a tale of two cities(双城记)-第57章

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d　still　of　to…morrow's　and　tomorrow's；　the　chain　of　association　that　brought　the　words　home；　like　a　rusty　old　ship's　anchor　from　the　deep；　might　have　been　easily　found。　He　did　not　seek　it；　but　repeated　them　and　went　on。　
　With　a　solemn　interest　in　the　lighted　windows　where　the　people　were　going　to　rest；　forgetful　through　a　few　calm　hours　of　the　horrors　surrounding　them；　in　the　towers　of　the　churches；　where　no　prayers　were　said；　for　the　popular　revulsion　had　even　travelled　that　length　of　self…destruction　from　years　of　priestly　impostors；　plunderers；　and　profligates；　in　the　distant　burial…places；　reserved；　as　they　wrote　upon　the　gates；　for　Eternal　Sleep；　in　the　abounding　gaols；　and　in　the　streets　along　which　the　sixties　rolled　to　a　death　which　had　become　so　common　and　material；　that　no　sorrowful　story　of　a　haunting　Spirit　ever　arose　among　the　people　out　of　all　the　working　of　the　Guillotine；　with　a　solemn　interest　in　the　whole　life　and　death　of　the　city　settling　down　to　its　short　nightly　pause　in　fury；　Sydney　Carton　crossed　the　Seine　again　for　the　lighter　streets。　
Few　coaches　were　abroad；　for　riders　in　coaches　were　liable　to　lie　suspected；　and　gentility　hid　its　head　in　red　nightcaps；　and　put　on　heavy　shoes；　and　trudged。　But；　the　theatres　were　all　well　filled；　and　the　people　poured　cheerfully　out　as　he　passed；　and　went　chatting　home。　At　one　of　the　theatre　doors；　there　was　a　little　girl　with　a　mother；　looking　for　a　way　across　the　street　through　the　mud。　He　carried　the　child　over；　and　before　the　timid　arm　was　loosed　from　his　neck　asked　her　for　a　kiss。　
　‘I　am　the　resurrection　and　the　life；　saith　the　Lord：　he　that　believeth　in　me；　though　he　were　dead；　yet　shall　he　live：　and　whosoever　liveth　and　believeth　in　me；　shall　never　die。'　
Now；　that　the　streets　were　quiet；　and　the　night　wore　on；　the　words　were　in　the　echoes　of　his　feet；　and　were　in　the　air。　Perfectly　calm　and　steady；　he　sometimes　repeated　them　to　himself　as　he　walked；　but；　he　heard　them　always。　
　The　night　wore　out；　and；　as　he　stood　upon　the　bridge　listening　to　the　water　as　it　splashed　the　river…walls　of　the　Island　of　Paris；　where　the　picturesque　confusion　of　houses　and　cathedral　shone　bright　in　the　light　of　the　moon；　the　day　came　coldly；　looking　like　a　dead　face　out　of　the　sky。　Then；　the　night；　with　the　moon　and　the　stars；　turned　pale　and　died；　and　for　a　little　while　it　seemed　as　if　Creation　were　delivered　over　to　Death's　dominion。　
　But；　the　glorious　sun；　rising；　seemed　to　strike　those　words；　that　burden　of　the　night；　straight　and　warm　to　his　heart　in　its　long　bright　rays。　And　looking　along　them；　with　reverently　shaded　eyes；　a　bridge　of　light　appeared　to　span　the　air　between　him　and　the　sun；　while　the　river　sparkled　under　it。　
　The　strong　tide；　so　swift；　so　deep；　and　certain；　was　like　a　congenial　friend；　in　the　morning　stillness。　He　walked　by　the　stream；　far　from　the　houses；　and　in　the　light　arid　warmth　of　the　sun　fell　asleep　on　the　bank。　When　he　awoke　and　was　afoot　again；　he　lingered　there　yet　a　little　longer；　watching　an　eddy　that　turned　and　turned　purposeless；　until　the　stream　absorbed　it；　and　carried　it　on　to　the　sea。‘Like　me！'　
