A TALE OF TWO CITIES - 3 - 10 in English Moral Stories by Charles Dickens books and stories PDF | A TALE OF TWO CITIES - 3 - 10




By Charles Dickens

The Track of a Storm


The Substance of the Shadow

“I, Alexandre Manette, unfortunate physician, native of Beauvais, and

afterwards resident in Paris, write this melancholy paper in my doleful

cell in the Bastille, during the last month of the year, 1767. I write

it at stolen intervals, under every difficulty. I design to secrete it

in the wall of the chimney, where I have slowly and laboriously made a

place of concealment for it. Some pitying hand may find it there, when I

and my sorrows are dust.

“These words are formed by the rusty iron point with which I write with

difficulty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from the chimney, mixed

with blood, in the last month of the tenth year of my captivity. Hope

has quite departed from my breast. I know from terrible warnings I have

noted in myself that my reason will not long remain unimpaired, but I

solemnly declare that I am at this time in the possession of my right

mind--that my memory is exact and circumstantial--and that I write the

truth as I shall answer for these my last recorded words, whether they

be ever read by men or not, at the Eternal Judgment-seat.

“One cloudy moonlight night, in the third week of December (I think the

twenty-second of the month) in the year 1757, I was walking on a retired

part of the quay by the Seine for the refreshment of the frosty air,

at an hour's distance from my place of residence in the Street of the

School of Medicine, when a carriage came along behind me, driven very

fast. As I stood aside to let that carriage pass, apprehensive that it

might otherwise run me down, a head was put out at the window, and a

voice called to the driver to stop.

“The carriage stopped as soon as the driver could rein in his horses,

and the same voice called to me by my name. I answered. The carriage

was then so far in advance of me that two gentlemen had time to open the

door and alight before I came up with it.

“I observed that they were both wrapped in cloaks, and appeared to

conceal themselves. As they stood side by side near the carriage door,

I also observed that they both looked of about my own age, or rather

younger, and that they were greatly alike, in stature, manner, voice,

and (as far as I could see) face too.

“'You are Doctor Manette?' said one.

“I am.”

“'Doctor Manette, formerly of Beauvais,' said the other; 'the young

physician, originally an expert surgeon, who within the last year or two

has made a rising reputation in Paris?'

“'Gentlemen,' I returned, 'I am that Doctor Manette of whom you speak so


“'We have been to your residence,' said the first, 'and not being

so fortunate as to find you there, and being informed that you were

probably walking in this direction, we followed, in the hope of

overtaking you. Will you please to enter the carriage?'

“The manner of both was imperious, and they both moved, as these words

were spoken, so as to place me between themselves and the carriage door.

They were armed. I was not.

“'Gentlemen,' said I, 'pardon me; but I usually inquire who does me

the honour to seek my assistance, and what is the nature of the case to

which I am summoned.'

“The reply to this was made by him who had spoken second. 'Doctor,

your clients are people of condition. As to the nature of the case,

our confidence in your skill assures us that you will ascertain it for

yourself better than we can describe it. Enough. Will you please to

enter the carriage?'

“I could do nothing but comply, and I entered it in silence. They both

entered after me--the last springing in, after putting up the steps. The

carriage turned about, and drove on at its former speed.

“I repeat this conversation exactly as it occurred. I have no doubt that

it is, word for word, the same. I describe everything exactly as it took

place, constraining my mind not to wander from the task. Where I make

the broken marks that follow here, I leave off for the time, and put my

paper in its hiding-place.


“The carriage left the streets behind, passed the North Barrier, and

emerged upon the country road. At two-thirds of a league from the

Barrier--I did not estimate the distance at that time, but afterwards

when I traversed it--it struck out of the main avenue, and presently

stopped at a solitary house, We all three alighted, and walked, by

a damp soft footpath in a garden where a neglected fountain had

overflowed, to the door of the house. It was not opened immediately, in

answer to the ringing of the bell, and one of my two conductors struck

the man who opened it, with his heavy riding glove, across the face.

“There was nothing in this action to attract my particular attention,

for I had seen common people struck more commonly than dogs. But, the

other of the two, being angry likewise, struck the man in like manner

with his arm; the look and bearing of the brothers were then so exactly

alike, that I then first perceived them to be twin brothers.

