arms, and carried her up to their rooms.“Lucie! My own! I am safe.”“O dearest Charles, let me thank God for this on my knees as Ihave prayed to Him.”They all reverently bowed their heads and hearts. When shewas again in his arms, he said to her— “And now speak to yourfather, dearest. No other man in all this France could have donewhat he has done for me.”She laid her head upon her father’s breast, as she had laid hispoor head on her own breast, long, long ago. He was happy in thereturn he had made her, he was recompensed for his suffering, hewas proud of his strength. “You must not be weak, my darling,” heremonstrated; “don’t tremble so. I have saved him.”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two CitiesChapter XXXVIIA KNOCK AT THE DOORIhave saved him.” It was not another of the dreams in whichhe had often come back; he was really here. And yet his wifetrembled, and a vague but heavy fear was upon her.All the air round was so thick and dark, the people were sopassionately revengeful and fitful, the innocent were so constantlyput to death on vague suspicion and black malice, it was soimpossible to forget that many as blameless as her husband and asdear to others as he was to her, every day shared the fate fromwhich he had been clutched, that her heart could not be aslightened of its load as she felt it ought to be. The shadows of thewintry afternoon were beginning to fall, and even now thedreadful carts were rolling through the streets. Her mind pursuedthem, looking for him among the condemned; and then she clungcloser to his real presence and trembled more.Her father, cheering her, showed a compassionate superiorityto this woman’s weakness, which was wonderful to see. No garret,no shoemaking, no One Hundred and Five, North Tower, now! Hehad accomplished the task he had set himself, his promise wasredeemed, he had saved Charles. Let them all lean upon him.Their housekeeping was of a very frugal kind: not only becausethat was the safest way of life, involving the least offence to thepeople, but because they were not rich, and Charles, throughouthis imprisonment, had had to pay heavily for his bad food, and forhis guard, and towards the living of the poorer prisoners. Partly onCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesthis account, and partly to avoid a domestic spy, they kept noservant; the citizen and citizeness who acted as porters at thecourt-yard gate, rendered them occasional service; and Jerry(almost wholly transferred to them by Mr. Lorry) had becometheir daily retainer, and had his bed there every night.It was an ordinance of the Republic One and Indivisible, ofLiberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, that on the door or doorpost of every house, the name of every inmate must be legiblyinscribed in letters of a certain size, at a certain convenient heightfrom the ground. Mr. Jerry Cruncher’s name, therefore, dulyembellished the door-post down below; and, as the afternoonshadows deepened, the owner of that name himself appeared,from overlooking a painter whom Doctor Manette had employedto add to the list the name of Charles Evremonde, called Darnay.In the universal fear and distrust that darkened the time, all theusual harmless ways of life were changed. In the Doctor’s littlehousehold, as in very many others, the articles of dailyconsumption that were wanted were purchased every evening, insmall quantities and at various small shops. To avoid attractingnotice, and to give as little occasion as possible for talk and envy,was the general desire.For some months past, Miss Pross and Mr. Cruncher haddischarged the office of purveyors; the former carrying the money;the latter, the basket. Every afternoon at about the time when thepublic lamps were lighted, they fared forth on this duty, and madeand brought home such purchases as were needful. Although MissPross, through her long associations with a French family, mighthave known as much of their language as of her own, if she hadhad a mind, she had no mind in that direction; consequently sheCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesknew no more of that “nonsense” (as she was pleased to call it)than Mr. Cruncher did. So her manner of marketing was to plumpa noun-substantive at the head of a shop-keeper without anyintroduction in the nature of an article, and, if it happened not tobe the name of the thing she wanted, to look round for that thing,lay hold of it, and hold on by it until the bargain was concluded.She always made a bargain for it, by holding up, as a statement ofits just price, one finger less than the merchant held up, whateverhis number might be.“Now, Mr. Cruncher,” said Miss Pross, whose eyes were redwith felicity; “if you are ready, I am.”Jerry hoarsely professed himself at Miss Pross’s service. He hadworn all his rust off long ago, but nothing would file his spiky headdown.“There’s all manner of things wanted,” said Miss Pross, “andwe shall have a precious time of it. We want wine, among the rest.Nice toasts these Redheads will be drinking, wherever we buy it.”