　A　trading…boat；　with　a　sail　of　the　softened　colour　of　a　dead　leaf；　then　glided　into　his　view；　floated　by　him；　and　died　away。　As　its　silent　track　in　the　water　disappeared；　the　prayer　that　had　broken　up　out　of　his　heart　for　a　merciful　consideration　of　all　his　poor　blindnesses　and　errors；　ended　in　the　words；　‘I　am　the　resurrection　and　the　life。'　
　Mr。　Lorry　was　already　out　when　he　got　back；　and　it　was　easy　to　surmise　where　the　good　old　man　was　gone。　Sydney　Carton　drank　nothing　but　a　little　coffee；　ate　some　bread；　and；　having　washed　and　changed　to　refresh　himself；　went　out　to　the　place　of　trial。　
　The　court　was　all　astir　and　a…buzz；　when　the　black　sheepwhom　many　fell　away　from　in　dreadpressed　him　into　an　obscure　corner　among　the　crowd。　Mr。　Lorry　was　there；　and　Doctor　Manette　was　there。　She　was　there；　sitting　beside　her　father。　
　When　her　husband　was　brought　in；　she　turned　a　look　upon　him；　so　sustaining；　so　encouraging；　so　full　of　admiring　love　and　pitying　tenderness；　yet　so　courageous　for　his　sake；　that　it　called　the　healthy　blood　into　his　face；　brightened　his　glance；　and　animated　his　heart。　If　there　had　been　any　eyes　to　notice　the　influence　of　her　look；　on　Sydney　Carton；　it　would　have　been　seen　to　be　the　same　influence　exactly。　
　Before　that　unjust　Tribunal；　there　was　little　or　no　order　of　procedure；　ensuring　to　any　accused　person　any　reasonable　hearing。　There　could　have　been　no　such　Revolution；　if　all　laws；　forms；　and　ceremonies；　had　not　first　been　so　monstrously　abused；　that　the　suicidal　vengeance　of　the　Revolution　was　to　scatter　them　all　to　the　winds。　
　Every　eye　was　turned　to　the　jury。　The　same　determined　patriots　and　good　republicans　as　yesterday　and　the　day　before；　and　to…morrow　and　the　day　after。　Eager　and　prominent　among　them；　one　man　with　a　craving　face；　and　his　fingers　perpetually　hovering　about　his　lips；　whose　appearance　gave　great　satisfaction　to　the　spectators。　A　life…thirsting；　cannibal　looking；　bloody…minded　juryman；　the　Jacques　Three　of　St。　Antoine。　The　whole　jury；　as　a　jury　of　dogs　empannelled　to　try　the　deer。　
　Every　eye　then　turned　to　the　five　judges　and　the　public　prosecutor。　No　favourable　leaning　in　that　quarter　to…day。　A　fell；　uncompromising；　murderous　business…meaning　there。　Every　eye　then　sought　some　other　eye　in　the　crowd；　and　gleamed　at　it　approvingly；　and　heads　nodded　at　one　another；　before　bending　forward　with　a　strained　attention。　
　Charles　Evrémonde；　called　Darnay。　Released　yesterday。　Re…accused　and　retaken　yesterday。　Indictment　delivered　to　him　last　night。　Suspected　and　Denounced　enemy　of　the　Republic；　Aristocrat；　one　of　a　family　of　tyrants；　one　of　a　race　proscribed；　for　that　they　had　used　their　abolished　privileges　to　the　infamous　oppression　of　the　people。　Charles　Evrémonde；　called　Darnay；　in　right　of　such　proscription；　absolutely　Dead　in　Law。　
　To　this　effect；　in　as　few　or　fewer　words；　the　Public　Prosecutor。　
The　President　asked；　was　the　Accused　openly　denounced　or　secretly？　
　‘Openly；　President。'　
　‘By　whom？'　
　‘Three　voices。　Ernest　Defarge；　wine…vendor　of　St。　Antoine。'　
　‘Good。'　
　‘Thérèse　Defarge；　his　wife。'　
‘Good。'　
　‘Alexandre　Manette；　physician。'　
　A　great　uproar　took　place　in　the　court；　and　in　the　midst　of　it；　Doctor　Manette　was　seen；　pale　and　trembling；　standing　where　he　had　been　seated。　
　‘President；　I　indignantly　protest　to　you　that　this　is　a　forgery　and　a　fraud。　You　know　the　accused　to　be　the　husband　of　my　daughter。　My　daughter；　and　those　dear　to　her；　are　far　dearer　to　me　than　my　life。　Who　and　where　is　the　false　conspirator　who　says　that　I　denounce　the　husband　of　my　child！　
