a tale of two cities(双城记)-第30章

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ould　my　happiness　be　perfect；　while　yours　was　incomplete？'　
　‘If　I　had　never　seen　Charles；　my　father；　I　should　have　been　quite　happy　with　you。'　
　He　smiled　at　her　unconscious　admission　that　she　would　have　been　unhappy　without　Charles；　having　seen　him；　and　replied：　
　‘My　child；　you　did　see　him；　and　it　is　Charles。　If　it　had　not　been　Charles；　it　would　have　been　another。　Or；　if　it　had　been　no　other；　I　should　have　been　the　cause；　and　then　the　dark　part　of　my　life　would　have　cast　its　shadow　beyond　myself　and　would　have　fallen　on　you。'　
　It　was　the　first　time；　except　at　the　trial；　of　her　ever　hearing　him　refer　to　the　period　of　his　suffering。　It　gave　her　a　strange　and　new　sensation　while　his　words　were　in　her　ears；　and　she　remembered　it　long　afterwards。　
　‘See！'　said　the　Doctor　of　Beauvais；　raising　his　hand　towards　the　moon。　‘I　have　looked　at　her　from　my　prison…window；　when　I　could　not　bear　her　light。　I　have　looked　at　her　when　it　has　been　such　torture　to　me　to　think　of　her　shining　upon　what　I　had　lost；　that　I　have　beaten　my　head　against　my　prison…walls。　I　have　looked　at　her；　in　a　state　so　dull　and　lethargic；　that　I　have　thought　of　nothing　but　the　number　of　horizontal　lines　‘I　could　draw　across　her　at　the　full；　and　the　number　of　perpendicular　lines　with　which　I　could　intersect　them。'　He　added　in　his　inward　and　pondering　manner；　as　he　looked　at　the　moon；　‘It　was　twenty　either　way；　I　remember；　and　the　twentieth　was　difficult　to　squeeze　in。'　
　The　strange　thrill　with　which　she　heard　him　go　back　to　that　time；　deepened　as　he　dwelt　upon　it；　but；　there　was　nothing　to　shock　her　in　the　manner　of　his　reference。　He　only　seemed　to　contrast　his　present　cheerfulness　and　felicity　with　the　dire　endurance　that　was　over。　
‘I　have　looked　at　her；　speculating　thousands　of　times　upon　the　unborn　child　from　whom　I　had　been　rent。　Whether　it　was　alive。　Whether　it　had　been　born　alive；　or　the　poor　mother's　shock　had　killed　it。　Whether　it　was　a　son　who　would　some　day　avenge　his　father。　（There　was　a　time　in　my　imprisonment；　when　my　desire　for　vengeance　was　unbearable。）　Whether　it　was　a　son　who　would　never　know　his　father's　story；　who　might　even　live　to　weigh　the　possibility　of　his　father's　having　disappeared　of　his　own　will　and　act。　Whether　it　was　a　daughter　who　would　grow　to　be　a　woman。'　
　She　drew　closer　to　him；　and　kissed　his　cheek　and　his　hand。　‘I　have　pictured　my　daughter；　to　myself；　as　perfectly　forgetful　of　merather；　altogether　ignorant　of　me；　and　unconscious　of　me。　I　have　cast　up　the　years　of　her　age；　year　after　year。　I　have　seen　her　married　to　a　man　who　knew　nothing　of　my　fate。　I　have　altogether　perished　from　the　remembrance　of　the　living；　and　in　the　next　generation　my　place　was　a　blank。'　
　‘My　father！　Even　to　hear　that　you　had　such　thoughts　of　a　daughter　who　never　existed；　strikes　to　my　heart　as　if　I　had　been　that　child。'　
　‘You；　Lucie？　It　is　out　of　the　consolation　and　restoration　you　have　brought　to　me；　that　these　remembrances　arise；　and　pass　between　us　and　the　moon　on　this　last　night。what　did　I　say　just　now？'　
　She　knew　nothing　of　you。　She　cared　nothing　for　you。'　
　‘So！　But　on　other　moonlight　nights；　when　the　sadness　and　the　silence　have　touched　me　in　a　different　wayhave　affected　me　with　something　as　like　a　sorrowful　sense　of　peace；　as　any　emotion　that　had　pain　for　its　foundations　couldI　have　imagined　her　as　coming　to　me　in　my　cell；　and　leading　me　out　into　the　freedom　beyond　the　fortress。　I　have　seen　her　image　in　the　moonlight　often；　as　I　now　see　you；　except　that　I　never　held　her　in　my　arms；　it　stood　between　the　little　grated　window　and　the　door。　But；　you　understand　that　that　was　not　the　child　I　am　speaking　of？'　
　‘The　figure　was　not；　thetheimage；　the　fancy？'　
