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双城记|A Tale of Two Cities

Book 3 Chapter 2 The Grindstone

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 查尔斯-狄更斯] 阅读：[37200]
Book 3 Chapter 2 The Grindstone
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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台尔森银行设在巴黎圣日耳曼区，是一幢大厦的侧翼，由一个院落与外面相通，用一堵高墙和一道结实的门跟街道隔断。这幢大厦本属于一个大贵族，他原先住在这儿，是避难时穿上他家厨师的衣服越过边界逃掉的。现在他已成了个逃避着猎人追捕的野兽。可是在他“轮回转世”之前他却不是别人，正是那个当初要用四个精壮汉子给他的嘴准备巧克力的大人，刚才提到的那位厨师的服侍还在外。

1
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大人逃掉了，那四个精壮大汉便以时刻准备好心甘情愿地割开大人的喉咙来洗清拿过他高薪的罪行，那是要奉献到曙光中的共和国祭坛上去的——统一不可分割的，自由、平等、博爱或死亡的共和国。大人的住宅当初只是暂时查封，后来就没收了。因为形势发展极快，一个法令跟着一个法令迅猛下达，到了秋季九月三日的夜里，执行法律的爱国者委员们已占领了大人的大厦，给它挂上了三色徽记，在华美的大厅里喝着白兰地。

2
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若是在伦敦的台尔森银行有了幢巴黎的台尔森银行那样的大厦，那是会气得负责人发疯、在报纸上弄得他声名狼籍的，因为银行的院子里若是有了栽着桔树的箱子、柜台头顶上若是有了长着翅膀的小爱神，那责任感强烈而且极重体面的不列颠负责人将如何解释？可是那些东西又是的确存在的。台尔森把小爱神用白粉涂掉了，但天花板上还有一个小爱神穿着凉爽的薄绡，从早到晚望着银钱（这倒是他的一贯行径）。这个异教徒娃娃和他身后的挂了帏幅的神态，嵌在墙壁里的镜子，和那些年龄还不算大、稍受诱惑就在公共场合跳舞的职员，若是在伦敦的隆巴底街难免会弄得银行破产。可是法国的台尔森银行尽管有着这些东西，却照常生意兴隆；只要时局平静，不会有人见了便大惊小怪抽走存款的。

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今后哪些钱会从台尔森银行取走？哪些钱会永远留在那儿，再也没人想起？哪些金银器皿和珠宝饰物会在台尔森的仓库里失去光泽，而它的寄存人则在监牢里憔悴或是横死？有多少台尔森银行的帐目在人世会无法结算，只好转到另一个世界去处理？那天晚上没有人能说清楚，贾维斯.罗瑞先生也说不清楚。他怀着这些问题苦苦思索了许久。他坐在新燃起的木柴火边（那年遭灾歉收，偏又冷得很早），他那诚实而勇敢的面庞上有一种阴影，那阴影比头顶上摇晃的灯光所能投射的、比屋里一切所能扭曲反射的都要深沉—一是恐怖的阴影。

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他在银行里住了几间房。他对银行当局的忠诚使他变成了银行的一部分，像一株结实的长春藤。偶然的机会使他们从爱国者那儿对大厦主楼的占领获得了某种保证，但是耿直的老人对此却从不寄予希望。院落对面的游廊之下有一个宽大的停车场，那位大员的几部马车居然还停在那儿。两根廊柱上固定有两支火炬，正火光熊熊地燃烧着。火光下外面的空地上有一个巨大的磨刀石。那东西草草安装，似乎是从附近的铁匠铺或其它车间匆匆搬来的。罗瑞先生站起身来望着窗外，看到这些无害的东西，不禁打了个寒噤，又回到了炉火边的座位上去。他原先不但打开了玻璃窗，而且打开了外面的横格百叶窗，这时他又把两层窗户都关上。他已冻得全身发抖了。

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高大的墙与结实的门外传来了城市常有的嗡嗡之声，偶然插进一种难以描述的铃声，那铃声妖异、鬼气，仿佛是某种性质特别的反常的东西正往天上飞升。

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“谢谢上帝，”罗瑞先生交叉着双手说，“幸好我在这个可怕的城市里没有亲人。愿上帝怜惜危险中的人们！”

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大门的门铃立即响了。他想，“是那些人回来了！”便坐在那儿静听。可是并没有他所预料的冲进院子的喧嚣，大门反倒砰的一声关上了，一切又归于平静。

