Paradise Lost by John Milton - Free Ebook
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Paradise Lost
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你可能喜欢A Tale of Two Citis
A Tale of Two Citis
Charls Centr, University of Virjinia Libry
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A Tale of Two Citis
Dickens, Charls
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About th print version
A Tale of Two Citis
Charls Dickens
Nelson Doubleday
Gardn City,
&&&Prepared for th University of Virjinia Libry Electronic Text Centr.
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Publishd: 1859
Revisions to th electronic version
May 1996 corrector Cathrin Tousignant Updated Tei Header, made th foloing chanjes: Header revision description: ambigous] Paje 77, para. 6: acknowedgment] thruout th text: Evremonde] Evr&mond.
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etext@virjinia.edu. Com al usaj govrnd by our Conditions of Use: html
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NELSON DOUBLEDAY, INC.
Gardn City, New York
Printd in th United States of
BOOK TH FIRST -- RECALD TO
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
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
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
BOOK TH FIRST -- RECALD TO
&&&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 E 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:
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 ca famlis wer publicly cautiond not to go out of town without removing ther furnitur to upholsterers' war 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 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
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 prisnrs in Londn jails fot batls with ther turnkeys, and th majesty
of th law fired blunderbusses in among them, loadd with ro theves snipd off diamnd crosses from th neks of noble lords at Cort drawng- 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 now, stringng up long ros
now, hangng a housebreaker on Satrday ho had been taken on T now, burnng peple in th hand at Newgate by th dozn, and now burnng pamflets at th dor of Westminstr H 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.
&&&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 re 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 R 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
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 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
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 n 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
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, th two othr pasnjrs wer close behind him, and about to folo. He remaind on th step, half in th c 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 enu 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?"
&&&"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. "H 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
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- 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.
&&&"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 enc that evry room in evry one of them enc 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, 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
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 lu 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
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.
&&&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
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, 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."
&&&"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."
&&&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 t 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.
&&&"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 n 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
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.
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 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, 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
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
r 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 a 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, 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."
&&&"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
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, in th bankng busness we usuly cal our conection our custmrs. He was a F
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, 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 cor in short, I I am a mere machine. To go on -- "
&&&"But this is my father's story, 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
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 if Mosier M if he had sudnly an if he h if it had not been dificlt to gess to wat dredful place, tho
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, for instnce, th privlej of filng up blank forms for th consynmnt of any one to th oblivion of a prisn fo if his wife had implord th king, th queen, th cort, th clerjy, for any tidings of him,
-- 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 -- "
&&&"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 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
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 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, almost a rek, 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
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 fo his own, long forgotn or long conceald. It wud be worse than useless 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 L' 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, 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 l 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.)
&&&"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. L 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.
TH WINE-SHOP
&&&A LARJ CASK of wine had been dropd and broken, in th street. Th accidnt had hapnd in ge 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 dam 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' othrs made smal mud-embankmnts, to st othrs, directd by lookers-on up at hy windos, dartd here and ther, to cut off litl streams of wine that startd aw 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,
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, se 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, men with bare arms, matd loks, and cadavrus faces, ho had emerjd into th wintr lyt from celrs, moved away, 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 re 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
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
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 g th
children had ancient fa 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
Hungr was pachd into them with straw and ra Hungr was repeatd in evry fragmnt of th smal modicm of firewood
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 sca at th sausaj-shop, in evry ded-dog prepration that was ofrd for sale. Hungr ratld its dry bones among th roastng chesnuts 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 n nor compresd lips, wite w 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 le 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,
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 at nyt, wen th lamplighter had let these down, and lytd, and hoistd them
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
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, 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 t 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.
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, evidntly a man of a strong reslut 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 D "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,
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
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
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.
&&&"I 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?"
&&&"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