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From t..@apache.org
Subject [1/2] apex-malhar git commit: APEXMALHAR-2215 #resolve replace Gutenberg content with Apache web site content because of license concern
Date Tue, 30 Aug 2016 22:10:44 GMT
Repository: apex-malhar
Updated Branches:
  refs/heads/release-3.5 833cbc251 -> e80cfe199


http://git-wip-us.apache.org/repos/asf/apex-malhar/blob/e80cfe19/library/src/test/resources/wordcount.txt
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-´╗┐The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: A Tale of Two Cities
-       A Story of the French Revolution
-
-Author: Charles Dickens
-
-Release Date: January, 1994 [EBook #98]
-Posting Date: November 28, 2009
-[Last updated: November 27, 2013]
-
-Language: English
-
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF TWO CITIES ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Judith Boss
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-A TALE OF TWO CITIES
-
-A STORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
-
-By Charles Dickens
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-
-     Book the First--Recalled to Life
-
-     Chapter I      The Period
-     Chapter II     The Mail
-     Chapter III    The Night Shadows
-     Chapter IV     The Preparation
-     Chapter V      The Wine-shop
-     Chapter VI     The Shoemaker
-
-
-     Book the Second--the Golden Thread
-
-     Chapter I      Five Years Later
-     Chapter II     A Sight
-     Chapter III    A Disappointment
-     Chapter IV     Congratulatory
-     Chapter V      The Jackal
-     Chapter VI     Hundreds of People
-     Chapter VII    Monseigneur in Town
-     Chapter VIII   Monseigneur in the Country
-     Chapter IX     The Gorgon's Head
-     Chapter X      Two Promises
-     Chapter XI     A Companion Picture
-     Chapter XII    The Fellow of Delicacy
-     Chapter XIII   The Fellow of no Delicacy
-     Chapter XIV    The Honest Tradesman
-     Chapter XV     Knitting
-     Chapter XVI    Still Knitting
-     Chapter XVII   One Night
-     Chapter XVIII  Nine Days
-     Chapter XIX    An Opinion
-     Chapter XX     A Plea
-     Chapter XXI    Echoing Footsteps
-     Chapter XXII   The Sea Still Rises
-     Chapter XXIII  Fire Rises
-     Chapter XXIV   Drawn to the Loadstone Rock
-
-
-     Book the Third--the Track of a Storm
-
-     Chapter I      In Secret
-     Chapter II     The Grindstone
-     Chapter III    The Shadow
-     Chapter IV     Calm in Storm
-     Chapter V      The Wood-sawyer
-     Chapter VI     Triumph
-     Chapter VII    A Knock at the Door
-     Chapter VIII   A Hand at Cards
-     Chapter IX     The Game Made
-     Chapter X      The Substance of the Shadow
-     Chapter XI     Dusk
-     Chapter XII    Darkness
-     Chapter XIII   Fifty-two
-     Chapter XIV    The Knitting Done
-     Chapter XV     The Footsteps Die Out For Ever
-
-
-
-
-
-Book the First--Recalled to Life
-
-
-
-
-I. The Period
-
-
-It was the best of times,
-it was the worst of times,
-it was the age of wisdom,
-it was the age of foolishness,
-it was the epoch of belief,
-it was the epoch of incredulity,
-it was the season of Light,
-it was the season of Darkness,
-it was the spring of hope,
-it was the winter of despair,
-we had everything before us,
-we had nothing before us,
-we were all going direct to Heaven,
-we were all going direct the other way--
-in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of
-its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for
-evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
-
-There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the
-throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with
-a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer
-than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes,
-that things in general were settled for ever.
-
-It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five.
-Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period,
-as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth
-blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had
-heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were
-made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane
-ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its
-messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally
-deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the
-earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People,
-from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange
-to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any
-communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane
-brood.
-
-France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her
-sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down
-hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her
-Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane
-achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue
-torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not
-kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks
-which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty
-yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and
-Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death,
-already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into
-boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in
-it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses
-of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were
-sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with
-rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which
-the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of
-the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work
-unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about
-with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion
-that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.
-
-In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to
-justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and
-highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night;
-families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing
-their furniture to upholsterers' warehouses for security; the highwayman
-in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and
-challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped in his character of
-"the Captain," gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the
-mail was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and
-then got shot dead himself by the other four, "in consequence of the
-failure of his ammunition:" after which the mail was robbed in peace;
-that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand
-and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the
-illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London
-gaols fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law
-fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball;
-thieves snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at
-Court drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles's, to search
-for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the
-musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences
-much out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy
-and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing
-up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker on
-Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in the
-hand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door of
-Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer,
-and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer's boy of
-sixpence.
-
-All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close
-upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five.
-Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded,
-those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the
-fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights
-with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred
-and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small
-creatures--the creatures of this chronicle among the rest--along the
-roads that lay before them.
-
-
-
-
-II. The Mail
-
-
-It was the Dover road that lay, on a Friday night late in November,
-before the first of the persons with whom this history has business.
-The Dover road lay, as to him, beyond the Dover mail, as it lumbered up
-Shooter's Hill. He walked up hill in the mire by the side of the mail,
-as the rest of the passengers did; not because they had the least relish
-for walking exercise, under the circumstances, but because the hill,
-and the harness, and the mud, and the mail, were all so heavy, that the
-horses had three times already come to a stop, besides once drawing the
-coach across the road, with the mutinous intent of taking it back
-to Blackheath. Reins and whip and coachman and guard, however, in
-combination, had read that article of war which forbade a purpose
-otherwise strongly in favour of the argument, that some brute animals
-are endued with Reason; and the team had capitulated and returned to
-their duty.
-
-With drooping heads and tremulous tails, they mashed their way through
-the thick mud, floundering and stumbling between whiles, as if they were
-falling to pieces at the larger joints. As often as the driver rested
-them and brought them to a stand, with a wary "Wo-ho! so-ho-then!" the
-near leader violently shook his head and everything upon it--like an
-unusually emphatic horse, denying that the coach could be got up the
-hill. Whenever the leader made this rattle, the passenger started, as a
-nervous passenger might, and was disturbed in mind.
-
-There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its
-forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding
-none. A clammy and intensely cold mist, it made its slow way through the
-air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the
-waves of an unwholesome sea might do. It was dense enough to shut out
-everything from the light of the coach-lamps but these its own workings,
-and a few yards of road; and the reek of the labouring horses steamed
-into it, as if they had made it all.
-
-Two other passengers, besides the one, were plodding up the hill by the
-side of the mail. All three were wrapped to the cheekbones and over the
-ears, and wore jack-boots. Not one of the three could have said, from
-anything he saw, what either of the other two was like; and each was
-hidden under almost as many wrappers from the eyes of the mind, as from
-the eyes of the body, of his two companions. In those days, travellers
-were very shy of being confidential on a short notice, for anybody on
-the road might be a robber or in league with robbers. As to the latter,
-when every posting-house and ale-house could produce somebody in
-"the Captain's" pay, ranging from the landlord to the lowest stable
-non-descript, it was the likeliest thing upon the cards. So the guard
-of the Dover mail thought to himself, that Friday night in November, one
-thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, lumbering up Shooter's Hill, as
-he stood on his own particular perch behind the mail, beating his feet,
-and keeping an eye and a hand on the arm-chest before him, where a
-loaded blunderbuss lay at the top of six or eight loaded horse-pistols,
-deposited on a substratum of cutlass.
-
-The Dover mail was in its usual genial position that the guard suspected
-the passengers, the passengers suspected one another and the guard, they
-all suspected everybody else, and the coachman was sure of nothing but
-the horses; as to which cattle he could with a clear conscience have
-taken his oath on the two Testaments that they were not fit for the
-journey.
-
-"Wo-ho!" said the coachman. "So, then! One more pull and you're at the
-top and be damned to you, for I have had trouble enough to get you to
-it!--Joe!"
-
-"Halloa!" the guard replied.
-
-"What o'clock do you make it, Joe?"
-
-"Ten minutes, good, past eleven."
-
-"My blood!" ejaculated the vexed coachman, "and not atop of Shooter's
-yet! Tst! Yah! Get on with you!"
-
-The emphatic horse, cut short by the whip in a most decided negative,
-made a decided scramble for it, and the three other horses followed
-suit. Once more, the Dover mail struggled on, with the jack-boots of its
-passengers squashing along by its side. They had stopped when the coach
-stopped, and they kept close company with it. If any one of the three
-had had the hardihood to propose to another to walk on a little ahead
-into the mist and darkness, he would have put himself in a fair way of
-getting shot instantly as a highwayman.
-
-The last burst carried the mail to the summit of the hill. The horses
-stopped to breathe again, and the guard got down to skid the wheel for
-the descent, and open the coach-door to let the passengers in.
-
-"Tst! Joe!" cried the coachman in a warning voice, looking down from his
-box.
