a tale of two cities(双城记)-第63章

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ion。　He　had　fully　comprehended　that　no　personal　influence　could　possibly　save　him；　that　he　was　virtually　sentenced　by　the　millions；　and　that　units　could　avail　him　nothing。　
　Nevertheless；　it　was　not　easy；　with　the　face　of　his　beloved　wife　fresh　before　him；　to　compose　his　mind　to　what　it　must　bear。　His　hold　on　life　was　strong；　and　it　was　very；　very　hard　to　loosen；　by　gradual　efforts　and　degrees　unclosed　a　little　here；　it　clenched　the　tighter　there；　and　when　he　brought　his　strength　to　bear　on　that　hand　and　it　yielded；　this　was　closed　again。　There　was　a　hurry；　too；　in　all　his　thoughts；　a　turbulent　and　heated　working　of　his　heart；　that　contended　against　resignation。　If　for　a　moment；　he　did　feel　resigned；　then　his　wife　and　child　who　had　to　live　after　him；　seemed　to　protest　and　to　make　it　a　selfish　thing。　
　But；　all　this　was　at　first。　Before　long；　the　consideration　that　there　was　no　disgrace　in　the　fate　he　must　meet；　and　that　numbers　went　the　same　road　wrongfully；　and　trod　it　firmly　every　day；　sprang　up　to　stimulate　him。　Next　followed　the　thought　that　much　of　the　future　peace　of　mind　enjoyable　by　the　dear　ones；　depended　on　his　quiet　fortitude。　So；　by　degrees　he　calmed　into　the　better　state；　when　he　could　raise　his　thoughts　much　higher；　and　draw　comfort　down。　
　Before　it　had　set　in　dark　on　the　night　of　his　condemnation；　he　had　travelled　thus　far　on　his　last　way。　Being　allowed　to　purchase　the　means　of　writing；　and　a　light；　he　sat　down　to　write　until　such　time　as　the　prison　lamps　should　be　extinguished。　
　He　wrote　a　long　letter　to　Lucie；　showing　her　that　he　had　known　nothing　of　her　father's　imprisonment；　until　he　had　heard　of　it　from　herself；　and　that　he　had　been　as　ignorant　as　she　of　his　father's　and　uncle's　responsibility　for　that　misery；　until　the　paper　had　been　read。　He　had　already　explained　to　her　that　his　concealment　from　herself　of　the　name　he　had　relinquished；　was　the　one　conditionfully　intelligible　nowthat　her　father　had　attached　to　their　betrothal；　and　was　the　one　promise　he　had　still　exacted　on　the　morning　of　their　marriage。　He　entreated　her；　for　her　father's　sake；　never　to　seek　to　know　whether　her　father　had　become　oblivious　of　the　existence　of　the　paper；　or　had　had　it　recalled　to　him　（for　the　moment；　or　for　good）；　by　the　story　of　the　Tower；　on　that　old　Sunday　under　the　dear　old　plane…tree　in　the　garden。　If　he　had　preserved　any　definite　remembrance　of　it；　there　could　be　no　doubt　that　he　had　supposed　it　destroyed　with　the　Bastille；　when　he　had　found　no　mention　of　it　among　the　relics　of　prisoners　which　the　populace　had　discovered　there；　and　which　had　been　described　to　all　the　world。　He　besought　herthough　he　added　that　he　knew　it　was　needlessto　console　her　father；　by　impressing　him　through　every　tender　means　she　could　think　of；　with　the　truth　that　he　had　done　nothing　for　which　he　could　justly　reproach　himself；　but　had　uniformly　forgotten　himself　for　their　joint　sakes。　Next　to　her　preservation　of　his　own　last　grateful　love　and　blessing；　and　her　overcoming　of　her　sorrow；　to　devote　herself　to　their　dear　child；　he　adjured　her；　as　they　would　meet　in　Heaven；　to　comfort　her　father。　
　To　her　father　himself　he　wrote　in　the　same　strain；　but；　he　told　her　father　that　he　expressly　confided　his　wife　and　child　to　his　care。　And　he　told　him　this；　very　strongly；　with　the　hope　of　rousing　him　from　any　despondency　or　dangerous　retrospect　towards　which　he　foresaw　he　might　be　tending。　
To　Mr。　Lorry；　he　commended　them　all；　and　explained　his　worldly　affairs。　That　done；　with　many　added　sentences　of　grateful　friendship　and　warm　attachment；　all　was　done。　He　never　thought　of　Carton。　His　mind　was　so　full　of　the　others；　that　he　never　once　thought　of　him。　
