a tale of two cities(双城记)-第41章

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e　worst　of　the　day；　played　gently　with　their　meagre　children；　and　lovers；　with　such　a　world　around　them　and　before　them；　loved　and　hoped。　
　It　was　almost　morning；　when　Defarge's　wine…shop　parted　with　its　last　knot　of　customers；　and　Monsieur　Defarge　said　to　madame　his　wife；　in　husky　tones；　while　fastening　the　door：　
　‘At　last　it　is　come；　my　dear！'　
‘Eh　well！'　returned　madame。　‘Almost。'　
　Saint　Antoine　slept；　the　Defarges　slept：　even　The　Vengeance　slept　with　her　starved　grocer；　and　the　drum　was　at　rest。　The　drum's　was　the　only　voice　in　Saint　Antoine　that　blood　and　hurry　had　not　changed。　The　Vengeance；　as　custodian　of　the　drum；　could　have　wakened　him　up　and　had　the　same　speech　out　of　him　as　before　the　Bastille　fell；　or　old　Foulon　was　seized；　not　so　with　the　hoarse　tones　of　the　men　and　women　in　Saint　Antoine's　bosom。　


CHAPTER　XXIII
Fire　Rises
THERE　was　a　change　on　the　village　where　the　fountain　fell；　and　where　the　mender　of　roads　went　forth　daily　to　hammer　out　of　the　stones　on　the　highway　such　morsels　of　bread　as　might　serve　for　patches　to　hold　his　poor　ignorant　soul　and　his　poor　reduced　body　together。　The　prison　on　the　crag　was　not　so　dominant　as　of　yore；　there　were　soldiers　to　guard　it；　but　not　many；　there　were　officers　to　guard　the　soldiers；　but　not　one　of　them　knew　what　his　men　would　dobeyond　this：　that　it　would　probably　not　be　what　he　was　ordered。　
　Far　and　wide　lay　a　ruined　country；　yielding　nothing　but　desolation。　Every　green　leaf；　every　blade　of　grass　and　blade　of　grain；　was　as　shrivelled　and　poor　as　the　miserable　people。　Everything　was　bowed　down；　dejected；　oppressed；　and　broken。　Habitations；　fences；　domesticated　animals；　men；　women；　children；　and　the　soil　that　bore　themall　worn　out。　
　Monseigneur　（often　a　most　worthy　individual　gentleman）　was　a　national　blessing；　gave　a　chivalrous　tone　to　things；　was　a　polite　example　of　luxurious　and　shining　life；　and　a　great　deal　more　to　equal　purpose；　nevertheless；　Monseigneur　as　a　class　had；　somehow　or　other；　brought　things　to　this。　Strange　that　Creation；　designed　expressly　for　Monseigneur；　should　be　so　soon　wrung　dry　and　squeezed　out！　There　must　be　something　short…sighted　in　the　eternal　arrangements；　surely　Thus　it　was；　however；　and　the　last　drop　of　blood　having　been　extracted　from　the　flints；　and　the　last　screw　of　the　rack　having　been　turned　so　often　that　its　purchase　crumbled；　and　it　now　turned　and　turned　with　nothing　to　bite；　Monseigneur　began　to　run　away　from　a　phenomenon　so　low　and　unaccountable。　
　But；　this　was　not　the　change　on　the　village；　and　on　many　a　village　like　it。　For　scores　of　years　gone　by；　Monseigneur　had　squeezed　it　and　wrung　it；　and　had　seldom　graced　it　with　his　presence　except　for　the　pleasures　of　the　chasenow；　found　in　hunting　the　people；　now；　found　in　hunting　the　beasts；　for　whose　preservation　Monseigneur　made　edifying　spaces　of　barbarous　and　barren　wilderness。　No。　The　change　consisted　in　the　appearance　of　strange　faces　of　low　caste；　rather　than　in　the　disappearance　of　the　high…caste；　chiseled；　and　otherwise　beatified　and　beatifying　features　of　Monseigneur。　
　For；　in　these　times；　as　the　mender　of　roads　worked；　solitary；　in　the　dust；　not　often　troubling　himself　to　reflect　that　dust　he　was　and　to　dust　he　must　return；　being　for　the　most　part　too　much　occupied　in　thinking　how　little　he　had　for　supper　and　how　much　more　he　would　eat　if　he　had　itin　these　times；　as　he　raised　his　eyes　from　his　lonely　labour；　and　viewed　the　prospect；　he　would　see　some　rough　figure　approaching　on　foot；　the　like　of　which　was　once　a　rarity　in　those　parts；　but　was　now　a　frequent　presence。　As　it　advanced；　the　mender　of　roads　would　discern　without　surprise；　that　it　was　a　shaggy…haired　man；　of　almost　barbarian　aspect；　tall；　in　wooden　shoes　that　were　clumsy　even　to　the　eyes　of　a　mender　of　roads；　grim；　rough；　swart；　steeped　in　the　mud　and　dust　of　many　highways；　dank　with　the　marshy　moisture　of　many　low　grounds；　sprinkled　with　the　thorns　and　leaves　and　moss　of　many　byways　through　woods。　
