a tale of two cities(双城记)-第20章

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　man　drove　as　if　he　were　charging　an　enemy；　and　the　furious　recklessness　of　the　man　brought　no　check　into　the　face；　or　to　the　lips；　of　the　master。　The　complaint　had　sometimes　made　itself　audible；　even　in　that　deaf　city　and　dumb　age；　that；　in　the　narrow　streets　without　footways；　the　fierce　patrician　custom　of　hard　driving　endangered　and　maimed　the　mere　vulgar　in　a　barbarous　manner。　But；　few　cared　enough　for　that　to　think　of　it　a　second　time；　and；　in　this　matter；　as　in　all　others；　the　common　wretches　were　left　to　get　out　of　their　difficulties　as　they　could。　
　With　a　wild　rattle　and　clatter；　and　an　inhuman　abandonment　of　consideration　not　easy　to　be　understood　in　these　days；　the　carriage　dashed　through　streets　and　swept　round　corners；　with　women　screaming　before　it；　and　men　clutching　each　other　and　clutching　children　out　of　its　way。　At　last；　swooping　at　a　street　corner　by　a　fountain；　one　of　its　wheels　came　to　a　sickening　little　jolt；　and　there　was　a　loud　cry　from　a　number　of　voices；　and　the　horses　reared　and　plunged。　
　But　for　the　latter　inconvenience；　the　carriage　probably　would　not　have　stopped；　carriages　were　often　known　to　drive　on；　and　leave　their　wounded　behind；　and　why　not？　But　the　frightened　valet　had　got　down　in　a　hurry；　and　there　were　twenty　hands　at　the　horses'　bridles。　
　‘What　has　gone　wrong？'　said　Monsieur；　calmly　looking　out。　
　A　tall　man　in　a　nightcap　had　caught　up　a　bundle　from　among　the　feet　of　the　horses；　and　had　laid　it　on　the　basement　of　the　fountain；　and　was　down　in　the　mud　and　wet；　howling　over　it　like　a　wild　animal。　
　‘Pardon；　Monsieur　the　Marquis！'　said　a　ragged　and　submissive　man；　‘it　is　a　child。'　
　‘Why　does　he　make　that　abominable　noise？　Is　it　his　child？'　
　‘Excuse　me；　Monsieur　the　Marquisit　is　a　pityyes。'　
　The　fountain　was　a　little　removed；　for　the　street　opened；　where　it　was；　into　a　space　some　ten　or　twelve　yards　square。　As　the　tall　man　suddenly　got　up　from　the　ground；　and　came　running　at　the　carriage；　Monsieur　the　Marquis　clapped　his　hand　for　an　instant　on　his　sword…hilt。'　
　‘Killed！'　shrieked　the　man；　in　wild　desperation；　extending　both　arms　at　their　length　above　his　head；　and　staring　at　him。　‘Dead！'　
　The　people　closed　round；　and　looked　at　Monsieur　the　Marquis。　There　was　nothing　revealed　by　the　many　eyes　that　looked　at　him　but　watchfulness　and　eagerness；　there　was　no　visible　menacing　or　anger。　Neither　did　the　people　say　anything；　after　the　first　cry；　they　had　been　silent；　and　they　remained　so。　The　voice　of　the　submissive　man　who　had　spoken；　was　flat　and　tame　in　its　extreme　submission。　Monsieur　the　Marquis　ran　his　eyes　over　them　all；　as　if　they　had　been　mere　rats　come　out　of　their　holes。　
　He　took　out　his　purse。　
　‘It　is　extraordinary　to　me；'　said　he；　‘that　you　people　cannot　take　care　of　yourselves　and　your　children。　One　or　the　other　of　you　is　for　ever　in　the　way。　How　do　I　know　what　injury　you　have　done　my　horses？　See！　Give　him　that。'　
　He　threw　out　a　gold　coin　for　the　valet　to　pick　up；　and　all　the　heads　craned　forward　that　all　the　eyes　might　look　down　at　it　as　it　fell。　The　tall　man　called　out　again　with　a　most　unearthly　cry；　‘Dead！'　
　He　was　arrested　by　the　quick　arrival　of　another　man；　for　whom　the　rest　made　way。　On　seeing　him；　the　miserable　creature　fell　upon　his　shoulder；　sobbing　and　crying；　and　pointing　to　the　fountain；　where　some　women　were　stooping　over　the　motionless　bundle；　and　moving　gently　about　it。　They　were　as　silent；　however；　as　the　men。　
　‘I　know　all；　I　know　all；'　said　the　last　comer。　‘Be　a　brave　man；　my　Gaspard！　It　is　better　for　the　poor　little　plaything　to　die　so；　than　to　live。　It　has　died　in　a　moment　without　pain。　Could　it　have　lived　an　hour　as　happily？'　