　He　had　time　to　finish　these　letters　before　the　lights　were　put　out。　When　he　lay　down　on　his　straw　bed；　he　thought　he　had　done　with　this　world。　
　But；　it　beckoned　him　back　in　his　sleep；　and　showed　itself　in　shining　forms。　Free　and　happy；　back　in　the　old　house　in　Soho　（though　it　had　nothing　in　it　like　the　real　house）；　unaccountably　released　and　light　of　heart；　he　was　with　Lucie　again；　and　she　told　him　it　was　all　a　dream；　and　he　had　never　gone　away。　A　pause　of　forgetfulness；　and　then　lie　had　even　suffered；　and　had　come　back　to　her；　dead　and　at　peace；　and　yet　there　was　no　difference　in　him。　Another　pause　of　oblivion；　and　he　awoke　in　the　sombre　morning；　unconscious　where　he　was　or　what　had　happened；　until　it　flashed　upon　his　mind；　‘this　is　the　day　of　my　death'　
　Thus；　had　he　come　through　the　hours；　to　the　day　when　the　fifty…two　heads　were　to　fall。　And　now；　while　he　was　composed；　and　hoped　that　he　could　meet　the　end　with　quiet　heroism；　a　new　action　began　in　his　waking　thoughts；　which　was　very　difficult　to　master。　
　He　had　never　seen　the　instrument　that　was　to　terminate　his　life。　How　high　it　was　from　the　ground；　how　many　steps　it　had；　where　he　would　be　stood；　how　he　would　be　touched；　whether　the　touching　hands　would　be　dyed　red；　which　way　his　face　would　be　turned；　whether　he　would　be　the　first；　or　might　be　the　last：　these　and　many　similar　questions；　in　no　wise　directed　by　his　will；　obtruded　themselves　over　and　over　again；　countless　times。　Neither　were　they　connected　with　fear：　he　was　conscious　of　no　fear。　Rather；　they　originated　in　a　strange　besetting　desire　to　know　what　to　do　when　the　time　came；　a　desire　gigantically　disproportionate　to　the　few　swift　moments　to　which　it　referred；　a　wondering　that　was　more　like　the　wondering　of　some　other　spirit　within　his；　than　his　own。　
　The　hours　went　on　as　lie　walked　to　and　fro；　and　the　clocks　struck　the　numbers　he　would　never　hear　again。　Nine　cone　for　ever；　ten　gone　for　ever；　eleven　gone　for　ever；　twelve　coming　on　to　pass　away。　After　a　hard　contest　with　that　eccentric　action　of　thought　which　had　last　perplexed　him；　he　had　got　the　better　of　it。　He　walked　up　and　down；　softly　repeating　their　names　to　himself。　The　worst　of　the　strife　was　over。　He　could　walk　up　and　down；　free　from　distracting　fancies；　praying　for　himself　and　for　them。　
　Twelve　gone　for　ever。　
　He　had　been　apprised　that　the　final　hour　was　Three；　and　he　knew　he　would　be　summoned　some　time　earlier；　inasmuch　as　the　tumbrils　jolted　heavily　and　slowly　through　the　streets。　Therefore；　he　resolved　to　keep　Two　before　his　mind；　as　the　hour；　and　so　to　strengthen　himself　in　the　interval　that　he　might　be　able；　after　that　time；　to　strengthen　others。　
　Walking　regularly　to　and　fro　with　his　arms　folded　on　his　breast；　a　very　different　man　from　the　prisoner；　who　had　walked　to　and　fro　at　La　Force；　he　heard　One　struck　away　from　him；　without　surprise。　The　hour　had　measured　like　most　other　hours。　Devoutly　thankful　to　Heaven　for　his　recovered　self…possession；　he　thought；　‘There　is　but　another　now；'　and　turned　to　walk　again。　
　Footsteps　in　the　stone　passage　outside　the　door。　He　stopped。　
The　key　was　put　in　the　lock；　and　turned。　Before　the　door　was　opened；　or　as　it　opened；　a　man　said　in　a　low　voice；　in　English：　‘He　has　never　seen　me　here；　I　have　kept　out　of　his　way。　Go　you　in　alone；　I　wait　near。　Lose　no　time！'　
　The　door　was　quickly　opened　and　closed；　and　there　stood　before　him　face　to　face；　quiet；　intent　upon　him；　with　the　light　of　a　smile　on　his　features；　and　a　cautionary　finger　on　his　lip；　Sydney　Carton。　
　There　was　something　so　bright　and　remarkable　in　his　look；　that；　for　the　first　moment；　the　prisoner　misdoubted　him　to　be　an　apparition　of　his　own　imagining。　But；　he　spoke；　and　it　was　his　voice；　he　took　the　prisoner's　hand；　and　it　was　his　real　grasp。　
　‘Of　all　the　people　upon　earth；　you　least　expected　to　see　me？'　he　said。　
