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doubt in them, and then astonishment. He pressed the work-wornhunger-worn young fingers, and touched his lips.“Are you dying for him?” she whispered.“And his wife and child. Hush! Yes.”“O you will let me hold your brave hand, stranger?”“Hush! Yes, my poor sister; to the last.”The same shadows that are falling on the prison, are falling inCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesthat same hour of the early afternoon, on the Barrier with thecrowd about it, when a coach going out of Paris drives up to beexamined.“Who goes here? Whom have we within? Papers!”The papers are handed out, and read.“Alexandre Manette. Physician. French. Which is he?”This is he; this helpless, inarticulately murmuring, wanderingold man pointed out.“Apparently the Citizen-Doctor is not in his right mind? TheRevolution-fever will have been too much for him?”Greatly too much for him.“Hah! Many suffer with it. Lucie. His daughter. French. Whichis she?”This is she.“Apparently it must be. Lucie, the wife of Evremonde; is itnot?”It is.“Hah! Evremonde has an assignation elsewhere. Lucie, herchild. English. This is she?”She and no other.“Kiss me, child of Evremonde. Now, thou hast kissed a goodRepublican; something new in thy family; remember it? SydneyCarton. Advocate. English. Which is he?”He lies here in this corner of the carriage. He, too, is pointedout.“Apparently the English advocate is in a swoon?”It is hoped he will recover in the fresher air. It is representedthat he is not in strong health, and has separated sadly from afriend who is under the displeasure of the Republic.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Cities“Is that all? It is not a great deal that! Many are under thedispleasure of the Republic, and must look out at the littlewindow. Jarvis Lorry. Banker. English. Which is he?”“I am he. Necessarily, being the last.”It is Jarvis Lorry who has replied to all the previous questions.It is Jarvis Lorry who has alighted and stands with his hand on thecoach door, replying to a group of officials. They leisurely walkround the carriage and leisurely mount the box, to look at whatlittle luggage it carries on the roof; the country-people hangingabout, press nearer to the coach doors and greedily stare in; a littlechild, carried by its mother, has its short arm held out for it, that itmay touch the wife of an aristocrat who has gone to the Guillotine.“Behold your papers, Jarvis Lorry, counter-signed.”“One can depart, citizen?”“One can depart. Forward, my postilions! A good journey!”“I salute you, citizens.—And the first danger passed!”These are again the words of Jarvis Lorry, as he clasps hishands, and looks upward. There is terror in the carriage, there isweeping, there is the heavy breathing of the insensible traveller.“Are we not going too slowly? Can they not be induced to gofaster?” asks Lucie, clinging to the old m an.“It would seem like flight, my darling. I must not urge them toomuch; it would rouse suspicion.”“Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued!”“The road is clear my dearest. So far, we are not pursued.”Houses in twos and threes pass by us, solitary farms, ruinousbuildings, dye-works, tanneries, and the like. open country,avenues of leafless trees. The hard uneven pavement is under us,the soft deep mud is on either side. Sometimes, we strike into theCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesskirting mud. to avoid the stones that clatter us and shake us;sometimes we stick in ruts and sloughs there. The agony of ourimpatience is then so great, that in our wild alarm and hurry weare for getting out and running—hiding—doing anything butstopping.Out of the open country, in again among ruinous buildings,solitary farms, dye-works, tanneries, and the like, cottages in twosand threes, avenues of leafless trees. Have these men deceived us,and taken us back by another road? Is not this the same placetwice over? Thank Heaven, no. A village. Look back, look back,and see if we are pursued! Hush! the posting-house.Leisurely, our four horses are taken out; leisurely, the coachstands in the little street, bereft of horses, and with no likelihoodupon it of ever moving again; leisurely, the new horses come intovisible existence, one by one; leisurely, the new postilions follow,sucking and plaiting the lashes of their whips; leisurely, the oldpostilions count their money, make wrong additions, and arrive atdissatisfied results. All the time, our overfraught hearts arebeating at a rate that would far outstrip the fastest gallop of thefastest horses ever foaled.At length the new postilions are in their saddles, and the old areleft behind. We are through the village, up the hill, and down thehill, and on the low watery grounds. Suddenly the postilionsexchange speech with animated gesticulations, and the horses arepulled up, almost on their haunches. We are pursued?