　‘You　are　a　philosopher；　you　there；'　said　the　Marquis；　smiling。　‘How　do　they　call　you？'　
　‘They　call　me　Defarge。'　
　‘Of　what　trade？'　
　‘Monsieur　the　Marquis；　vendor　of　wine。'　
　‘Pick　up　that；　philosopher　and　vendor　of　wine；'　said　the　Marquis；　throwing　him　another　gold　coin；　‘and　spend　it　as　you　will。　The　horses　there；　are　they　right？　
　Without　deigning　to　look　at　the　assemblage　a　second　time；　Monsieur　the　Marquis　leaned　back　in　his　seat；　and　was　just　being　driven　away　with　the　air　of　a　gentleman　who　had　accidentally　broken　some　common　thing；　and　had　paid　for　it；　and　could　afford　to　pay　for　it；　when　his　ease　was　suddenly　disturbed　by　a　coin　flying　into　his　carriage；　and　ringing　on　its　floor。　
　‘Hold！'　said　Monsieur　the　Marquis。　‘Hold　the　horses！　Who　threw　that？'　
　He　looked　to　the　spot　where　Defarge　the　vendor　of　wine　had　stood；　a　moment　before；　but　the　wretched　father　was　grovelling　on　his　face　on　the　pavement　in　that　spot；　and　the　figure　that　stood　beside　him　was　the　figure　of　a　dark　stout　woman；　knitting。　
　‘You　dogs！'　said　the　Marquis；　but　smoothly；　and　with　an　unchanged　front；　except　as　to　the　spots　on　his　nose：　‘I　would　ride　over　any　of　you　very　willingly；　and　exterminate　you　from　the　earth。　If　I　knew　which　rascal　threw　at　the　carriage；　and　if　that　brigand　were　sufficiently　near　it；　he　should　be　crushed　under　the　wheels。'　
　So　cowed　was　their　condition；　and　so　long　and　hard　their　experience　of　what　such　a　man　could　do　to　them；　within　the　law　and　beyond　it；　that　not　a　voice；　or　a　hand；　or　even　an　eye　was　raised。　Among　the　men；　not　one。　But　the　woman　who　stood　knitting　looked　up　steadily；　and　looked　the　Marquis　in　the　face。　It　was　not　for　his　dignity　to　notice　it；　his　contemptuous　eyes　passed　over　her；　and　over　all　the　other　rats；　and　he　leaned　back　in　his　seat　again；　and　gave　the　word　‘Go　on！'　
　He　was　driven　on；　and　other　carriages　came　whirling　by　in　quick　succession；　the　Minister；　the　State…Projector；　the　Farmer…General；　the　Doctor；　the　Lawyer；　the　Ecclesiastic；　the　Grand　Opera；　the　Comedy；　the　whole　Fancy　Ball　in　a　bright　continuous　flow；　came　whirling　by。　The　rats　had　crept　out　of　their　holes　to　look　on；　and　they　remained　looking　on　for　hours；　soldiers　and　police　often　passing　between　them　and　the　spectacle；　and　making　a　barrier　behind　which　they　slunk；　and　through　which　they　peeped。　The　father　had　long　ago　taken　up　his　bundle　and　hidden　himself　away　with　it；　when　the　women　who　had　tended　the　bundle　while　it　lay　on　the　base　of　the　fountain；　sat　there　watching　the　running　of　the　water　and　the　rolling　of　the　Fancy　Ballwhen　the　one　woman　who　had　stood　conspicuous；　knitting；　still　knitted　on　with　the　steadfastness　of　Fate。　The　water　of　the　fountain　ran；　the　swift　river　ran；　the　day　ran　into　evening；　so　much　life　in　the　city　ran　into　death　according　to　rule；　time　and　tide　waited　for　no　man；　the　rats　were　sleeping　close　together　in　their　dark　holes　again；　the　Fancy　Ball　was　lighted　up　at　supper；　all　things　ran　their　course。　
　　

CHAPTER　VIII
Monseigneur　in　the　Country
A　BEAUTIFUL　landscape；　with　the　corn　bright　in　it；　but　not　abundant。　Patches　of　poor　rye　where　corn　should　have　been；　patches　of　poor　peas　and　beans；　patches　of　most　coarse　vegetable　substitutes　for　wheat。　On　inanimate　nature；　as　on　the　men　and　women　who　cultivated　it；　a　prevalent　tendency　towards　an　appearance　of　vegetating　unwillinglydejected　disposition　to　give　up；　and　wither　away。　
　Monsieur　the　Marquis　in　his　travelling　carriage　（which　might　have　been　lighter）；　conducted　by　four　post…horses　and　two　postilions；　fagged　up　a　steep　hill。　A　blush　on　the　countenance　of　Monsieur　the　Marquis　was　no　impeachment　of　his　high　breeding；　it　was　not　from　within；　it　was　occasioned　by　an　external　circumstance　beyond　his　controlthe　setting　sun　give　up；　and　wither　away　give　up；　and　wither　away。　