“From the time of our alighting at the outer gate (which we found

locked, and which one of the brothers had opened to admit us, and had

relocked), I had heard cries proceeding from an upper chamber. I was

conducted to this chamber straight, the cries growing louder as we

ascended the stairs, and I found a patient in a high fever of the brain,

lying on a bed.

“The patient was a woman of great beauty, and young; assuredly not much

past twenty. Her hair was torn and ragged, and her arms were bound to

her sides with sashes and handkerchiefs. I noticed that these bonds were

all portions of a gentleman's dress. On one of them, which was a fringed

scarf for a dress of ceremony, I saw the armorial bearings of a Noble,

and the letter E.

“I saw this, within the first minute of my contemplation of the patient;

for, in her restless strivings she had turned over on her face on the

edge of the bed, had drawn the end of the scarf into her mouth, and was

in danger of suffocation. My first act was to put out my hand to relieve

her breathing; and in moving the scarf aside, the embroidery in the

corner caught my sight.

“I turned her gently over, placed my hands upon her breast to calm her

and keep her down, and looked into her face. Her eyes were dilated and

wild, and she constantly uttered piercing shrieks, and repeated the

words, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' and then counted up to

twelve, and said, 'Hush!' For an instant, and no more, she would pause

to listen, and then the piercing shrieks would begin again, and she

would repeat the cry, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' and

would count up to twelve, and say, 'Hush!' There was no variation in the

order, or the manner. There was no cessation, but the regular moment's

pause, in the utterance of these sounds.

“'How long,' I asked, 'has this lasted?'

“To distinguish the brothers, I will call them the elder and the

younger; by the elder, I mean him who exercised the most authority. It

was the elder who replied, 'Since about this hour last night.'

“'She has a husband, a father, and a brother?'

“'A brother.'

“'I do not address her brother?'

“He answered with great contempt, 'No.'

“'She has some recent association with the number twelve?'

“The younger brother impatiently rejoined, 'With twelve o'clock?'

“'See, gentlemen,' said I, still keeping my hands upon her breast, 'how

useless I am, as you have brought me! If I had known what I was coming

to see, I could have come provided. As it is, time must be lost. There

are no medicines to be obtained in this lonely place.'

“The elder brother looked to the younger, who said haughtily, 'There is

a case of medicines here;' and brought it from a closet, and put it on

the table.


“I opened some of the bottles, smelt them, and put the stoppers to my

lips. If I had wanted to use anything save narcotic medicines that were

poisons in themselves, I would not have administered any of those.

“'Do you doubt them?' asked the younger brother.

“'You see, monsieur, I am going to use them,' I replied, and said no


“I made the patient swallow, with great difficulty, and after many

efforts, the dose that I desired to give. As I intended to repeat it

after a while, and as it was necessary to watch its influence, I then

sat down by the side of the bed. There was a timid and suppressed woman

in attendance (wife of the man down-stairs), who had retreated into

a corner. The house was damp and decayed, indifferently

furnished--evidently, recently occupied and temporarily used. Some thick

old hangings had been nailed up before the windows, to deaden the

sound of the shrieks. They continued to be uttered in their regular

succession, with the cry, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' the

counting up to twelve, and 'Hush!' The frenzy was so violent, that I had

not unfastened the bandages restraining the arms; but, I had looked to

them, to see that they were not painful. The only spark of encouragement

in the case, was, that my hand upon the sufferer's breast had this much

soothing influence, that for minutes at a time it tranquillised the

figure. It had no effect upon the cries; no pendulum could be more


“For the reason that my hand had this effect (I assume), I had sat by

the side of the bed for half an hour, with the two brothers looking on,

before the elder said:

“'There is another patient.'

“I was startled, and asked, 'Is it a pressing case?'

“'You had better see,' he carelessly answered; and took up a light.


“The other patient lay in a back room across a second staircase, which

was a species of loft over a stable. There was a low plastered ceiling

to a part of it; the rest was open, to the ridge of the tiled roof, and

there were beams across. Hay and straw were stored in that portion of

the place, fagots for firing, and a heap of apples in sand. I had to

pass through that part, to get at the other. My memory is circumstantial

and unshaken. I try it with these details, and I see them all, in

this my cell in the Bastille, near the close of the tenth year of my

captivity, as I saw them all that night.

“On some hay on the ground, with a cushion thrown under his head, lay a

handsome peasant boy--a boy of not more than seventeen at the most.