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心里的紧张与害伯刺激了他，使他为银行担起心来。形势的剧变自然会令人担心，也使人紧张害怕，不过他那地方倒是门卫森严。他站了起来，想去找保卫大楼的可靠的人，这时他的门却突然开了，闯进来两个人。一见来人他大吃一惊，倒退了回来。

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是露西和她的父亲！露西向他伸出了双臂，脸上带着常有的集中而紧张的真诚，仿佛是造物主有意印到她的脸上，要她在这个生命的重要关头表现出力量似的。

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“怎么回事？”罗瑞先生弄糊涂了，喘不过气来。“出了什么事了？露西！曼内特！究竟是什么事？为什么到这儿来了？是怎么回事？”

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她脸色苍白，神情慌张，死死地盯住他的脸，在他的怀里喘着气，求他说，“啊，亲爱的朋友！我的丈夫……”

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“你的丈夫，露西？”

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“查尔斯。”

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“查尔斯怎么了？”

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“在这儿。”

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“在这儿，在巴黎？”

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“到这儿好几天了——三四天吧——我不知道是几天——我方寸太乱。一桩善行使他不辞而别，来到了这儿。他在城门边给逮捕了，送到牢里去了。”

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老人忍不住发出了一声大叫，几乎同时，大门的门铃再次响了，一阵喧嚣的脚步声和话语声冲进了院子。，

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“有什么事，这么喧闹？”医生说，转身向着窗户。

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“别看！”罗瑞先生叫道，“别后外面！曼内特，有生命危险，别碰百叶窗。”

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医生转过身子，手还在窗户上，带着一个勇敢的冷笑说：

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“我亲爱的朋友，在这城市的生活里我有一张护身符呢！我曾是巴士底的囚徒。在巴黎——不仅是在巴黎，在法国——无论是谁，只要知道我曾是巴士底的囚徒，都是不会碰我的。他们只会拥抱我，怀着胜利的感情把我抬起来，热情得叫我受不了。我往日的痛苦给了我一种力量，让我能顺利通过一切路障，让我知道了查尔斯的下落，而且把我送到了这儿。我知道会这样的；我知道我能帮助查尔斯摆脱一切危险。我就是这样告诉露西的。——那是什么闹声？”他的手又放到了窗户上。

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“别看！”罗瑞先生迫不及待地叫道。“不，露西，亲爱的，你也不能看！”他伸出手搂住她。“别那么害怕，亲爱的。我向你们庄严宣誓，我并不知道查尔斯受到了伤害，甚至没有想到他已来到了这个要命的地方。他在哪个监狱？”

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“拉福斯。”

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“拉福斯。露西，我的孩子，你办事一向勇敢能干，现在必须镇静，并严格按照我的要求办，因为有许多你想不到、我也说不出的问题要靠镇静才能解决。今天晚上采取任何行动都已无济于事，因此你决不能出门。我这样说，是因为为了查尔斯我必须要求你做的事是极其困难的。你必须立即服从，不能动，不能出声。你必须让我把你送到后面的屋子里去，好让我跟你父亲单独谈两分钟。这事生死攸关，你千万不能耽误。”

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“我服从。我从你脸上看得出来我只能照办，没有别的办法。我明白你的真诚。”

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老头儿亲了亲她，催她进了他的房间，锁上了门，然后匆匆回到医生面前，打开了窗户和一部分百叶窗，把手搭到他手臂上，跟他一起往院子里望去。

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他们看到一大群男女：人数不多，没有挤满院子，总共不到四十或五十人，距离也不近。是占领大厦的人让他们从大门进来使用磨刀石的；他们安装那东西就是为了这个。这地方方便而且僻静。

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可是，那是些多么可怕的人！干的又是多么可怕的工作呀！

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磨刀石有一对把手。两个男人疯狂地摇着。磨盘一转动他们便扬起脸，长发往后耷拉，那样子比涂得满面狰狞的最可怕的野蛮人还更恐怖，更残忍。他们装上了假眉毛和假八字胡，狰狞的脸上满是血污和汗渍，由于狂呼大叫而弄得面部歪扭，由于兽性的兴奋和睡眠不足瞪得眼睛骨碌碌转。两个暴徒不断地摇着，粘结的头发时而甩下来遮在眼睛上，时而甩回去挂在后脑上。几个妇女把酒递到他们嘴边，让他们喝。血在洒落，酒在洒落，磨刀石的火花在洒落，形成了一片血与火的气氛。放眼看去，那群人没有—个不是满身血污。他们脱光了上衣，你推我挤，往磨刀石靠近。他们四肢和身上满是淋漓的血迹和脏污；他们穿着的破布烂衫也沾满了血污。男人们像妖怪一样挂满了抢来的女用花边、丝绸和彩带，那些东西也浸渍了浓浓的血污。他们带来磨利的战斧、短刀、刺刀、战刀也全都有殷红的血。有些砍缺了的大刀是用条条薄绡和撕碎的衣服缠在持刀人手腕上的，材料虽不同，却都露出同一种殷红。使用武器的狂人把武器从大片的火花中抢过来便往街上冲时，同样的殷红也在他们疯狂的眼里出现———那种眼睛任何一个还没有变成野兽的人见了都恨不得一枪瞄准，把它消灭，即使少活二十年也情愿，