“It will be much the same to your knowledge, miss, I shouldthink,” retorted Jerry, “whether they drink your health or the OldUn’s.”“Who’s he?” said Miss Pross.Mr. Cruncher, with some diffidence, explained himself asmeaning “Old Nick’s.”“Ha!” said Miss Pross, “it doesn’t need an interpreter to explainthe meaning of these creatures. They have but one, and it’sMidnight Murder, and Mischief.” “Hush, dear! Pray, pray, becautious!” cried Lucie.“Yes, yes, yes, I’ll be cautious,” said Miss Pross; “but I may sayamong ourselves, that I do hope there will be no oniony andCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiestobaccoy smotherings in the form of embracings all round, goingon in the streets. Now, Ladybird, never you stir from that fire till Icome back! Take care of the dear husband you have recovered,and don’t move your pretty head from his shoulder as you have itnow, till you see me again! May I ask a question, Doctor Manette,before I go?”“I think you may take that liberty,” the Doctor answered,smiling.“For gracious sake, don’t talk about Liberty; we have quiteenough of that,” said Miss Pross.“Hush, dear! Again?” Lucie remonstrated.“Well, my sweet,” said Miss Pross, nodding her heademphatically, “the short and the long of it is, that I am a subject ofHis Most Gracious Majesty King George the Third”; Miss Prosscurtseyed at the name; “and as such, my maxim is, Confound theirpolitics, Frustrate their knavish tricks, On him our hopes we fix,God save the King!”Mr. Cruncher in an access of loyalty, growlingly repeated thewords after Miss Pross, like somebody at church.“I am glad you have so much of the Englishman in you, thoughI wish you had never taken that cold in your voice,” said MissPross, approvingly. “But the question, Doctor Manette. Is there”—it was the good creature’s way to affect to make light of anythingthat was a great anxiety with them all, and to come at it in thischance manner—“is there any prospect yet, of our getting out ofthis place?”“I fear not yet. It would be dangerous for Charles yet.”“Heigh-ho-hum!” said Miss Pross, cheerfully repressing a sighas she glanced at her darling’s golden hair in the light of the fire,Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Cities“then we must have patience and wait; that’s all. We must hold upour heads and fight low, as my brother Solomon used to say. Now,Mr. Cruncher!—Don’t you move, Ladybird!”They went out, leaving Lucie, and her husband, her father andthe child, by a bright fire. Mr. Lorry was expected back presentlyfrom the Banking House. Miss Pross had lighted the lamp, but hadput it aside in a corner, that they might enjoy the fire-lightundisturbed. Little Lucie sat by her grandfather with her handsclasped through his arm: and he, in a tone not rising much above awhisper, began to tell her a story of a great and powerful Fairywho had opened a prison wall and let out a captive who had oncedone the Fairy a service. All was subdued and quiet, and Luciewas more at ease than she had been.“What is that?” she cried, all at once.“My dear!” said her father, stopping in his story, and laying hishand on hers, “command yourself. What a disordered state youare in! The least thing—nothing—startles you! You, your father’sdaughter!”“I thought, my father,” said Lucie, excusing herself. with a paleface and in a faltering voice, “that I heard strange feet upon thestairs.”“My love, the staircase is as still as Death.”As he said the word, a blow was struck upon the door.“Oh father, father. What can this be! Hide Charles. Save him!”“My child,” said the Doctor, rising, and laying his hand uponher shoulder, “I have saved him. What weakness is this, my dear!Let me go to the door.”He took the lamp in his hand, crossed the two intervening outerrooms, and opened it. A rude clattering of feet over the floor, andCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesfour rough men in red caps, armed with sabres and pistols,entered the room.“The Citizen Evremonde, called Darnay,” said the first.“Who seeks him?” answered Darnay.“I seek him. We seek him. I know you, Evremonde; I saw youbefore the Tribunal today. You are again the prisoner of theRepublic.”The four surrounded him where he stood with his wife andchild clinging to him.“Tell me how and why I am again a prisoner?”“It is enough that you return straight to the Conciergerie, andwill know tomorrow. You are summoned for tomorrow.”Dr. Manette, whom this visitation had so turned into stone, thathe stood with the lamp in his hand, as if he were a statue made tohold it, moved after these words were spoken, put the lamp down,and confronting the speaker, and taking him, not ungently, by theloose front of his red woollen shirt, said:“You know him, you have said. Do you know me?”“Yes, I know you, Citizen Doctor.”“We all know you, Citizen Doctor,” said the other three.He looked abstractedly from one to another, and said, in alower voice, after a pause:“Will you answer this question to me then? How does thishappen?”