-
-"What do you say, Tom?"
-
-They both listened.
-
-"I say a horse at a canter coming up, Joe."
-
-"_I_ say a horse at a gallop, Tom," returned the guard, leaving his hold
-of the door, and mounting nimbly to his place. "Gentlemen! In the king's
-name, all of you!"
-
-With this hurried adjuration, he cocked his blunderbuss, and stood on
-the offensive.
-
-The passenger booked by this history, was on the coach-step, getting in;
-the two other passengers were close behind him, and about to follow. He
-remained on the step, half in the coach and half out of; they remained
-in the road below him. They all looked from the coachman to the guard,
-and from the guard to the coachman, and listened. The coachman looked
-back and the guard looked back, and even the emphatic leader pricked up
-his ears and looked back, without contradicting.
-
-The stillness consequent on the cessation of the rumbling and labouring
-of the coach, added to the stillness of the night, made it very quiet
-indeed. The panting of the horses communicated a tremulous motion to
-the coach, as if it were in a state of agitation. The hearts of the
-passengers beat loud enough perhaps to be heard; but at any rate, the
-quiet pause was audibly expressive of people out of breath, and holding
-the breath, and having the pulses quickened by expectation.
-
-The sound of a horse at a gallop came fast and furiously up the hill.
-
-"So-ho!" the guard sang out, as loud as he could roar. "Yo there! Stand!
-I shall fire!"
-
-The pace was suddenly checked, and, with much splashing and floundering,
-a man's voice called from the mist, "Is that the Dover mail?"
-
-"Never you mind what it is!" the guard retorted. "What are you?"
-
-"_Is_ that the Dover mail?"
-
-"Why do you want to know?"
-
-"I want a passenger, if it is."
-
-"What passenger?"
-
-"Mr. Jarvis Lorry."
-
-Our booked passenger showed in a moment that it was his name. The guard,
-the coachman, and the two other passengers eyed him distrustfully.
-
-"Keep where you are," the guard called to the voice in the mist,
-"because, if I should make a mistake, it could never be set right in
-your lifetime. Gentleman of the name of Lorry answer straight."
-
-"What is the matter?" asked the passenger, then, with mildly quavering
-speech. "Who wants me? Is it Jerry?"
-
-("I don't like Jerry's voice, if it is Jerry," growled the guard to
-himself. "He's hoarser than suits me, is Jerry.")
-
-"Yes, Mr. Lorry."
-
-"What is the matter?"
-
-"A despatch sent after you from over yonder. T. and Co."
-
-"I know this messenger, guard," said Mr. Lorry, getting down into the
-road--assisted from behind more swiftly than politely by the other two
-passengers, who immediately scrambled into the coach, shut the door, and
-pulled up the window. "He may come close; there's nothing wrong."
-
-"I hope there ain't, but I can't make so 'Nation sure of that," said the
-guard, in gruff soliloquy. "Hallo you!"
-
-"Well! And hallo you!" said Jerry, more hoarsely than before.
-
-"Come on at a footpace! d'ye mind me? And if you've got holsters to that
-saddle o' yourn, don't let me see your hand go nigh 'em. For I'm a devil
-at a quick mistake, and when I make one it takes the form of Lead. So
-now let's look at you."
-
-The figures of a horse and rider came slowly through the eddying mist,
-and came to the side of the mail, where the passenger stood. The rider
-stooped, and, casting up his eyes at the guard, handed the passenger
-a small folded paper. The rider's horse was blown, and both horse and
-rider were covered with mud, from the hoofs of the horse to the hat of
-the man.
-
-"Guard!" said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence.
-
-The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raised
-blunderbuss, his left at the barrel, and his eye on the horseman,
-answered curtly, "Sir."
-
-"There is nothing to apprehend. I belong to Tellson's Bank. You must
-know Tellson's Bank in London. I am going to Paris on business. A crown
-to drink. I may read this?"
-
-"If so be as you're quick, sir."
-
-He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and
-read--first to himself and then aloud: "'Wait at Dover for Mam'selle.'
-It's not long, you see, guard. Jerry, say that my answer was, RECALLED
-TO LIFE."
-
-Jerry started in his saddle. "That's a Blazing strange answer, too,"
-said he, at his hoarsest.
-
-"Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as
-well as if I wrote. Make the best of your way. Good night."
-
-With those words the passenger opened the coach-door and got in; not at
-all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted
-their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general
-pretence of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape
-the hazard of originating any other kind of action.
-
-The coach lumbered on again, with heavier wreaths of mist closing round
-it as it began the descent. The guard soon replaced his blunderbuss
-in his arm-chest, and, having looked to the rest of its contents, and
-having looked to the supplementary pistols that he wore in his belt,
-looked to a smaller chest beneath his seat, in which there were a
-few smith's tools, a couple of torches, and a tinder-box. For he was
-furnished with that completeness that if the coach-lamps had been blown
-and stormed out, which did occasionally happen, he had only to shut
-himself up inside, keep the flint and steel sparks well off the straw,
-and get a light with tolerable safety and ease (if he were lucky) in
-five minutes.
-
-"Tom!" softly over the coach roof.
-
-"Hallo, Joe."
-
-"Did you hear the message?"
-
-"I did, Joe."
-
-"What did you make of it, Tom?"
-
-"Nothing at all, Joe."
-
-"That's a coincidence, too," the guard mused, "for I made the same of it
-myself."
-
-Jerry, left alone in the mist and darkness, dismounted meanwhile, not
-only to ease his spent horse, but to wipe the mud from his face, and
-shake the wet out of his hat-brim, which might be capable of
-holding about half a gallon. After standing with the bridle over his
-heavily-splashed arm, until the wheels of the mail were no longer within
-hearing and the night was quite still again, he turned to walk down the
-hill.
-
-"After that there gallop from Temple Bar, old lady, I won't trust your
-fore-legs till I get you on the level," said this hoarse messenger,
-glancing at his mare. "'Recalled to life.' That's a Blazing strange
-message. Much of that wouldn't do for you, Jerry! I say, Jerry! You'd
-be in a Blazing bad way, if recalling to life was to come into fashion,
-Jerry!"
-
-
-
-
-III. The Night Shadows
-
-
-A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is
-constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A
-solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every
-one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every
-room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating
-heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of
-its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it! Something of the
-awfulness, even of Death itself, is referable to this. No more can I
-turn the leaves of this dear book that I loved, and vainly hope in time
-to read it all. No more can I look into the depths of this unfathomable
-water, wherein, as momentary lights glanced into it, I have had glimpses
-of buried treasure and other things submerged. It was appointed that the
-book should shut with a spring, for ever and for ever, when I had read
-but a page. It was appointed that the water should be locked in an
-eternal frost, when the light was playing on its surface, and I stood
-in ignorance on the shore. My friend is dead, my neighbour is dead,
-my love, the darling of my soul, is dead; it is the inexorable
-consolidation and perpetuation of the secret that was always in that
-individuality, and which I shall carry in mine to my life's end. In
-any of the burial-places of this city through which I pass, is there
-a sleeper more inscrutable than its busy inhabitants are, in their
-innermost personality, to me, or than I am to them?
-
-As to this, his natural and not to be alienated inheritance, the
-messenger on horseback had exactly the same possessions as the King, the
-first Minister of State, or the richest merchant in London. So with the
-three passengers shut up in the narrow compass of one lumbering old mail
-coach; they were mysteries to one another, as complete as if each had
-been in his own coach and six, or his own coach and sixty, with the
-breadth of a county between him and the next.
-
-The messenger rode back at an easy trot, stopping pretty often at
-ale-houses by the way to drink, but evincing a tendency to keep his
-own counsel, and to keep his hat cocked over his eyes. He had eyes that
-assorted very well with that decoration, being of a surface black, with
-no depth in the colour or form, and much too near together--as if they
-were afraid of being found out in something, singly, if they kept too
-far apart. They had a sinister expression, under an old cocked-hat like
-a three-cornered spittoon, and over a great muffler for the chin and
-throat, which descended nearly to the wearer's knees. When he stopped
-for drink, he moved this muffler with his left hand, only while he
-poured his liquor in with his right; as soon as that was done, he
-muffled again.
-
-"No, Jerry, no!" said the messenger, harping on one theme as he rode.
-"It wouldn't do for you, Jerry. Jerry, you honest tradesman, it wouldn't
-suit _your_ line of business! Recalled--! Bust me if I don't think he'd
-been a drinking!"
-
-His message perplexed his mind to that degree that he was fain, several
-times, to take off his hat to scratch his head. Except on the crown,
-which was raggedly bald, he had stiff, black hair, standing jaggedly all
-over it, and growing down hill almost to his broad, blunt nose. It was
-so like Smith's work, so much more like the top of a strongly spiked
-wall than a head of hair, that the best of players at leap-frog might
-have declined him, as the most dangerous man in the world to go over.
