. Wich is she?"

   This is she.

   "Aparently it must be. Lucie, th wife of Evrémond; is it not?"

   It is.

   "Ha! Evrémond has an asignation elswher. Lucie, her child. English. This is she?"

   She and no othr.

   "Kiss me, child of Evrémond. Now, thou hast kisd a good Republicn; somthing new in thy famly; remembr it! Sydny Cartn. Advocat. English. Wich is he?"

   He lies here, in this cornr of th carrij. He, too, is pointd out.

   "Aparently th English advocat is in a swoon?"

   It is hoped he wil recovr in th freshr air. It is representd that he is not in strong helth, and has seprated sadly from a frend ho is undr th displesur of th Republic.

   "Is that al? It is not a gret deal, that! Many ar undr th displesur


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of th Republic, and must look out at th litl windo. Jarvis Lorry. Bankr. English. Wich is he?"

   "I am he. Necesrily, being th last."

   It is Jarvis Lorry ho has replyd to al th previus questions. It is Jarvis Lorry ho has alytd and stands with his hand on th coach dor, replyng to a group of oficials. They lesurly walk round th carrij and lesurly mount th box, to look at wat litl lugaj it carris on th roof; th cuntry-peple hangng about, press nearr to th coach dors and greedily stare in; a litl child, carrid by its mothr, has its short arm held out for it, that it may tuch th wife of an aristocrat ho has gon to th Gilotine.

   "Behold yr papers, Jarvis Lorry, countersigned."

   "One can depart, citizn?"

   "One can depart. Forwrd, my postilions! A good jurny!"

   "I salute u, citizns. -- And th first danjer pasd!"

   These ar again th words of Jarvis Lorry, as he clasps his hands, and looks upwrd. Ther is terr in th carrij, ther is weepng, ther is th hevy brething of th insensbl travlr.

   "Ar we not going too sloly? Can they not be induced to go fastr?" asks Lucie, clingng to th old man.

   "It wud seem like flyt, my darlng. I must not urj them too much; it wud rouse suspicion."

   "Look bak, look bak, and se if we ar pursud!"

   "Th road is clear, my dearst. So far, we ar not pursud."

   Houses in twos and thres pass by us, solitry farms, ruinus bildngs, dy-works, tanneries, and th like, open cuntry, avnus of leafless tres. Th hard uneven pavemnt is undr us, th soft deep mud is on eithr side. Somtimes, we strike into th skirtng mud, to avoid th stones that clatr us and shake us; somtimes, we stik in ruts and sloughs ther. Th agny of our impatience is then so gret, that in our wild alarm and hurry we ar for getng out and runng -- hiding -- doing anything but stopng.

   Out of th open cuntry, in again among ruinus bildngs, solitry farms, dy-works, tanneries, and th like, cotajs in twos and thres, avnus of leafless tres. Hav these men deceved us, and taken us bak by anothr road? Is not this th same place twice over? Thank Hevn, no. A vilaj. Look bak, look bak, and se if we ar pursud! Hush! th postng-house.

   Lesurly, our four horses ar taken out; lesurly, th coach stands in


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th litl street, bereft of horses, and with no likelihood upon it of evr moving again; lesurly, th new horses com into visbl existnce, one by one; lesurly, th new postilions folo, sukng and plaiting th lashs of ther wips; lesurly, th old postilions count ther mony, make rong aditions, and arive at disatisfyd results. Al th time, our overfraught harts ar beatng at a rate that wud far outstrip th fastst galop of th fastst horses evr foaled.

   At length th new postilions ar in ther sadls, and th old ar left behind. We ar thru th vilaj, up th hil, and down th hil, and on th lo watry grounds. Sudnly, th postilions exchanje speech with anmated jesticulation, and th horses ar puld up, almost on ther haunchs. We ar pursud?

   "Ho! Within th carrij ther. Speak then!"

   "Wat is it?" asks Mr. Lorry, lookng out at windo.

   "How many did they say?"

   "I do not undrstand u."

   " -- At th last post. How many to th Gilotine to-day?"

   "Fifty-two."

   "I said so! A brave numbr! My felo-citizn here wud hav it forty-two; ten mor heds ar worth havng. Th Gilotine gos hansmly. I lov it. Hi forwrd. Woop!"

   Th nyt coms on dark. He moves mor; he is beginng to revive, and to speak intelligibly; he thinks they ar stil togethr; he asks him, by his name, wat he has in his hand. O pity us, kind Hevn, and help us! Look out, look out, and se if we ar pursud.

   Th wind is rushng aftr us, and th clouds ar flyng aftr us, and th moon is plunjng aftr us, and th hole wild nyt is in pursuit of us; but, so far, we ar pursud by nothing else.


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TH NITNG DON

   IN THAT SAME JUNCTUR of time wen th Fifty-Two awaitd ther fate Madame Defarge held darkly omnus council with Th Venjnce and Jaques Thre of th Revlutionry Jury. Not in th wine-shop did Madame Defarge confer with these ministrs, but in th shed of th wood- sawyr, erst a mender of roads. Th sawyr himself did not participate in th confrnce, but abided at a litl distnce, like an outr satlite ho was not to speak until required, or to ofr an opinion until invited.