　Such　a　man　came　upon　him；　like　a　ghost；　at　noon　in　the　July　weather；　as　he　sat　on　his　heap　of　stones　under　a　bank；　taking　such　shelter　as　he　could　get　from　a　shower　of　hail。　
　The　man　looked　at　him；　looked　at　the　village　in　the　hollow；　at　the　mill；　and　at　the　prison　on　the　crag。　When　he　had　identified　these　objects　in　what　benighted　mind　he　had；　he　said；　in　a　dialect　that　was　just　intelligible：　
　‘How　goes　it；　Jacques？'　
　‘All　well；　Jacques。'　
　‘Touch　then！'　
　They　joined　hands；　and　the　man　sat　down　on　the　heap　of　stones。　
　‘No　dinner？'　
　‘Nothing　but　supper　now；'　said　the　mender　of　roads；　with　a　hungry　face。　
　‘It　is　the　fashion；'　growled　the　man。　‘I　meet　no　dinner　anywhere。'　
　He　took　out　a　blackened　pipe；　filled　it；　lighted　it　with　flint　and　steel；　pulled　at　it　until　it　was　in　a　bright　glow：　then；　suddenly　held　it　from　him　and　dropped　something　into　it　from　between　his　finger　and　thumb；　that　blazed　and　went　out　in　a　puff　of　smoke。　
　‘Touch　then。'　It　was　the　turn　of　the　mender　of　roads　to　say　it　this　time；　after　observing　these　operations。　They　again　joined　hands。　
　‘To…night？'　said　the　mender　of　roads。　
　‘To…night；'　said　the　man；　putting　the　pipe　in　his　mouth。　
‘Where？'　
‘Here。'　
　He　and　the　mender　of　roads　sat　on　the　heap　of　stones　looking　silently　at　one　another；　with　the　hail　driving　in　between　them　like　a　pigmy　charge　of　bayonets；　until　the　sky　began　to　clear　over　the　village。　
　‘Show　me！'　said　the　traveller　then；　moving　to　the　brow　of　the　hill。　
　‘See。'　returned　the　mender　of　roads；　with　extended　finger。　‘You　go　down　here；　and　straight　through　the　street；　and　past　the　fountain…　
　‘To　the　Devil　with　all　that！'　interrupted　the　other；　rolling　his　eye　over　the　landscape。　‘I　go　through　no　streets　and　past　no　fountains。　Well？'　
　‘Well！　About　two　leagues　beyond　the　summit　of　that　hill　above　the　village。'　
　‘Good。　When　do　you　cease　to　work？'　
‘At　sunset。'　
　‘Will　you　wake　me；　before　departing？　I　have　walked　two　nights　without　resting。　Let　me　finish　my　pipe；　and　I　shall　sleep　like　a　child。　Will　you　wake　me？'　
　‘Surely。'　
　The　wayfarer　smoked　his　pipe　out；　put　it　in　his　breast；　slipped　off　his　great　wooden　shoes；　and　lay　down　on　his　back　on　the　heap　of　stones。　He　was　fast　asleep　directly。　
　As　the　road…mender　plied　his　dusty　labour；　and　the　hail…clouds；　rolling　away；　revealed　bright　bars　and　streaks　of　sky　which　were　responded　to　by　silver　gleams　upon　the　landscape；　the　little　man　（who　wore　a　red　cap　now；　in　place　of　his　blue　one）　seemed　fascinated　by　the　figure　on　the　heap　of　stones。　His　eyes　were　so　often　turned　towards　it；　that　he　used　his　tools　mechanically；　and；　one　would　have　said；　to　very　poor　account。　The　bronze　face；　the　shaggy　black　hair　and　beard；　the　coarse　woollen　red　cap；　the　rough　medley　dress　of　home…spun　stuff　and　hairy　skins　of　beasts；　the　powerful　frame　attenuated　by　spare　living；　and　the　sullen　and　desperate　compression　of　the　lips　in　sleep；　inspired　the　mender　of　roads　with　awe。　The　traveller　had　travelled　far；　and　his　feet　were　footsore；　and　his　ankles　chafed　and　bleeding；　his　great　shoes；　stuffed　with　leaves　and　grass；　had　been　heavy　to　drag　over　the　many　long　leagues；　and　his　clothes　were　chafed　into　holes；　as　he　himself　was　into　sores。　Stooping　down　beside　him；　the　road…mender　tried　to　get　a　peep　at　secret　weapons　in　his　breast　or　where　not；　but；　in　vain；　for　he　slept　with　his　arms　crossed　upon　him；　and　set　as　resolutely　as　his　lips。　Fortified　towns　with　their　stockades；　guard…houses；　gates；　trenches；　and　drawbridges；　seemed　to　the　mender　of　roads；　to　be　so　much　air　as　against　this　figure。　And　when　he　lifted　his　eyes　from　it　to　the　horizon　and　looked　around；　he　saw　in　his　small　fancy　similar　figures；　stopped　by　no　obstacle；　tending　to　centres　all　over　France。　