-
-While he trotted back with the message he was to deliver to the night
-watchman in his box at the door of Tellson's Bank, by Temple Bar, who
-was to deliver it to greater authorities within, the shadows of the
-night took such shapes to him as arose out of the message, and took such
-shapes to the mare as arose out of _her_ private topics of uneasiness.
-They seemed to be numerous, for she shied at every shadow on the road.
-
-What time, the mail-coach lumbered, jolted, rattled, and bumped upon
-its tedious way, with its three fellow-inscrutables inside. To whom,
-likewise, the shadows of the night revealed themselves, in the forms
-their dozing eyes and wandering thoughts suggested.
-
-Tellson's Bank had a run upon it in the mail. As the bank
-passenger--with an arm drawn through the leathern strap, which did what
-lay in it to keep him from pounding against the next passenger,
-and driving him into his corner, whenever the coach got a special
-jolt--nodded in his place, with half-shut eyes, the little
-coach-windows, and the coach-lamp dimly gleaming through them, and the
-bulky bundle of opposite passenger, became the bank, and did a great
-stroke of business. The rattle of the harness was the chink of money,
-and more drafts were honoured in five minutes than even Tellson's, with
-all its foreign and home connection, ever paid in thrice the time. Then
-the strong-rooms underground, at Tellson's, with such of their valuable
-stores and secrets as were known to the passenger (and it was not a
-little that he knew about them), opened before him, and he went in among
-them with the great keys and the feebly-burning candle, and found them
-safe, and strong, and sound, and still, just as he had last seen them.
-
-But, though the bank was almost always with him, and though the coach
-(in a confused way, like the presence of pain under an opiate) was
-always with him, there was another current of impression that never
-ceased to run, all through the night. He was on his way to dig some one
-out of a grave.
-
-Now, which of the multitude of faces that showed themselves before him
-was the true face of the buried person, the shadows of the night did
-not indicate; but they were all the faces of a man of five-and-forty by
-years, and they differed principally in the passions they expressed,
-and in the ghastliness of their worn and wasted state. Pride, contempt,
-defiance, stubbornness, submission, lamentation, succeeded one another;
-so did varieties of sunken cheek, cadaverous colour, emaciated hands
-and figures. But the face was in the main one face, and every head was
-prematurely white. A hundred times the dozing passenger inquired of this
-spectre:
-
-"Buried how long?"
-
-The answer was always the same: "Almost eighteen years."
-
-"You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?"
-
-"Long ago."
-
-"You know that you are recalled to life?"
-
-"They tell me so."
-
-"I hope you care to live?"
-
-"I can't say."
-
-"Shall I show her to you? Will you come and see her?"
-
-The answers to this question were various and contradictory. Sometimes
-the broken reply was, "Wait! It would kill me if I saw her too soon."
-Sometimes, it was given in a tender rain of tears, and then it was,
-"Take me to her." Sometimes it was staring and bewildered, and then it
-was, "I don't know her. I don't understand."
-
-After such imaginary discourse, the passenger in his fancy would dig,
-and dig, dig--now with a spade, now with a great key, now with his
-hands--to dig this wretched creature out. Got out at last, with earth
-hanging about his face and hair, he would suddenly fan away to dust. The
-passenger would then start to himself, and lower the window, to get the
-reality of mist and rain on his cheek.
-
-Yet even when his eyes were opened on the mist and rain, on the moving
-patch of light from the lamps, and the hedge at the roadside retreating
-by jerks, the night shadows outside the coach would fall into the train
-of the night shadows within. The real Banking-house by Temple Bar, the
-real business of the past day, the real strong rooms, the real express
-sent after him, and the real message returned, would all be there. Out
-of the midst of them, the ghostly face would rise, and he would accost
-it again.
-
-"Buried how long?"
-
-"Almost eighteen years."
-
-"I hope you care to live?"
-
-"I can't say."
-
-Dig--dig--dig--until an impatient movement from one of the two
-passengers would admonish him to pull up the window, draw his arm
-securely through the leathern strap, and speculate upon the two
-slumbering forms, until his mind lost its hold of them, and they again
-slid away into the bank and the grave.
-
-"Buried how long?"
-
-"Almost eighteen years."
-
-"You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?"
-
-"Long ago."
-
-The words were still in his hearing as just spoken--distinctly in
-his hearing as ever spoken words had been in his life--when the weary
-passenger started to the consciousness of daylight, and found that the
-shadows of the night were gone.
-
-He lowered the window, and looked out at the rising sun. There was a
-ridge of ploughed land, with a plough upon it where it had been left
-last night when the horses were unyoked; beyond, a quiet coppice-wood,
-in which many leaves of burning red and golden yellow still remained
-upon the trees. Though the earth was cold and wet, the sky was clear,
-and the sun rose bright, placid, and beautiful.
-
-"Eighteen years!" said the passenger, looking at the sun. "Gracious
-Creator of day! To be buried alive for eighteen years!"
-
-
-
-
-IV. The Preparation
-
-
-When the mail got successfully to Dover, in the course of the forenoon,
-the head drawer at the Royal George Hotel opened the coach-door as his
-custom was. He did it with some flourish of ceremony, for a mail journey
-from London in winter was an achievement to congratulate an adventurous
-traveller upon.
-
-By that time, there was only one adventurous traveller left be
-congratulated: for the two others had been set down at their respective
-roadside destinations. The mildewy inside of the coach, with its damp
-and dirty straw, its disagreeable smell, and its obscurity, was rather
-like a larger dog-kennel. Mr. Lorry, the passenger, shaking himself out
-of it in chains of straw, a tangle of shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and
-muddy legs, was rather like a larger sort of dog.
-
-"There will be a packet to Calais, tomorrow, drawer?"
-
-"Yes, sir, if the weather holds and the wind sets tolerable fair. The
-tide will serve pretty nicely at about two in the afternoon, sir. Bed,
-sir?"
-
-"I shall not go to bed till night; but I want a bedroom, and a barber."
-
-"And then breakfast, sir? Yes, sir. That way, sir, if you please.
-Show Concord! Gentleman's valise and hot water to Concord. Pull off
-gentleman's boots in Concord. (You will find a fine sea-coal fire, sir.)
-Fetch barber to Concord. Stir about there, now, for Concord!"
-
-The Concord bed-chamber being always assigned to a passenger by the
-mail, and passengers by the mail being always heavily wrapped up from
-head to foot, the room had the odd interest for the establishment of the
-Royal George, that although but one kind of man was seen to go into it,
-all kinds and varieties of men came out of it. Consequently, another
-drawer, and two porters, and several maids and the landlady, were all
-loitering by accident at various points of the road between the Concord
-and the coffee-room, when a gentleman of sixty, formally dressed in a
-brown suit of clothes, pretty well worn, but very well kept, with large
-square cuffs and large flaps to the pockets, passed along on his way to
-his breakfast.
-
-The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, than the gentleman
-in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn before the fire, and as he sat,
-with its light shining on him, waiting for the meal, he sat so still,
-that he might have been sitting for his portrait.
-
-Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on each knee, and a
-loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under his flapped waist-coat,
-as though it pitted its gravity and longevity against the levity and
-evanescence of the brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a little vain
-of it, for his brown stockings fitted sleek and close, and were of a
-fine texture; his shoes and buckles, too, though plain, were trim. He
-wore an odd little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting very close to his
-head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but which
-looked far more as though it were spun from filaments of silk or glass.
-His linen, though not of a fineness in accordance with his stockings,
-was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring
-beach, or the specks of sail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea. A
-face habitually suppressed and quieted, was still lighted up under the
-quaint wig by a pair of moist bright eyes that it must have cost
-their owner, in years gone by, some pains to drill to the composed and
-reserved expression of Tellson's Bank. He had a healthy colour in his
-cheeks, and his face, though lined, bore few traces of anxiety.
-But, perhaps the confidential bachelor clerks in Tellson's Bank were
-principally occupied with the cares of other people; and perhaps
-second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on.
-
-Completing his resemblance to a man who was sitting for his portrait,
-Mr. Lorry dropped off to sleep. The arrival of his breakfast roused him,
-and he said to the drawer, as he moved his chair to it:
-
-"I wish accommodation prepared for a young lady who may come here at any
-time to-day. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or she may only ask for a
-gentleman from Tellson's Bank. Please to let me know."
-
-"Yes, sir. Tellson's Bank in London, sir?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-"Yes, sir. We have oftentimes the honour to entertain your gentlemen in
-their travelling backwards and forwards betwixt London and Paris, sir. A
-vast deal of travelling, sir, in Tellson and Company's House."
-
-"Yes. We are quite a French House, as well as an English one."
-
-"Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling yourself, I think,
-sir?"
-
-"Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we--since I--came last
-from France."
-
-"Indeed, sir? That was before my time here, sir. Before our people's
-time here, sir. The George was in other hands at that time, sir."