   "But our Defarge," said Jaques Thre, "is undoutdly a good Republicn? Eh?"

   "Ther is no betr," th volubl Venjnce protestd in her shril notes, "in France."

   "Pece, litl Venjnce," said Madame Defarge, layng her hand with a slyt frown on her lieutenant's lips, "hear me speak. My husbnd, felo- citizn, is a good Republicn and a bold man; he has deservd wel of th Republic, and posesses its confidnce. But my husbnd has his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relent towards this Doctr."

   "It is a gret pity," croakd Jaques Thre, dubiusly shaking his hed, with his cruel fingrs at his hungry mouth; "it is not quite like a good citizn; it is a thing to regret."

   "Se u," said madame, "I care nothing for this Doctr, I. He may wer his hed or lose it, for any intrest I hav in him; it is al one to me. But, th Evrémond peple ar to be extermnated, and th wife and child must folo th husbnd and fathr."

   "She has a fine hed for it," croakd Jaques Thre. "I hav seen blu


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ys and goldn hair ther, and they lookd charmng wen Samsn held them up." Ogre that he was, he spoke like an epicure.

   Madame Defarge cast down her ys, and reflectd a litl.

   "Th child also," observd Jaques Thre, with a meditativ enjoymnt of his words, "has goldn hair and blu ys. And we seldm hav a child ther. It is a pretty syt!"

   "In a word," said Madame Defarge, comng out of her short abstraction, "I canot trust my husbnd in this matr. Not only do I feel, since last nyt, that I dare not confide to him th details of my projects; but also I feel that if I delay, ther is danjer of his givng warnng, and then they myt escape."

   "That must nevr be," croakd Jaques Thre; "no one must escape. We hav not half enuf as it is. We ot to hav six scor a day."

   "In a word," Madame Defarge went on, "my husbnd has not my reasn for pursuing this famly to anihilation, and I hav not his reasn for regardng this Doctr with any sensbility. I must act for myself, therfor. Com hithr, litl citizn."

   Th wood-sawyr, ho held her in th respect, and himself in th submission, of mortl fear, advanced with his hand to his red cap.

   "Tuchng those signls, litl citizn," said Madame Defarge, sternly, "that she made to th prisnrs; u ar redy to ber witness to them this very day?"

   "Y, y, wy not!" cryd th sawyr. "Evry day, in al wethrs, from two to four, always signlng, somtimes with th litl one, somtimes without. I no wat I no. I hav seen with my ys."

   He made al manr of jesturs wile he spoke, as if in incidentl imitation of som few of th gret diversity of signls that he had nevr seen.

   "Clearly plots," said Jaques Thre. "Transparently!"

   "Ther is no dout of th Jury?" inquired Madame Defarge, letng her ys turn to him with a gloomy smile.

   "Rely upon th patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I ansr for my felo- Jurymen."

   "Now, let me se," said Madame Defarge, pondrng again. "Yet once mor! Can I spare this Doctr to my husbnd? I hav no feelng eithr way. Can I spare him?"

   "He wud count as one hed," observd Jaques Thre, in a lo voice. "We realy hav not heds enuf; it wud be a pity, I think."

   "He was signlng with her wen I saw her," argud Madame Defarge;


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"I canot speak of one without th othr; and I must not be silent, and trust th case holy to him, this litl citizn here. For, I am not a bad witness."

   Th Venjnce and Jaques Thre vied with each othr in ther fervnt protestations that she was th most admrbl and marvlus of witnesses. Th litl citizn, not to be outdon, declared her to be a celestial witness.

   "He must take his chance," said Madame Defarge. "No, I canot spare him! U ar engajed at thre oclok; u ar going to se th bach of to-day executed. -- U?"

   Th question was adresd to th wood-sawyr, ho hurridly replyd in th afirmativ: sezing th ocasion to ad that he was th most ardnt of Republicns, and that he wud be in efect th most desolate of Republicns, if anything preventd him from enjoyng th plesur of smoking his aftrnoon pipe in th contmplation of th drol nationl barbr. He was so very demonstrativ herein, that he myt hav been suspectd (perhaps was, by th dark ys that lookd contemtuusly at him out of Madame Defarge's hed) of havng his smal individul fears for his own persnl safety, evry our in th day.

   "I," said madame, "am equaly engajed at th same place. Aftr it is over -- say at eit to-nyt -- com u to me, in Saint Antoine, and we wil giv infrmation against these peple at my Section."

   Th wood-sawyr said he wud be proud and flatrd to atend th citizeness. Th citizeness lookng at him, he became embarasd, evaded her glance as a smal dog wud hav don, retreatd among his wood, and hid his confusion over th handl of his saw.