“Ho! Within the carriage there. Speak then!”“What is it?” asks Mr. Lorry, looking out at window.“How many did they say?”“I do not understand you.”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Cities“At the last post. How many to the Guillotine today?”“Fifty-two.”“I said so! A brave number! My fellow-citizen here would haveit forty-two; ten more heads are worth having. The Guillotine goeshandsomely. I love it. Hi forward. Whoop!”The night comes on dark. He moves more; he is beginning torevive, and to speak intelligibly; he thinks they are still together;he asks him, by his name, what he has in his hand. O pity us, kindHeaven, and help us! Look out, look out, and see if we arepursued.The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us,and the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is inpursuit of us, but, so far, we are pursued by nothing else.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two CitiesChapter XLIVTHE KNITTING DONEIn that same juncture of time when the Fifty-Two awaited theirfate, Madame Defarge held darkly ominous council with TheVengeance and Jacques Three of the Revolutionary Jury. Notin the wine-shop did Madame Defarge confer with these ministers,but in the shed of the wood-sawyer, erst a mender of roads. Thesawyer himself did not participate in the conference, but abided ata little distance, like an outer satellite who was not to speak untilrequired, or to offer an opinion until invited.“But our Defarge,” said Jacques Three, “is undoubtedly a goodRepublican? Eh?”“There is no better,” the voluble Vengeance protested in hershrill notes, “in France.”“Peace, little Vengeance,” said Madame Defarge, laying herhand with a slight frown on her lieutenant’s lips, “hear me speak.My husband, fellow-citizen, is a good Republican and a bold man;he has deserved well of the Republic, and possesses its confidence.But my husband has his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relenttowards this Doctor.”“It is a great pity,” croaked Jacques Three, dubiously shakinghis head, with his cruel fingers at his hungry mouth; “it is notquite like a good citizen; it is a thing to regret.”“See you,” said madame, “I care nothing for this Doctor, I. Hemay wear his head or lose it, for any interest I have in him; it is allone to me. But, the Evremonde people are to be exterminated, andCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesthe wife and child must follow the husband and father.”“She has a fine head for it,” croaked Jacques Three. “I haveseen blue eyes and golden hair there, and they looked charmingwhen Samson held them up.” Ogre that he was, he spoke like anepicure.Madame Defarge cast down her eyes, and reflected a little.“The child also,” observed Jacques Three, with a meditativeenjoyment of his words, “has golden hair and blue eyes. And weseldom have a child there. It is a pretty sight!”“In a word,” said Madame Defarge, coming out of her shortabstraction, “I cannot trust my husband in this matter. Not onlydo I feel, since last night, that I dare not confide to him the detailsof my projects; but also I feel that if I delay, there is danger of hisgiving warning, and then they might escape.”“That must never be,” croaked Jacques Three; “no one mustescape. We have not half enough as it is. We ought to have sixscore a day.”“In a word,” Madame Defarge went on, “my husband has notmy reason for pursuing this family to annihilation, and I have nothis reason for regarding this Doctor with any sensibility. I must actfor myself, therefore. Come hither, little citizen.”The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself inthe submission, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his redcap.“Touching those signals, little citizen,” said Madame Defarge,sternly, “that she made to the prisoners; you are ready to bearwitness to them this very day?”“Ay, ay, why not!” cried the sawyer. “Every day, in all weathers,from two to four, always signalling, sometimes with the little one,Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Cities 474sometimes without. I know what I know. I have seen with myeyes.”He made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if inincidental imitation of some few of the great diversity of signalsthat he had never seen.“Clearly plots,” said Jacques Three. “Transparently!”“There is no doubt of the Jury?” inquired Madame Defarge,letting her eyes turn to him with a gloomy smile.“Rely upon the patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I answer for myfellow-Jurymen.”“Now, let me see,” said Madame Defarge, pondering again. “Yetonce more! Can I spare this Doctor to my husband? I have nofeeling either way. Can I spare him?”“He would count as one dead,” observed Jacques Three, in alow voice. “We really have not heads enough; it would be a pity, Ithink.”