-
-"I believe so."
-
-"But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House like Tellson and
-Company was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not to speak of fifteen
-years ago?"
-
-"You might treble that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet not be far from
-the truth."
-
-"Indeed, sir!"
-
-Rounding his mouth and both his eyes, as he stepped backward from the
-table, the waiter shifted his napkin from his right arm to his left,
-dropped into a comfortable attitude, and stood surveying the guest while
-he ate and drank, as from an observatory or watchtower. According to the
-immemorial usage of waiters in all ages.
-
-When Mr. Lorry had finished his breakfast, he went out for a stroll on
-the beach. The little narrow, crooked town of Dover hid itself away
-from the beach, and ran its head into the chalk cliffs, like a marine
-ostrich. The beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stones tumbling
-wildly about, and the sea did what it liked, and what it liked was
-destruction. It thundered at the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and
-brought the coast down, madly. The air among the houses was of so strong
-a piscatory flavour that one might have supposed sick fish went up to be
-dipped in it, as sick people went down to be dipped in the sea. A little
-fishing was done in the port, and a quantity of strolling about by
-night, and looking seaward: particularly at those times when the tide
-made, and was near flood. Small tradesmen, who did no business whatever,
-sometimes unaccountably realised large fortunes, and it was remarkable
-that nobody in the neighbourhood could endure a lamplighter.
-
-As the day declined into the afternoon, and the air, which had been
-at intervals clear enough to allow the French coast to be seen, became
-again charged with mist and vapour, Mr. Lorry's thoughts seemed to cloud
-too. When it was dark, and he sat before the coffee-room fire, awaiting
-his dinner as he had awaited his breakfast, his mind was busily digging,
-digging, digging, in the live red coals.
-
-A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the red coals no
-harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throw him out of work.
-Mr. Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just poured out his last
-glassful of wine with as complete an appearance of satisfaction as is
-ever to be found in an elderly gentleman of a fresh complexion who has
-got to the end of a bottle, when a rattling of wheels came up the narrow
-street, and rumbled into the inn-yard.
-
-He set down his glass untouched. "This is Mam'selle!" said he.
-
-In a very few minutes the waiter came in to announce that Miss Manette
-had arrived from London, and would be happy to see the gentleman from
-Tellson's.
-
-"So soon?"
-
-Miss Manette had taken some refreshment on the road, and required none
-then, and was extremely anxious to see the gentleman from Tellson's
-immediately, if it suited his pleasure and convenience.
-
-The gentleman from Tellson's had nothing left for it but to empty his
-glass with an air of stolid desperation, settle his odd little flaxen
-wig at the ears, and follow the waiter to Miss Manette's apartment.
-It was a large, dark room, furnished in a funereal manner with black
-horsehair, and loaded with heavy dark tables. These had been oiled and
-oiled, until the two tall candles on the table in the middle of the room
-were gloomily reflected on every leaf; as if _they_ were buried, in deep
-graves of black mahogany, and no light to speak of could be expected
-from them until they were dug out.
-
-The obscurity was so difficult to penetrate that Mr. Lorry, picking his
-way over the well-worn Turkey carpet, supposed Miss Manette to be, for
-the moment, in some adjacent room, until, having got past the two tall
-candles, he saw standing to receive him by the table between them and
-the fire, a young lady of not more than seventeen, in a riding-cloak,
-and still holding her straw travelling-hat by its ribbon in her hand. As
-his eyes rested on a short, slight, pretty figure, a quantity of golden
-hair, a pair of blue eyes that met his own with an inquiring look, and
-a forehead with a singular capacity (remembering how young and smooth
-it was), of rifting and knitting itself into an expression that was
-not quite one of perplexity, or wonder, or alarm, or merely of a bright
-fixed attention, though it included all the four expressions--as his
-eyes rested on these things, a sudden vivid likeness passed before him,
-of a child whom he had held in his arms on the passage across that very
-Channel, one cold time, when the hail drifted heavily and the sea ran
-high. The likeness passed away, like a breath along the surface of
-the gaunt pier-glass behind her, on the frame of which, a hospital
-procession of negro cupids, several headless and all cripples, were
-offering black baskets of Dead Sea fruit to black divinities of the
-feminine gender--and he made his formal bow to Miss Manette.
-
-"Pray take a seat, sir." In a very clear and pleasant young voice; a
-little foreign in its accent, but a very little indeed.
-
-"I kiss your hand, miss," said Mr. Lorry, with the manners of an earlier
-date, as he made his formal bow again, and took his seat.
-
-"I received a letter from the Bank, sir, yesterday, informing me that
-some intelligence--or discovery--"
-
-"The word is not material, miss; either word will do."
-
-"--respecting the small property of my poor father, whom I never saw--so
-long dead--"
-
-Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards the
-hospital procession of negro cupids. As if _they_ had any help for
-anybody in their absurd baskets!
-
-"--rendered it necessary that I should go to Paris, there to communicate
-with a gentleman of the Bank, so good as to be despatched to Paris for
-the purpose."
-
-"Myself."
-
-"As I was prepared to hear, sir."
-
-She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in those days), with a
-pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older and wiser he
-was than she. He made her another bow.
-
-"I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, by
-those who know, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should go to
-France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could go with
-me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to place myself,
-during the journey, under that worthy gentleman's protection. The
-gentleman had left London, but I think a messenger was sent after him to
-beg the favour of his waiting for me here."
-
-"I was happy," said Mr. Lorry, "to be entrusted with the charge. I shall
-be more happy to execute it."
-
-"Sir, I thank you indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It was told me
-by the Bank that the gentleman would explain to me the details of the
-business, and that I must prepare myself to find them of a surprising
-nature. I have done my best to prepare myself, and I naturally have a
-strong and eager interest to know what they are."
-
-"Naturally," said Mr. Lorry. "Yes--I--"
-
-After a pause, he added, again settling the crisp flaxen wig at the
-ears, "It is very difficult to begin."
-
-He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. The young
-forehead lifted itself into that singular expression--but it was pretty
-and characteristic, besides being singular--and she raised her hand,
-as if with an involuntary action she caught at, or stayed some passing
-shadow.
-
-"Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?"
-
-"Am I not?" Mr. Lorry opened his hands, and extended them outwards with
-an argumentative smile.
-
-Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose, the line of
-which was as delicate and fine as it was possible to be, the expression
-deepened itself as she took her seat thoughtfully in the chair by which
-she had hitherto remained standing. He watched her as she mused, and the
-moment she raised her eyes again, went on:
-
-"In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better than address you
-as a young English lady, Miss Manette?"
-
-"If you please, sir."
-
-"Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a business charge to
-acquit myself of. In your reception of it, don't heed me any more than
-if I was a speaking machine--truly, I am not much else. I will, with
-your leave, relate to you, miss, the story of one of our customers."
-
-"Story!"
-
-He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, when he added,
-in a hurry, "Yes, customers; in the banking business we usually call
-our connection our customers. He was a French gentleman; a scientific
-gentleman; a man of great acquirements--a Doctor."
-
-"Not of Beauvais?"
-
-"Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the
-gentleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the
-gentleman was of repute in Paris. I had the honour of knowing him there.
-Our relations were business relations, but confidential. I was at that
-time in our French House, and had been--oh! twenty years."
-
-"At that time--I may ask, at what time, sir?"
-
-"I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He married--an English lady--and
-I was one of the trustees. His affairs, like the affairs of many other
-French gentlemen and French families, were entirely in Tellson's hands.
-In a similar way I am, or I have been, trustee of one kind or other for
-scores of our customers. These are mere business relations, miss;
-there is no friendship in them, no particular interest, nothing like
-sentiment. I have passed from one to another, in the course of my
-business life, just as I pass from one of our customers to another in
-the course of my business day; in short, I have no feelings; I am a mere
-machine. To go on--"
-
-"But this is my father's story, sir; and I begin to think"--the
-curiously roughened forehead was very intent upon him--"that when I was
-left an orphan through my mother's surviving my father only two years,
-it was you who brought me to England. I am almost sure it was you."
-
-Mr. Lorry took the hesitating little hand that confidingly advanced
-to take his, and he put it with some ceremony to his lips. He then
-conducted the young lady straightway to her chair again, and, holding
-the chair-back with his left hand, and using his right by turns to rub
-his chin, pull his wig at the ears, or point what he said, stood looking
-down into her face while she sat looking up into his.
-
-"Miss Manette, it _was_ I. And you will see how truly I spoke of myself
-just now, in saying I had no feelings, and that all the relations I hold
-with my fellow-creatures are mere business relations, when you reflect
-that I have never seen you since. No; you have been the ward of
-Tellson's House since, and I have been busy with the other business of
-Tellson's House since. Feelings! I have no time for them, no chance
-of them. I pass my whole life, miss, in turning an immense pecuniary
-Mangle."