　‘No。　That　was　another　thing。　It　stood　before　my　disturbed　sense　of　sight；　but　it　never　moved。　The　phantom　that　my　mind　pursued；　was　another　and　more　real　child。　Of　her　outward　appearance　I　know　no　more　than　that　she　was　like　her　mother。　The　other　had　that　likeness　tooas　you　havebut　was　not　the　same。　Can　you　follow　me；　Lucie？　Hardly；　I　think　I　‘doubt　you　must　have　beer；　a　solitary　prisoner　to　understand　these　prisoner　perplexed　distinctions。　
　His　collected　and　calm　manner　could　not　prevent　her　blood　from　running　cold；　as　he　thus　tried　to　anatomise　his　old　condition。　
　‘In　that　more　peaceful　state；　I　have　imagined　her；　in　the　moonlight；　coming　to　me　and　taking　me　out　to　show　me　that　the　home　of　her　married　life　was　lull　of　her　loving　remembrance　of　her　lost　father。　My　picture　was　in　her　room；　and　I　was　in　her　prayers。　Her　life　was　active；　cheerful；　useful；　hut　my　poor　history　pervaded　it　all。'　
　‘I　was　that　child；my　father。　I　was　not　half　so　good；　but　in　my　love　that　was　I。'　
　‘And　she　showed　me　her　children；'　said　the　Doctor　of　Beauvais；　‘and　they　had　heard　of　me；　and　had　been　taught　to　pity　me。　When　they　passed　a　prison　of　the　State；　they　kept　far　from　its　frowning　walls；　and　looked　up　at　its　bars；　and　spoke　in　whispers。　She　could　never　deliver　me；　I　imagined　that　she　always　brought　me　back　after　showing　me　such　things。　But　then；　blessed　with　the　relief　of　tears；　I　fell　upon　my　knees；　and　blessed　her。'　
　‘I　am　that　child；　I　hope；　my　father。　O　my　dear；　my　dear；　will　you　bless　me　as　fervently　to…morrow？'　
　‘Lucie；　I　recall　these　old　troubles　in　the　reason　that　I　have　to…night　for　loving　you　better　than　words　can　tell；　and　thanking　God　for　my　great　happiness。　My　thoughts；　when　they　were　wildest；　never　rose　near　the　happiness　that　I　have　known　with　you；　and　that　we　have　before　us。　
　He　embraced　her；　solemnly　commended　her　to　Heaven；　and　humbly　thanked　Heaven　for　having　bestowed　her　on　him。　By…and…by；　they　went　into　the　house。　
　There　was　no　one　hidden　to　the　marriage　but　Mr。　Lorry；　there　was　even　to　be　no　bridesmaid　but　the　gaunt　Miss　Pross。　The　marriage　was　to　make　no　change　in　their　place　of　residence；　they　had　been　able　to　extend　it；　by　taking　to　themselves　the　upper　rooms　formerly　belonging　to　the　apocryphal　invisible　lodger；　and　they　desired　nothing　more。　
　Doctor　Manette　was　very　cheerful　at　the　little　supper。　They　were　only　three　at　table；　and　Miss　Pross　made　the　third。　He　regretted　that　Charles　was　not　there；　was　more　than　half　disposed　to　object　to　the　loving　little　plot　that　kept　him　away；　and　drank　to　him　affectionately。　
So；　the　time　came　for　him　to　bid　Lucie　good　night；　and　they　separated。　But；　in　the　stillness　of　the　third　hour　of　the　morning；　Lucie　came　down　stairs　again；　and　stole　into　his　room；　not　free　from　unshaped　fears；　beforehand。　
　All　things；　however；　were　in　their　places；　all　was　quiet；　and　he　lay　asleep；　his　white　hair　picturesque　on　the　untroubled　pillow；　and　his　hands　lying　quiet　on　the　coverlet。　She　put　her　needless　candle　in　the　shadow　at　a　distance；　crept　up　to　his　bed；　and　put　her　lips　to　his；　then；　leaned　over　him；　and　looked　at　him。　
　Into　his　handsome　face；　the　bitter　waters　of　captivity　had　worn；　but；　he　covered　up　their　tracks　with　a　determination　so　strong；　that　he　held　the　mastery　of　them　even　in　his　sleep。　A　more　remarkable　face　in　its　quiet；　resolute；　and　guarded　struggle　with　an　unseen　assailant；　was　not　to　be　beheld　in　all　the　wide　dominions　of　sleep；　that　night。　
　She　timidly　laid　her　hand　on　his　dear　breast；　and　put　up　a　prayer　that　she　might　ever　be　as　true　to　him　as　her　love　aspired　to　be；　and　as　his　sorrows　deserved。　Then；　she　withdrew　her　hand；　and　kissed　his　lips　once　more；　and　went　away。　So；　the　sunrise　came；　and　the　shadows　of　the　leaves　of　the　plane…tree　moved　upon　his　face；　as　softly　as　her　lips　had　moved　in　praying　for　him。　


