English
Therehadbeenearlierdrinkingthanusualinthewine-shopofMonsieurDefarge.
Asearlyassixo’clockinthemorning,sallowfacespeepingthroughitsbarredwindowshaddescriedotherfaceswithin,bendingovermeasuresofwine.
MonsieurDefargesoldaverythinwineatthebestoftimes,butitwouldseemtohavebeenanunusuallythinwinethathesoldatthistime.
Asourwine,moreover,orasouring,foritsinfluenceonthemoodofthosewhodrankitwastomakethemgloomy.
NovivaciousBacchanalianflameleapedoutofthepressedgrapeofMonsieurDefarge:but,asmoulderingfirethatburntinthedark,layhiddeninthedregsofit.
Thishadbeenthethirdmorninginsuccession,onwhichtherehadbeenearlydrinkingatthewine-shopofMonsieurDefarge.
IthadbegunonMonday,andherewasWednesdaycome.
Therehadbeenmoreofearlybroodingthandrinking;for,manymenhadlistenedandwhisperedandslunkabouttherefromthetimeoftheopeningofthedoor,whocouldnothavelaidapieceofmoneyonthecountertosavetheirsouls.
Theseweretothefullasinterestedintheplace,however,asiftheycouldhavecommandedwholebarrelsofwine;andtheyglidedfromseattoseat,andfromcornertocorner,swallowingtalkinlieuofdrink,withgreedylooks.
Notwithstandinganunusualflowofcompany,themasterofthewine-shopwasnotvisible.
Hewasnotmissed;for,nobodywhocrossedthethresholdlookedforhim,nobodyaskedforhim,nobodywonderedtoseeonlyMadameDefargeinherseat,presidingoverthedistributionofwine,withabowlofbatteredsmallcoinsbeforeher,asmuchdefacedandbeatenoutoftheiroriginalimpressasthesmallcoinageofhumanityfromwhoseraggedpocketstheyhadcome.
Asuspendedinterestandaprevalentabsenceofmind,wereperhapsobservedbythespieswholookedinatthewine-shop,astheylookedinateveryplace,highandlow,fromthekingspalacetothecriminal’sgaol.
Gamesatcardslanguished,playersatdominoesmusinglybuilttowerswiththem,drinkersdrewfiguresonthetableswithspiltdropsofwine,MadameDefargeherselfpickedoutthepatternonhersleevewithhertoothpick,andsawandheardsomethinginaudibleandinvisiblealongwayoff.
Thus,SaintAntoineinthisvinousfeatureofhis,untilmidday.
Itwashighnoontide,whentwodustymenpassedthroughhisstreetsandunderhisswinginglamps:ofwhom,onewasMonsieurDefarge:theotheramenderofroadsinabluecap.
Alladustandathirst,thetwoenteredthewine-shop.
TheirarrivalhadlightedakindoffireinthebreastofSaintAntoine,fastspreadingastheycamealong,whichstirredandflickeredinflamesoffacesatmostdoorsandwindows.
Yet,noonehadfollowedthem,andnomanspokewhentheyenteredthewine-shop,thoughtheeyesofeverymantherewereturneduponthem.
“Goodday,gentlemen!”saidMonsieurDefarge.
Itmayhavebeenasignalforlooseningthegeneraltongue.Itelicitedanansweringchorusof“Goodday!”
“Itisbadweather,gentlemen,”saidDefarge,shakinghishead.
Uponwhich,everymanlookedathisneighbour,andthenancastdowntheireyesandsatsilent.Exceptoneman,whogotupandwentout.
“Mywife,”saidDefargealoud,addressingMadameDefarge:“Ihavetravelledcertainleagueswiththisgoodmenderofroads,calledJacques.
Imethim—byaccident—adayandhalf’sjourneyoutofParis.
Heisagoodchild,thismenderofroads,calledJacques.Givehimtodrink,mywife!”
Asecondmangotupandwentout.MadameDefargesetwinebeforethemenderofroadscalledJacques,whodoffedhisbluecaptothecompany,anddrank.
Inthebreastofhisblousehecarriedsomecoarsedarkbread;heateofthisbetweenwhiles,andsatmunchinganddrinkingnearMadameDefarge’scounter.Athirdmangotupandwentout.