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这一切都是在转瞬之间看见的，有如快被淹死或处在别的生死关头的入所看到的世界—一如果那世界存在的话。两人离开了窗口，医生在他的朋友死灰色的脸上寻求答案。

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“他们在处死囚犯，”罗瑞先生低声说，四面瞥着关紧的屋子。“如果你对你的话有把握，如果你的确有你自认为具有的那种力量——我相信你是有的——把你自己介绍给这些魔鬼吧！让他们带你去拉福斯。也许来不及了，这我不知道，但再也不能耽搁。”

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曼内特医生捏了捏他的手，没顾得戴上帽子就冲了出去。罗瑞先生重新关好百叶窗时，他已到了院子里。

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他那飘拂的白发，引人注目的面庞和把武器像水一样向两边分开的满不在乎的自信很快就让他进入到磨刀石周围的入群正中。活动暂时停顿，他匆匆地低声说起话来，声音隐约，听不真切，罗瑞先生随即看见他被包围了起来，站在二十个男人的行列正中，这些人肩靠着肩，手扶着肩把他簇拥了出去。人群高叫着“巴士底囚徒万岁！到拉福斯营救巴士底囚徒的亲人！让巴士底囚徒到前面去！到拉福斯营救囚徒埃佛瑞蒙德！”一千条喉咙叫喊着响应。

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他心惊胆战地关上了百叶窗和玻璃窗，拉上了窗帘，然后匆匆跑去告诉露西，她的父亲得到了人民的帮助，已去寻找她的丈夫去了，同时却发现露西的女儿和普洛丝小姐已跟她在一起。很久以后，当他夜静更深坐在那几望着她们时，才想起自己并未因她们的出现而惊讶。

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这时露西已摸住他的手昏倒在他的脚下。普洛丝小姐已把孩子放在他的床上，自己的头也渐渐垂到美丽的孩子枕旁。啊，那可怜的妻子痛哭着度过的漫漫长夜呀！啊，她的父亲一去不归、音讯杳无的漫漫长夜呀！

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黑暗中的大门门铃又两度响起，人群又冲了进来，磨刀石再次旋转，再次发出兹兹之声。“什么事？”露西害怕了，叫道。“别作声！士兵也在这儿磨刀，”罗瑞先生说，“这地方现在是国家财产，是当作武库之类的东西用的，亲爱的。”

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一共来了两次，但第二次磨得没有力气，而且断断续续，接着便天亮了，他从攥着他的手中解脱出来，小心翼翼地往外看，一个人正从磨刀石旁的路面上茫然地四面窥后。那人满身血迹，仿佛是从战场上死人堆里爬出来的重伤士兵。不久，这位精疲力竭的杀人者便在朦胧的曙光中看到了大人的一辆马车，并向那华丽的交通工具走去。他钻进车里，把自己关了起来，在那精美的车垫上休息去了。

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罗瑞先生再次望向窗外时，地球这大磨刀石已经转动，太阳已在院里映出一片血红。那小磨刀石却还孤零零地站在清晨静谧的空气里，猩红一片一—那猩红却不是太阳染成的，太阳也带不走。

40
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台尔森银行设在巴黎圣日耳曼区，是一幢大厦的侧翼，由一个院落与外面相通，用一堵高墙和一道结实的门跟街道隔断。这幢大厦本属于一个大贵族，他原先住在这儿，是避难时穿上他家厨师的衣服越过边界逃掉的。现在他已成了个逃避着猎人追捕的野兽。可是在他“轮回转世”之前他却不是别人，正是那个当初要用四个精壮汉子给他的嘴准备巧克力的大人，刚才提到的那位厨师的服侍还在外。