　The　sunset　struck　so　brilliantly　into　the　travelling　carriage　when　it　gained　the　hill…top；　that　its　occupant　was　steeped　in　crimson。　‘It　will　die　out；'　said　Monsieur　the　Marquis；　glancing　at　his　hands；　‘directly。'　
　In　effect；　the　sun　was　so　low　that　it　dipped　at　the　moment。　When　the　heavy　drag　had　been　adjusted　to　the　wheel；　and　the　carriage　slid　down　hill；　with　a　cinderous　smell；　in　a　cloud　of　dust；　the　red　glow　departed　quickly；　the　sun　and　the　Marquis　going　down　together；　there　was　no　glow　left　when　the　drag　was　taken　off。　
　But；　there　remained　a　broken　country；　bold　and　open；　a　little　village　at　the　bottom　of　the　hill；　a　broad　sweep　and　rise　beyond　it；　a　church…tower；　a　windmill；　a　forest　for　the　chase；　and　a　crag　with　a　fortress　on　it　used　as　a　prison。　Round　upon　all　these　darkening　objects　as　the　night　drew　on；　the　Marquis　looked；　with　the　air　of　one　who　was　coming　near　home。　
　The　village　had　its　one　poor　street；　with　its　poor　brewery；　poor　tannery；　poor　tavern；　poor　stable…yard　for　relay　of　post＋horses；　poor　fountain；　all　usual　poor　appointments。　It　had　its　poor　people　too。　All　its　people　were　poor；　and　many　of　them　were　sitting　at　their　doors；　shredding　spare　onions　and　the　like　for　supper；　while　many　were　at　the　fountain；　washing　leaves；　and　grasses；　and　any　such　small　yieldings　of　the　earth　that　could　be　eaten。　Expressive　signs　of　what　made　them　poor；　were　not　wanting；　the　tax　for　the　state；　the　tax　for　the　church；　the　tax　for　the　lord；　tax　local　and　tax　general；　were　to　be　paid　here　and　to　be　paid　there；　according　to　solemn　inscription　in　the　little　village；　until　the　wonder　was；　that　there　was　any　village　left　unswallowed。　
　Few　children　were　to　be　seen；　and　no　dogs。　As　to　the　men　and　women；　their　choice　on　earth　was　stated　in　the　prospectLife　on　the　lowest　terms　that　could　sustain　it；　down　in　the　little　village　under　die　mill；　or　captivity　and　Death　in　the　dominant　prison　on　the　crag。　
　Heralded　by　a　courier　in　advance；　and　by　the　cracking　of　his　postilions'　whips；　which　twined　snake…like　about　their　heads　in　the　evening　air；　as　if　he　came　attended　by　the　Furies；　Monsieur　the　Marquis　drew　up　in　his　travelling　carriage　at　the　posting…house　gate。　It　was　hard　by　the　fountain；　and　the　peasants　suspended　their　operations　to　look　at　him。　He　looked　at　them；　and　saw　in　them；　without　knowing　it；　the　slow　sure　filing　down　of　misery…worn　face　and　figure；　that　was　to　make　the　meagerness　of　Frenchmen　an　English　superstition　which　should　survive　the　truth　through　the　best　part　of　a　hundred　years。　
　Monsieur　the　Marquis　cast　his　eyes　over　the　submissive　faces　that　drooped　before　him；　as　the　like　of　himself　had　drooped　before　Monseigneur　of　the　Courtonly　the　difference　was；　that　these　faces　drooped　merely　to　suffer　and　not　to　propitiatewhen　a　grizzled　mender　of　the　roads　joined　the　group。　
　‘Bring　me　hither　that　fellow！'　said　the　Marquis　to　the　courier。　
　The　fellow　was　brought；　cap　in　hand；　and　the　other　fellows　closed　round　to　look　and　listen；　in　the　manner　of　the　people　at　the　Paris　fountain。　
　‘I　passed　you　on　the　road？'　
　‘Monseigneur；　it　is　true。　I　had　the　honour　of　being　passed　on　the　road。'　
　‘Coming　up　the　hill；　and　at　the　top　of　the　hill；　both？'　
‘Monseigneur；　it　is　true。　
‘What　did　you　look　at；　so　fixedly？'　
‘Monseigneur；　I　looked　at　the　man。'　
　He　stooped　a　little；　and　with　his　tattered　blue　cap　pointed　under　the　carriage。　All　his　fellows　stooped　to　look　under　the　carriage。　
　‘Mat　man；　pig？　And　why　look　there？'　
‘Pardon；　Monseigneur；　he　swung　by　the　chain　of　the　shoe　the　drag。'　
　‘Who？'　demanded　the　traveller。　
　‘Monseigneur；　the　man。'　
　‘May　the　Devil　carry　away　these　idiots！　How　do　you　call　the　man？　You　know　all　the　men　of　this　part　of　the　country。　Who　was　he？'　
　‘Your　clemency；　Monseigneur！　He　was　not　of　this　part　of　the　country。　Of　all