-
-After this odd description of his daily routine of employment, Mr. Lorry
-flattened his flaxen wig upon his head with both hands (which was most
-unnecessary, for nothing could be flatter than its shining surface was
-before), and resumed his former attitude.
-
-"So far, miss (as you have remarked), this is the story of your
-regretted father. Now comes the difference. If your father had not died
-when he did--Don't be frightened! How you start!"
-
-She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands.
-
-"Pray," said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing his left hand from
-the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatory fingers that clasped
-him in so violent a tremble: "pray control your agitation--a matter of
-business. As I was saying--"
-
-Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered, and began anew:
-
-"As I was saying; if Monsieur Manette had not died; if he had suddenly
-and silently disappeared; if he had been spirited away; if it had not
-been difficult to guess to what dreadful place, though no art could
-trace him; if he had an enemy in some compatriot who could exercise a
-privilege that I in my own time have known the boldest people afraid
-to speak of in a whisper, across the water there; for instance, the
-privilege of filling up blank forms for the consignment of any one
-to the oblivion of a prison for any length of time; if his wife had
-implored the king, the queen, the court, the clergy, for any tidings of
-him, and all quite in vain;--then the history of your father would have
-been the history of this unfortunate gentleman, the Doctor of Beauvais."
-
-"I entreat you to tell me more, sir."
-
-"I will. I am going to. You can bear it?"
-
-"I can bear anything but the uncertainty you leave me in at this
-moment."
-
-"You speak collectedly, and you--_are_ collected. That's good!" (Though
-his manner was less satisfied than his words.) "A matter of business.
-Regard it as a matter of business--business that must be done. Now
-if this doctor's wife, though a lady of great courage and spirit,
-had suffered so intensely from this cause before her little child was
-born--"
-
-"The little child was a daughter, sir."
-
-"A daughter. A-a-matter of business--don't be distressed. Miss, if the
-poor lady had suffered so intensely before her little child was born,
-that she came to the determination of sparing the poor child the
-inheritance of any part of the agony she had known the pains of, by
-rearing her in the belief that her father was dead--No, don't kneel! In
-Heaven's name why should you kneel to me!"
-
-"For the truth. O dear, good, compassionate sir, for the truth!"
-
-"A--a matter of business. You confuse me, and how can I transact
-business if I am confused? Let us be clear-headed. If you could kindly
-mention now, for instance, what nine times ninepence are, or how many
-shillings in twenty guineas, it would be so encouraging. I should be so
-much more at my ease about your state of mind."
-
-Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had
-very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp
-his wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she
-communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry.
-
-"That's right, that's right. Courage! Business! You have business before
-you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course with
-you. And when she died--I believe broken-hearted--having never slackened
-her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two years old,
-to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the dark cloud
-upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon wore his
-heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering years."
-
-As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the
-flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might have
-been already tinged with grey.
-
-"You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what
-they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new
-discovery, of money, or of any other property; but--"
-
-He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the
-forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was
-now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror.
-
-"But he has been--been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too
-probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope the best.
-Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant
-in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to
-restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort."
-
-A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a
-low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream,
-
-"I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost--not him!"
-
-Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. "There, there,
-there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now.
-You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fair
-sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side."
-
-She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, "I have been free, I
-have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!"
-
-"Only one thing more," said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a
-wholesome means of enforcing her attention: "he has been found under
-another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be
-worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to
-know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly
-held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries,
-because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject,
-anywhere or in any way, and to remove him--for a while at all
-events--out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even
-Tellson's, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of
-the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring
-to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries,
-and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, 'Recalled to Life;'
-which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn't notice a
-word! Miss Manette!"
-
-Perfectly still and silent, and not even fallen back in her chair, she
-sat under his hand, utterly insensible; with her eyes open and fixed
-upon him, and with that last expression looking as if it were carved or
-branded into her forehead. So close was her hold upon his arm, that he
-feared to detach himself lest he should hurt her; therefore he called
-out loudly for assistance without moving.
-
-A wild-looking woman, whom even in his agitation, Mr. Lorry observed to
-be all of a red colour, and to have red hair, and to be dressed in some
-extraordinary tight-fitting fashion, and to have on her head a most
-wonderful bonnet like a Grenadier wooden measure, and good measure too,
-or a great Stilton cheese, came running into the room in advance of the
-inn servants, and soon settled the question of his detachment from the
-poor young lady, by laying a brawny hand upon his chest, and sending him
-flying back against the nearest wall.
-
-("I really think this must be a man!" was Mr. Lorry's breathless
-reflection, simultaneously with his coming against the wall.)
-
-"Why, look at you all!" bawled this figure, addressing the inn servants.
-"Why don't you go and fetch things, instead of standing there staring
-at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Why don't you go and fetch
-things? I'll let you know, if you don't bring smelling-salts, cold
-water, and vinegar, quick, I will."
-
-There was an immediate dispersal for these restoratives, and she
-softly laid the patient on a sofa, and tended her with great skill and
-gentleness: calling her "my precious!" and "my bird!" and spreading her
-golden hair aside over her shoulders with great pride and care.
-
-"And you in brown!" she said, indignantly turning to Mr. Lorry;
-"couldn't you tell her what you had to tell her, without frightening her
-to death? Look at her, with her pretty pale face and her cold hands. Do
-you call _that_ being a Banker?"
-
-Mr. Lorry was so exceedingly disconcerted by a question so hard to
-answer, that he could only look on, at a distance, with much feebler
-sympathy and humility, while the strong woman, having banished the inn
-servants under the mysterious penalty of "letting them know" something
-not mentioned if they stayed there, staring, recovered her charge by a
-regular series of gradations, and coaxed her to lay her drooping head
-upon her shoulder.
-
-"I hope she will do well now," said Mr. Lorry.
-
-"No thanks to you in brown, if she does. My darling pretty!"
-
-"I hope," said Mr. Lorry, after another pause of feeble sympathy and
-humility, "that you accompany Miss Manette to France?"
-
-"A likely thing, too!" replied the strong woman. "If it was ever
-intended that I should go across salt water, do you suppose Providence
-would have cast my lot in an island?"
-
-This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrew to
-consider it.
-
-
-
-
-V. The Wine-shop
-
-
-A large cask of wine had been dropped and broken, in the street. The
-accident had happened in getting it out of a cart; the cask had tumbled
-out with a run, the hoops had burst, and it lay on the stones just
-outside the door of the wine-shop, shattered like a walnut-shell.
-
-All the people within reach had suspended their business, or their
-idleness, to run to the spot and drink the wine. The rough, irregular
-stones of the street, pointing every way, and designed, one might have
-thought, expressly to lame all living creatures that approached them,
-had dammed it into little pools; these were surrounded, each by its own
-jostling group or crowd, according to its size. Some men kneeled down,
-made scoops of their two hands joined, and sipped, or tried to help
-women, who bent over their shoulders, to sip, before the wine had all
-run out between their fingers. Others, men and women, dipped in
-the puddles with little mugs of mutilated earthenware, or even with
-handkerchiefs from women's heads, which were squeezed dry into infants'
-mouths; others made small mud-embankments, to stem the wine as it ran;
-others, directed by lookers-on up at high windows, darted here and
-there, to cut off little streams of wine that started away in new
-directions; others devoted themselves to the sodden and lee-dyed
-pieces of the cask, licking, and even champing the moister wine-rotted
-fragments with eager relish. There was no drainage to carry off the
-wine, and not only did it all get taken up, but so much mud got taken up
-along with it, that there might have been a scavenger in the street,
-if anybody acquainted with it could have believed in such a miraculous
-presence.
-
-A shrill sound of laughter and of amused voices--voices of men, women,
-and children--resounded in the street while this wine game lasted. There
-was little roughness in the sport, and much playfulness. There was a
-special companionship in it, an observable inclination on the part
-of every one to join some other one, which led, especially among the
-luckier or lighter-hearted, to frolicsome embraces, drinking of healths,
-shaking of hands, and even joining of hands and dancing, a dozen
-together. When the wine was gone, and the places where it had been
-most abundant were raked into a gridiron-pattern by fingers, these
-demonstrations ceased, as suddenly as they had broken out. The man who
-had left his saw sticking in the firewood he was cutting, set it in
-motion again; the women who had left on a door-step the little pot of
-hot ashes, at which she had been trying to soften the pain in her own
-starved fingers and toes, or in those of her child, returned to it; men
-with bare arms, matted locks, and cadaverous faces, who had emerged into
-the winter light from cellars, moved away, to descend again; and a gloom
-gathered on the scene that appeared more natural to it than sunshine.
-
-The wine was red wine, and had stained the ground of the narrow street
-in the suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, where it was spilled. It had
-stained many hands, too, and many faces, and many naked feet, and many
-wooden shoes. The hands of the man who sawed the wood, left red marks
-on the billets; and the forehead of the woman who nursed her baby, was
-stained with the stain of the old rag she wound about her head again.
-Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a
-tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched, his
-head more out of a long squalid bag of a nightcap than in it, scrawled
-upon a wall with his finger dipped in muddy wine-lees--BLOOD.
-
-The time was to come, when that wine too would be spilled on the
-street-stones, and when the stain of it would be red upon many there.
-
-And now that the cloud settled on Saint Antoine, which a momentary
-gleam had driven from his sacred countenance, the darkness of it was
-heavy--cold, dirt, sickness, ignorance, and want, were the lords in
-waiting on the saintly presence--nobles of great power all of them;
-but, most especially the last. Samples of a people that had undergone a
-terrible grinding and regrinding in the mill, and certainly not in the
-fabulous mill which ground old people young, shivered at every corner,
-passed in and out at every doorway, looked from every window, fluttered
-in every vestige of a garment that the wind shook. The mill which
-had worked them down, was the mill that grinds young people old; the
-children had ancient faces and grave voices; and upon them, and upon the
-grown faces, and ploughed into every furrow of age and coming up afresh,
-was the sigh, Hunger. It was prevalent everywhere. Hunger was pushed out
-of the tall houses, in the wretched clothing that hung upon poles and
-lines; Hunger was patched into them with straw and rag and wood and
-paper; Hunger was repeated in every fragment of the small modicum of
-firewood that the man sawed off; Hunger stared down from the smokeless
-chimneys, and started up from the filthy street that had no offal,
-among its refuse, of anything to eat. Hunger was the inscription on the
-baker's shelves, written in every small loaf of his scanty stock of
-bad bread; at the sausage-shop, in every dead-dog preparation that
-was offered for sale. Hunger rattled its dry bones among the roasting
-chestnuts in the turned cylinder; Hunger was shred into atomics in every
-farthing porringer of husky chips of potato, fried with some reluctant
-drops of oil.
-
-Its abiding place was in all things fitted to it. A narrow winding
-street, full of offence and stench, with other narrow winding streets
-diverging, all peopled by rags and nightcaps, and all smelling of rags
-and nightcaps, and all visible things with a brooding look upon them
-that looked ill. In the hunted air of the people there was yet some
-wild-beast thought of the possibility of turning at bay. Depressed and
-slinking though they were, eyes of fire were not wanting among them; nor
-compressed lips, white with what they suppressed; nor foreheads knitted
-into the likeness of the gallows-rope they mused about enduring, or
-inflicting. The trade signs (and they were almost as many as the shops)
-were, all, grim illustrations of Want. The butcher and the porkman
-painted up, only the leanest scrags of meat; the baker, the coarsest of
-meagre loaves. The people rudely pictured as drinking in the wine-shops,
-croaked over their scanty measures of thin wine and beer, and were
-gloweringly confidential together. Nothing was represented in a
-flourishing condition, save tools and weapons; but, the cutler's knives
-and axes were sharp and bright, the smith's hammers were heavy, and the
-gunmaker's stock was murderous. The crippling stones of the pavement,
-with their many little reservoirs of mud and water, had no footways, but
-broke off abruptly at the doors. The kennel, to make amends, ran down
-the middle of the street--when it ran at all: which was only after heavy
-rains, and then it ran, by many eccentric fits, into the houses. Across
-the streets, at wide intervals, one clumsy lamp was slung by a rope and
-pulley; at night, when the lamplighter had let these down, and lighted,
-and hoisted them again, a feeble grove of dim wicks swung in a sickly
-manner overhead, as if they were at sea. Indeed they were at sea, and
-the ship and crew were in peril of tempest.
-
-For, the time was to come, when the gaunt scarecrows of that region
-should have watched the lamplighter, in their idleness and hunger, so
-long, as to conceive the idea of improving on his method, and hauling
-up men by those ropes and pulleys, to flare upon the darkness of their
-condition. But, the time was not come yet; and every wind that blew over
-France shook the rags of the scarecrows in vain, for the birds, fine of
-song and feather, took no warning.
-
-The wine-shop was a corner shop, better than most others in its
-appearance and degree, and the master of the wine-shop had stood outside
-it, in a yellow waistcoat and green breeches, looking on at the struggle
-for the lost wine. "It's not my affair," said he, with a final shrug
-of the shoulders. "The people from the market did it. Let them bring
-another."
-
-There, his eyes happening to catch the tall joker writing up his joke,
-he called to him across the way:
-
-"Say, then, my Gaspard, what do you do there?"
-
-The fellow pointed to his joke with immense significance, as is often
-the way with his tribe. It missed its mark, and completely failed, as is
-often the way with his tribe too.
-
-"What now? Are you a subject for the mad hospital?" said the wine-shop
-keeper, crossing the road, and obliterating the jest with a handful of
-mud, picked up for the purpose, and smeared over it. "Why do you write
-in the public streets? Is there--tell me thou--is there no other place
-to write such words in?"
-
-In his expostulation he dropped his cleaner hand (perhaps accidentally,
-perhaps not) upon the joker's heart. The joker rapped it with his
-own, took a nimble spring upward, and came down in a fantastic dancing
-attitude, with one of his stained shoes jerked off his foot into his
-hand, and held out. A joker of an extremely, not to say wolfishly
-practical character, he looked, under those circumstances.
-
-"Put it on, put it on," said the other. "Call wine, wine; and finish
-there." With that advice, he wiped his soiled hand upon the joker's
-dress, such as it was--quite deliberately, as having dirtied the hand on
-his account; and then recrossed the road and entered the wine-shop.
-
-This wine-shop keeper was a bull-necked, martial-looking man of thirty,
-and he should have been of a hot temperament, for, although it was a
-bitter day, he wore no coat, but carried one slung over his shoulder.
-His shirt-sleeves were rolled up, too, and his brown arms were bare to
-the elbows. Neither did he wear anything more on his head than his own
-crisply-curling short dark hair. He was a dark man altogether, with good
-eyes and a good bold breadth between them. Good-humoured looking on
-the whole, but implacable-looking, too; evidently a man of a strong
-resolution and a set purpose; a man not desirable to be met, rushing
-down a narrow pass with a gulf on either side, for nothing would turn
-the man.
-
-Madame Defarge, his wife, sat in the shop behind the counter as he
-came in. Madame Defarge was a stout woman of about his own age, with
-a watchful eye that seldom seemed to look at anything, a large hand
-heavily ringed, a steady face, strong features, and great composure of
-manner. There was a character about Madame Defarge, from which one might
-have predicated that she did not often make mistakes against herself
-in any of the reckonings over which she presided. Madame Defarge being
-sensitive to cold, was wrapped in fur, and had a quantity of bright
-shawl twined about her head, though not to the concealment of her large
-earrings. Her knitting was before her, but she had laid it down to pick
-her teeth with a toothpick. Thus engaged, with her right elbow supported
-by her left hand, Madame Defarge said nothing when her lord came in, but
-coughed just one grain of cough. This, in combination with the lifting
-of her darkly defined eyebrows over her toothpick by the breadth of a
-line, suggested to her husband that he would do well to look round the
-shop among the customers, for any new customer who had dropped in while
-he stepped over the way.
-
-The wine-shop keeper accordingly rolled his eyes about, until they
-rested upon an elderly gentleman and a young lady, who were seated in
-a corner. Other company were there: two playing cards, two playing
-dominoes, three standing by the counter lengthening out a short supply
-of wine. As he passed behind the counter, he took notice that the
-elderly gentleman said in a look to the young lady, "This is our man."
-
-"What the devil do _you_ do in that galley there?" said Monsieur Defarge
-to himself; "I don't know you."
-
-But, he feigned not to notice the two strangers, and fell into discourse
-with the triumvirate of customers who were drinking at the counter.
-
-"How goes it, Jacques?" said one of these three to Monsieur Defarge. "Is
-all the spilt wine swallowed?"
-
-"Every drop, Jacques," answered Monsieur Defarge.
-
-When this interchange of Christian name was effected, Madame Defarge,
-picking her teeth with her toothpick, coughed another grain of cough,
-and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.
-
-"It is not often," said the second of the three, addressing Monsieur
-Defarge, "that many of these miserable beasts know the taste of wine, or
-of anything but black bread and death. Is it not so, Jacques?"
-
-"It is so, Jacques," Monsieur Defarge returned.
-
-At this second interchange of the Christian name, Madame Defarge, still
-using her toothpick with profound composure, coughed another grain of
-cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.
-
-The last of the three now said his say, as he put down his empty
-drinking vessel and smacked his lips.
-
-"Ah! So much the worse! A bitter taste it is that such poor cattle
-always have in their mouths, and hard lives they live, Jacques. Am I
-right, Jacques?"
-
-"You are right, Jacques," was the response of Monsieur Defarge.
-
-This third interchange of the Christian name was completed at the moment
-when Madame Defarge put her toothpick by, kept her eyebrows up, and
-slightly rustled in her seat.