　‘I　could　not　believe　it　to　be　you。　I　can　scarcely　believe　it　now。　You　are　not'the　apprehension　came　suddenly　into　his　mind‘a　prisoner？'　
　‘No。　I　am　accidentally　possessed　of　a　power　over　one　of　the　keepers　here；　and　in　virtue　of　it　I　stand　before　you。　I　come　from　heryour　wife；　dear　Darnay。'　
　The　prisoner　wrung　his　hand。　
　‘I　bring　you　a　request　from　her。'　
‘What　is　it？'　
　‘A　most　earnest；　pressing；　and　emphatic　entreaty；　addressed　to　you　in　the　most　pathetic　tones　of　the　voice　so　dear　to　you；　that　you　well　remember。'　
　The　prisoner　turned　his　face　partly　aside。　
　‘You　have　no　time　to　ask　me　why　I　bring　it；　or　what　it　means；　I　have　no　time　to　tell　you。　You　must　comply　with　ittake　off　those　boots　you　wear；　and　draw　on　these　of　mine。'　
　There　was　a　chair　against　the　wall　of　the　cell；　behind　the　prisoner。　Carton；　pressing　forward；　had　already；　with　the　speed　of　lightning；　got　him　down　into　it；　and　stood　over　him；　barefoot。　
　‘Draw　on　these　boots　of　mine。　Put　your　hands　to　them；　put　your　will　to　them。　Quick！'　
　‘Carton；　there　is　no　escaping　from　this　place；　it　never　can　be　done。　You　will　only　die　with　me。　It　is　madness。'　
　‘It　would　be　madness　if　I　asked　you　to　escape；　but　do　I？　
When　I　ask　you　to　pass　out　at　that　door；　tell　me　it　is　madness　and　remain　here。　Change　that　cravat　for　this　of　mine；　that　coat　for　this　of　mine。　While　you　do　it；　let　me　take　this　ribbon　from　your　hair；　and　shake　out　your　hair　like　this　of　mine！'　
　With　wonderful　quickness；　and　with　a　strength　both　of　will　and　action；　that　appeared　quite　supernatural；　he　forced　all　these　changes　upon　him。　The　prisoner　was　like　a　young　child　in　his　hands。　
　‘Carton！　Dear　Carton！　It　is　madness。　It　cannot　be　accomplished；　it　never　can　be　done；　it　has　been　attempted；　and　has　always　failed。　I　implore　you　not　to　add　your　death　to　the　bitterness　of　mine。　
　‘Do　I　ask　you；　my　dear　Darnay；　to　pass　the　door？　When　I　ask　that；　refuse。　There　are　pen　and　ink　and　paper　on　this　table。　Is　your　hand　steady　enough　to　write？'　
　‘It　was　when　you　came　in。　
　‘Steady　it　again；　and　write　what　I　shall　dictate。　Quick；　friend；　quick！'　
　Pressing　his　hand　to　his　bewildered　head；　Darnay　sat　down　at　the　table。　Carton；　with　his　right　hand　in　his　breast；　stood　close　beside　him。　
　‘Write　exactly　as　I　speak。'　
　‘To　whom　do　I　address　it？'　
　‘To　no　one。'　Carton　still　had　his　hand　in　his　breast。　
　‘Do　I　date　it？'　
‘No。'　
　The　prisoner　looked　up；　at　each　question。　Carton；　standing　over　him　with　his　hand　in　his　breast；　looked　down。　
　‘‘‘If　you　remember；'''　said　Carton；　dictating；　‘‘‘the　words　that　passed　between　us；　long　ago；　you　will　readily　comprehend　this　when　you　see　it。　You　do　remember　them；　I　know。　It　is　not　in　your　nature　to　forget　them。'''　
　He　was　drawing　his　hand　from　his　breast；　the　prisoner　chancing　to　look　up　in　his　hurried　wonder　as　he　wrote；　the　hand　stopped；　closing　upon　something。　
　‘Have　you　written　‘‘forget　them！''　Carton　asked。　
　‘I　have。　Is　that　a　weapon　in　your　hand？'　
　‘No；　I　am　not　armed。'　
　‘What　is　it　in　your　hand？'　
　‘You　shall　know　directly。　Write　on；　there　are　but　a　few　words　more。'　He　dictated　again。　‘‘‘I　am　thankful　that　the　time　has　come；　when　I　can　prove　them。　That　I　do　so　is　no　subject　for　regret　or　grief。'''　As　he　said　these　words　with　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　writer；　his　hand　slowly　and　softly　moved　down　close　to　the　writer's　face。　
　The　pen　dropped　from　Darnay's　fingers　on　the　table；　and　he　looked　about　him　vacantly。　
　‘What　vapour　is　that？'　he　asked。　
　‘Vapour？'　
　‘Something　that　crossed　me？'　
　‘I　am　conscious　of　nothing；　there　can　be　nothing　here。　Take　up　the　pen　and　finish。　Hurry；　hurry！'　
　As　if　his　memory　were　impaired；　or　his　faculties　disordered；　the　prisoner　made　an　effort　to　rally　his　attention。　As　he　looked　at　Carton　with