Defargerefreshedhimselfwithadraughtofwine—but,hetooklessthanwasgiventothestranger,asbeinghimselfamantowhomitwasnorarity—andstoodwaitinguntilthecountrymanhadmadehisbreakfast.
Helookedatnoonepresent,andnoonenowlookedathim;notevenMadameDefarge,whohadtakenupherknitting,andwasatwork.
“Haveyoufinishedyourrepast,friend?”heasked,indueseason.
“Yes,thankyou.”
“Come,then!YoushallseetheapartmentthatItoldyouyoucouldoccupy.Itwillsuityoutoamarvel.”
Outofthewine-shopintothestreet,outofthestreetintoacourtyard,outofthecourtyardupasteepstaircase,outofthestaircaseintoagarret,—formerlythegarretwhereawhite-hairedmansatonalowbench,stoopingforwardandverybusy,makingshoes.
Nowhite-hairedmanwastherenow;but,thethreemenweretherewhohadgoneoutofthewine-shopsingly.
Andbetweenthemandthewhite-hairedmanafaroff,wastheonesmalllink,thattheyhadoncelookedinathimthroughthechinksinthewall.
Defargeclosedthedoorcarefully,andspokeinasubduedvoice:
“JacquesOne,JacquesTwo,JacquesThree!Thisisthewitnessencounteredbyappointment,byme,JacquesFour.Hewilltellyouall.Speak,JacquesFive!”
Themenderofroads,bluecapinhand,wipedhisswarthyforeheadwithit,andsaid,“WhereshallIcommence,monsieur?”
“Commence,”wasMonsieurDefarge’snotunreasonablereply,“atthecommencement.”
“Isawhimthen,messieurs,”beganthemenderofroads,“ayearagothisrunningsummer,underneaththecarriageoftheMarquis,hangingbythechain.Beholdthemannerofit.
Ileavingmyworkontheroad,thesungoingtobed,thecarriageoftheMarquisslowlyascendingthehill,hehangingbythechain—likethis.”
Againthemenderofroadswentthroughthewholeperformance;inwhichheoughttohavebeenperfectbythattime,seeingthatithadbeentheinfallibleresourceandindispensableentertainmentofhisvillageduringawholeyear.
JacquesOnestruckin,andaskedifhehadeverseenthemanbefore?
“Never,”answeredthemenderofroads,recoveringhisperpendicular.
JacquesThreedemandedhowheafterwardsrecognisedhimthen?
“Byhistallfigure,”saidthemenderofroads,softly,andwithhisfingerathisnose.“WhenMonsieurtheMarquisdemandsthatevening,‘Say,whatishelike?’Imakeresponse,`Tallasaspectre.’”
“Youshouldhavesaid,shortasadwarf,”returnedJacquesTwo.
“ButwhatdidIknow?Thedeedwasnotthenaccomplished,neitherdidheconfideinme.Observe!
Underthosecircumstanceseven,Idonotoffermytestimony.
MonsieurtheMarquisindicatesmewithhisfinger,standingnearourlittlefountain,andsays,`Tome!Bringthatrascal!’Myfaith,messieurs,Ioffernothing.”
“Heisrightthere,Jacques,”murmuredDefarge,tohimwhohadinterrupted.“Goon!”
“Good!”saidthemenderofroads,withanairofmystery.“Thetallmanislost,andheissought—howmanymonths?Nine,ten,eleven?”
“Nomatter,thenumber,”saidDefarge.“Heiswellhidden,butatlastheisunluckilyfound.Goon!”
“Iamagainatworkuponthehill-side,andthesunisagainabouttogotobed.
Iamcollectingmytoolstodescendtomycottagedowninthevillagebelow,whereitisalreadydark,whenIraisemyeyes,andseecomingoverthehillsixsoldiers.
Inthemidstofthemisatallmanwithhisarmsbound—tiedtohissides—likethis!”
Withtheaidofhisindispensablecap,herepresentedamanwithhiselbowsboundfastathiships,withcordsthatwereknottedbehindhim.