CHAPTER　XV
Knitting
THERE　had　been　earlier　drinking　than　usual　in　the　wine　shop　of　Monsieur　Defarge。　As　early　as　six　o'clock　in　the　morning；　sallow　faces　peeping　through　its　barred　windows　had　descried　other　faces　within；　bending　over　measures　of　wine。　Monsieur　Defarge　sold　a　very　thin　wine　at　the　best　of　times；　but　it　would　seem　to　have　been　an　unusually　thin　wine　that　he　sold　at　this　time。　A　sour　wine；　moreover；　or　a　souring；　for　its　influence　on　the　mood　of　those　who　drank　it　was　to　make　them　gloomy。　No　vivacious　Bacchanalian　flame　leaped　out　of　the　pressed　grape　of　monsieur　Defarge：　but；　a　smouldering　fire　that　burnt　in　the　dark；　lay　hidden　in　the　dregs　of　it。　
　This　had　been　the　third　morning　in　succession；　on　which　there　had　been　early　drinking　at　the　wine…shop　of　Monsieur　Defarge。　It　had　begun　on　Monday；　and　here　was　Wednesday　come。　There　had　been　more　of　early　brooding　than　drinking；　for；　many　men　had　listened　and　whispered　and　slunk　about　there　from　the　time　of　the　opening　of　the　door；　who　could　not　ave　laid　a　Piece　of　money　on　the　counter　to　save　their　souls。　These　were　to　the　full　as　interested　in　the　place；　however；　as　if　they　could　have　commanded　whole　barrels　of　wine；　and　they　glided　from　seat　to　seat；　and　from　corner　to　corner；　swallowing　talk　in　lieu　of　drink；　with　greedy　looks。　
　Notwithstanding　an　unusual　flow　of　company；　the　master　of　the　wine…shop　was　not　visible。　He　was　not　missed；　for；　nobody　who　crossed　the　threshold　looked　for　him；　nobody　asked　for　him；　nobody　wondered　to　see　only　Madame　Defarge　in　her　seat；　presiding　over　the　distribution　of　wine；　with　a　bowl　of　battered　small　coins　before　her；　as　much　defaced　and　beaten　out　of　their　original　impress　as　the　small　coinage　of　humanity　from　whose　ragged　pockets　they　had　come。　
　A　suspended　interest　and　a　prevalent　absence　of　mind；　were　perhaps　observed　by　the　spies　who　looked　in　at　the　wine…shop；　as　they　looked　in　at　every　place；　high　and　low；　from　the　king's　palace　to　the　criminal's　gaol。　Games　at　cards　languished；　players　at　dominoes　musingly　built　towers　with　them；　drinkers　drew　figures　on　the　tables　with　spilt　drops　of　wine；　Madame　Defarge　herself　picked　out　the　pattern　on　her　sleeve　with　her　toothpick；　and　saw　and　heard　something　inaudible　and　invisible　a　long　way　off。　
　Thus；　Saint　Antoine　in　this　vinous　feature　of　his；　until　midday。　It　was　high　noontide；　when　two　dusty　men　passed　through　his　streets　and　under　his　swinging　lamps：　of　whom；　one　was　Monsieur　Defarge：　the　other　a　mender　of　roads　in　a　blue　cap。　All　adust　and　athirst；　the　two　entered　the　wine…shop。　Their　arrival　had　lighted　a　kind　of　fire　in　the　breast　of　Saint　Antoine；　fast　spreading　as　they　came　along；　which　stirred　and　flickered　in　flames　of　faces　at　most　doors　and　windows。　Yet；　no　one　had　followed　them；　and　no　man　spoke　when　they　entered　the　wine…shop；　though　the　eyes　of　every　man　there　were　turned　upon　them。　
　‘Good…day；　gentlemen！'　said　Monsieur　Defarge。　
　It　may　have　been　a　signal　for　loosening　the　general　tongue。　It　elicited　an　answering　chorus　of　‘Good…day！'　
　‘It　is　bad　weather；　gentlemen；'　said　Defarge；　shaking　his　head。　Upon　which；　every　man　looked　at　his　neighbour；　and　then　all　cast　down　their　eyes　and　sat　silent。　Except　one　man；　who　got　up　and　went　out。　
　‘My　wife；'　said　Defarge　aloud；　addressing　Madame　Defarge：　‘I　have　travelled　certain　leagues　with　this　good　mender　of　roads；　called　Jacques。　I　met　himby　accidenta　day　an　half's　journey　Out　of　Paris。　He　is　a　good　child；　this　mender　of　roads；　called　Jacques。　Give　him　to　drink；　my　wife！'　
　A　second　man　got　up　and　went　out。　Madame　Defarge　set　wine　before　the　mender　of　roads　called　Jacques；　who　doffed　his　blue　cap　to　the　company；　and　drank。　In　the　breast　of　his　blouse　he　carried　some　coarse　dark　bread；　he