41
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大人逃掉了，那四个精壮大汉便以时刻准备好心甘情愿地割开大人的喉咙来洗清拿过他高薪的罪行，那是要奉献到曙光中的共和国祭坛上去的——统一不可分割的，自由、平等、博爱或死亡的共和国。大人的住宅当初只是暂时查封，后来就没收了。因为形势发展极快，一个法令跟着一个法令迅猛下达，到了秋季九月三日的夜里，执行法律的爱国者委员们已占领了大人的大厦，给它挂上了三色徽记，在华美的大厅里喝着白兰地。

42
-

若是在伦敦的台尔森银行有了幢巴黎的台尔森银行那样的大厦，那是会气得负责人发疯、在报纸上弄得他声名狼籍的，因为银行的院子里若是有了栽着桔树的箱子、柜台头顶上若是有了长着翅膀的小爱神，那责任感强烈而且极重体面的不列颠负责人将如何解释？可是那些东西又是的确存在的。台尔森把小爱神用白粉涂掉了，但天花板上还有一个小爱神穿着凉爽的薄绡，从早到晚望着银钱（这倒是他的一贯行径）。这个异教徒娃娃和他身后的挂了帏幅的神态，嵌在墙壁里的镜子，和那些年龄还不算大、稍受诱惑就在公共场合跳舞的职员，若是在伦敦的隆巴底街难免会弄得银行破产。可是法国的台尔森银行尽管有着这些东西，却照常生意兴隆；只要时局平静，不会有人见了便大惊小怪抽走存款的。

43
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今后哪些钱会从台尔森银行取走？哪些钱会永远留在那儿，再也没人想起？哪些金银器皿和珠宝饰物会在台尔森的仓库里失去光泽，而它的寄存人则在监牢里憔悴或是横死？有多少台尔森银行的帐目在人世会无法结算，只好转到另一个世界去处理？那天晚上没有人能说清楚，贾维斯.罗瑞先生也说不清楚。他怀着这些问题苦苦思索了许久。他坐在新燃起的木柴火边（那年遭灾歉收，偏又冷得很早），他那诚实而勇敢的面庞上有一种阴影，那阴影比头顶上摇晃的灯光所能投射的、比屋里一切所能扭曲反射的都要深沉—一是恐怖的阴影。

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他在银行里住了几间房。他对银行当局的忠诚使他变成了银行的一部分，像一株结实的长春藤。偶然的机会使他们从爱国者那儿对大厦主楼的占领获得了某种保证，但是耿直的老人对此却从不寄予希望。院落对面的游廊之下有一个宽大的停车场，那位大员的几部马车居然还停在那儿。两根廊柱上固定有两支火炬，正火光熊熊地燃烧着。火光下外面的空地上有一个巨大的磨刀石。那东西草草安装，似乎是从附近的铁匠铺或其它车间匆匆搬来的。罗瑞先生站起身来望着窗外，看到这些无害的东西，不禁打了个寒噤，又回到了炉火边的座位上去。他原先不但打开了玻璃窗，而且打开了外面的横格百叶窗，这时他又把两层窗户都关上。他已冻得全身发抖了。

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高大的墙与结实的门外传来了城市常有的嗡嗡之声，偶然插进一种难以描述的铃声，那铃声妖异、鬼气，仿佛是某种性质特别的反常的东西正往天上飞升。

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“谢谢上帝，”罗瑞先生交叉着双手说，“幸好我在这个可怕的城市里没有亲人。愿上帝怜惜危险中的人们！”

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大门的门铃立即响了。他想，“是那些人回来了！”便坐在那儿静听。可是并没有他所预料的冲进院子的喧嚣，大门反倒砰的一声关上了，一切又归于平静。

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心里的紧张与害伯刺激了他，使他为银行担起心来。形势的剧变自然会令人担心，也使人紧张害怕，不过他那地方倒是门卫森严。他站了起来，想去找保卫大楼的可靠的人，这时他的门却突然开了，闯进来两个人。一见来人他大吃一惊，倒退了回来。

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是露西和她的父亲！露西向他伸出了双臂，脸上带着常有的集中而紧张的真诚，仿佛是造物主有意印到她的脸上，要她在这个生命的重要关头表现出力量似的。

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“怎么回事？”罗瑞先生弄糊涂了，喘不过气来。“出了什么事了？露西！曼内特！究竟是什么事？为什么到这儿来了？是怎么回事？”

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她脸色苍白，神情慌张，死死地盯住他的脸，在他的怀里喘着气，求他说，“啊，亲爱的朋友！我的丈夫……”

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“你的丈夫，露西？”

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“查尔斯。”

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“查尔斯怎么了？”

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“在这儿。”