   Madame Defarge beknd th Juryman and Th Venjnce a litl nearr to th dor, and ther expoundd her furthr vews to them thus:

   "She wil now be at home, awaitng th moment of his deth. She wil be mornng and greving. She wil be in a state of mind to impeach th justice of th Republic. She wil be ful of sympathy with its enmis. I wil go to her."

   "Wat an admrbl womn; wat an adorabl womn!" exclaimd Jaques Thre, rapturusly. "Ah, my cherishd!" cryd Th Venjnce; and embraced her.

   "Take u my nitng," said Madame Defarge, placing it in her lieutenant's hands, "and hav it redy for me in my usul seat. Keep me my usul chair. Go u ther, strait, for ther wil probbly be a gretr concorse than usul, to-day."


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   "I wilngly obey th ordrs of my Chief," said Th Venjnce with alacrity, and kisng her cheek. "U wil not be late?"

   "I shal be ther befor th comencemnt."

   "And befor th tumbrels arive. Be sure u ar ther, my sol," said Th Venjnce, calng aftr her, for she had alredy turnd into th street, "befor th tumbrils arive!"

   Madame Defarge slytly waved her hand, to imply that she herd, and myt be relyd upon to arive in good time, and so went thru th mud, and round th cornr of th prisn wal. Th Venjnce and th Juryman, lookng aftr her as she walkd away, wer hyly apreciativ of her fine figr, and her superb moral endowmnts.

   Ther wer many women at that time, upon hom th time laid a dredfuly disfigrng hand; but, ther was not one among them mor to be dredd than this ruthless womn, now taking her way along th streets. Of a strong and fearless caractr, of shrewd sense and rediness, of gret determnation, of that kind of buty wich not only seems to impart to its posesr firmness and anmosity, but to strike into othrs an instinctiv recognition of those qualitis; th trubld time wud hav heved her up, undr any circmstnces. But, imbud from her childhood with a broodng sense of rong, and an invetrat hatred of a class, oprtunity had developd her into a tigress. She was abslutely without pity. If she had evr had th virtu in her, it had quite gon out of her.

   It was nothing to her, that an inocent man was to die for th sins of his forfathrs; she saw, not him, but them. It was nothing to her, that his wife was to be made a wido and his dautr an orfn; that was insuficient punishmnt, because they wer her natrl enmis and her prey, and as such had no ryt to liv. To apeal to her, was made hopeless by her havng no sense of pity, even for herself. If she had been laid lo in th streets, in any of th many encountrs in wich she had been engajed, she wud not hav pitid herself; nor, if she had been ordrd to th ax to-moro, wud she hav gon to it with any softr feelng than a fierce desire to chanje places with th man ho sent here ther.

   Such a hart Madame Defarge carrid undr her ruf robe. Carelesly worn, it was a becomng robe enuf, in a certn weird way, and her dark hair lookd rich undr her corse red cap. Lyng hidn in her bosm, was a loadd pistl. Lyng hidn at her waist, was a sharpnd dagr. Thus accoutred, and walkng with th confidnt tred of such a caractr, and with th supl fredm of a womn ho had habituly


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walkd in her girlhood, bare-foot and bare-leged, on th brown se- sand, Madame Defarge took her way along th streets.

   Now, wen th jurny of th travlng coach, at that very moment waitng for th completion of its load, had been pland out last nyt, th dificlty of taking Miss Pross in it had much engajed Mr. Lorry's atention. It was not merely desirebl to avoid overloadng th coach, but it was of th hyest importnce that th time ocupyd in examnng it and its pasnjrs, shud be reduced to th utmost; since ther escape myt depend on th saving of only a few secnds here and ther. Finaly, he had proposed, aftr anxius considration, that Miss Pross and Jerry, ho wer at librty to leve th city, shud leve it at thre oclok in th lytst-weeld conveynce nown to that period. Unencumbrd with lugaj, they wud soon overtake th coach, and, pasng it and preceding it on th road, wud ordr its horses in advance, and gretly facilitate its progress during th precius ours of th nyt, wen delay was th most to be dredd.

   Seing in this aranjemnt th hope of rendrng real service in that presng emerjncy, Miss Pross haild it with joy. She and Jerry had beheld th coach start, had nown ho it was that Solomn brot, had pasd som ten minuts in torturs of suspense, and wer now concluding ther aranjemnts to folo th coach, even as Madame Defarge, taking her way thru th streets, now drew nearr and nearr to th else-desertd lojng in wich they held ther consltation.

   "Now wat do u think, Mr. Cruncher," said Miss Pross, hos ajitation was so gret that she cud hardly speak, or stand, or move, or liv: "wat do u think of our not startng from this cortyard? Anothr carrij havng alredy gon from here to-day, it myt awaken suspicion."

   "My opinion, miss," returnd Mr. Cruncher, "is as u'r ryt. Likewise wot I'l stand by u, ryt or rong."

   "I am so distractd with fear and hope for our precius creaturs," said Miss Pross, wildly cryng, "that I am incapabl of formng any plan. Ar u capabl of formng any plan, my dear good Mr. Cruncher?"

