English
AlongtheParisstreets,thedeath-cartsrumble,hollowandharsh.
Sixtumbrilscarrytheday’swinetoLaGuillotine.
AllthedevouringandinsatiateMonstersimaginedsinceimaginationcouldrecorditself,arefusedintheonerealisation,Guillotine.
AndyetthereisnotinFrance,withitsrichvarietyofsoilandclimate,ablade,aleaf,aroot,asprig,apeppercorn,whichwillgrowtomaturityunderconditionsmorecertainthanthosethathaveproducedthishorror.
Crushhumanityoutofshapeoncemore,undersimilarhammers,anditwilltwistitselfintothesametorturedforms.
Sowthesameseedofrapaciouslicenseandoppressionoveragain,anditwillsurelyyieldthesamefruitaccordingtoitskind.
Sixtumbrilsrollalongthestreets.Changethesebackagaintowhattheywere,thoupowerfulenchanter,Time,andtheyshallbeseentobethecarriagesofabsolutemonarchs,theequipagesoffeudalnobles,thetoilettesofflaringJezebels,thechurchesthatarenotmyfather’shousebutdensofthieves,thehutsofmillionsofstarvingpeasants!
No;thegreatmagicianwhomajesticallyworksouttheappointedorderoftheCreator,neverreverseshistransformations.
“IfthoubechangedintothisshapebythewillofGod,”saytheseerstotheenchanted,inthewiseArabianstories,“thenremainso!
But,ifthouwearthisformthroughmerepassingconjuration,thenresumethyformeraspect!”
Changelessandhopeless,thetumbrilsrollalong.
Asthesombrewheelsofthesixcartsgoround,theyseemtoploughupalongcrookedfurrowamongthepopulaceinthestreets.
Ridgesoffacesarethrowntothissideandtothat,andtheploughsgosteadilyonward.
Sousedaretheregularinhabitantsofthehousestothespectacle,thatinmanywindowstherearenopeople,andinsometheoccupationofthehandsisnotsomuchassuspended,whiletheeyessurveythefacesinthetumbrils.
Hereandthere,theinmatehasvisitorstoseethesight;thenhepointshisfinger,withsomethingofthecomplacencyofacuratororauthorisedexponent,tothiscartandtothis,andseemstotellwhosathereyesterday,andwhotherethedaybefore.
Oftheridersinthetumbrils,someobservethesethings,andallthingsontheirlastroadside,withanimpassivestare;others,withalingeringinterestinthewaysoflifeandmen.
Some,seatedwithdroopingheads,aresunkinsilentdespair;again,therearesomesoheedfuloftheirlooksthattheycastuponthemultitudesuchglancesastheyhaveseenintheatres,andinpictures.
Severalclosetheireyes,andthink,ortrytogettheirstrayingthoughtstogether.
Onlyone,andheamiserablecreature,ofacrazedaspect,issoshatteredandmadedrunkbyhorror,thathesings,andtriestodance.
Notoneofthewholenumberappealsbylookorgesture,tothepityofthepeople.
Thereisaguardofsundryhorsemenridingabreastofthetumbrils,andfacesareoftenturneduptosomeofthem,andtheyareaskedsomequestion.
Itwouldseemtobealwaysthesamequestion,for,itisalwaysfollowedbyapressofpeopletowardsthethirdcart.
Thehorsemenabreastofthatcart,frequentlypointoutonemaninitwiththeirswords.
Theleadingcuriosityis,toknowwhichishe;hestandsatthebackofthetumbrilwithhisheadbentdown,toconversewithameregirlwhositsonthesideofthecart,andholdshishand.
Hehasnocuriosityorcareforthesceneabouthim,andalwaysspeakstothegirl.
HereandthereinthelongstreetofSt.Honore,criesareraisedagainsthim.
Iftheymovehimatall,itisonlytoaquietsmile,asheshakeshishairalittlemorelooselyabouthisface.
Hecannoteasilytouchhisface,hisarmsbeingbound.
Onthestepsofachurch,awaitingthecoming-upofthetumbrils,standstheSpyandprison-sheep.
Helooksintothefirstofthem:notthere.Helooksintothesecond:notthere.
Healreadyaskshimself,“Hashesacrificedme?”
whenhisfaceclears,ashelooksintothethird.
“WhichisEvremonde?”saysamanbehindhim.