He lay on his back, with his teeth set, his right hand clenched on his

breast, and his glaring eyes looking straight upward. I could not see

where his wound was, as I kneeled on one knee over him; but, I could see

that he was dying of a wound from a sharp point.

“'I am a doctor, my poor fellow,' said I. 'Let me examine it.'

“'I do not want it examined,' he answered; 'let it be.'

“It was under his hand, and I soothed him to let me move his hand away.

The wound was a sword-thrust, received from twenty to twenty-four hours

before, but no skill could have saved him if it had been looked to

without delay. He was then dying fast. As I turned my eyes to the elder

brother, I saw him looking down at this handsome boy whose life was

ebbing out, as if he were a wounded bird, or hare, or rabbit; not at all

as if he were a fellow-creature.

“'How has this been done, monsieur?' said I.

“'A crazed young common dog! A serf! Forced my brother to draw upon him,

and has fallen by my brother's sword--like a gentleman.'

“There was no touch of pity, sorrow, or kindred humanity, in this

answer. The speaker seemed to acknowledge that it was inconvenient to

have that different order of creature dying there, and that it would

have been better if he had died in the usual obscure routine of his

vermin kind. He was quite incapable of any compassionate feeling about

the boy, or about his fate.

“The boy's eyes had slowly moved to him as he had spoken, and they now

slowly moved to me.

“'Doctor, they are very proud, these Nobles; but we common dogs are

proud too, sometimes. They plunder us, outrage us, beat us, kill us; but

we have a little pride left, sometimes. She--have you seen her, Doctor?'

“The shrieks and the cries were audible there, though subdued by the

distance. He referred to them, as if she were lying in our presence.

“I said, 'I have seen her.'

“'She is my sister, Doctor. They have had their shameful rights, these

Nobles, in the modesty and virtue of our sisters, many years, but we

have had good girls among us. I know it, and have heard my father say

so. She was a good girl. She was betrothed to a good young man, too: a

tenant of his. We were all tenants of his--that man's who stands there.

The other is his brother, the worst of a bad race.'

“It was with the greatest difficulty that the boy gathered bodily force

to speak; but, his spirit spoke with a dreadful emphasis.

“'We were so robbed by that man who stands there, as all we common dogs

are by those superior Beings--taxed by him without mercy, obliged to

work for him without pay, obliged to grind our corn at his mill, obliged

to feed scores of his tame birds on our wretched crops, and forbidden

for our lives to keep a single tame bird of our own, pillaged and

plundered to that degree that when we chanced to have a bit of meat, we

ate it in fear, with the door barred and the shutters closed, that his

people should not see it and take it from us--I say, we were so robbed,

and hunted, and were made so poor, that our father told us it was a

dreadful thing to bring a child into the world, and that what we should

most pray for, was, that our women might be barren and our miserable

race die out!'

“I had never before seen the sense of being oppressed, bursting forth

like a fire. I had supposed that it must be latent in the people

somewhere; but, I had never seen it break out, until I saw it in the

dying boy.

“'Nevertheless, Doctor, my sister married. He was ailing at that time,

poor fellow, and she married her lover, that she might tend and comfort

him in our cottage--our dog-hut, as that man would call it. She had not

been married many weeks, when that man's brother saw her and admired

her, and asked that man to lend her to him--for what are husbands among

us! He was willing enough, but my sister was good and virtuous, and

hated his brother with a hatred as strong as mine. What did the two

then, to persuade her husband to use his influence with her, to make her


“The boy's eyes, which had been fixed on mine, slowly turned to the

looker-on, and I saw in the two faces that all he said was true. The two

opposing kinds of pride confronting one another, I can see, even in this

Bastille; the gentleman's, all negligent indifference; the peasant's, all

trodden-down sentiment, and passionate revenge.

“'You know, Doctor, that it is among the Rights of these Nobles to

harness us common dogs to carts, and drive us. They so harnessed him and

drove him. You know that it is among their Rights to keep us in their

grounds all night, quieting the frogs, in order that their noble sleep

may not be disturbed. They kept him out in the unwholesome mists at

night, and ordered him back into his harness in the day. But he was

not persuaded. No! Taken out of harness one day at noon, to feed--if he

could find food--he sobbed twelve times, once for every stroke of the

bell, and died on her bosom.'