   "Respectin' a futur spear o' life, miss," returnd Mr. Cruncher, "I hope so. Respectin' any presnt use o' this here blesd old hed o' mind, I think not. Wud u do me th favor, miss, to take notice o' two promises and wows wot it is my wishs fur to record in this here crisis?"

   "O, for gracius sake!" cryd Miss Pross, stil wildly cryng, "record them at once, and get them out of th way, like an exlnt man."


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   "First," said Mr. Cruncher, ho was al in a trembl, and ho spoke with an ashy and solem visaj, "them poor things wel out o' this, nevr no mor wil I do it, nevr no mor!"

   "I am quite sure, Mr. Cruncher," returnd Miss Pross, "that u nevr wil do it again, watevr it is, and I beg u not to think it necesry to mention mor particulrly wat it is."

   "No, miss," returnd Jerry, "it shal not be named to u. Secnd: them poor things wel out o' this, and nevr no mor wil I intrfere with Mrs. Cruncher's flopng, nevr no mor!"

   "Watevr houskeepng aranjemnt that may be," said Miss Pross, striving to dry her ys and compose herself, "I hav no dout it is best that Mrs. Cruncher shud hav it entirely undr her own superintendence. -- O my poor darlngs!"

   "I go so far as to say, miss, morover," proceedd Mr. Cruncher, with a most alarmng tendncy to hold forth as from a pulpit -- "and let my words be took down and took to Mrs. Cruncher thru yrself -- that wot my opinions respectin' flopng has undrgon a chanje, and that wot I only hope with al my hart as Mrs. Cruncher may be a flopng at th presnt time."

   "Ther, ther, ther! I hope she is, my dear man," cryd th distractd Miss Pross, "and I hope she finds it ansrng her expectations."

   "Forbid it," proceedd Mr. Cruncher, with aditionl solemnity, aditionl sloness, and aditionl tendncy to hold forth and hold out, "as anything wot I hav evr said or don shud be wisited on my ernest wishs for them poor creeturs now! Forbid it as we shudnt al flop (if it was anyways conwenient) to get 'em out o' this here disml risk! Forbid it, miss! Wot I say, for-BID it!" This was Mr. Cruncher's conclusion aftr a protractd but vain endevr to find a betr one.

   And stil Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along th streets, came nearr and nearr.

   "If we evr get bak to our nativ land," said Miss Pross, "u may rely upon my telng Mrs. Cruncher as much as I may be able to remembr and undrstand of wat u hav so impressivly said; and at al events u may be sure that I shal ber witness to yr being thoroly in ernest at this dredful time. Now, pray let us think! My esteemd Mr. Cruncher, let us think!"

   Stil, Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along th streets, came nearr and nearr.

   "If u wer to go befor," said Miss Pross, "and stop th vehicl and


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horses from comng here, and wer to wait somwher for me; wudnt that be best?"

   Mr. Cruncher thot it myt be best.

   "Wher cud u wait for me?" askd Miss Pross.

   Mr. Cruncher was so bewildrd that he cud think of no locality but Templ Bar. Alas! Templ Bar was hundreds of miles away, and Madame Defarge was drawng very near indeed.

   "By th cathedral dor," said Miss Pross. "Wud it be much out of th way, to take me in, near th gret cathedral dor between th two towrs?"

   "No, miss," ansrd Mr. Cruncher.

   "Then, like th best of men," said Miss Pross, "go to th postng-house strait, and make that chanje."

   "I am doutful," said Mr. Cruncher, hesitating and shaking his hed, "about leving of u, u se. We dont no wat may hapn."

   "Hevn nos we dont," returnd Miss Pross, "but hav no fear for me. Take me in at th cathedral, at Thre oclok, or as near it as u can, and I am sure it wil be betr than our going from here. I feel certn of it. Ther! Bless u, Mr. Cruncher! Think -- not of me, but of th lives that may depend on both of us!"

   This exordium, and Miss Pross's two hands in quite agnized entreaty claspng his, decided Mr. Cruncher. With an encurajng nod or two, he imediatly went out to altr th aranjemnts, and left her by herself to folo as she had proposed.

   Th havng orijnated a precaution wich was alredy in corse of execution, was a gret relief to Miss Pross. Th necessity of composing her apearnce so that it shud atract no special notice in th streets, was anothr relief. She lookd at her wach, and it was twenty minuts past two. She had no time to lose, but must get redy at once.

   Afraid, in her extreme pertrbation, of th loneliness of th desertd rooms, and of half-imajnd faces peepng from behind evry open dor in them, Miss Pross got a basin of cold watr and began laving her ys, wich wer swolen and red. Hauntd by her feverish aprehensions, she cud not ber to hav her syt obscured for a minut at a time by th dripng watr, but constntly pausd and lookd round to se that ther was no one wachng her. In one of those pauses she recoild and cryd out, for she saw a figr standng in th room.

   Th basin fel to th ground broken, and th watr floed to th feet


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of Madame Defarge. By stranje stem ways, and thru much stainng blod, those feet had com to meet that watr.