　The　man　slept　on；　indifferent　to　showers　of　hail　and　intervals　of　brightness；　to　sunshine　on　his　face　and　shadow；　to　the　pattering　lumps　of　dull　ice　on　his　body　and　the　diamonds　into　which　the　sun　changed　them；　until　the　sun　was　low　in　the　west；　and　the　sky　was　glowing。　Then；　the　mender　of　roads　having　got　his　tools　together　and　all　things　ready　to　go　down　into　the　village；　roused　him。　
　‘Good！'　said　the　sleeper；　rising　on　his　elbow。　‘Two　leagues　beyond　the　summit　of　the　hill？'　
　‘About。'　
‘About。　Good！'　
　The　mender　of　roads　went　home；　with　the　dust　going　on　before　him　according　to　the　set　of　the　wind；　and　was　soon　at　the　fountain；　squeezing　himself　in　among　the　lean　kine　brought　there　to　drink；　and　appearing　even　to　whisper　to　them　in　his　whispering　to　all　the　village。　When　the　village　had　taken　its　poor　supper；　it　did　not　creep　to　bed；　as　it　usually　did；　but　came　out　of　doors　again；　and　remained　there。　A　curious　contagion　of　whispering　was　upon　it；　and　also；　when　it　gathered　together　at　the　fountain　in　the　dark；　another　curious　contagion　of　looking　expectantly　at　the　sky　in　one　direction　only。　Monsieur　Gabelle；　chief　functionary　of　the　place；　became　uneasy；　went　out　on　his　house…top　alone；　and　looked　in　that　direction　too；　glanced　down　from　behind　his　chimneys　at　the　darkening　faces　by　the　fountain　below；　and　sent　word　to　the　sacristan　who　kept　the　keys　of　the　church；　that　there　might　be　need　to　ring　the　tocsin　by…and…by。　
　The　night　deepened。　The　trees　environing　the　old　chateau；　keeping　its　solitary　state　apart；　moved　in　a　rising　wind；　as　though　they　threatened　the　pile　of　building　massive　and　dark　in　the　gloom。　Up　the　two　terrace　flights　of　steps　the　rain　ran　wildly；　and　beat　at　the　great　door；　like　a　swift　messenger　rousing　those　within；　uneasy　rushes　of　wind　went　through　the　hall；　among　the　old　spears　and　knives；　and　passed　lamenting　up　the　stairs；　and　shook　the　curtains　of　the　bed　where　the　last　Marquis　had　slept。　East；　West；　North；　and　South；　through　the　woods；　four　heavy…treading；　unkempt　figures　crushed　the　high　grass　and　cracked　the　branches；　striding　on　cautiously　to　come　together　in　the　courtyard。　Four　lights　broke　out　there；　and　moved　away　in　different　directions；　and　all　was　black　again。　
　But；　not　for　long。　Presently；　the　chateau　began　to　make　itself　strangely　visible　by　some　light　of　its　own；　as　though　it　were　growing　luminous。　Then；　a　flickering　streak　played　behind　the　architecture　of　the　front；　picking　out　transparent　places；　and　showing　where　balustrades；　arches；　and　windows　were。　Then　it　soared　higher；　and　grew　broader　and　brighter。　Soon；　from　a　score　of　the　great　windows；　flames　burst　forth；　and　the　stone　faces　awakened；　stared　out　of　fire。　
　A　faint　murmur　arose　about　the　house　from　the　few　people　who　were　left　there；　and　there　was　a　saddling　of　a　horse　and　riding　away。　There　was　spurring　and　splashing　through　the　darkness；　and　bridle　was　drawn　in　the　space　by　the　village　fountain；　and　the　horse　in　a　foam　stood　at　Monsieur　Gabelle's　door。　‘Help；　Gabelle！　Help；　every　one！'　The　tocsin　rang　impatiently；　but　other　help　（if　that　were　any）　there　was　none。　The　mender　of　roads；　and　two　hundred　and　fifty　particular　friends；　stood　with　folded　arms　at　the　fountain；　looking　at　the　pillar　of　fire　in　the　sky。　‘It　must　be　forty　feet　high；'　said　they；　grimly；　and　never　moved。　
　The　rider　from　the　chateau；　and　the　horse　in　a　foam；　clattered　away　through　the　village；　and　galloped　up　the　stony　steep；　to　the　prison　on　the　crag。　At　the　gate；　a　group　of　officers　were　looking　at　the　fire；　removed　from