a tale of two cities(双城记)-第8章

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　‘It　is　a　lady's　shoe。　It　is　a　young　lady's　walking…shoe。　It　is　in　the　present　mode。　I　never　saw　the　mode。　I　have　had　a　pattern　in　my　hand。'　He　glanced　at　the　shoe　with　some　little　passing　touch　of　pride。　
　‘And　the　maker's　name？'　said　Defarge。　
　Now　that　he　had　no　work　to　hold；　he　laid　the　knuckles　of　the　right　hand　in　the　hollow　of　the　left；　and　then　the　knuckles　of　the　left　hand　in　the　hollow　of　the　right；　and　then　passed　a　hand　across　his　bearded　chin；　and　so　on　in　regular　changes；　without　a　moment's　intermission。　The　task　of　recalling　him　from　the　vacancy　into　which　he　always　sank　when　he　had　spoken；　was　like　recalling　some　very　weak　person　from　a　swoon；　or　endeavouring；　in　the　hope　of　some　disclosure；　to　stay　the　spirit　of　a　fast…dying　man。　
　‘Did　you　ask　me　for　my　name？'　
　‘Assuredly　I　did。'　
　‘One　Hundred　and　Five；　North　Tower。'　
　‘Is　that　all？'　
　‘One　Hundred　and　Five；　North　Tower。'　
　With　a　weary　sound　that　was　not　a　sigh；　nor　a　groan；　he　bent　to　work　again；　until　the　silence　was　again　broken。　
　‘You　are　not　a　shoemaker　by　trade？'　said　Mr。　Lorry；　looking　steadfastly　at　him。　
　His　haggard　eyes　turned　to　Defarge　as　if　he　would　have　transferred　the　question　to　him：　but　as　no　help　came　from　that　quarter；　they　turned　back　on　the　questioner　when　they　had　sought　the　ground。　
　‘I　am　not　a　shoemaker　by　trade？　No；　I　was　not　a　shoe…maker　by　trade。　II　learn't　it　here。　I　taught　myself。　I　asked　leave　to…'　
　He　lapsed　away；　even　for　minutes；　ringing　those　measured　changes　on　his　hands　the　whole　time。　His　eyes　came　slowly　back；　at　last；　to　the　face　from　which　they　had　wandered；　when　they　rested　on　it；　he　started；　and　resumed；　in　the　manner　of　a　sleeper　that　moment　awake；　reverting　to　a　subject　of　last　night。　
　‘I　asked　leave　to　teach　myself；　and　I　got　it　with　much　difficulty　after　a　long　while；　and　I　have　made　shoes　ever　since。'　
　As　he　held　out　his　hand　for　the　shoe　that　had　been　taken　from　him；　Mr。　Lorry　said；　still　looking　steadfastly　in　his　face：　
　‘Monsieur　Manette；　do　you　remember　nothing　of　me？'　
　The　shoe　dropped　to　the　ground；　and　he　sat　looking　fixedly　at　the　questioner。　
　‘Monsieur　Manette；'　Mr。　Lorry　laid　his　hand　upon　Defarge's　arm；　‘do　you　remember　nothing　of　this　man？　Look　at　him。　Look　at　me。　Is　there　no　old　banker；　no　old　business；　no　old　servant；　no　old　time；　rising　in　your　mind；　Monsieur　Manette？'　
　As　the　captive　of　many　years　sat　looking　fixedly；　by　turns；　at　Mr。　Lorry　and　at　Defarge；　some　long　obliterated　marks　of　an　actively　intent　intelligence　in　the　middle　of　the　fore…head；　gradually　forced　themselves　through　the　black　mist　that　had　fallen　on　him。　They　were　overclouded　again；　they　were　fainter；　they　were　gone；　but　they　had　been　there。　And　so　exactly　was　the　expression　repeated　on　the　fair　young　face　of　her　who　had　crept　along　the　wall　to　a　point　where　she　could　see　him；　and　where　she　now　stood　looking　at　him；　with　hands　which　at　first　had　been　only　raised　in　frightened　compassion；　if　not　even　to　keep　him　off　and　shut　out　the　sight　of　him；　but　which　were　now　extending　towards　him；　trembling　with　eagerness　to　lay　the　spectral　face　upon　her　warm　young　breast；　and　love　it　back　to　life　and　hopeso　exactly　was　the　expression　repeated　（though　in　stronger　characters）　on　her　fair　young　face；　that　it　looked　as　though　it　had　passed　like　a　moving　light；　from　him　to　her。　
　Darkness　had　fallen　on　him　in　its　place。　He　looked　at　the　two；　less　and　less　attentively；　and　his　eyes　in　gloomy　abstraction　sought　the　ground　and　looked　about　him　in　the　old　way。　Finally；　with　a　deep　long　sigh；　he　took　the　shoe　up；　and　resumed　his　work。　
　‘Have　you　recognised　him；　monsieur？'　asked　Defarge　in　a　whisper。　