   Madame Defarge lookd coldly at her, and said, "Th wife of Evrémond; wher is she?"

   It flashd upon Miss Pross's mind that th dors wer al standng open, and wud sujest th flyt. Her first act was to shut them. Ther wer four in th room, and she shut them al. She then placed herself befor th dor of th chamber wich Lucie had ocupyd.

   Madame Defarge's dark ys folod her thru this rapid movemnt, and restd on her wen it was finishd. Miss Pross had nothing butiful about her; years had not tamed th wildness, or sofnd th grimness, of her apearnce; but, she too was a determnd womn in her difrnt way, and she mesurd Madame Defarge with her ys, evry inch.

   "U myt, from yr apearnce, be th wife of Lucifr," said Miss Pross, in her brething. "Nevrthless, u shal not get th betr of me. I am an Englishwoman."

   Madame Defarge lookd at her scornfuly, but stil with somthing of Miss Pross's own perception that they two wer at bay. She saw a tyt, hard, wiry womn befor her, as Mr. Lorry had seen in th same figr a womn with a strong hand, in th years gon by. She new ful wel that Miss Pross was th family's devoted frend; Miss Pross new ful wel that Madame Defarge was th family's malevlnt enmy.

   "On my way yondr," said Madame Defarge, with a slyt movemnt of her hand towards th fatal spot, "wher they reserv my chair and my nitng for me, I am com to make my complmnts to her in pasng. I wish to se her."

   "I no that yr intentions ar evil," said Miss Pross, "and u may depend upon it, I'l hold my own against them."

   Each spoke in her own languaj; neithr undrstood th other's words; both wer very wachful, and intent to deduce from look and manr, wat th unintelijbl words ment.

   "It wil do her no good to keep herself conceald from me at this moment," said Madame Defarge. "Good patriots wil no wat that means. Let me se her. Go tel her that I wish to se her. Do u hear?"

   "If those ys of yrs wer bed-winches," returnd Miss Pross, "and I was an English four-postr, they shudnt loose a splintr of me. No, u wiked foren womn; I am yr mach."

   Madame Defarge was not likely to folo these idiomatic remarks in


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detail; but, she so far undrstood them as to perceve that she was set at naut.

   "Womn imbecile and pig-like!" said Madame Defarge, frownng. "I take no ansr from u. I demand to se her. Eithr tel her that I demand to se her, or stand out of th way of th dor and let me go to her!" This, with an angry explanatry wave of her ryt arm.

   "I litl thot," said Miss Pross, "that I shud evr want to undrstand yr nonsensicl languaj; but I wud giv al I hav, exept th clothes I wer, to no wethr u suspect th truth, or any part of it."

   Neithr of them for a singl moment relesed th other's ys. Madame Defarge had not moved from th spot wher she stood wen Miss Pross first became aware of her; but, she now advanced one step.

   "I am a Britn," said Miss Pross, "I am desprat. I dont care an English Twopnce for myself. I no that th longr I keep u here, th gretr hope ther is for my Ladybird. I'l not leve a handful of that dark hair upon yr hed, if u lay a fingr on me!"

   Thus Miss Pross, with a shake of her hed and a flash of her ys between evry rapid sentnce, and evry rapid sentnce a hole breth. Thus Miss Pross, ho had nevr struk a blo in her life.

   But, her curaj was of that emotionl natur that it brot th irepresbl tears into her ys. This was a curaj that Madame Defarge so litl comprehendd as to mistake for weakness. "Ha, ha!" she lafd, "u poor rech! Wat ar u worth! I adress myself to that Doctr." Then she rased her voice and cald out, "Citizn Doctr! Wife of Evrémond! Child of Evrémond! Any persn but this misrbl fool, ansr th Citizeness Defarge!"

   Perhaps th foloing silence, perhaps som latent disclosur in th expression of Miss Pross's face, perhaps a sudn misgivng apart from eithr sujestion, wisprd to Madame Defarge that they wer gon. Thre of th dors she opend swiftly, and lookd in.

   "Those rooms ar al in disordr, ther has been hurrid pakng, ther ar ods and ends upon th ground. Ther is no one in that room behind u! Let me look."

   "Nevr!" said Miss Pross, ho undrstood th request as perfectly as Madame Defarge undrstood th ansr.

   "If they ar not in that room, they ar gon, and can be pursud and brot bak," said Madame Defarge to herself.

   "As long as u dont no wethr they ar in that room or not, u ar uncertn wat to do," said Miss Pross to herself; "and u shal not


Paje 344

no that, if I can prevent yr noing it; and no that, or not no that, u shal not leve here wile I can hold u."

   "I hav been in th streets from th first, nothing has stopd me, I wil ter u to peces, but I wil hav u from that dor," said Madame Defarge.

   "We ar alone at th top of a hy house in a solitry cortyard, we ar not likely to be herd, and I pray for bodily strength to keep u here, wile evry minut u ar here is worth a hundred thousnd gineas to my darlng," said Miss Pross.