“That.Atthebackthere.”
“Withhishandinthegirl’s?”
“Yes.”
Themancries,“Down,Evremonde!TotheGuillotineallaristocrats!Down,Evremonde!”
“Hush,hush!”theSpyentreatshim,timidly.
“Andwhynot,citizen?”
“Heisgoingtopaytheforfeit:itwillbepaidinfiveminutesmore.Lethimbeatpeace.”
Butthemancontinuingtoexclaim,“Down,Evremonde!”thefaceofEvremondeisforamomentturnedtowardshim.EvremondethenseestheSpy,andlooksattentivelyathim,andgoeshisway.
Theclocksareonthestrokeofthree,andthefurrowploughedamongthepopulaceisturninground,tocomeonintotheplaceofexecution,andend.
Theridgesthrowntothissideandtothat,nowcrumbleinandclosebehindthelastploughasitpasseson,forallarefollowingtotheGuillotine.
Infrontofit,seatedinchairs,asinagardenofpublicdiversion,areanumberofwomen,busilyknitting.
Ononeofthefore-mostchairs,standsTheVengeance,lookingaboutforherfriend.
“Therese!”shecries,inhershrilltones.“Whohasseenher?ThereseDefarge!”
“Shenevermissedbefore,”saysaknitting-womanofthesisterhood.
“No;norwillshemissnow,”criesTheVengeance,petulantly.“Therese.”
“Louder,”thewomanrecommends.
Ay!Louder,Vengeance,muchlouder,andstillshewillscarcelyhearthee.
Louderyet,Vengeance,withalittleoathorsoadded,andyetitwillhardlybringher.
Sendotherwomenupanddowntoseekher,lingeringsomewhere;andyet,althoughthemessengershavedonedreaddeeds,itisquestionablewhetheroftheirownwillstheywillgofarenoughtofindher!
“BadFortune!”criesTheVengeance,stampingherfootinthechair,“andherearethetumbrils!
AndEvremondewillbedespatchedinawink,andshenothere!
Seeherknittinginmyhand,andheremptychairreadyforher.
Icrywithvexationanddisappointment!”
AsTheVengeancedescendsfromherelevationtodoit,thetumbrilsbegintodischargetheirloads.
TheministersofSainteGuillotinearerobedandready.Crash!
—Aheadisheldup,andtheknitting-womenwhoscarcelyliftedtheireyestolookatitamomentagowhenitcouldthinkandspeak,countOne.
Thesecondtumbrilemptiesandmoveson;thethirdcomesup.Crash!—Andtheknitting-women,neverfalteringorpausingintheirWork,countTwo.
ThesupposedEvremondedescends,andtheseamstressisliftedoutnextafterhim.
Hehasnotrelinquishedherpatienthandingettingout,butstillholdsitashepromised.
Hegentlyplacesherwithherbacktothecrashingenginethatconstantlywhirrsupandfalls,andshelooksintohisfaceandthankshim.
“Butforyou,dearstranger,Ishouldnotbesocomposed,forIamnaturallyapoorlittlething,faintofheart;norshouldIhavebeenabletoraisemythoughtstoHimwhowasputtodeath,thatwemighthavehopeandcomforthereto-day.IthinkyouweresenttomebyHeaven.”
“Oryoutome,”saysSydneyCarton.“Keepyoureyesuponme,dearchild,andmindnootherobject.”
“ImindnothingwhileIholdyourhand.IshallmindnothingwhenIletitgo,iftheyarerapid.”
“Theywillberapid.Fearnot!”
Thetwostandinthefast-thinningthrongofvictims,buttheyspeakasiftheywerealone.
Eyetoeye,voicetovoice,handtohand,hearttoheart,thesetwochildrenoftheUniversalMother,elsesowideapartanddiffering,havecometogetheronthedarkhighway,torepairhometogether,andtorestinherbosom.
“Braveandgenerousfriend,willyouletmeaskyouonelastquestion?Iamveryignorant,andittroublesme—justalittle.”
“Tellmewhatitis.”
“Ihaveacousin,anonlyrelativeandanorphan,likemyself,whomIloveverydearly.
SheisfiveyearsyoungerthanI,andshelivesinafarmer’shouseinthesouthcountry.
Povertypartedus,andsheknowsnothingofmyfate—forIcannotwrite—andifIcould,howshouldItellher!Itisbetterasitis.”