“Nothing human could have held life in the boy but his determination to

tell all his wrong. He forced back the gathering shadows of death, as

he forced his clenched right hand to remain clenched, and to cover his


“'Then, with that man's permission and even with his aid, his

brother took her away; in spite of what I know she must have told his

brother--and what that is, will not be long unknown to you, Doctor, if

it is now--his brother took her away--for his pleasure and diversion,

for a little while. I saw her pass me on the road. When I took the

tidings home, our father's heart burst; he never spoke one of the words

that filled it. I took my young sister (for I have another) to a place

beyond the reach of this man, and where, at least, she will never be

_his_ vassal. Then, I tracked the brother here, and last night climbed

in--a common dog, but sword in hand.--Where is the loft window? It was

somewhere here?'

“The room was darkening to his sight; the world was narrowing around

him. I glanced about me, and saw that the hay and straw were trampled

over the floor, as if there had been a struggle.

“'She heard me, and ran in. I told her not to come near us till he was

dead. He came in and first tossed me some pieces of money; then struck

at me with a whip. But I, though a common dog, so struck at him as to

make him draw. Let him break into as many pieces as he will, the sword

that he stained with my common blood; he drew to defend himself--thrust

at me with all his skill for his life.'

“My glance had fallen, but a few moments before, on the fragments of

a broken sword, lying among the hay. That weapon was a gentleman's. In

another place, lay an old sword that seemed to have been a soldier's.

“'Now, lift me up, Doctor; lift me up. Where is he?'

“'He is not here,' I said, supporting the boy, and thinking that he

referred to the brother.

“'He! Proud as these nobles are, he is afraid to see me. Where is the

man who was here? Turn my face to him.'

“I did so, raising the boy's head against my knee. But, invested for the

moment with extraordinary power, he raised himself completely: obliging

me to rise too, or I could not have still supported him.

“'Marquis,' said the boy, turned to him with his eyes opened wide, and

his right hand raised, 'in the days when all these things are to be

answered for, I summon you and yours, to the last of your bad race, to

answer for them. I mark this cross of blood upon you, as a sign that

I do it. In the days when all these things are to be answered for,

I summon your brother, the worst of the bad race, to answer for them

separately. I mark this cross of blood upon him, as a sign that I do


“Twice, he put his hand to the wound in his breast, and with his

forefinger drew a cross in the air. He stood for an instant with the

finger yet raised, and as it dropped, he dropped with it, and I laid him

down dead.


“When I returned to the bedside of the young woman, I found her raving

in precisely the same order of continuity. I knew that this might last

for many hours, and that it would probably end in the silence of the


“I repeated the medicines I had given her, and I sat at the side of

the bed until the night was far advanced. She never abated the piercing

quality of her shrieks, never stumbled in the distinctness or the order

of her words. They were always 'My husband, my father, and my brother!

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven,

twelve. Hush!'

“This lasted twenty-six hours from the time when I first saw her. I had

come and gone twice, and was again sitting by her, when she began to

falter. I did what little could be done to assist that opportunity, and

by-and-bye she sank into a lethargy, and lay like the dead.

“It was as if the wind and rain had lulled at last, after a long and

fearful storm. I released her arms, and called the woman to assist me to

compose her figure and the dress she had torn. It was then that I knew

her condition to be that of one in whom the first expectations of being

a mother have arisen; and it was then that I lost the little hope I had

had of her.

“'Is she dead?' asked the Marquis, whom I will still describe as the

elder brother, coming booted into the room from his horse.

“'Not dead,' said I; 'but like to die.'

“'What strength there is in these common bodies!' he said, looking down

at her with some curiosity.

“'There is prodigious strength,' I answered him, 'in sorrow and


“He first laughed at my words, and then frowned at them. He moved a

chair with his foot near to mine, ordered the woman away, and said in a

subdued voice,

“'Doctor, finding my brother in this difficulty with these hinds, I

recommended that your aid should be invited. Your reputation is high,

and, as a young man with your fortune to make, you are probably mindful

of your interest. The things that you see here, are things to be seen,

and not spoken of.'

“I listened to the patient's breathing, and avoided answering.

“'Do you honour me with your attention, Doctor?'

“'Monsieur,' said I, 'in my profession, the communications of patients

are always received in confidence.' I was guarded in my answer, for I

was troubled in my mind with what I had heard and seen.

“Her breathing was so difficult to trace, that I carefully tried the

pulse and the heart. There was life, and no more. Looking round as I

resumed my seat, I found both the brothers intent upon me.