　‘Yes；　for　a　moment。　At　first　I　thought　it　quite　hope…less；　but　I　have　unquestionably　seen；　for　a　single　moment；　the　face　that　I　once　knew　so　well。　Hush！　Let　us　draw　further　back。　Hush！'　
　She　had　moved　from　the　wall　of　the　garret；　very　near　to　the　bench　on　which　he　sat。　There　was　something　awful　in　his　unconsciousness　of　the　figure　that　could　have　put　out　its　hand　and　touched　him　as　lie　stooped　over　his　labour。　
　Not　a　word　was　spoken；　not　a　sound　was　made。　She　stood；　like　a　spirit；　beside　him；　and　he　bent　over　his　work。　
　It　happened；　at　length；　that　he　had　occasion　to　change　the　instrument　in　his　hand；　for　his　shoemaker's　knife。　It　lay　on　that　side　of　him　which　was　not　the　side　on　which　she　stood。　He　had　taken　it　up；　and　was　stooping　to　work　again；　when　his　eyes　caught　the　skirt　of　her　dress。　He　raised　them；　and　saw　her　face。　The　two　spectators　started　forward；　hut　she　stayed　them　with　a　motion　of　her　hand。　She　had　no　fear　of　his　striking　at　her　with　the　knife；　though　they　had。　
　He　stared　at　her　with　a　fearful　look；　and　after　a　while　his　lips　began　to　form　some　words；　though　no　sound　proceeded　from　them。　By　degrees；　in　the　pauses　of　his　quick　and　laboured　breathing；　he　was　heard　to　say：　
　‘What　is　this？'　
　With　the　tears　streaming　down　her　face；　she　put　her　two　hands　to　her　lips；　and　kissed　them　to　him；　then　clasped　them　on　her　breast；　as　if　she　laid　his　ruined　head　there。　
　‘You　are　not　the　gaoler's　daughter？'　
　She　sighed　‘No。'　
　‘Who　are　you？'　
　Not　yet　trusting　the　tones　of　her　voice；　she　sat　down　on　the　bench　beside　him。　He　recoiled；　but　she　laid　her　hand　upon　his　arm。　A　strange　thrill　struck　him　when　she　did　so；　and　visibly　passed　over　his　frame；　he　laid　the　knife　down　softly；　as　he　sat　staring　at　her。　
　Her　golden　hair；　which　she　wore　in　long　curls；　had　been　hurriedly　pushed　aside；　and　fell　down　over　her　neck。　Advancing　his　hand　by　little　and　little；　he　took　it　up　and　looked　at　it。　In　the　midst　of　the　action　he　went　astray；　and；　with　another　deep　sigh；　fell　to　work　at　his　shoemaking。　
　But　not　for　long。　Releasing　his　arm；　she　laid　her　hand　upon　his　shoulder。　After　looking　doubtfully　at　it；　two　or　three　times；　as　if　to　be　sure　that　it　was　really　there；　he　laid　down　his　work；　put　his　hand　to　his　neck；　and　took　off　a　blackened　string　with　a　scrap　of　folded　rag　attached　to　it。　He　opened　this；　carefully；　on　his　knee；　and　it　contained　a　very　little　quantity　of　hair：　not　more　than　one　or　two　long　golden　hairs；　which　he　had；　in　some　old　day；　wound　on　upon　his　finger。　
　He　took　her　hair　into　his　hand　again；　and　looked　closely　at　it。　‘It　is　the　same。　How　can　it　be！　When　was　it！　How　was　it！'　
　As　the　concentrating　expression　returned　to　his　forehead；　he　seemed　to　become　conscious　that　it　was　in　hers　too。　He　turned　her　full　to　the　light；　and　looked　at　her。　
　‘She　had　laid　her　head　upon　my　shoulder；　that　night　when　I　was　summoned　outshe　had　a　fear　of　my　going；　though　I　had　noneand　when　I　was　brought　to　the　North　Tower　they　found　these　upon　my　sleeve。　〃You　will　leave　me　them？　They　can　never　help　me　to　escape　in　the　body；　though　they　may　in　the　spirit。〃　Those　were　the　words　I　said。　I　remember　them　very　well。'　
　He　formed　this　speech　with　his　lips　many　times　before　he　could　utter　it。　But　when　he　did　find　spoken　words　for　it；　they　came　to　him　coherently；　though　slowly。　
　‘How　was　this？Was　it　you？'　
　Once　more；　the　two　spectators　started；　as　he　turned　upon　her　with　a　frightful　suddenness。　But　she　sat　perfectly　still　in　his　grasp；　and　only　said；　in　a　low　voice；　‘I　entreat　you；　good　gentlemen；　do　not　come　near　us；　do　not　speak；　do　not　move！'　
　‘Hark！'　he　exclaimed。　‘Whose　voice　was　that？'　
　His　hands　released　her　as　he　uttered　this　cry；　and　went　up　to　his　white　hair；　which　they　tore　in　a　frenzy。　It　died　out；　as　everything　but　his　shoemaking　did　die　out　of　him；　and　he　refolded　his　little　packet　and　tried　to　secure　it　in　his　breast；　but　he　still　looked　at　her；　and　gloomily　shook　his　head。　