-
-"Hold then! True!" muttered her husband. "Gentlemen--my wife!"
-
-The three customers pulled off their hats to Madame Defarge, with three
-flourishes. She acknowledged their homage by bending her head, and
-giving them a quick look. Then she glanced in a casual manner round the
-wine-shop, took up her knitting with great apparent calmness and repose
-of spirit, and became absorbed in it.
-
-"Gentlemen," said her husband, who had kept his bright eye observantly
-upon her, "good day. The chamber, furnished bachelor-fashion, that you
-wished to see, and were inquiring for when I stepped out, is on the
-fifth floor. The doorway of the staircase gives on the little courtyard
-close to the left here," pointing with his hand, "near to the window of
-my establishment. But, now that I remember, one of you has already been
-there, and can show the way. Gentlemen, adieu!"
-
-They paid for their wine, and left the place. The eyes of Monsieur
-Defarge were studying his wife at her knitting when the elderly
-gentleman advanced from his corner, and begged the favour of a word.
-
-"Willingly, sir," said Monsieur Defarge, and quietly stepped with him to
-the door.
-
-Their conference was very short, but very decided. Almost at the first
-word, Monsieur Defarge started and became deeply attentive. It had
-not lasted a minute, when he nodded and went out. The gentleman then
-beckoned to the young lady, and they, too, went out. Madame Defarge
-knitted with nimble fingers and steady eyebrows, and saw nothing.
-
-Mr. Jarvis Lorry and Miss Manette, emerging from the wine-shop thus,
-joined Monsieur Defarge in the doorway to which he had directed his own
-company just before. It opened from a stinking little black courtyard,
-and was the general public entrance to a great pile of houses, inhabited
-by a great number of people. In the gloomy tile-paved entry to the
-gloomy tile-paved staircase, Monsieur Defarge bent down on one knee
-to the child of his old master, and put her hand to his lips. It was
-a gentle action, but not at all gently done; a very remarkable
-transformation had come over him in a few seconds. He had no good-humour
-in his face, nor any openness of aspect left, but had become a secret,
-angry, dangerous man.
-
-"It is very high; it is a little difficult. Better to begin slowly."
-Thus, Monsieur Defarge, in a stern voice, to Mr. Lorry, as they began
-ascending the stairs.
-
-"Is he alone?" the latter whispered.
-
-"Alone! God help him, who should be with him!" said the other, in the
-same low voice.
-
-"Is he always alone, then?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-"Of his own desire?"
-
-"Of his own necessity. As he was, when I first saw him after they
-found me and demanded to know if I would take him, and, at my peril be
-discreet--as he was then, so he is now."
-
-"He is greatly changed?"
-
-"Changed!"
-
-The keeper of the wine-shop stopped to strike the wall with his hand,
-and mutter a tremendous curse. No direct answer could have been half so
-forcible. Mr. Lorry's spirits grew heavier and heavier, as he and his
-two companions ascended higher and higher.
-
-Such a staircase, with its accessories, in the older and more crowded
-parts of Paris, would be bad enough now; but, at that time, it was vile
-indeed to unaccustomed and unhardened senses. Every little habitation
-within the great foul nest of one high building--that is to say,
-the room or rooms within every door that opened on the general
-staircase--left its own heap of refuse on its own landing, besides
-flinging other refuse from its own windows. The uncontrollable and
-hopeless mass of decomposition so engendered, would have polluted
-the air, even if poverty and deprivation had not loaded it with their
-intangible impurities; the two bad sources combined made it almost
-insupportable. Through such an atmosphere, by a steep dark shaft of dirt
-and poison, the way lay. Yielding to his own disturbance of mind, and to
-his young companion's agitation, which became greater every instant, Mr.
-Jarvis Lorry twice stopped to rest. Each of these stoppages was made
-at a doleful grating, by which any languishing good airs that were left
-uncorrupted, seemed to escape, and all spoilt and sickly vapours seemed
-to crawl in. Through the rusted bars, tastes, rather than glimpses, were
-caught of the jumbled neighbourhood; and nothing within range, nearer
-or lower than the summits of the two great towers of Notre-Dame, had any
-promise on it of healthy life or wholesome aspirations.
-
-At last, the top of the staircase was gained, and they stopped for the
-third time. There was yet an upper staircase, of a steeper inclination
-and of contracted dimensions, to be ascended, before the garret story
-was reached. The keeper of the wine-shop, always going a little in
-advance, and always going on the side which Mr. Lorry took, as though he
-dreaded to be asked any question by the young lady, turned himself about
-here, and, carefully feeling in the pockets of the coat he carried over
-his shoulder, took out a key.
-
-"The door is locked then, my friend?" said Mr. Lorry, surprised.
-
-"Ay. Yes," was the grim reply of Monsieur Defarge.
-
-"You think it necessary to keep the unfortunate gentleman so retired?"
-
-"I think it necessary to turn the key." Monsieur Defarge whispered it
-closer in his ear, and frowned heavily.
-
-"Why?"
-
-"Why! Because he has lived so long, locked up, that he would be
-frightened--rave--tear himself to pieces--die--come to I know not what
-harm--if his door was left open."
-
-"Is it possible!" exclaimed Mr. Lorry.
-
-"Is it possible!" repeated Defarge, bitterly. "Yes. And a beautiful
-world we live in, when it _is_ possible, and when many other such things
-are possible, and not only possible, but done--done, see you!--under
-that sky there, every day. Long live the Devil. Let us go on."
-
-This dialogue had been held in so very low a whisper, that not a word
-of it had reached the young lady's ears. But, by this time she trembled
-under such strong emotion, and her face expressed such deep anxiety,
-and, above all, such dread and terror, that Mr. Lorry felt it incumbent
-on him to speak a word or two of reassurance.
-
-"Courage, dear miss! Courage! Business! The worst will be over in a
-moment; it is but passing the room-door, and the worst is over. Then,
-all the good you bring to him, all the relief, all the happiness you
-bring to him, begin. Let our good friend here, assist you on that side.
-That's well, friend Defarge. Come, now. Business, business!"
-
-They went up slowly and softly. The staircase was short, and they were
-soon at the top. There, as it had an abrupt turn in it, they came all at
-once in sight of three men, whose heads were bent down close together at
-the side of a door, and who were intently looking into the room to which
-the door belonged, through some chinks or holes in the wall. On hearing
-footsteps close at hand, these three turned, and rose, and showed
-themselves to be the three of one name who had been drinking in the
-wine-shop.
-
-"I forgot them in the surprise of your visit," explained Monsieur
-Defarge. "Leave us, good boys; we have business here."
-
-The three glided by, and went silently down.
-
-There appearing to be no other door on that floor, and the keeper of
-the wine-shop going straight to this one when they were left alone, Mr.
-Lorry asked him in a whisper, with a little anger:
-
-"Do you make a show of Monsieur Manette?"
-
-"I show him, in the way you have seen, to a chosen few."
-
-"Is that well?"
-
-"_I_ think it is well."
-
-"Who are the few? How do you choose them?"
-
-"I choose them as real men, of my name--Jacques is my name--to whom the
-sight is likely to do good. Enough; you are English; that is another
-thing. Stay there, if you please, a little moment."
-
-With an admonitory gesture to keep them back, he stooped, and looked in
-through the crevice in the wall. Soon raising his head again, he struck
-twice or thrice upon the door--evidently with no other object than to
-make a noise there. With the same intention, he drew the key across it,
-three or four times, before he put it clumsily into the lock, and turned
-it as heavily as he could.
-
-The door slowly opened inward under his hand, and he looked into the
-room and said something. A faint voice answered something. Little more
-than a single syllable could have been spoken on either side.
-
-He looked back over his shoulder, and beckoned them to enter. Mr. Lorry
-got his arm securely round the daughter's waist, and held her; for he
-felt that she was sinking.
-
-"A-a-a-business, business!" he urged, with a moisture that was not of
-business shining on his cheek. "Come in, come in!"
-
-"I am afraid of it," she answered, shuddering.
-
-"Of it? What?"
-
-"I mean of him. Of my father."
-
-Rendered in a manner desperate, by her state and by the beckoning of
-their conductor, he drew over his neck the arm that shook upon his
-shoulder, lifted her a little, and hurried her into the room. He sat her
-down just within the door, and held her, clinging to him.
-
-Defarge drew out the key, closed the door, locked it on the inside,
-took out the key again, and held it in his hand. All this he did,
-methodically, and with as loud and harsh an accompaniment of noise as he
-could make. Finally, he walked across the room with a measured tread to
-where the window was. He stopped there, and faced round.
-
-The garret, built to be a depository for firewood and the like, was dim
-and dark: for, the window of dormer shape, was in truth a door in the
-roof, with a little crane over it for the hoisting up of stores from
-the street: unglazed, and closing up the middle in two pieces, like any
-other door of French construction. To exclude the cold, one half of this
-door was fast closed, and the other was opened but a very little way.