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“在这儿，在巴黎？”

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“到这儿好几天了——三四天吧——我不知道是几天——我方寸太乱。一桩善行使他不辞而别，来到了这儿。他在城门边给逮捕了，送到牢里去了。”

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老人忍不住发出了一声大叫，几乎同时，大门的门铃再次响了，一阵喧嚣的脚步声和话语声冲进了院子。，

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“有什么事，这么喧闹？”医生说，转身向着窗户。

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“别看！”罗瑞先生叫道，“别后外面！曼内特，有生命危险，别碰百叶窗。”

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医生转过身子，手还在窗户上，带着一个勇敢的冷笑说：

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“我亲爱的朋友，在这城市的生活里我有一张护身符呢！我曾是巴士底的囚徒。在巴黎——不仅是在巴黎，在法国——无论是谁，只要知道我曾是巴士底的囚徒，都是不会碰我的。他们只会拥抱我，怀着胜利的感情把我抬起来，热情得叫我受不了。我往日的痛苦给了我一种力量，让我能顺利通过一切路障，让我知道了查尔斯的下落，而且把我送到了这儿。我知道会这样的；我知道我能帮助查尔斯摆脱一切危险。我就是这样告诉露西的。——那是什么闹声？”他的手又放到了窗户上。

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“别看！”罗瑞先生迫不及待地叫道。“不，露西，亲爱的，你也不能看！”他伸出手搂住她。“别那么害怕，亲爱的。我向你们庄严宣誓，我并不知道查尔斯受到了伤害，甚至没有想到他已来到了这个要命的地方。他在哪个监狱？”

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“拉福斯。”

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“拉福斯。露西，我的孩子，你办事一向勇敢能干，现在必须镇静，并严格按照我的要求办，因为有许多你想不到、我也说不出的问题要靠镇静才能解决。今天晚上采取任何行动都已无济于事，因此你决不能出门。我这样说，是因为为了查尔斯我必须要求你做的事是极其困难的。你必须立即服从，不能动，不能出声。你必须让我把你送到后面的屋子里去，好让我跟你父亲单独谈两分钟。这事生死攸关，你千万不能耽误。”

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“我服从。我从你脸上看得出来我只能照办，没有别的办法。我明白你的真诚。”

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老头儿亲了亲她，催她进了他的房间，锁上了门，然后匆匆回到医生面前，打开了窗户和一部分百叶窗，把手搭到他手臂上，跟他一起往院子里望去。

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他们看到一大群男女：人数不多，没有挤满院子，总共不到四十或五十人，距离也不近。是占领大厦的人让他们从大门进来使用磨刀石的；他们安装那东西就是为了这个。这地方方便而且僻静。

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可是，那是些多么可怕的人！干的又是多么可怕的工作呀！

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磨刀石有一对把手。两个男人疯狂地摇着。磨盘一转动他们便扬起脸，长发往后耷拉，那样子比涂得满面狰狞的最可怕的野蛮人还更恐怖，更残忍。他们装上了假眉毛和假八字胡，狰狞的脸上满是血污和汗渍，由于狂呼大叫而弄得面部歪扭，由于兽性的兴奋和睡眠不足瞪得眼睛骨碌碌转。两个暴徒不断地摇着，粘结的头发时而甩下来遮在眼睛上，时而甩回去挂在后脑上。几个妇女把酒递到他们嘴边，让他们喝。血在洒落，酒在洒落，磨刀石的火花在洒落，形成了一片血与火的气氛。放眼看去，那群人没有—个不是满身血污。他们脱光了上衣，你推我挤，往磨刀石靠近。他们四肢和身上满是淋漓的血迹和脏污；他们穿着的破布烂衫也沾满了血污。男人们像妖怪一样挂满了抢来的女用花边、丝绸和彩带，那些东西也浸渍了浓浓的血污。他们带来磨利的战斧、短刀、刺刀、战刀也全都有殷红的血。有些砍缺了的大刀是用条条薄绡和撕碎的衣服缠在持刀人手腕上的，材料虽不同，却都露出同一种殷红。使用武器的狂人把武器从大片的火花中抢过来便往街上冲时，同样的殷红也在他们疯狂的眼里出现———那种眼睛任何一个还没有变成野兽的人见了都恨不得一枪瞄准，把它消灭，即使少活二十年也情愿，

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这一切都是在转瞬之间看见的，有如快被淹死或处在别的生死关头的入所看到的世界—一如果那世界存在的话。两人离开了窗口，医生在他的朋友死灰色的脸上寻求答案。