“He was signalling with her when I saw her,” argued MadameDefarge; “I cannot speak of one without the other; and I must notbe silent, and trust the case wholly to him, this little citizen here.For I am not a bad witness.”The Vengeance and Jacques Three vied with each other in theirfervent protestations that she was the most admirable andmarvellous of witnesses. The little citizen, not to be outdone,declared her to be a celestial witness.“He must take his chance,” said Madame Defarge. “No, Icannot spare him! You are engaged at three o’clock; you are goingto see the batch of today executed.—You?”The question was addressed to the wood-sawyer. who hurriedlyreplied in the affirmative: seizing the occasion to add that he wasCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesthe most ardent of Republicans, and that he would be in effect themost desolate of Republicans, if anything prevented him fromenjoying the pleasure of smoking his afternoon pipe in thecontemplation of the droll national barber. He was so verydemonstrative herein, that he might have been suspected (perhapswas, by the dark eyes that looked contemptuously at him out ofMadame Defarge’s head) of having his small individual fears forhis own personal safety, every hour in the day.“I,” said madame, “am equally engaged at the same place. Afterit is over—say at eight tonight—come you to me, in Saint Antoine,and we will give information against these people at my Section.”The wood-sawyer said he would be proud and flattered toattend the citizeness. The citizeness looking at him, he becameembarrassed, evaded her glance as a small dog would have done,retreated among his wood, and hid his confusion over the handleof his saw.Madame Defarge beckoned the Juryman and The Vengeance alittle nearer to the door, and there expounded her further views tothem thus:“She will now be at home, awaiting the moment of his death,She will be mourning and grieving. She will be in a state of mindto impeach the justice of the Republic, She will be full of sympathywith its enemies, I will go to her.”“What an admirable woman; what an adorable woman!”exclaimed Jacques Three, rapturously. “Ah, my cherished!” criedThe Vengeance; and embraced her.“Take you my knitting,” said Madame Defarge, placing it in herlieutenant’s hands, “and have it ready for me in my usual seat,Keep me my usual chair, Go you there, straight, for there willCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesprobably be a greater concourse than usual, today,” “I willinglyobey the orders of my Chief,” said The Vengeance with alacrity,and kissing her cheek. “You will not be late?”“I shall be there before the commencement.”“And before the tumbrils arrive. Be sure you are there, mysoul,” said The Vengeance, calling after her, for she had alreadyturned into the street, “before the tumbrils arrive!”Madame Defarge slightly waved her hand, to imply that sheheard, and might be relied upon to arrive in good time, and sowent through the mud, and round the corner of the prison wall.The Vengeance and the Juryman, looking after her as she walkedaway, were highly appreciative of her fine figure, and her superbmoral endowments.There were many women at that time upon whom the time laida dreadfully disfiguring hand; but there was not one among themmore to be dreaded than this ruthless woman, now taking her wayalong the streets. Of a strong and fearless character, of shrewdsense and readiness, of great determination, of that kind of beautywhich not only seems to impart to its possessor firmness andanimosity, but seems to strike into others an instinctiverecognition of those qualities; the troubled time would haveheaved her up, under any circumstances. But, imbued from herchildhood with a brooding sense of wrong, and an inveteratehatred of a class, opportunity had developed her into a tigress. Shewas absolutely without pity, If she had ever had the virtue in her,it had quite gone out of her.It was nothing to her that an innocent man was to die for thesins of his forefathers; she saw, not him, but them. It was nothingto her, that his wife was to be made a widow and his daughter anCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsA Tale of Two Citiesorphan; that was insufficient punishment, because they were hernatural enemies and her prey, and as such had no right to live. Toappeal to her, was made hopeless by her having no sense of pity,even for herself, If she had been laid low in the streets, in any ofthe many encounters in which she had been engaged, she wouldnot have pitied herself; nor, if she had been ordered to the axetomorrow, would she have gone to it with any softer feeling than afierce desire to change places with the man who sent her there.Such a heart Madame Defarge carried under her rough robe.