“Istandaside,messieurs,bymyheapofstones,toseethesoldiersandtheirprisonerpass(foritisasolitaryroad,that,whereanyspectacleiswellworthlookingat),andatfirst,astheyapproach,Iseenomorethanthattheyaresixsoldierswithatallmanbound,andthattheyarealmostblacktomysight—exceptonthesideofthesungoingtobed,wheretheyhavearededge,messieurs.
Also,Iseethattheirlongshadowsareonthehollowridgeontheoppositesideoftheroad,andareonthehillaboveit,andareliketheshadowsofgiants.
Also,Iseethattheyarecoveredwithdust,andthatthedustmoveswiththemastheycome,tramp,tramp!
Butwhentheyadvancequiteneartome,Irecognisethetallman,andherecognisesme.
Ah,buthewouldbewellcontenttoprecipitatehimselfoverthehill-sideonceagain,asontheeveningwhenheandIfirstencountered,closetothesamespot!”
Hedescribeditasifhewerethere,anditwasevidentthathesawitvividly;perhapshehadnotseenmuchinhislife.
“IdonotshowthesoldiersthatIrecognisethetallman;hedoesnotshowthesoldiersthatherecognisesme;wedoit,andweknowit,withoureyes.`Comeon!’
saysthechiefofthatcompany,pointingtothevillage,`bringhimfasttohistomb!’andtheybringhimfaster.Ifollow.
Hisarmsareswelledbecauseofbeingboundsotight,hiswoodenshoesarelargeandclumsy,andheislame.
Becauseheislame,andconsequentlyslow,theydrivehimwiththeirguns—likethis!”
Heimitatedtheactionofaman’sbeingimpelledforwardbythebutt-endsofmuskets.
“Astheydescendthehilllikemadmenrunningarace,hefalls.Theylaughandpickhimupagain.
Hisfaceisbleedingandcoveredwithdust,buthecannottouchit;thereupontheylaughagain.
Theybringhimintothevillage;allthevillagerunstolook;theytakehimpastthemill,anduptotheprison;allthevillageseestheprisongateopeninthedarknessofthenight,andswallowhim—likethis!”
Heopenedhismouthaswideashecould,andshutitwithasoundingsnapofhisteeth.Observantofhisunwillingnesstomartheeffectbyopeningitagain,Defargesaid,“Goon,Jacques.”
“Allthevillage,”pursuedthemenderofroads,ontiptoeandinalowvoice,“withdraws;allthevillagewhispersbythefountain;allthevillagesleeps;allthevillagedreamsofthatunhappyone,withinthelocksandbarsoftheprisononthecrag,andnevertocomeoutofit,excepttoperish.
Inthemorning,withmytoolsuponmyshoulder,eatingmymorselofblackbreadasIgo,Imakeacircuitbytheprison,onmywaytomywork.
ThereIseehim,highup,behindthebarsofaloftyironcage,bloodyanddustyaslastnight,lookingthrough.
Hehasnohandfree,towavetome;Idarenotcalltohim;heregardsmelikeadeadman.”
Defargeandthethreeglanceddarklyatoneanother.
Thelooksofallofthemweredark,repressed,andrevengeful,astheylistenedtothecountryman’sstory;themannerofallofthem,whileitwassecret,wasauthoritativetoo.
Theyhadtheairofaroughtribunal;JacquesOneandTwosittingontheoldpallet-bed,eachwithhischinrestingonhishand,andhiseyesintentontheroad-mender;JacquesThree,equallyintent,ononekneebehindthem,withhisagitatedhandalwaysglidingoverthenetworkoffinenervesabouthismouthandnose;Defargestandingbetweenthemandthenarrator,whomhehadstationedinthelightofthewindow,byturnslookingfromhimtothem,andfromthemtohim.
“Goon,Jacques,”saidDefarge.
“Heremainsupthereinhisironcagesomedays.
Thevillagelooksathimbystealth,foritisafraid.
Butitalwayslooksup,fromadistance,attheprisononthecrag;andintheevening,whentheworkofthedayisachievedanditassemblestogossipatthefountain,allfacesareturnedtowardstheprison.
Formerly,theywereturnedtowardstheposting-house;now,theyareturnedtowardstheprison.
Theywhisperatthefountain,thatalthoughcondemnedtodeathhewillnotbeexecuted;theysaythatpetitionshavebeenpresentedinParis,showingthathewasenragedandmademadbythedeathofhischild;theysaythatapetitionhasbeenpresentedtotheKinghimself.WhatdoIknow?Itispossible.Perhapsyes,perhapsno.”