　‘No；　no；　no；　you　are　too　young；　too　blooming。　It　can't　be。　See　what　the　prisoner　is。　These　are　not　the　hands　she　knew；　this　is　not　the　face　she　knew；　this　is　not　a　voice　she　ever　heard。　No；　no。　She　wasand　He　wasbefore　the　slow　years　of　the　North　Towerages　ago。　What　is　your　name；　my　gentle　angel？'　
　Hailing　his　softened　tone　and　manner；　his　daughter　fell　upon　her　knees　before　him；　with　her　appealing　hands　upon　his　breast。　
　‘O；　sir；　at　another　time　you　shall　know　my　name；　and　who　my　mother　was；　and　who　my　father；　and　how　I　never　knew　their　hard；　hard　history。　But　I　cannot　tell　you　at　this　time；　and　I　cannot　tell　you　here。　All　that　I　may　tell　you；　here　and　now；　is；　that　I　pray　to　you　to　touch　me　and　to　bless　me。　Kiss　me；　kiss　me！　O　my　dear；　my　dear！'　
　His　cold　white　head　mingled　with　her　radiant　hair；　which　warmed　and　lighted　it　as　though　it　were　the　light　of　Freedom　shining　on　him。　
　‘If　you　hear　in　my　voiceI　don't　know　that　it　is　so；　but　I　hope　it　isif　you　hear　in　my　voice　any　resemblance　to　a　voice　that　once　was　sweet　music　in　your　ears；　weep　for　it；　weep　for　it！　If　you　touch；　in　touching　my　hair；　anything　that　recalls　a　beloved　head　that　lay　on　your　breast　when　you　were　young　and　free；　weep　for　it；　weep　for　it！　If；　when　I　hint　to　you　of　a　Home　that　is　before　us；　where　I　will　be　true　to　you　with　all　my　duty　and　with　all　my　faithful　service；　I　bring　back　the　remembrance　of　a　Home　long　desolate；　while　your　poor　heart　pined　away；　weep　for　it；　weep　for　it！'　
　She　held　him　closer　round　the　neck；　and　rocked　him　on　her　breast　like　a　child。　
　‘If'　when　I　tell　you；　dearest　dear；　that　your　agony　is　over；　and　that　I　have　come　here　to　take　you　from　it；　and　that　we　go　to　England　to　be　at　peace　and　at　rest；　I　cause　you　to　think　of　your　useful　life　laid　waste；　and　of　our　native　France　so　wicked　to　you；　weep　for　it；　weep　for　it！　And　if'　when　I　shall　tell　you　of　my　name；　and　of　my　father　who　is　living；　and　of　my　mother　who　is　dead；　you　learn　that　I　have　to　kneel　to　my　honoured　father；　and　implore　his　pardon　for　having　never　for　his　sake　striven　all　day　and　lain　awake　and　wept　all　night；　because　the　love　of　my　poor　mother　hid　his　torture　from　me；　weep　for　it；　weep　for　it！　Weep　for　her；　then；　and　for　me！　Good　gentlemen；　thank　God！　I　feel　his　sacred　tears　upon　my　face；　and　his　sobs　strike　against　my　heart。　O；　see　Thank　God　for　us；　thank　God！'　
　He　had　sunk　in　her　arms；　and　his　face　dropped　on　her　breast：　a　sight　so　touching；　yet　so　terrible　in　the　tremendous　wrong　and　suffering　which　had　gone　before　it；　that　the　two　beholders　covered　their　faces。　
　When　the　quiet　of　the　garret　had　been　long　undisturbed；　and　his　heaving　breast　and　shaken　form　had　long　yielded　to　the　calm　that　must　follow　all　stormsemblem　to　humanity；　of　the　rest　and　silence　into　which　the　storm　called　Life　must　hush　at　lastthey　came　forward　to　raise　the　father　and　daughter　from　the　ground。　He　had　gradually　dropped　to　the　floor；　and　lay　there　in　a　lethargy；　worn　out。　She　had　nestled　down　with　him；　that　his　head　might　lie　upon　her　arm；　and　her　hair　drooping　over　him　curtained　him　from　the　light。　
　‘If；　without　disturbing　him；'　she　said；　raising　her　hand　to　Mr。　Lorry　as　he　stooped　over　them；　after　repeated　blowings　of　his　nose；　‘all　could　be　arranged　for　our　leaving　Paris　at　once；　so　that；　from　the　very　door；　he　could　be　taken　away…'　
　‘But；　consider。　Is　he　fit　for　the　journey？'　asked　Mr。　Lorry。　
　‘More　fit　for　that；　I　think；　than　to　remain　in　this　city；　so　dreadful　to　him。'　
　‘It　is　true；'　said　Defarge；　who　was　kneeling　to　look　on　and　hear。　‘More　than　that；　Monsieur　Manette　is；　for　all　reasons；　best　out　of　France。　Say；　shall　I　hire　a　carriage　and　post…horses？'　
　‘That's　business；'