“I write with so much difficulty, the cold is so severe, I am so

fearful of being detected and consigned to an underground cell and total

darkness, that I must abridge this narrative. There is no confusion or

failure in my memory; it can recall, and could detail, every word that

was ever spoken between me and those brothers.

“She lingered for a week. Towards the last, I could understand some few

syllables that she said to me, by placing my ear close to her lips. She

asked me where she was, and I told her; who I was, and I told her. It

was in vain that I asked her for her family name. She faintly shook her

head upon the pillow, and kept her secret, as the boy had done.

“I had no opportunity of asking her any question, until I had told the

brothers she was sinking fast, and could not live another day. Until

then, though no one was ever presented to her consciousness save the

woman and myself, one or other of them had always jealously sat behind

the curtain at the head of the bed when I was there. But when it came to

that, they seemed careless what communication I might hold with her; as

if--the thought passed through my mind--I were dying too.

“I always observed that their pride bitterly resented the younger

brother's (as I call him) having crossed swords with a peasant, and that

peasant a boy. The only consideration that appeared to affect the mind

of either of them was the consideration that this was highly degrading

to the family, and was ridiculous. As often as I caught the younger

brother's eyes, their expression reminded me that he disliked me deeply,

for knowing what I knew from the boy. He was smoother and more polite to

me than the elder; but I saw this. I also saw that I was an incumbrance

in the mind of the elder, too.

“My patient died, two hours before midnight--at a time, by my watch,

answering almost to the minute when I had first seen her. I was alone

with her, when her forlorn young head drooped gently on one side, and

all her earthly wrongs and sorrows ended.

“The brothers were waiting in a room down-stairs, impatient to ride

away. I had heard them, alone at the bedside, striking their boots with

their riding-whips, and loitering up and down.

“'At last she is dead?' said the elder, when I went in.

“'She is dead,' said I.

“'I congratulate you, my brother,' were his words as he turned round.

“He had before offered me money, which I had postponed taking. He now

gave me a rouleau of gold. I took it from his hand, but laid it on

the table. I had considered the question, and had resolved to accept


“'Pray excuse me,' said I. 'Under the circumstances, no.'

“They exchanged looks, but bent their heads to me as I bent mine to

them, and we parted without another word on either side.


“I am weary, weary, weary--worn down by misery. I cannot read what I

have written with this gaunt hand.

“Early in the morning, the rouleau of gold was left at my door in a

little box, with my name on the outside. From the first, I had anxiously

considered what I ought to do. I decided, that day, to write privately

to the Minister, stating the nature of the two cases to which I had been

summoned, and the place to which I had gone: in effect, stating all the

circumstances. I knew what Court influence was, and what the immunities

of the Nobles were, and I expected that the matter would never be

heard of; but, I wished to relieve my own mind. I had kept the matter a

profound secret, even from my wife; and this, too, I resolved to state

in my letter. I had no apprehension whatever of my real danger; but

I was conscious that there might be danger for others, if others were

compromised by possessing the knowledge that I possessed.

“I was much engaged that day, and could not complete my letter that

night. I rose long before my usual time next morning to finish it.

It was the last day of the year. The letter was lying before me just

completed, when I was told that a lady waited, who wished to see me.


“I am growing more and more unequal to the task I have set myself. It is

so cold, so dark, my senses are so benumbed, and the gloom upon me is so


“The lady was young, engaging, and handsome, but not marked for long

life. She was in great agitation. She presented herself to me as the

wife of the Marquis St. Evremonde. I connected the title by which the

boy had addressed the elder brother, with the initial letter embroidered

on the scarf, and had no difficulty in arriving at the conclusion that I

had seen that nobleman very lately.

“My memory is still accurate, but I cannot write the words of our

conversation. I suspect that I am watched more closely than I was, and I

know not at what times I may be watched. She had in part suspected, and

in part discovered, the main facts of the cruel story, of her husband's

share in it, and my being resorted to. She did not know that the girl

was dead. Her hope had been, she said in great distress, to show her,

in secret, a woman's sympathy. Her hope had been to avert the wrath of

Heaven from a House that had long been hateful to the suffering many.

“She had reasons for believing that there was a young sister living, and

her greatest desire was, to help that sister. I could tell her nothing

but that there was such a sister; beyond that, I knew nothing. Her

inducement to come to me, relying on my confidence, had been the hope

that I could tell her the name and place of abode. Whereas, to this

wretched hour I am ignorant of both.