-Such a scanty portion of light was admitted through these means, that it
-was difficult, on first coming in, to see anything; and long habit
-alone could have slowly formed in any one, the ability to do any work
-requiring nicety in such obscurity. Yet, work of that kind was being
-done in the garret; for, with his back towards the door, and his face
-towards the window where the keeper of the wine-shop stood looking at
-him, a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very
-busy, making shoes.
-
-
-
-
-VI. The Shoemaker
-
-
-"Good day!" said Monsieur Defarge, looking down at the white head that
-bent low over the shoemaking.
-
-It was raised for a moment, and a very faint voice responded to the
-salutation, as if it were at a distance:
-
-"Good day!"
-
-"You are still hard at work, I see?"
-
-After a long silence, the head was lifted for another moment, and the
-voice replied, "Yes--I am working." This time, a pair of haggard eyes
-had looked at the questioner, before the face had dropped again.
-
-The faintness of the voice was pitiable and dreadful. It was not the
-faintness of physical weakness, though confinement and hard fare no
-doubt had their part in it. Its deplorable peculiarity was, that it was
-the faintness of solitude and disuse. It was like the last feeble echo
-of a sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost the life and
-resonance of the human voice, that it affected the senses like a once
-beautiful colour faded away into a poor weak stain. So sunken and
-suppressed it was, that it was like a voice underground. So expressive
-it was, of a hopeless and lost creature, that a famished traveller,
-wearied out by lonely wandering in a wilderness, would have remembered
-home and friends in such a tone before lying down to die.
-
-Some minutes of silent work had passed: and the haggard eyes had looked
-up again: not with any interest or curiosity, but with a dull mechanical
-perception, beforehand, that the spot where the only visitor they were
-aware of had stood, was not yet empty.
-
-"I want," said Defarge, who had not removed his gaze from the shoemaker,
-"to let in a little more light here. You can bear a little more?"
-
-The shoemaker stopped his work; looked with a vacant air of listening,
-at the floor on one side of him; then similarly, at the floor on the
-other side of him; then, upward at the speaker.
-
-"What did you say?"
-
-"You can bear a little more light?"
-
-"I must bear it, if you let it in." (Laying the palest shadow of a
-stress upon the second word.)
-
-The opened half-door was opened a little further, and secured at that
-angle for the time. A broad ray of light fell into the garret, and
-showed the workman with an unfinished shoe upon his lap, pausing in his
-labour. His few common tools and various scraps of leather were at his
-feet and on his bench. He had a white beard, raggedly cut, but not very
-long, a hollow face, and exceedingly bright eyes. The hollowness and
-thinness of his face would have caused them to look large, under his yet
-dark eyebrows and his confused white hair, though they had been really
-otherwise; but, they were naturally large, and looked unnaturally so.
-His yellow rags of shirt lay open at the throat, and showed his body
-to be withered and worn. He, and his old canvas frock, and his loose
-stockings, and all his poor tatters of clothes, had, in a long seclusion
-from direct light and air, faded down to such a dull uniformity of
-parchment-yellow, that it would have been hard to say which was which.
-
-He had put up a hand between his eyes and the light, and the very bones
-of it seemed transparent. So he sat, with a steadfastly vacant gaze,
-pausing in his work. He never looked at the figure before him, without
-first looking down on this side of himself, then on that, as if he had
-lost the habit of associating place with sound; he never spoke, without
-first wandering in this manner, and forgetting to speak.
-
-"Are you going to finish that pair of shoes to-day?" asked Defarge,
-motioning to Mr. Lorry to come forward.
-
-"What did you say?"
-
-"Do you mean to finish that pair of shoes to-day?"
-
-"I can't say that I mean to. I suppose so. I don't know."
-
-But, the question reminded him of his work, and he bent over it again.
-
-Mr. Lorry came silently forward, leaving the daughter by the door. When
-he had stood, for a minute or two, by the side of Defarge, the shoemaker
-looked up. He showed no surprise at seeing another figure, but the
-unsteady fingers of one of his hands strayed to his lips as he looked at
-it (his lips and his nails were of the same pale lead-colour), and then
-the hand dropped to his work, and he once more bent over the shoe. The
-look and the action had occupied but an instant.
-
-"You have a visitor, you see," said Monsieur Defarge.
-
-"What did you say?"
-
-"Here is a visitor."
-
-The shoemaker looked up as before, but without removing a hand from his
-work.
-
-"Come!" said Defarge. "Here is monsieur, who knows a well-made shoe when
-he sees one. Show him that shoe you are working at. Take it, monsieur."
-
-Mr. Lorry took it in his hand.
-
-"Tell monsieur what kind of shoe it is, and the maker's name."
-
-There was a longer pause than usual, before the shoemaker replied:
-
-"I forget what it was you asked me. What did you say?"
-
-"I said, couldn't you describe the kind of shoe, for monsieur's
-information?"
-
-"It is a lady's shoe. It is a young lady's walking-shoe. It is in the
-present mode. I never saw the mode. I have had a pattern in my hand." He
-glanced at the shoe with some little passing touch of pride.
-
-"And the maker's name?" said Defarge.
-
-Now that he had no work to hold, he laid the knuckles of the right hand
-in the hollow of the left, and then the knuckles of the left hand in the
-hollow of the right, and then passed a hand across his bearded chin, and
-so on in regular changes, without a moment's intermission. The task of
-recalling him from the vagrancy into which he always sank when he
-had spoken, was like recalling some very weak person from a swoon, or
-endeavouring, in the hope of some disclosure, to stay the spirit of a
-fast-dying man.
-
-"Did you ask me for my name?"
-
-"Assuredly I did."
-
-"One Hundred and Five, North Tower."
-
-"Is that all?"
-
-"One Hundred and Five, North Tower."
-
-With a weary sound that was not a sigh, nor a groan, he bent to work
-again, until the silence was again broken.
-
-"You are not a shoemaker by trade?" said Mr. Lorry, looking steadfastly
-at him.
-
-His haggard eyes turned to Defarge as if he would have transferred the
-question to him: but as no help came from that quarter, they turned back
-on the questioner when they had sought the ground.
-
-"I am not a shoemaker by trade? No, I was not a shoemaker by trade. I-I
-learnt it here. I taught myself. I asked leave to--"
-
-He lapsed away, even for minutes, ringing those measured changes on his
-hands the whole time. His eyes came slowly back, at last, to the face
-from which they had wandered; when they rested on it, he started, and
-resumed, in the manner of a sleeper that moment awake, reverting to a
-subject of last night.
-
-"I asked leave to teach myself, and I got it with much difficulty after
-a long while, and I have made shoes ever since."
-
-As he held out his hand for the shoe that had been taken from him, Mr.
-Lorry said, still looking steadfastly in his face:
-
-"Monsieur Manette, do you remember nothing of me?"
-
-The shoe dropped to the ground, and he sat looking fixedly at the
-questioner.
-
-"Monsieur Manette"; Mr. Lorry laid his hand upon Defarge's arm; "do you
-remember nothing of this man? Look at him. Look at me. Is there no old
-banker, no old business, no old servant, no old time, rising in your
-mind, Monsieur Manette?"
-
-As the captive of many years sat looking fixedly, by turns, at Mr.
-Lorry and at Defarge, some long obliterated marks of an actively intent
-intelligence in the middle of the forehead, gradually forced themselves
-through the black mist that had fallen on him. They were overclouded
-again, they were fainter, they were gone; but they had been there. And
-so exactly was the expression repeated on the fair young face of her who
-had crept along the wall to a point where she could see him, and where
-she now stood looking at him, with hands which at first had been only
-raised in frightened compassion, if not even to keep him off and
-shut out the sight of him, but which were now extending towards him,
-trembling with eagerness to lay the spectral face upon her warm young
-breast, and love it back to life and hope--so exactly was the expression
-repeated (though in stronger characters) on her fair young face, that it
-looked as though it had passed like a moving light, from him to her.
-
-Darkness had fallen on him in its place. He looked at the two, less and
-less attentively, and his eyes in gloomy abstraction sought the ground
-and looked about him in the old way. Finally, with a deep long sigh, he
-took the shoe up, and resumed his work.
-
-"Have you recognised him, monsieur?" asked Defarge in a whisper.
-
-"Yes; for a moment. At first I thought it quite hopeless, but I have
-unquestionably seen, for a single moment, the face that I once knew so
-well. Hush! Let us draw further back. Hush!"
-
-She had moved from the wall of the garret, very near to the bench on
-which he sat. There was something awful in his unconsciousness of the
-figure that could have put out its hand and touched him as he stooped
-over his labour.
-
-Not a word was spoken, not a sound was made. She stood, like a spirit,
-beside him, and he bent over his work.
-
-It happened, at length, that he had occasion to change the instrument
-in his hand, for his shoemaker's knife. It lay on that side of him
-which was not the side on which she stood. He had taken it up, and 

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