“Yes,yes:betterasitis.”
“WhatIhavebeenthinkingaswecamealong,andwhatIamstillthinkingnow,asIlookintoyourkindstrongfacewhichgivesmesomuchsupport,isthis:—IftheRepublicreallydoesgoodtothepoor,andtheycometobelesshungry,andinallwaystosufferless,shemaylivealongtime:shemayevenlivetobeold.”
“Whatthen,mygentlesister?”
“Doyouthink:”theuncomplainingeyesinwhichthereissomuchendurance,fillwithtears,andthelipspartalittlemoreandtremble:“thatitwillseemlongtome,whileIwaitforherinthebetterlandwhereItrustbothyouandIwillbemercifullysheltered?”
“Itcannotbe,mychild;thereisnoTimethere,andnotroublethere.”
“Youcomfortmesomuch!Iamsoignorant.AmItokissyounow?Isthemomentcome?”
“Yes.”
Shekisseshislips;hekisseshers;theysolemnlyblesseachother.
Thesparehanddoesnottrembleashereleasesit;nothingworsethanasweet,brightconstancyisinthepatientface.
Shegoesnextbeforehim—isgone;theknitting-womencountTwenty-Two.
“IamtheResurrectionandtheLife,saiththeLord:hethatbelievethinme,thoughheweredead,yetshallhelive:andwhosoeverlivethandbelievethinmeshallneverdie.”
Themurmuringofmanyvoices,theupturningofmanyfaces,thepressingonofmanyfootstepsintheoutskirtsofthecrowd,sothatitswellsforwardinamass,likeonegreatheaveofwater,allflashesaway.Twenty-Three.
Theysaidofhim,aboutthecitythatnight,thatitwasthepeacefullestman’sfaceeverbeheldthere.Manyaddedthathelookedsublimeandprophetic.
Oneofthemostremarkablesufferersbythesameaxe—awoman-hadaskedatthefootofthesamescaffold,notlongbefore,tobeallowedtowritedownthethoughtsthatwereinspiringher.
Ifhehadgivenanyutterancetohis,andtheywereprophetic,theywouldhavebeenthese:
“IseeBarsad,andCly,Defarge,TheVengeance,theJuryman,theJudge,longranksofthenewoppressorswhohaverisenonthedestructionoftheold,perishingbythisretributiveinstrument,beforeitshallceaseoutofitspresentuse.
Iseeabeautifulcityandabrilliantpeoplerisingfromthisabyss,and,intheirstrugglestobetrulyfree,intheirtriumphsanddefeats,throughlongyearstocome,Iseetheevilofthistimeandoftheprevioustimeofwhichthisisthenaturalbirth,graduallymakingexpiationforitselfandwearingout.
“IseethelivesforwhichIlaydownmylife,peaceful,useful,prosperousandhappy,inthatEnglandwhichIshallseenomore.
IseeHerwithachilduponherbosom,whobearsmyname.
Iseeherfather,agedandbent,butotherwiserestored,andfaithfultoallmeninhishealingoffice,andatpeace.
Iseethegoodoldman,solongtheirfriend,intenyears’timeenrichingthemwithallhehas,andpassingtranquillytohisreward.
“IseethatIholdasanctuaryintheirhearts,andintheheartsoftheirdescendants,generationshence.
Iseeher,anoldwoman,weepingformeontheanniversaryofthisday.
Iseeherandherhusband,theircoursedone,lyingsidebysideintheirlastearthlybed,andIknowthateachwasnotmorehonouredandheldsacredintheother’ssoul,thanIwasinthesoulsofboth.
“Iseethatchildwholayuponherbosomandwhoboremyname,amanwinninghiswayupinthatpathoflifewhichoncewasmine.
Iseehimwinningitsowell,thatmynameismadeillustrioustherebythelightofhis.
IseetheblotsIthrewuponit,fadedaway.
Iseehim,fore-mostofjustjudgesandhonouredmen,bringingaboyofmyname,withaforeheadthatIknowandgoldenhair,tothisplace—thenfairtolookupon,withnotatraceofthisday’sdisfigurement—andIhearhimtellthechildmystory,withatenderandafalteringvoice.
“Itisafar,farbetterthingthatIdo,thanIhaveeverdone;itisafar,farbetterrestthatIgotothanIhaveeverknown.”
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