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“他们在处死囚犯，”罗瑞先生低声说，四面瞥着关紧的屋子。“如果你对你的话有把握，如果你的确有你自认为具有的那种力量——我相信你是有的——把你自己介绍给这些魔鬼吧！让他们带你去拉福斯。也许来不及了，这我不知道，但再也不能耽搁。”

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曼内特医生捏了捏他的手，没顾得戴上帽子就冲了出去。罗瑞先生重新关好百叶窗时，他已到了院子里。

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他那飘拂的白发，引人注目的面庞和把武器像水一样向两边分开的满不在乎的自信很快就让他进入到磨刀石周围的入群正中。活动暂时停顿，他匆匆地低声说起话来，声音隐约，听不真切，罗瑞先生随即看见他被包围了起来，站在二十个男人的行列正中，这些人肩靠着肩，手扶着肩把他簇拥了出去。人群高叫着“巴士底囚徒万岁！到拉福斯营救巴士底囚徒的亲人！让巴士底囚徒到前面去！到拉福斯营救囚徒埃佛瑞蒙德！”一千条喉咙叫喊着响应。

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他心惊胆战地关上了百叶窗和玻璃窗，拉上了窗帘，然后匆匆跑去告诉露西，她的父亲得到了人民的帮助，已去寻找她的丈夫去了，同时却发现露西的女儿和普洛丝小姐已跟她在一起。很久以后，当他夜静更深坐在那几望着她们时，才想起自己并未因她们的出现而惊讶。

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这时露西已摸住他的手昏倒在他的脚下。普洛丝小姐已把孩子放在他的床上，自己的头也渐渐垂到美丽的孩子枕旁。啊，那可怜的妻子痛哭着度过的漫漫长夜呀！啊，她的父亲一去不归、音讯杳无的漫漫长夜呀！

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黑暗中的大门门铃又两度响起，人群又冲了进来，磨刀石再次旋转，再次发出兹兹之声。“什么事？”露西害怕了，叫道。“别作声！士兵也在这儿磨刀，”罗瑞先生说，“这地方现在是国家财产，是当作武库之类的东西用的，亲爱的。”

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一共来了两次，但第二次磨得没有力气，而且断断续续，接着便天亮了，他从攥着他的手中解脱出来，小心翼翼地往外看，一个人正从磨刀石旁的路面上茫然地四面窥后。那人满身血迹，仿佛是从战场上死人堆里爬出来的重伤士兵。不久，这位精疲力竭的杀人者便在朦胧的曙光中看到了大人的一辆马车，并向那华丽的交通工具走去。他钻进车里，把自己关了起来，在那精美的车垫上休息去了。

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罗瑞先生再次望向窗外时，地球这大磨刀石已经转动，太阳已在院里映出一片血红。那小磨刀石却还孤零零地站在清晨静谧的空气里，猩红一片一—那猩红却不是太阳染成的，太阳也带不走。

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TELLSON’S BANK, established in the Saint Germain Quarter of Paris, was in a wing of a large house, approached by a court-yard and shut off from the street by a high wall and a strong gate. The house belonged to a great nobleman who had lived in it until he made a flight from the troubles, in his own cook’s dress, and got across the borders. A mere beast of the chase flying from hunters, he was still in his metempsychosis no other than the same Monseigneur, the preparation of whose chocolate for whose lips had once occupied three strong men besides the cook in question.

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Monseigneur gone, and the three strong men absolving themselves from the sin of having drawn his high wages, by being more than ready and willing to cut his throat on the altar of the dawning Republic one and indivisible of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, Monseigneur’s house had been first sequestrated, and then confiscated. For, all things moved so fast, and decree followed decree with that fierce precipitation, that now upon the third night of the autumn month of September, patriot emissaries of the law were in possession of Monseigneur’s house, and had marked it with the tricolour, and were drinking

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brandy in its state apartments.

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A place of business in London like Tellson’s place of business in Paris, would soon have driven the House out of its mind and into the Gazette. For, what would staid British responsibility and respectability have said to orange-trees in boxes in a Bank court-yard, and even to a Cupid over the counter? Yet such things were. Tellson’s had whitewashed the Cupid, but he was still to be seen on the ceiling, in the coolest linen, aiming (as he very often does) at money from morning to night. Bankruptcy must inevitably have come of this young Pagan, in Lombard street, London, and also of a curtained alcove in the rear of the immortal boy, and also of a looking-glass let into the wall, and also of clerks not at all old, who danced in public on the slightest provocation. Yet, a French Tellson’s could get on with these things exceedingly well, and, as long as the times held together, no man had taken fright at them, and drawn out his money.