“Citizen Doctor,” said the first, reluctantly, “he has beendenounced to the Section of Saint Antoine. This citizen,” pointingout the second who had entered, “is from Saint Antoine.”The citizen here indicated nodded his head, and added:“He is accused by Saint Antoine.”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Cities“Of what?” asked the Doctor.“Citizen Doctor,” said the first, with his former reluctance, “askno more. If the Republic demands sacrifices from you, withoutdoubt you as a good patriot will be happy to make them. TheRepublic goes before all. The People is supreme. Evremonde, weare pressed.”“One word,” the Doctor entreated. “Will you tell me whodenounced him?”“It is against rule,” answered the first; “but you can ask Him ofSaint Antoine here.”The Doctor turned his eyes upon that man. Who moveduneasily on his feet, rubbed his beard a little, and at length said:“Well! Truly it is against rule. But he is denounced—andgravely—by the Citizen and Citizeness Defarge. And by oneother.”“What other?”“Do you ask, Citizen Doctor?”“Yes.”“Then,” said he of Saint Antoine, with a strange look, “you willbe answered tomorrow. Now, I am dumb!”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two CitiesChapter XXXVIIIA HAND AT CARDSHappily unconscious of the new calamity at home, MissPross threaded her way along the narrow streets andcrossed the river by the bridge of the Pont-Neuf,reckoning in her mind the number of indispensable purchases shehad to make. Mr. Cruncher, with the basket, walked at her side.They both looked to the right and to the left into most of the shopsthey passed, had a wary eye for all gregarious assemblages ofpeople, and turned out of their road to avoid any very excitedgroup of talkers. It was a raw evening, and the misty river, blurredto the eye with blazing lights and to the ear with harsh noises,showed where the barges were stationed in which the smithsworked, making guns for the Army of the Republic. Woe to theman who played tricks with that Army, or got undeservedpromotion in it! Better for him that his beard had never grown, forthe National Razor shaved him close.Having purchased a few small articles of grocery, and ameasure of oil for the lamp, Miss Pross bethought herself of thewine they wanted. After peeping into several wine-shops, shestopped at the sign of The Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity,not far from the National Palace, once (and twice) the Tuileries,where the aspect of things rather took her fancy. It had a quieterlook than any other place of the same description they had passed,and though red with patriotic caps, was not so red as the rest.Sounding Mr. Cruncher, and finding him of her opinion, MissCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two CitiesPross resorted to The Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity,attended by her cavalier.Slightly observant of the smoky lights; of the people pipe inmouth, playing with limp cards and yellow dominoes; of the onebare-breasted, bare-armed, soot-begrimed workman reading ajournal aloud, and of the others listening to him; of the weaponsworn, or laid aside to be resumed; of the two or three customersfallen forward asleep, who in the popular high-shouldered shaggyblack spencer looked, in that attitude, like slumbering bears ordogs; the two outlandish customers approached the counter, andshowed what they wanted.As their wine was measuring out, a man parted from anotherman in a corner, and rose to depart. In going, he had to face MissPross. No sooner did he face her, than Miss Pross uttered ascream, and clapped her hands.In a moment, the whole company were on their feet. Thatsomebody was assassinated by somebody vindicating a differenceof opinion was the likeliest occurrence. Everybody looked to seesomebody fall, but only saw a man and a woman standing staringat each other; the man with all the outward aspect of a Frenchmanand a thorough Republican; the woman, evidently English.What was said in this disappointing anti-climax, by the disciplesof The Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, except that it wassomething very voluble and loud, would have been as so muchHebrew or Chaldean to Miss Pross and her protector, though theyhad been all ears. But, they had no ears for anything in theirsurprise. For, it must be recorded, that not only was Miss Prosslost in amazement and agitation, but, Mr. Cruncher—though itseemed on his own separate and individual account—was in aCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesstate of the greatest wonder.“What is the matter?” said the man who had caused Miss Prossto scream; speaking in a vexed, abrupt voice (though in a lowtone), and in English.“Oh, Solomon, dear Solomon!” cried Miss Pross, clapping herhands again. “After not setting eyes upon you or hearing of you forso long a time, do I find you here!”“Don’t call me Solomon. Do you want to be the death of me?”asked the man, in a furtive, frightened way.