   Madame Defarge made at th dor. Miss Pross, on th instinct of th moment, sezed her round th waist in both her arms, and held her tyt. It was in vain for Madame Defarge to strugl and to strike; Miss Pross, with th vigrus tenacity of lov, always so much strongr than hate, claspd her tyt, and even liftd her from th flor in th strugl that they had. Th two hands of Madame Defarge bufetd and tor her face; but, Miss Pross, with her hed down, held her round th waist, and clung to her with mor than th hold of a drownng womn.

   Soon, Madame Defarge's hands cesed to strike, and felt at her encircld waist. "It is undr my arm," said Miss Pross, in smothrd tones, "u shal not draw it. I am strongr than u, I bless Hevn for it. I hold u til one or othr of us faints or dies!"

   Madame Defarge's hands wer at her bosm. Miss Pross lookd up, saw wat it was, struk at it, struk out a flash and a crash, and stood alone -- blindd with smoke.

   Al this was in a secnd. As th smoke cleard, leving an awful stilness, it pasd out on th air, like th sol of th furius womn hos body lay lifeless on th ground.

   In th first fryt and horr of her situation, Miss Pross pasd th body as far from it as she cud, and ran down th stairs to cal for fruitless help. Happily, she bethought herself of th consequences of wat she did, in time to chek herself and go bak. It was dredful to go in at th dor again; but, she did go in, and even went near it, to get th bonet and othr things that she must wer. These she put on, out on th staircase, first shutng and lokng th dor and taking away th ke. She then sat down on th stairs a few moments to brethe and to cry, and then got up and hurrid away.

   By good fortune she had a veil on her bonet, or she cud hardly hav gon along th streets without being stopd. By good fortune, too, she was natrly so peculir in apearnce as not to sho disfigrmnt


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like any othr womn. She needd both advantajs, for th marks of griping fingrs wer deep in her face, and her hair was tom, and her dress (hastily composed with unstedy hands) was cluchd and dragd a hundred ways.

   In crosng th brij, she dropd th dor ke in th rivr. Ariving at th cathedral som few minuts befor her escort, and waitng ther, she thot, wat if th ke wer alredy taken in a net, wat if it wer identifyd, wat if th dor wer opend and th remains discovrd, wat if she wer stopd at th gate, sent to prisn, and charjd with murdr! In th midst of these flutrng thots, th escort apeard, took her in, and took her away.

   "Is ther any noise in th streets?" she askd him.

   "Th usul noises," Mr. Cruncher replyd; and lookd surprised by th question and by her aspect.

   "I dont hear u," said Miss Pross. "Wat do u say?"

   It was in vain for Mr. Cruncher to repeat wat he said; Miss Pross cud not hear him. "So I'l nod my hed," thot Mr. Cruncher, amazed, "at al events she'l se that." And she did.

   "Is ther any noise in th streets now?" askd Miss Pross again, presntly.

   Again Mr. Cruncher nodd his hed.

   "I dont hear it."

   "Gon def in an our?" said Mr. Cruncher, ruminating, with his mind much disturbd; "wot's com to her?"

   "I feel," said Miss Pross, "as if ther had been a flash and a crash, and that crash was th last thing I shud evr hear in this life."

   "Blest if she aint in a queer condition!" said Mr. Cruncher, mor and mor disturbd. "Wot can she hav been a takin', to keep her curaj up? Hark! Ther's th rol of them dredful carts! U can hear that, miss?"

   "I can hear," said Miss Pross, seing that he spoke to her, "nothing. O, my good man, ther was first a gret crash, and then a gret stilness, and that stilness seems to be fixd and unchangeable, nevr to be broken any mor as long as my life lasts."

   "If she dont hear th rol of those dredful carts, now very ny ther journey's end," said Mr. Cruncher, glancing over his sholdr, "it's my opinion that indeed she nevr wil hear anything else in this world."

   And indeed she nevr did.


Paje 346

TH FOOTSTEPS DIE OUT FOR EVR

   ALONG TH PARIS STREETS, th deth-carts rumbl, holo and harsh. Six tumbrils carry th day's wine to La Gilotine. Al th devourng and insatiate Monstrs imajnd since imajnation cud record itself, ar fused in th one realization, Gilotine. And yet ther is not in France, with its rich variety of soil and climat, a blade, a leaf, a root, a sprig, a peppercorn, wich wil gro to maturity undr conditions mor certn than those that hav produced this horr. Crush humanity out of shape once mor, undr simlr hamrs, and it wil twist itself into th same torturd forms. So th same seed of rapacius license and opression over again, and it wil surely yield th same fruit acordng to its kind.