　‘Citizen　Manette；　be　tranquil。　To　fail　in　submission　to　the　authority　of　the　Tribunal　would　be　to　put　yourself　out　of　Law。　As　to　what　is　dearer　to　you　than　life；　nothing　can　be　so　dear　to　a　good　citizen　as　the　Republic。'　
　Loud　acclamations　hailed　this　rebuke。　The　President　rang　his　bell；　and　with　warmth　resumed。　
　‘If　the　Republic　should　demand　of　you　the　sacrifice　of　your　child　herself　you　would　have　no　duty　but　to　sacrifice　her　Listen　to　what　is　to　follow。　In　the　meanwhile；　be　silent！'　
　Frantic　acclamations　were　again　raised。　Doctor　Manette　sat　down；　with　his　eyes　looking　around；　and　his　lips　trembling；　his　daughter　drew　closer　to　him。　The　craving　man　on　the　jury　rubbed　his　hands　together；　and　restored　the　usual　hand　to　his　mouth。　
　Defarge　was　produced；　when　the　court　was　quiet　enough　to　admit　of　his　being　heard；　and　rapidly　expounded　the　story　of　the　imprisonment；　and　of　his　having　been　a　mere　boy　in　the　Doctor's　service；　and　of　the　release；　and　of　the　state　of　the　prisoner　when　released　and　delivered　to　him。　This　short　examination　followed；　for　the　court　was　quick　with　its　work。　
‘You　did　good　service　at　the　taking　of　the　Bastille；　citizen？'　
‘I　believe　so。'　
　Here；　an　excited　woman　screeched　from　the　crowd：　‘You　were　one　of　the　best　patriots　there。　Why　not　say　so？　You　were　a　cannonier　that　day　there；　and　you　were　among　the　first　to　enter　the　accursed　fortress　when　it　fell。　Patriots；　I　speak　the　truth！'　
　It　was　The　Vengeance　who；　amidst　the　warm　commendations　of　the　audience；　thus　assisted　the　proceedings。　The　President　rang　his　bell；　but；　The　Vengeance；　warming　with　encouragement；　shrieked；　‘I　defy　that　bell！'　wherein　she　was　likewise　much　commended。　
‘Inform　the　Tribunal　of　what　you　did　that　day　within　the　Bastille；　citizen。'　
　‘I　knew；'　said　Defarge；　looking　down　at　his　wife；　who　stood　at　the　bottom　of　the　steps　on　which　he　was　raised；　looking　steadily　up　at　him；　‘I　knew　that　this　prisoner；　of　whom　I　speak；　had　been　confined　in　a　cell　known　as　One　Hundred　and　Five；　North　Tower。　I　knew　it　from　himself。　He　knew　himself　by　no　other　name　than　One　Hundred　and　Five；　North　Tower；　when　he　made　shoes　under　my　care。　As　I　serve　my　gun　that　day；　I　resolve；　when　the　place　shall　fall；　to　examine　that　cell。　It　falls。　I　mount　to　the　cell；　with　a　fellow…citizen　who　is　one　of　the　Jury；　directed　by　a　gaoler。　I　examine　it；　very　closely。　In　a　hole　in　the　chimney；　where　a　stone　has　been　worked　out　and　replaced；　I　find　a　written　paper。　This　is　that　written　paper。　I　have　made　it　my　business　to　examine　some　specimens　of　the　writing　of　Doctor　Manette。　This　is　the　writing　of　Doctor　Manette。　I　confide　this　paper；　in　the　writing　of　Doctor　Manette；　to　the　hands　of　the　President。　
　‘Let　it　be　read。'　
　In　a　dead　silence　and　stillnessthe　prisoner　under　trial　looking　lovingly　at　his　wife；　his　wife　only　looking　from　him　to　look　with　solicitude　at　her　father；　Doctor　Manette　keeping　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　reader；　Madame　Defarge　never　taking　hers　from　the　prisoner；　Defarge　never　taking　his　from　his　feasting　wile；　and　all　the　other　eyes　there　intent　upon　the　Doctor；　who　saw　none　of　themthe　paper　was　read；　as　follows。　

CHAPTER　X
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　mindthat　my　memory　is　exact　and　circumstantialand　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