“Listenthen,Jacques,”NumberOneofthatnamesternlyinterposed.
“KnowthatapetitionwaspresentedtotheKingandQueen.
Allhere,yourselfexcepted,sawtheKingtakeit,inhiscarriageinthestreet,sittingbesidetheQueen.
ItisDefargewhomyouseehere,who,atthehazardofhislife,dartedoutbeforethehorses,withthepetitioninhishand.”
“Andonceagainlisten,Jacques!”saidthekneelingNumberThree:hisfingerseverwanderingoverandoverthosefinenerves,withastrikinglygreedyair,asifhehungeredforsomething—thatwasneitherfoodnordrink;“theguard,horseandfoot,surroundedthepetitioner,andstruckhimblows.Youhear?”
“Ihear,messieurs.”
“Goonthen,”saidDefarge.
“Again;ontheotherhand,theywhisperatthefountain,”resumedthecountryman,“thatheisbroughtdownintoourcountrytobeexecutedonthespot,andthathewillverycertainlybeexecuted.
TheyevenwhisperthatbecausehehasslainMonseigneur,andbecauseMonseigneurwasthefatherofhistenants—serfs—whatyouwill—hewillbeexecutedasaparricide.
Oneoldmansaysatthefountain,thathisrighthand,armedwiththeknife,willbeburntoffbeforehisface;that,intowoundswhichwillbemadeinhisarms,hisbreast,andhislegs,therewillbepouredboilingoil,meltedlead,hotresin,wax,andsulphur;finally,thathewillbetornlimbfromlimbbyfourstronghorses.
Thatoldmansays,allthiswasactuallydonetoaprisonerwhomadeanattemptonthelifeofthelateKing,LouisFifteen.ButhowdoIknowifhelies?Iamnotascholar.”
“Listenonceagainthen,Jacques!”saidthemanwiththerestlesshandandthecravingair.
“ThenameofthatprisonerwasDamiens,anditwasalldoneinopenday,intheopenstreetsofthiscityofParis;andnothingwasmorenoticedinthevastconcoursethatsawitdone,thanthecrowdofladiesofqualityandfashion,whowerefullofeagerattentiontothelast—tothelast,Jacques,prolongeduntilnightfall,whenhehadlosttwolegsandanarm,andstillbreathed!Anditwasdone—why,howoldareyou?”
“Thirty-five,”saidthemenderofroads,wholookedsixty.
“Itwasdonewhenyouweremorethantenyearsold;youmighthaveseenit.”
“Enough!”saidDefarge,withgrimimpatience.“LonglivetheDevil!Goon.”
“Well!Somewhisperthis,somewhisperthat;theyspeakofnothingelse;eventhefountainappearstofalltothattune.
Atlength,onSundaynightwhenallthevillageisasleep,comesoldiers,windingdownfromtheprison,andtheirgunsringonthestonesofthelittlestreet.
Workmendig,workmenhammer,soldierslaughandsing;inthemorning,bythefountain,thereisraisedagallowsfortyfeethigh,poisoningthewater.”
ThemenderofroadslookedTHROUGHratherthanATthelowceiling,andpointedasifhesawthegallowssomewhereinthesky.
“Allworkisstopped,allassemblethere,nobodyleadsthecowsout,thecowsaretherewiththerest.Atmidday,therollofdrums.
Soldiershavemarchedintotheprisoninthenight,andheisinthemidstofmanysoldiers.
Heisboundasbefore,andinhismouththereisagag—tiedso,withatightstring,makinghimlookalmostasifhelaughed.”
Hesuggestedit,bycreasinghisfacewithhistwothumbs,fromthecornersofhismouthtohisears.
“Onthetopofthegallowsisfixedtheknife,bladeupwards,withitspointintheair.
Heishangedtherefortyfeethigh—andislefthanging,poisoningthewater.”
Theylookedatoneanother,asheusedhisbluecaptowipehisface,onwhichtheperspirationhadstartedafreshwhileherecalledthespectacle.
“Itisfrightful,messieurs.Howcanthewomenandthechildrendrawwater!