   Six tumbrils rol along th streets. Chanje these bak again to wat they wer, thou powrful enchanter, Time, and they shal be seen to be th carrijs of abslute monrcs, th equipages of feudl nobles, th toilettes of flaring Jezebels, th churchs that ar not my father's house but dens of theves, th huts of milions of starvng pesnts! No; th gret majician ho majesticly works out th apointd ordr of th Creator, nevr reverses his transfrmations. "If thou be chanjed into this shape by th wil of God," say th seers to th enchantd, in th wise Arabian storis, "then remain so! But, if thou wer this form thru mere pasng conjuration, then resume thy formr aspect!" Chanjeless and hopeless, th tumbrels rol along.

   As th sombr weels of th six carts go round, they seem to plow up a long crooked furo among th populace in th streets. Rijs of faces ar thrown to this side and to that, and th plows go stedily


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onwrd. So used ar th regulr inhabitnts of th houses to th spectacl, that in many windos ther ar no peple, and in som th ocupation of th hands is not so much as suspendd, wile th ys survey th faces in th tumbrels. Here and ther, th inmate has visitrs to se th syt; then he points his fingr, with somthing of th complacency of a curator or authrized exponent, to this cart and to this, and seems to tel ho sat here yestrday, and ho ther th day befor.

   Of th riders in th tumbrels, som observ these things, and al things on ther last roadside, with an impassiv stare; othrs, with a lingrng intrest in th ways of life and men. Som, seatd with droopng heds, ar sunk in silent despair; again, ther ar som so heedful of ther looks that they cast upon th multitude such glances as they hav seen in theatrs, and in picturs. Sevrl close ther ys, and think, or try to get ther strayng thots togethr. Only one, and he a misrbl creatur, of a crazed aspect, is so shatrd and made drunk by horr, that he sings, and trys to dance. Not one of th hole numbr apeals by look or jestur, to th pity of th peple.

   Ther is a gard of sundry horsmen riding abrest of th tumbrels, and faces ar ofn turnd up to som of them, and they ar askd som question. It wud seem to be always th same question, for, it is always folod by a press of peple towards th third cart. Th horsmen abrest of that cart, frequently point out one man in it with ther sords. Th leadng curiosity is, to no wich is he; he stands at th bak of th tumbrel with his hed bent down, to converse with a mere girl ho sits on th side of th cart, and holds his hand. He has no curiosity or care for th sene about him, and always speaks to th girl. Here and ther in th long street of St. Honore, crys ar rased against him. If they move him at al, it is only to a quiet smile, as he shakes his hair a litl mor loosly about his face. He canot esily tuch his face, his arms being bound.

   On th steps of a church, awaitng th comng-up of th tumbrels, stands th Spy and prisn-sheep. He looks into th first of them: not ther. He looks into th secnd: not ther. He alredy asks himself, "Has he sacrificed me?" wen his face clears, as he looks into th third.

   "Wich is Evrémond?" says a man behind him.

   "That. At th bak ther."

   "With his hand in th girl's?"

   "Yes."


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   Th man crys, "Down, Evrémond! To th Gilotine al aristocrats! Down, Evrémond!"

   "Hush, hush!" th Spy entreats him, timidly.

   "And wy not, citizn?"

   "He is going to pay th forfit: it wil be paid in five minuts mor. Let him be at pece."

   But th man continuing to exclaim, "Down, Evrémond!" th face of Evrémond is for a moment turnd towards him. Evrémond then ses th Spy, and looks atentivly at him, and gos his way.

   Th cloks ar on th stroke of thre, and th furo plowd among th populace is turnng round, to com on into th place of execution, and end. Th rijs thrown to this side and to that, now crumbl in and close behind th last plow as it passes on, for al ar foloing to th Gilotine. In front of it, seatd in chairs, as in a gardn of public diversion, ar a numbr of women, busily nitng. On one of th formost chairs, stands Th Venjnce, lookng about for her frend.

   "Therese!" she crys, in her shril tones. "Ho has seen her? Therese Defarge!"

   "She nevr misd befor," says a nitng-womn of th sistrhood.

   "No; nor wil she miss now," crys Th Venjnce, petulantly. "Therese."

   "Loudr," th womn recmends.

   Y! Loudr, Venjnce, much loudr, and stil she wil scarcely hear thee. Loudr yet, Venjnce, with a litl oath or so add, and yet it wil hardly bring her. Send othr women up and down to seek her, lingrng somwher; and yet, altho th mesnjrs hav don dred deeds, it is questionbl wethr of ther own wils they wil go far enuf to find her!

   "Bad Fortune!" crys Th Venjnce, stampng her foot in th chair, "and here ar th tumbrils! And Evrémond wil be despachd in a wink, and she not here! Se her nitng in my hand, and her emty chair redy for her. I cry with vexation and disapointmnt!"

   As Th Venjnce desends from her elevation to do it, th tumbrels begin to discharj ther loads. Th ministrs of Sainte Gilotine ar robed and redy. Crash! -- A hed is held up, and th nitng-women ho scarcely liftd ther ys to look at it a moment ago wen it cud think and speak, count One.

   Th secnd tumbril emtis and moves on; th third coms up. Crash!


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    -- And th nitng-women, nevr faltrng or pausng in ther Work, count Two.