“These scraps of paper fail me. One was taken from me, with a warning,

yesterday. I must finish my record to-day.

“She was a good, compassionate lady, and not happy in her marriage. How

could she be! The brother distrusted and disliked her, and his influence

was all opposed to her; she stood in dread of him, and in dread of her

husband too. When I handed her down to the door, there was a child, a

pretty boy from two to three years old, in her carriage.

“'For his sake, Doctor,' she said, pointing to him in tears, 'I would do

all I can to make what poor amends I can. He will never prosper in his

inheritance otherwise. I have a presentiment that if no other innocent

atonement is made for this, it will one day be required of him. What

I have left to call my own--it is little beyond the worth of a few

jewels--I will make it the first charge of his life to bestow, with the

compassion and lamenting of his dead mother, on this injured family, if

the sister can be discovered.'

“She kissed the boy, and said, caressing him, 'It is for thine own dear

sake. Thou wilt be faithful, little Charles?' The child answered her

bravely, 'Yes!' I kissed her hand, and she took him in her arms, and

went away caressing him. I never saw her more.

“As she had mentioned her husband's name in the faith that I knew it,

I added no mention of it to my letter. I sealed my letter, and, not

trusting it out of my own hands, delivered it myself that day.

“That night, the last night of the year, towards nine o'clock, a man in

a black dress rang at my gate, demanded to see me, and softly followed

my servant, Ernest Defarge, a youth, up-stairs. When my servant came

into the room where I sat with my wife--O my wife, beloved of my heart!

My fair young English wife!--we saw the man, who was supposed to be at

the gate, standing silent behind him.

“An urgent case in the Rue St. Honore, he said. It would not detain me,

he had a coach in waiting.

“It brought me here, it brought me to my grave. When I was clear of the

house, a black muffler was drawn tightly over my mouth from behind, and

my arms were pinioned. The two brothers crossed the road from a dark

corner, and identified me with a single gesture. The Marquis took from

his pocket the letter I had written, showed it me, burnt it in the light

of a lantern that was held, and extinguished the ashes with his foot.

Not a word was spoken. I was brought here, I was brought to my living


“If it had pleased _God_ to put it in the hard heart of either of the

brothers, in all these frightful years, to grant me any tidings of

my dearest wife--so much as to let me know by a word whether alive or

dead--I might have thought that He had not quite abandoned them. But,

now I believe that the mark of the red cross is fatal to them, and that

they have no part in His mercies. And them and their descendants, to the

last of their race, I, Alexandre Manette, unhappy prisoner, do this last

night of the year 1767, in my unbearable agony, denounce to the times

when all these things shall be answered for. I denounce them to Heaven

and to earth.”

A terrible sound arose when the reading of this document was done. A

sound of craving and eagerness that had nothing articulate in it but

blood. The narrative called up the most revengeful passions of the time,

and there was not a head in the nation but must have dropped before it.

Little need, in presence of that tribunal and that auditory, to show

how the Defarges had not made the paper public, with the other captured

Bastille memorials borne in procession, and had kept it, biding their

time. Little need to show that this detested family name had long been

anathematised by Saint Antoine, and was wrought into the fatal register.

The man never trod ground whose virtues and services would have

sustained him in that place that day, against such denunciation.

And all the worse for the doomed man, that the denouncer was a

well-known citizen, his own attached friend, the father of his wife. One

of the frenzied aspirations of the populace was, for imitations of

the questionable public virtues of antiquity, and for sacrifices and

self-immolations on the people's altar. Therefore when the President

said (else had his own head quivered on his shoulders), that the good

physician of the Republic would deserve better still of the Republic by

rooting out an obnoxious family of Aristocrats, and would doubtless feel

a sacred glow and joy in making his daughter a widow and her child an

orphan, there was wild excitement, patriotic fervour, not a touch of

human sympathy.

“Much influence around him, has that Doctor?” murmured Madame Defarge,

smiling to The Vengeance. “Save him now, my Doctor, save him!”

At every juryman's vote, there was a roar. Another and another. Roar and


Unanimously voted. At heart and by descent an Aristocrat, an enemy

of the Republic, a notorious oppressor of the People. Back to the

Conciergerie, and Death within four-and-twenty hours!


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