Whocangossipofanevening,underthatshadow!Underit,haveIsaid?
WhenIleftthevillage,Mondayeveningasthesunwasgoingtobed,andlookedbackfromthehill,theshadowstruckacrossthechurch,acrossthemill,acrosstheprison—seemedtostrikeacrosstheearth,messieurs,towheretheskyrestsuponit!”
Thehungrymangnawedoneofhisfingersashelookedattheotherthree,andhisfingerquiveredwiththecravingthatwasonhim.
“That’sall,messieurs.Ileftatsunset(asIhadbeenwarnedtodo),andIwalkedon,thatnightandhalfnextday,untilImet(asIwaswarnedIshould)thiscomrade.
Withhim,Icameon,nowridingandnowwalking,throughtherestofyesterdayandthroughlastnight.Andhereyouseeme!”
Afteragloomysilence,thefirstJacquessaid,“Good!Youhaveactedandrecountedfaithfully.Willyouwaitforusalittle,outsidethedoor?”
“Verywillingly,”saidthemenderofroads.WhomDefargeescortedtothetopofthestairs,and,leavingseatedthere,returned.
Thethreehadrisen,andtheirheadsweretogetherwhenhecamebacktothegarret.
“Howsayyou,Jacques?”demandedNumberOne.“Toberegistered?”
“Toberegistered,asdoomedtodestruction,”returnedDefarge.
“Magnificent!”croakedthemanwiththecraving.
“Thechateau,andalltherace?”inquiredthefirst.
“Thechateauandalltherace,”returnedDefarge.“Extermination.”
Thehungrymanrepeated,inarapturouscroak,“Magnificent!”andbegangnawinganotherfinger.
“Areyousure,”askedJacquesTwo,ofDefarge,“thatnoembarrassmentcanarisefromourmannerofkeepingtheregister?
Withoutdoubtitissafe,fornoonebeyondourselvescandecipherit;butshallwealwaysbeabletodecipherit—or,Ioughttosay,willshe?”
“Jacques,”returnedDefarge,drawinghimselfup,“ifmadamemywifeundertooktokeeptheregisterinhermemoryalone,shewouldnotloseawordofit—notasyllableofit.
Knitted,inherownstitchesandherownsymbols,itwillalwaysbeasplaintoherasthesun.ConfideinMadameDefarge.
Itwouldbeeasierfortheweakestpoltroonthatlives,toerasehimselffromexistence,thantoeraseoneletterofhisnameorcrimesfromtheknittedregisterofMadameDefarge.”
Therewasamurmurofconfidenceandapproval,andthenthemanwhohungered,asked:“Isthisrustictobesentbacksoon?Ihopeso.Heisverysimple;ishenotalittledangerous?”
“Heknowsnothing,”saidDefarge;“atleastnothingmorethanwouldeasilyelevatehimselftoagallowsofthesameheight.
Ichargemyselfwithhim;lethimremainwithme;Iwilltakecareofhim,andsethimonhisroad.
Hewishestoseethefineworld—theKing,theQueen,andCourt;lethimseethemonSunday.”
“What?”exclaimedthehungryman,staring.“Isitagoodsign,thathewishestoseeRoyaltyandNobility?”
“Jacques,”saidDefarge;“judiciouslyshowacatmilk,ifyouwishhertothirstforit.Judiciouslyshowadoghisnaturalprey,ifyouwishhimtobringitdownoneday.”
Nothingmorewassaid,andthemenderofroads,beingfoundalreadydozingonthetopmoststair,wasadvisedtolayhimselfdownonthepallet-bedandtakesomerest.
Heneedednopersuasion,andwassoonasleep.
WorsequartersthanDefarge’swine-shop,couldeasilyhavebeenfoundinParisforaprovincialslaveofthatdegree.
Savingforamysteriousdreadofmadamebywhichhewasconstantlyhaunted,hislifewasverynewandagreeable.
But,madamesatalldayathercounter,soexpresslyunconsciousofhim,andsoparticularlydeterminednottoperceivethathisbeingtherehadanyconnectionwithanythingbelowthesurface,thatheshookinhiswoodenshoeswheneverhiseyelightedonher.