   Th suposed Evrémond desends, and th seamstress is liftd out next aftr him. He has not relinquishd her patient hand in getng out, but stil holds it as he promisd. He jently places her with her bak to th crashng enjn that constntly whirrs up and fals, and she looks into his face and thanks him.

   "But for u, dear stranjer, I shud not be so composed, for I am natrly a poor litl thing, faint of hart; nor shud I hav been able to rase my thots to Him ho was put to deth, that we myt hav hope and comfrt here to-day. I think u wer sent to me by Hevn."

   "Or u to me," says Sydny Cartn. "Keep yr ys upon me, dear child, and mind no othr object."

   "I mind nothing wile I hold yr hand. I shal mind nothing wen I let it go, if they ar rapid."

   "They wil be rapid. Fear not!"

   Th two stand in th fast-thinng throng of victms, but they speak as if they wer alone. Y to y, voice to voice, hand to hand, hart to hart, these two children of th Universl Mothr, else so wide apart and difrng, hav com togethr on th dark hyway, to repair home togethr, and to rest in her bosm.

   "Brave and jenrus frend, wil u let me ask u one last question? I am very ignrnt, and it trubls me -- just a litl."

   "Tel me wat it is."

   "I hav a cusn, an only relativ and an orfn, like myself, hom I lov very dearly. She is five years yungr than I, and she lives in a farmer's house in th south cuntry. Povrty partd us, and she nos nothing of my fate -- for I canot rite -- and if I cud, how shud I tel her! It is betr as it is."

   "Yes, yes: betr as it is."

   "Wat I hav been thinkng as we came along, and wat I am stil thinkng now, as I look into yr kind strong face wich givs me so much suport, is this: -- If th Republic realy dos good to th poor, and they com to be less hungry, and in al ways to sufr less, she may liv a long time: she may even liv to be old."

   "Wat then, my jentl sistr?"

   "Do u think:" th uncomplainng ys in wich ther is so much endurance, fil with tears, and th lips part a litl mor and trembl:


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"that it wil seem long to me, wile I wait for her in th betr land wher I trust both u and I wil be mercifuly sheltrd?"

   "It canot be, my child; ther is no Time ther, and no trubl ther."

   "U comfrt me so much! I am so ignrnt. Am I to kiss u now? Is th moment com?"

   "Yes."

   She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemly bless each othr. Th spare hand dos not trembl as he releses it; nothing worse than a sweet, bryt constncy is in th patient face. She gos next befor him -- is gon; th nitng-women count Twenty-Two.

   "I am th Resrection and th Life, saith th Lord: he that believeth in me, tho he wer ded, yet shal he liv: and hosoevr liveth and believeth in me shal nevr die."

   Th murmrng of many voices, th upturning of many faces, th presng on of many footsteps in th outskirts of th crowd, so that it swels forwrd in a mass, like one gret heve of watr, al flashs away. Twenty-Thre.

   They said of him, about th city that nyt, that it was th peacefullest man's face evr beheld ther. Many add that he lookd sublime and profetic.

   One of th most remarkbl sufrrs by th same ax -- a womn -- had askd at th foot of th same scafld, not long befor, to be alowd to rite down th thots that wer inspiring her. If he had givn any utrnce to his, and they wer profetic, they wud hav been these:

   "I se Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, Th Venjnce, th Juryman, th Juj, long ranks of th new opresrs ho hav risn on th destruction of th old, perishng by this retributive instrumnt, befor it shal cese out of its presnt use. I se a butiful city and a briliant peple rising from this abyss, and, in ther strugls to be truly fre, in ther triumfs and defeats, thru tong long years to com, I se th evil of this time and of th previus time of wich this is th natrl birth, graduly making expiation for itself and werng out.

   "I se th lives for wich I lay down my life, peceful, useful, prosprus and happy, in that England wich I shal se no mor. I se Her with a child upon her bosm, ho bers my name. I se her fathr, ajed and bent, but othrwise restord, and faithful to al men in his healng ofice, and at pece. I se th good old man, so long ther frend,


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in ten years' time enrichng them with al he has, and pasng tranquilly to his reward.

   "I se that I hold a sanctury in ther harts, and in th harts of ther desendnts, jenrations hence. I se her, an old womn, weepng for me on th aniversry of this day. I se her and her husbnd, ther corse don, lyng side by side in ther last erthly bed, and I no that each was not mor onrd and held sacred in th other's sol, than I was in th sols of both.

   "I se that child ho lay upon her bosm and ho bor my name, a man winng his way up in that path of life wich once was mine. I se him winng it so wel, that my name is made ilustrius ther by th lyt of his. I se th blots I threw upon it, faded away. I se him, formost of just jujs and onrd men, bringng a boy of my name, with a forhed that I no and goldn hair, to this place -- then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigrmnt -- and I hear him tel th child my story, with a tendr and a faltrng voice.

   "It is a far, far betr thing that I do, than I hav evr don; it is a far, far betr rest that I go to than I hav evr nown."



TH END.