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What money would be drawn out of Tellson’s henceforth, and what would lie there, lost and forgotten; what plate and jewels would tarnish in Tellson’s hiding-places, while the depositors rusted in prisons, and when they should have violently perished; how many accounts with Tellson’s never to be balanced in this world, must be carried over into the next; no man could have said, that night, any more than Mr. Jarvis Lorry could, though he thought heavily of these questions. He sat by a newly-lighted wood fire (the blighted and unfruitful year was prematurely cold), and on his honest and courageous face there was a deeper shade than the pendent lamp could throw, or any object in the room distortedly reflect--a shade of horror.

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He occupied rooms in the Bank, in his fidelity to the House of which he had grown to be a part, like a strong root-ivy. It chanced that they derived a kind of security from the patriotic occupation of the main building, but the true-hearted old gentleman never calculated about that. All such circumstances were indifferent to him, so that he did his duty. On the opposite side of the court-yard, under a colonnade, was extensive standing for carriages--where, indeed, some carriages of Monseigneur yet stood. Against two of the pillars were fastened two great flaring flambeaux, and in the light of these, standing

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out in the open air, was a large grindstone: a roughly mounted thing which appeared to have hurriedly been brought there from some neighbouring smithy, or other workshop. Rising and looking out of window at these harmless objects, Mr. Lorry shivered, and retired to his seat by the fire. He had opened, not only the glass window, but the lattice blind outside it, and he had closed both again, and he shivered through his frame.

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From the streets beyond the high wall and the strong gate, there came the usual night hum of the city, with now and then an indescribable ring in it, weird and unearthly, as if some unwonted sounds of a terrible nature were going up to Heaven.

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`Thank God,’ said Mr. Lorry, clasping his hands, `that no one near and dear to me is in this dreadful town to-night. May He have mercy on all who are in danger!’

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Soon afterwards, the bell at the great gate sounded, and he thought, `They have come back!’ and sat listening. But, there was no loud irruption into the court-yard, as he had expected, and he heard the gate clash again, and all was quiet.

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The nervousness and dread that were upon him inspired that vague uneasiness respecting the Bank, which a great change would naturally awaken, with such feelings roused. It was well guarded, and he got up to go among the trusty people who were watching it, then his door suddenly opened, and two figures rushed in, at sight of which he fell back in amazement.

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Lucie and her father! Lucie with her arms stretched out to him, and with that old look of earnestness so concentrated and intensified, that it seemed as though it had been stamped upon her face expressly to give force and power to it in this one passage of her life.

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`What is this?’ cried Mr. Lorry, breathless and confused. `What is the matter? Lucie! Manette! What has happened? What has brought you here? What is it?’

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With the look fixed upon him, in her paleness and wildness, she panted out in his arms, imploringly, `O my dear friend! My husband!’

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`Your husband, Lucie?’

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`Charles.’

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`What of Charles?’

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`Here.’

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`Here, in Paris?’

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`Has been here some days--three or four--I don’t know how many--I can’t collect my thoughts. An errand of generosity brought him here unknown to us; he was stopped at the barrier, and sent to prison.’

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The old man uttered an irrepressible cry. Almost at the same moment, the bell of the great gate rang again, and a loud noise of feet and voices came pouring into the court-yard.

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`What is that noise?’ said the Doctor, turning towards the window.

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`Don’t look!’ cried Mr. Lorry. `Don’t look out! Manette, for your life, don’t touch the blind!’

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The Doctor turned, with his hand upon the fastening of the window, and said, with a cool bold smile:

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`My dear friend, I have a charmed life in this city. I have been a Bastille prisoner. There is no patriot in Paris--in Paris? In France--who, knowing me to have been a prisoner in the Bastille, would touch me, except to overwhelm me with embraces, or carry me in triumph. My old pain has given me a power that has brought us through the barrier, and gained us news of Charles there, and brought us here. I knew it would be so; I knew I could help Charles out of all danger; I told Lucie so.--What is that noise?’ His hand was again upon the window.

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`Don’t look!’ cried Mr. Lorry, absolutely desperate. `No, Lucie, my dear, nor you!’ He got his arm round her, and held her. `Don’t be so terrified, my love. I solemnly swear to you that I know of no harm having happened to Charles; that I had no suspicion even of his being in this fatal place. What prison is he in?’

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`La Force!’