For,hecontendedwithhimselfthatitwasimpossibletoforeseewhatthatladymightpretendnext;andhefeltassuredthatifsheshouldtakeitintoherbrightlyornamentedheadtopretendthatshehadseenhimdoamurderandafterwardsflaythevictim,shewouldinfalliblygothroughwithituntiltheplaywasplayedout.
Therefore,whenSundaycame,themenderofroadswasnotenchanted(thoughhesaidhewas)tofindthatmadamewastoaccompanymonsieurandhimselftoVersailles.
Itwasadditionallydisconcertingtohavemadameknittingallthewaythere,inapublicconveyance;itwasadditionallydisconcertingyet,tohavemadameinthecrowdintheafternoon,stillwithherknittinginherhandsasthecrowdwaitedtoseethecarriageoftheKingandQueen.
“Youworkhard,madame,”saidamannearher.
“Yes,”answeredMadameDefarge;“Ihaveagooddealtodo.”
“Whatdoyoumake,madame?”
“Manythings.”
“Forinstance—”
“Forinstance,”returnedMadameDefarge,composedly,“shrouds.”
Themanmovedalittlefurtheraway,assoonashecould,andthemenderofroadsfannedhimselfwithhisbluecap:feelingitmightilycloseandoppressive.
IfheneededaKingandQueentorestorehim,hewasfortunateinhavinghisremedyathand;for,soonthelarge-facedKingandthefair-facedQueencameintheirgoldencoach,attendedbytheshiningBull’sEyeoftheirCourt,aglitteringmultitudeoflaughingladiesandfinelords;andinjewelsandsilksandpowderandsplendourandelegantlyspurningfiguresandhandsomelydisdainfulfacesofbothsexes,themenderofroadsbathedhimself,somuchtohistemporaryintoxication,thathecriedLonglivetheKing,LonglivetheQueen,Longliveeverybodyandeverything!
asifhehadneverheardofubiquitousJacquesinhistime.
Then,thereweregardens,courtyards,terraces,fountains,greenbanks,moreKingandQueen,moreBull’sEye,morelordsandladies,moreLonglivetheyall!
untilheabsolutelyweptwithsentiment.
Duringthewholeofthisscene,whichlastedsomethreehours,hehadplentyofshoutingandweepingandsentimentalcompany,andthroughoutDefargeheldhimbythecollar,asiftorestrainhimfromflyingattheobjectsofhisbriefdevotionandtearingthemtopieces.
“Bravo!”saidDefarge,clappinghimonthebackwhenitwasover,likeapatron;“youareagoodboy!”
Themenderofroadswasnowcomingtohimself,andwasmistrustfulofhavingmadeamistakeinhislatedemonstrations;butno.
“Youarethefellowwewant,”saidDefarge,inhisear;“youmakethesefoolsbelievethatitwilllastforever.Then,theyarethemoreinsolent,anditisthenearerended.”
“Hey!”criedthemenderofroads,reflectively;“that’strue.”
“Thesefoolsknownothing.Whiletheydespiseyourbreath,andwouldstopitforeverandever,inyouorinahundredlikeyouratherthaninoneoftheirownhorsesordogs,theyonlyknowwhatyourbreathtellsthem.
Letitdeceivethem,then,alittlelonger;itcannotdeceivethemtoomuch.”
MadameDefargelookedsuperciliouslyattheclient,andnoddedinconfirmation.
“Astoyou,”saidshe,“youwouldshoutandshedtearsforanything,ifitmadeashowandanoise.Say!Wouldyounot?”
“Truly,madame,Ithinkso.Forthemoment.”
“Ifyouwereshownagreatheapofdolls,andweresetuponthemtopluckthemtopiecesanddespoilthemforyourownadvantage,youwouldpickouttherichestandgayest.Say!Wouldyounot?”
“Trulyyes,madame.”
“Yes.Andifyouwereshownaflockofbirds,unabletofly,andweresetuponthemtostripthemoftheirfeathersforyourownadvantage,youwouldsetuponthebirdsofthefinestfeathers;wouldyounot?”
“Itistrue,madame.”
“Youhaveseenbothdollsandbirdsto-day,”saidMadameDefarge,withawaveofherhandtowardstheplacewheretheyhadlastbeenapparent;“now,gohome!”
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