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`La Force! Lucie, my child, if ever you were brave and serviceable in your life--and you were always both--you will compose yourself now, to do exactly as I bid you; for more depends upon it than you can think, or I can say. There is no help for you in any action on your part to-night; you cannot possibly stir out. I say this, because what I must bid you to do for Charles’s sake, is the hardest thing to do of all. You must instantly be obedient, still, and quiet. You must let me put you in a room at the back here. You must leave your father and me alone for two minutes, and as there are Life and Death in the world you must not

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delay.’

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`I will be submissive to you. I see in your face that you know I can do nothing else than this. I know you are true.’

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The old man kissed her, and hurried her into his room, and turned the key; then, came hurrying back to the Doctor, and opened the window and partly opened the blind, and put his hand upon the Doctor’s arm, and looked out with him into the court-yard.

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Looked out upon a throng of men and women: not enough in number, or near enough, to fill the court-yard: not more than forty or fifty in all. The people in possession of the house had let them in at the gate, and they had rushed in to work at the grindstone; it had evidently been set up there for their purpose, as in a convenient and retired spot.

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But, such awful workers, and such awful work!

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The grindstone had a double handle, and, turning at it madly were two men, whose faces, as their long hair flapped back when the whirlings of the grindstone brought their faces up, were more horrible and cruel than the visages of the wildest savages in their most barbarous disguise. False eye-brows and false moustaches were stuck upon them, and their hideous countenances were all bloody and sweaty, and all awry with howling, and all staring and glaring with beastly excitement and want of sleep. As these ruffians turned and turned, their matted locks now flung forward over their eyes, now flung backward over their necks, some women held wine to their mouths that they might drink; and what with dropping blood, and what with dropping wine, and what with the stream of sparks struck out of the stone, all their wicked atmosphere seemed gore and fire. The eye could not detect one creature in the group free from the smear of blood. Shouldering one another to get next at the sharpening-stone, were men stripped to the waist, with the stain all over their limbs and bodies; men in all sorts of rags, with the stain upon those

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rags; men devilishly set off with spoils of women’s lace and silk and ribbon, with the stain dyeing those trifles through and through. Hatchets, knives, bayonets, swords, all brought to be sharpened, were all red with it. Some of the hacked swords were tied to the wrists of those who carried them, with strips of linen and fragments of dress: ligatures various in kind, but all deep of the one colour. And as the frantic wielders of these weapons snatched them from the stream of sparks and tore away into the streets, the same red hue was red in their frenzied eyes;--eyes which any unbrutalised beholder would have given twenty years of life, to petrify with a well-directed gun.

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All this was seen in a moment, as the vision of a drowning man, or of any human creature at any very great pass, could see a world if it were there. They drew back from the window, and the Doctor looked for explanation in his friend’s ashy face.

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`They are,’ Mr. Lorry whispered the words, glancing fearfully round at the locked room, `murdering the prisoners. If you are sure of what you say; if you really have the power you think you have--as I believe you have--make yourself known to these devils, and get taken to La Force. It may be too late, I don’t know, but let it not be a minute later!’

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Doctor Manette pressed his hand, hastened bareheaded out of the room, and was in the court-yard when Mr. Lorry regained the blind.

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His streaming white hair, his remarkable face, and the impetuous confidence of his manner, as he put the weapons aside like water, carried him in an instant to the heart of the concourse at the stone. For a few moments there was a pause, and a hurry, and a murmur, and the unintelligible sound of his voice; and then Mr. Lorry saw him, surrounded by all, and in the midst of a line of twenty men long, all linked shoulder to shoulder, and hand to shoulder, hurried out with cries of--’Live the Bastille prisoner! Help for the Bastille prisoner’s kindred in La Force! Room for the Bastille prisoner in front there! Save the prisoner

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Evrémonde at La Force!’ and a thousand answering shouts.

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Twice more in all; but, the last spell of work was feeble and fitful. Soon afterwards the day began to dawn, and he softly detached himself from the clasping hand, and cautiously looked out again. A man, so besmeared that he might have been a sorely wounded soldier creeping back to consciousness on a field of slain, was rising from the pavement by the side of the grindstone, and looking about him with a vacant air. Shortly, this worn-out murderer descried in the imperfect light one of the carriages of Monseigneur, and, staggering to that gorgeous vehicle, climbed in at the door, and shut himself up to take his rest on its dainty cushions.

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The great grindstone, Earth, had turned when Mr. Lorry looked out again, and the sun was red on the court-yard. But, the lesser grindstone stood alone there in the calm morning air, with a red upon it that the sun had never given, and would never take away.

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